Simeon the Righteous in Rabbinic Literature Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity

Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums

Founding Editor Martin Hengel† (Tübingen)

Executive Editors Cilliers Breytenbach (Berlin) Martin Goodman (Oxford)

Editorial Board Friedrich Avemarie† (Marburg), John Barclay (Durham), Pieter W. van der Horst (Utrecht), Tal Ilan (Berlin), Tessa Rajak (Reading and Oxford), Daniel R. Schwartz (Jerusalem), Seth Schwartz (New York)

VOLUME 84

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/ajec Simeon the Righteous in Rabbinic Literature

A Legend Reinvented

By Amram Tropper

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2013 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Tropper, Amram D. Simeon the Righteous in rabbinic literature : a legend reinvented / by Amram Tropper. pages cm. – (Ancient Judaism and early Christianity, ISSN 1871-6636 ; volume 84) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-24498-6 (hardback : alk. paper) – ISBN 978-90-04-24502-0 (e-book : alk. paper) 1. Simeon, the Just–In rabbinical literature. 2. Rabbinical literature–History and criticism. I. Title.

BM496.9.S56T76 2013 296.1'20092–dc23 2012045780

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ISSN 1871-6636 ISBN 978-90-04-24498-6 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-24502-0 (e-book)

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(בבלי ברכות סד ע”א)

CONTENTS

Introduction ...... 1

1. The Rabbinic Traditions ...... 11 2. Simeon the Righteous, the Great Assembly of Avot and the Rabbinization of Early Second Temple Judaism ...... 23 3. Simeon the Righteous and the Origins of the World’s Three Pillars . . 69 4. Simeon the Righteous and the Narcissistic Nazirite...... 81 5. Simeon the Righteous and Alexander the Great ...... 113 6. Simeon the Righteous and the Temple of Onias ...... 157 7. Simeon the Righteous in Second Temple Chronology ...... 199

Conclusion ...... 213

Select Bibliography ...... 217 Index of Subjects ...... 241 Index of Sources ...... 243

INTRODUCTION

If you should visit Jerusalem and walk northwards of the Old City towards Mt. Scopus, you will likely pass through a street named after Simeon the Righteous: Rehov Shimʿon ha-Zadik. The street is adjacent to a burial cave from the Roman-Byzantine period that was probably already in use during Second Temple times and this burial cave, according to a medieval Jewish tradition, is the final resting place of Simeon the Righteous. Due to its medieval identification, the ancient burial cave became a holy site for Jews in both medieval and modern times and Jewish pilgrims continue to visit it year in year out. Thus, for example, the site remains a popular location for the Hasidic “halaqah” ritual, the ceremonial first haircut of three year old boys often performed on the thirty third day of the ʿOmer (shortly before the festival of Shavuot). As a well known holy Jewish site the burial cave inspired not only the name of the adjacent street but also the names of two adjoining neighborhoods that were established in 1891–1892: Shimʿon ha-Zadik and Nahalat Shimʿon. Thus, the medieval Jewish tradition which identified the burial cave as the final resting place of Simeon the Righteous influenced the naming of two neighborhoods in modern Jerusalem and transformed the burial cave into a pilgrimage site sacred in the eyes of myriads of Jews from the Middle Ages to the present.1 If you should expand your purview and make an excursion to southern Jerusalem as well, you might visit the St. Simeon Monastery, a Greek Ortho- dox monastery at the heart of the San Simon neighborhood whose name it

1 See Ben-Arieh (1986) 21–23, 188–191; Ben Eliyahu (1996) 64; Kloner and Zissu (2000) 97–98; Kloner and Zissu (2003) 137. Not far from the burial cave associated with Simeon the Righteous is another burial cave identified, since medieval times, as the burial cave of the large Sanhedrin of Second Temple Jerusalem. Thus, according to medieval tradition, Simeon the Righteous, a final remnant of the Great Assembly (see Chapter 2 below), was buried near the burial place of the heirs to the Great Assembly in rabbinic eyes, i.e. the members of the Sanhedrin. A relatively recent Jewish tradition identifies a burial cave adjacent to the cave associated with Simeon the Righteous as the final resting place of the small Sanhedrin presumably because of its proximity to the caves associated with the large Sanhedrin and Simeon the Righteous (Zissu and Kloner (2000) 100). The “halaqah” ceremony is famously performed on the thirty third day of the ʿOmer alongside Rabbi Simeon bar Yohai’s grave in Meron and Eyal ben Eliyahu has suggested to me that perhaps the ceremony was transferred to Jerusalem by Jerusalemites who did not feel like making the long trek all the way to the Galilee and hence decided that the grave of another famous “Simeon” could function in lieu of Rabbi Simeon bar Yohai’s distant grave. 2 introduction inspired. Built in the nineteenth century on top of the remains of an eleventh century monastery, the St. Simeon Monastery was named after the “δίκαιος καὶ εὐλαβὴς,” the “righteous and devout” Simeon, who recognized the child Jesus as the future Messiah according to the Gospel of Luke.2 This righteous Simeon was identified as a Second Temple high priest in later Christian liter- ature3 and the monastery named after him was founded at the very site of his house and grave according to a Christian tradition from Byzantine times.4 Of course, the Simeon in Luke after whom the St. Simeon monastery was named is not Simeon the Righteous of Jewish tradition yet a synagogue named after Simeon the Righteous stands at the edge of the San Simon park in which the monastery stands today. When the Simeon the Righteous synagogue was erected in the late twentieth century, its founders were apparently inspired by the name of the monastery (and that of the surrounding neighborhood) to name their holy site with a parallel name from the Jew- ish tradition. The monastery named after a righteous Second Temple high priest called Simeon (in Christian tradition) apparently prompted its Jewish neighbors to name their synagogue as well after a righteous Second Temple high priest called Simeon, i.e. Simeon the Righteous.5 The burial cave of Simeon the Righteous, the two Jerusalem neighborhoods named after him and the St. Simeon/Simeon the Righteous complex in the San Simon neighborhood all attest to the potent force of Simeon the Righteous’s name in modern Jerusalem. In truth, however, the image of Simeon the Righteous, the hallowed portrait of a wise and saintly Sec- ond Temple high priest, is well known to Jews the world over. In traditional and religious Jewish communities, Simeon the Righteous’s wisdom saying in Avot is highly familiar to adults and is already taught to children at a very young age. Hence, Simeon the Righteous is not a forgotten figure of the distant past but rather an ancient luminary whose image lives on in the cultural and religious landscape of contemporary Jewry. Simeon the Righteous’s prominent place in medieval and modern Jewish culture is due primarily to the traditions about him in rabbinic literature and not to the writings of his contemporaries in the third century bce or later Second Temple authors. In the post-talmudic era, Second Temple Jewish literature (not included in the Bible) exerted only a marginal influence on Jewish society and culture while rabbinic literature became a central and

2 See Luke 2, 25–35. See also Schiller (1992) 257. 3 See Protevangelium Iacobi 24, 4. See also Bovon (2002) 100 n. 24. 4 See Ben-Arieh (1986) 306; Veksler (1996) 300–301. 5 Cf. Reiner (1998) 268–269. introduction 3 formative force in Jewish life. Consequently, the standard image of Simeon the Righteous, shared by medieval and modern Jews alike, is the rabbinic image of Simeon the Righteous. While Jews traditionally have viewed rabbinic literature as a unified whole and accordingly synthesized the rabbinic traditions about Simeon the Righteous into an integrated biography,6 Simeon’s image is not uniform and unchanging across rabbinic literature. In fact, Simeon the Righteous’s image varies from tradition to tradition and while one tradition highlights certain facets of his literary persona, a second highlights others. These variegated traditions, the very traditions which were integrated into the standard Jewish depiction of Simeon the Righteous, are the subject matter of this study. In exploring the rabbinic traditions about Simeon the Righteous my goal is twofold. First, I offer a close reading of the traditions in an attempt to determine how they would have resonated in ancient times. With the help of a historically and culturally contextualized literary analysis, I seek to situate the traditions about Simeon the Righteous within the cultural setting of late antiquity. Second, I try to glimpse behind the rabbinic traditions by investigating the process of literary formation which generated them. No text is ever created entirely ex nihilo and often the ideas and terminology employed in rabbinic texts can be plausibly traced back to earlier sources. Thus, my plan is to explore the literary and cultural matrix from which the Simeon the Righteous rabbinic traditions emerged. More specifically, I hope to identify texts and ideas of both Jewish and non-Jewish origins which supplied the raw materials and literary inspiration to the authors and editors of the Simeon the Righteous rabbinic traditions.

*** Not very long ago, scholars would have felt no compunctions writing a biography of Simeon the Righteous and such a work would have been based almost entirely on rabbinic literature since Simeon scarcely appears in ancient non-rabbinic sources. A biographer would have collected all the Second Temple and rabbinic sources which mention Simeon the Righteous, determined the chronology of the events described therein and sought to elicit from the sources a coherent portrait of Simeon the Righteous. Today, however, most scholars would acknowledge that a biography of Simeon the Righteous cannot be written.

6 See, for example, Hyman (1910) 1217–1224. 4 introduction

There are a number of reasons why Simeon the Righteous’s biography cannot be written and all stem from limitations imposed by the narrow scope or particular nature of the rabbinic evidence. Setting aside for the moment the question of the historical reliability of rabbinic literary traditions, there are two other fundamental difficulties with any attempt to write Simeon’s biography on the basis of rabbinic literature. First, we simply do not have enough rabbinic (or Second Temple) materials for a proper biography of Simeon the Righteous. Rabbinic literature only preserved a handful of sources which refer to Simeon the Righteous and these fall far short of sketching a robust and nuanced portrait of the man, a portrait that does justice to the character, beliefs and life of Simeon the Righteous. Second, even if the biographical materials in rabbinic literature were deemed sufficient, any chronological organization of the disparate events recounted in rabbinic literature would be baseless conjecture. The rabbinic sources on Simeon the Righteous never refer to one another and only a single tradition mentions a phase in his life (i.e. his death); hence there is no objective way to decipher the chronological order of the events related in the sources. In short, rabbinic literature neither provides sufficient material for a biography of Simeon the Righteous nor indicates how to integrate the material it does provide into a chronological framework essential for biography.7 Above and beyond the two fundamental difficulties just noted, the writing of a biography of Simeon the Righteous (or most anyone else) on the basis of rabbinic literature is rendered nigh impossible because of the historical unreliability of rabbinic sage stories and similar literary genres such as the rabbinic chain of transmssion. Until the late twentieth century, most modern scholars viewed rabbinic sage stories as historical kernels cloaked within literary and artistic decorations and embellishments. Presuppos- ing that historically accurate and authentic reports were embedded within overarching literary compositions, they maintained that the goal of the historian is to peel away the literary husk, the layers of literary accretions and ornamentations, in order to divulge the underlying pristine historical kernels. In hopes of recovering the historical substratum of rabbinic stories, scholars removed from the stories any and all details they deemed impossible or unlikely, such as anachronisms, miraculous or supernatural occur- rences and implausible events. The remaining plausible portions of the stories were then accepted as bona fide historical kernels and authenticated

7 See Green (1978) 86–88; Levine (2009) 54. introduction 5 historical facts.8 However, two features of rabbinic sage stories and other similar narrative forms, their late dating in respect to ancient figures like Simeon the Righteous and their artistic literary genre, severely undermine the traditional assumption of their basic historical credibility. Insofar as the late dating is concerned, even the earliest rabbinic materials about Simeon the Righteous are found in compositions that were edited hundreds of years after his lifetime and this substantial time-gap renders their historical reliability highly suspect. In the past many scholars presupposed that authentic and pristine historical accounts were carefully preserved and transmitted orally over hundreds of years, e.g. from the third century bce to the third century ce, but, as Jacob Neusner and others have argued, there really is no good reason to accept this unfounded assumption.9 Though we may grant that some historical kernels might have tra- versed this extensive temporal gap, we lack objective means to identify these specific kernels. Common sense intuitions regarding the plausibility and verisimilitude of a tradition are of no help in identifying historical kernels since even the most realistic and credible story (or wisdom saying10) may be an imaginative fabrication or literary ornamentation devised in the long interval between Simeon’s lifetime and the formulation of the rabbinic evidence. As Mary Beard noted in a similar context, “Some of the information transmitted to us must be inaccurate, even fragrantly so; some of it may well be broadly reliable. But we have few clear criteria (beyond hunch and frankly a priori notions of plausibility, compatibility and coherence) that enable us to distinguish what is ‘accurate’ from what is not.”11 Moreover, whereas many earlier scholars viewed rabbinic sage stories as lightly embellished historical reports, scholars in recent decades have come to realize that rabbinic sage stories belong to the genre of dramatic narrative, a historically unreliable literary genre.12 The newfound appreciation for the artistic and rhetorical nature of rabbinic sage stories emerged when Jonah Fraenkel and others identified central literary qualities of these stories such as their careful wording, deliberate structures, intricate plots, literary

8 For a clear articulation of this position, see Safrai (1983) 161–162. For a summary of historical scholarship in this vein, see Levine (2009) 41–47. 9 See Neusner (1970). 10 See Chapter 3 below. 11 Beard (2007) 40. See also Finley (1986) 7–26. Cf. Goshen-Gottstein (2000) 1–18; Fox (2002). 12 See Fraenkel (1978) 139–157. See also Rubenstein (1999) 5–10; Gafni (2001) 220–221; Gray (2003); Levinson (2005) 18–27; Newman (2006) 103–135; Tropper (2011) 14–15. 6 introduction devices, dramatic tension, metaphysical concerns, spiritual messages and ideological agendas.13 Once one recognizes that sage stories are meticulously wrought dramatic narratives with highly developed rhetorical schemes, it seems foolhardy and unfounded to posit that their plausible and coherent contents actually occurred in reality. At times sage stories are certainly outright inventions and at times they are possibly only partial fictions but common sense, the traditional tool used to extract historical kernels, offers no objective method for discerning fact from fiction in a dramatic narrative. Since dramatic narrative is essentially a fictional genre which may or may not enlist historical facts, common sense cannot differentiate the so-called literary husk from a supposed historical kernel. Hence, like the temporal gap between Simeon’s lifetime and the formulation of rabbinic literature, the literary nature of rabbinic stories also thwarts traditional attempts to write Simeon’s biography. We cannot discern the historical kernels of rabbinic stories with common sense since this traditional tool is simply too blunt an instrument to pierce the rhetorical and fictional dimensions of rabbinic literary narratives.14 In short, since rabbinic sages stories belong to the genre of dramatic narrative, we may not presuppose their historical veracity nor assess this veracity via traditional common sense analysis. In constructing rabbinic sage stories (and similar literary genres), the rabbis drew materials and inspiration from both historically reliable sources and partially or entirely fictitious materials. While developing, editing, transforming and integrating their raw materials into literary narratives, the rabbis made no attempt to distinguish between (what we consider to be) historically reliable and unreliable materials and hence they left no discern- able patterns in rabbinic literature that enable us to differentiate fact from fiction. Consequently, even when we find parallels to rabbinic sage stories in non-rabbinic literature, the rabbinic accounts cannot corroborate the historicity of the events reported elsewhere. The very fact that the tradition appears in rabbinic literature does not bolster the historical veracity of the non-rabbinic parallel since the rabbis would not have hesitated to repeat and develop the tradition even if it were entirely fictitious. In addition, details of the rabbinic story cannot be used to supplement the non-rabbinic account since there is no reason to posit the historicity of any added details in the rabbinic version. Rather, rabbinic sage stories with non-rabbinic parallels merely demonstrate that stories recorded elsewhere were also transmitted and developed by the rabbis. In these cases, the historical authentic-

13 See Fraenkel (1991) 235–285; Rubenstein (1999) 8–9. 14 See Tropper (2011) 14–18. introduction 7 ity of the stories should be assessed on the basis of the non-rabbinic sources only since the rabbis did not differentiate between historical and literary kernels.15 Due to all these developments in the study of rabbinic literature, it is quite impossible to write a biography of Simeon the Righteous today.Indeed, the rabbinic traditions about Simeon the Righteous may well be largely fictitious. Hence, I have chosen to explore Simeon the Righteous’s literary persona as depicted in rabbinic literature rather than Simeon the Righteous the man. My plan is to analyze the various rabbinic traditions relating to Simeon and to situate them in the world of their authors and editors. Although the traditions cannot teach us about Simeon the man, they shed light on the role of his persona in the world of the rabbinic storytellers and editors. My decision to focus on the world of the rabbinic authors and editors is in line with mainstream scholarship today since as scholars have come to internalize the notion that common sense reasoning simply cannot discern the historical kernels of rabbinic literary narratives, the study of the world of the storytellers has gradually assumed center-stage. However, there is a further dimension to my analysis which is less practiced by contemporary scholars but is no less important to the study of rabbinic stories and ancient Jewish history. This dimension is the analysis of the literary matrices and cultural backdrop that were enlisted in the formation of rabbinic literary traditions. Like the new focus on the world of the storytellers, the study of the formation of rabbinic literary traditions has only truly emerged in recent decades as scholars have come to internalize that these texts are actually full fledged literary creations. This new philological approach, which was developed first and foremost by Shamma Friedman, transforms the traditional historical question, “what historical event is being described in the story?” into the literary question “what sources and materials contributed to the formation of the story?”16 In this new approach, rabbinic literary narratives are not viewed as pristine historical memories on the one hand nor as literary works devised entirely ex nihilo on the other, but rather they are viewed as streamlined literary mosaics or collages which enlist a host of materials and sources in order to set forth the ideas and ideologies of their authors.

15 See Tropper (2011) 18–19. 16 On the methodological approach outlined here see Friedman (1993); id. (2002b); id. (2004b); Rubenstein (1999); Tropper (2011). 8 introduction

In seeking to discover the texts and sources of inspiration which contributed to the construction and formation of the Simeon the Righteous rabbinic traditions, I adduce ancient texts and traditions which share numerous or uncanny parallel elements with the Simeon the Righteous traditions. In each case, I suggest that the noted resemblances are simply too great or too unlikely to be explained away as mere coincidence and that it is implausible that entirely independent authors would have created such similar texts. Instead, I propose that the most plausible explanation for the existence of these surprising resemblances is that there was an actual historical connection between the highly similar traditions. It bears noting, however, that the precise nature of the connection between related texts or traditions most probably varied from case to case and therefore I apply three different rules of thumb for the analysis of three distinct types of cases. In cases of two strikingly parallel texts home to a shared Jewish setting, the best working assumption seems to be that the earlier text directly influenced the later one. Although it is certainly theoretically possible that the earlier text influenced a no longer extant intermediate text which, in turn, influenced the later text or, alternatively, that both texts were independently modeled on a no longer extant third text, so long as there is no evidence for the existence of an intermediate or third text, there seems to be no good reason to posit its existence.17 In cases in which a number of texts share the same unusual literary phenomena, it may well be nigh impossible to map out lines of direct influence between them and so it is preferable to view them as members of the same literary genre or literary trajectory. In cases where a rabbinic text is paralleled by a non-Jewish text and it is highly unlikely that the rabbis actually read the non-Jewish text, it seems most likely that the rabbis were somehow familiar with the non-Jewish tradition (perhaps as a popular and oral (folk) tradition) of the ambient gentile milieu, if not necessarily with any particular written version of the tradition. On the whole these rules of thumb are sensible philological guidelines but they certainly do not guarantee infallible conclusions. Consequently, the channels of influence identified throughout this book are not indubitable historical facts but rather historical likelihoods which, in my opinion, enjoy a good measure of plausibility. In sum, I set out below to situate the rabbinic traditions about Simeon the Righteous within the cultural setting of antiquity while revealing the literary raw materials that were enlisted in the production of the traditions.

17 See Friedman (2000a). introduction 9

In the process of exploring the meaning and formation of these traditions, it will emerge that in reinventing the legend of Simeon the Righteous the rabbis creatively constructed a distinctive vision of early Second Temple history.

chapter one

THE RABBINIC TRADITIONS

Simeon the Righteous appears in roughly thirteen traditions in rabbinic literature, all of which are cited and discussed in subsequent chapters. Five of these traditions merit in depth analysis and they serve as the primary foci of the subsequent chapters. The other eight traditions do not warrant the same measure of attention and accordingly assume a smaller role in the course of the book. In order to orient the reader and familiarize him or her with the relevant rabbinic traditions, this chapter offers a short overview of all thirteen traditions. The traditions are cited here in the very order in which they appear in subsequent chapters and each tradition is prefaced with a short introduction that describes its subject matter and explains how it features in subsequent chapters.

*** In the opening of Avot (#1), Simeon the Righteous appears as a link within the rabbinic chain of transmission, a literary chain which traces the transmission of the Torah from its reception on Mt. Sinai until tannaitic times. In this context, Simeon is described as a remnant of the Great Assembly and is attributed a wisdom saying. Chapter 2 explores Simeon’s institutional affiliation, i.e. his membership in the Great Assembly, as well as his role in Avot’s chain of trasnsmission, seeking to reveal how the chain of transmission was constructed and how Simeon and the Great Assembly were integrated into it. Chapter 3 interprets Simeon’s wisdom saying and also attempts to identify the raw literary materials which inspired both the formation of the saying and its ascription to Simeon the Righteous. :1 הורסמםיאיבנוםיאיבנלםינקזוםינקזלעשוהיועשוהילהרסמויניסמהרותלביקהשמ הלודגהתסנכישנאל . םירבדהשלשורמאםה : הברהםידימלתודימעהוןידבןינותמויה הרותלגייסושעו . הלודגהתסנכירישמהיהקידצהןועמש . רמואהיהאוה : םירבדהשלשלע דמועםלועה : םידסחתולימגלעוהדבעהלעוהרותהלע . 1: Moses received the Torah from Sinai and passed it on to Joshua, and Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets, and the prophets passed it on to the men of the Great Assembly. They said three things: Be deliberate in judgment, and raise up many disciples, and make a fence for the 12 chapter one

Torah. Simeon the Righteous was of the remnants of the Great Assembly. He used to say: On three things the world stands: on Torah, on worship, and on the bestowal of kindnesses.1

*** Towards the end of Chapter 2, Avot’s conception of Simeon as a remnant of the Great Assembly is compared to his role in Tosefta Sotah 7, 13. Only a small segment of the Tosefta’s halakhah is cited but even the short citation demonstrates that while Avot portrays Simeon as a rabbinic tradent in the transmission of the Torah, the Tosefta highlights his role as a holy high priest who exerted a miraculous influence on the temple precincts. At the end of Chapter 6, the toseftan tradition (as found in a parallel version in the Palestinian Talmud) is cited once again but this time in its entirety (#2). In Chapter 6, the tradition is introduced in order to bolster the rabbinic conception of Simeon as a watershed figure and the final leader of a glorious era. :2 ןירביאןירביאהשענשדערההתיצחמלעיגמהיהאלםייקקידצהןועמשהיהשםימילכ ; ותואןילכואןייקרסהורבדמלחרובהיהקידצהןועמשתמשמ . קידצהןועמשהיהשםימילכ ןימיבהלועםשלשלרוגהיהםייק ; לאמשבםימעפןימיבםימעפקידצהןועמשתמשמ . לכ קלודיברעמרנהיהםייקקידצהןועמשהיהשםימי ; הבכםימעפקידצהןועמשתמשמ קלדםימעפ . ןיבלמתירוהזלשןושלהיהםייקקידצהןועמשהיהשםימילכ ; ןועמשתמשמ םידאמםימעפןיבלמםימעפקידצה . הכרעמהרואהיהםייקקידצהןועמשהיהשםימילכ הלועורבגתמ , םויהלכןינתונויהאלתירחשבםיצעיריזיגינשןינתונויהשמ ; ןועמשתמשמ םויהלכםיצעןינתונתויהלןיענמנויהאלוהכרעמלשהחוכששתקידצה . היהשםימילכ םינפהםחלבוםחלהיתשבתחלושמהכרבהתיהםייקקידצהןועמש , דחאלכללפונהיהו תיזכדעדחאו , ןיריתומוןילכואויהשןהמשיוןיעיבשוןילכואויהשןהמשיו ; ןועמשתמשמ םינפהםחלמוםחלהיתשמהכרבהלטינקידצה , ןופאכדעןהמדחאודחאלכללפונהיהו , םהידיתאןיכשומויהםיעונצה , ןהידיתאןיטשופויהםינרגרגהו . 2: All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive it (i.e. the scapegoat sent into the wilderness on the Day of Atonement) would not make it to the middle of the mountain before it came apart limb by limb; once Simeon the Righteous died it would flee to the wilderness and desert-dwellers would eat it. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive the lot “For the Lord” would always come up in the right hand; once Simeon the Righteous died sometimes it came up in the right sometimes in the left. All the days Simeon the Righteous was

1 mAvot 1, 1–2. All rabbinic sources are cited with abbreviations completed. Unless otherwise stated, the Mishnah is cited according to MS Kaufman (but with the standard enu- meration) and every other rabbinic text is cited according to the standard printed edition listed in the bibliography. Additions found in the margins of MS Kaufman are enclosed in square brackets [ ]. Corrections on the basis of manuscripts are signified with arrow signs ⟨ ⟩. Parentheses ( ) enclose both citation references and words in the translation which do not obviously correspond to a word in the original text but have been inserted in order to clarify the text’s meaning. the rabbinic traditions 13

alive the westernmost light (on the temple’s candelabra) was always lit; once Simeon the Righteous died sometimes it was extinguished and sometimes lit. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive the crimson-colored strap (tied to the bullock’s horns) would become white (on the Day of Atonement signaling that the people of Israel’s sins were forgiven); once Simeon the Righteous died sometimes it would become white and sometimes it would become red. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive the fire of the pile of wood (on the altar) burned strong and rose up, so that when they placed two logs in the morning they would not have to place additional logs all day long; once Simeon the Righteous died the fire of the pile weakened and they could not do without bringing wood throughout the day. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive a blessing was bestowed on the two breads and the shewbread, so that every (priest) would receive an olive-size portion, and some would eat and become satiated and others would eat and (even) leave over; once Simeon the Righteous died the blessing was removed from the two breads and the shewbread, and every (priest) would receive a bean-sized portion, the modest would withdraw their hands, while the voracious would extend their hands.2

*** In the story of Simeon the Righteous and the narcissistic nazirite (#3), Simeon’s literary persona affirms the righteousness of a shepherd from the south who contracted the nazirite vow in order to contain and curtail his overpowering desire. Chapter 4 interprets the story via a close reading and seeks to uncover the literary and cultural matrix from which the story emanated. The chapter also critiques the talmudic commentaries (not cited here) which raise the possibility that Simeon, as portrayed in this sage story, viewed nazirites as sinners. 3: ״להזיר ליי״ (במדבר ו, ב): מצוה להינזר לשם. או אם נזר לשם נזיר ואם לאו אין נזיר? ת״ל ״נזיר,״ מכל מקום. הא מה ת״ל ״להזיר ליי״? מצוה להנזר לשם. אמר שמעון הצדיק: לא אכלתי אשם נזירות מימיי אלא אחד. כשבא אחד מן הדרום יפה עינים וטוב רואי וקווצותיו מסודרות לו תלתלים, נמתי לו: מה ראית להשחית לו שיער זה נאה? נם לי: רועה הייתי בעירי והלכתי למלות מן הנעיים. נסתכלתי בביאה שלי פחז לבי עלי ביקש להעבירני מן העולם. נמתי לו: רשע הרי אתה מתגאה בשאינו שלך, בשלעפר ושלרימה ושלתוליעה! הריני מגלחו לשמים! מכתי את ראשו ונשקתיו על ראשו, נמתי לו: כמותך ירבו עושין רצון המקום בישראל ועליך נתקיים ״איש או אשה (כי יפליא לנדור נדר נזיר להזיר לה׳)״ (במדבר ו, ב). 3: “To set himself apart for the Lord” (Numbers 6, 2): The (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God. Is it the case that if one sets onself apart to God one is a nazirite but if not one is not a nazirite? Scripture therefore states “nazirite” (Numbers 6, 2) (to teach) that one is a nazirite in

2 yYoma 6, 3 43c. Cf tKippurim 13, 7; bYoma 39a. (For the translation I consulted Jung (1938).) 14 chapter one

any case. Then what does Scripture teach by stating “To set himself apart for the Lord?” (Scripture teaches thereby that) the (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God. Simeon the Righteous said: Only once in (all) my days have I eaten a nazirite penalty offering. When one came from the south, with beautiful eyes and of handsome appearance, and with his locks arranged in curls. I said to him: why did you see fit to destroy this beautiful hair? He said to me: I was shepherding in my town and went to draw (water) from a well. When I gazed upon my reflection (in the well) my heart rose upon me seeking to remove me from the world. I said to it (my lustful heart): Wretch! How you pride yourself in what is not yours, in what is of dust, worm and maggot! Behold I will shave it off for the sake of heaven! I lowered his head and kissed him on his head (and) I said to him: May there be many like you carrying out the will of God in Israel and in you is fulfilled (the verse): “If anyone, man or woman, (explicitly utters a nazirite’s vow, to set himself apart for the Lord)” (Numbers 6, 2).3

*** Chapter five opens with a text from the BabylonianTalmud (#4) that portrays Simeon the Righteous as a heroic guardian of the Jewish people during Hellenistic times. The bulk of the chapter then focuses on the story of the encounter between Simeon the Righteous and Alexander the Great (#5), comparing the rabbinic story to Josephus’s parallel tradition in which Alexander the Great meets the high priest Jaddua. The ultimate goal of the comparison is to ascertain how the rabbis reworked and refashioned a legend they had inherited from the past. The chapter then concludes with a tradition from the Palestinian Talmud (#6) wherein a nameless high priest (in parallel sources), who prayed on behalf of the sanctuary in Jerusalem, is identified, like Josephus’s Jaddua, as Simeon the Righteous. :4 אנתאתינתמב ״ םיתסאמאל ״ ( וכארקיו , דמ —) היננחםהליתדמעהשםיידשכימיב הירזעולאשימ ; ״ םיתלעגאלו ״ ( םש —) ןבהיתתמוקידצהןועמשםהליתדמעהשםינוויימיב וינבויאנומשחולודגןהכןנחוי ; ״ םתולכל ״ ( םש —) רתסאויכדרמםהליתדמעהשןמהימיב ; ״ םתאיתירברפהל ״ ( םש —) תורודימכחויברתיבלשםהליתדמעהשםיימורימיב ; ינאיכ י׳ םהיהלאי ״ ( םש —) ןהבטולשלהלוכיןושלוהמואלכןיאשאובלדיתעל . 4: In a baraita it was taught: “I have not rejected them” (Leviticus 26, 44)—in the days of the Chaldeans, when I raised up for them Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah; “neither did I abhor them” (ibid.)—in the days of the Greeks, when I raised up for them Simeon the Righteous, and Matityahu ben Yohanan the High Priest and Hashmonai and his sons; “to destroy them utterly” (ibid.)—in the days of Haman, when I raised up for them Mordecai and Esther; “to break my covenant with them” (ibid.)—in the days of the Romans, when I raised up

3 Sifre Numbers 22 (pp. 59–60); cf. tNezirut 4, 7; yNedarim 1, 1 36d; yNazir 1, 7 51c; bNedarim 9b–10a; bNazir 4b.; Numbers Rabbah 10 (p. 38). the rabbinic traditions 15

for them the members of the house of Rabbi (Judah ha-Nasi) and the sages of the various generations; “for I am the Lord their God” (ibid.)—in the time to come, when no nation or people will be able to subject them.4

5: והתניא בעשרים וחד ביה יום הר גריזים דלא למספד; יום שבקשו כותים את בית אלהינו מאלאכסנדרוס מוקדון ונתנו להם. באו והודיעו את שמעון הצדיק. מה עשה? לבש בגדי כהונה ונתעטף בבגדי כהונה ויקירי ירושלם עמו ואבוקות שלאור בידיהן; כל הלילה כולו הללו מהלכין מצד זה והללו מהלכין מצד זה עד שעלה עמוד השחר. אמר להן: מי הללו? אמרו לו: הללו יהודיים שמרדו בך. כיון שהגיעו לאנטיפטרס זרחה חמה ופגעו זה בזה. כיון שראה את שמעון הצדיק ירד ממרכבתו והשתחוה לפניו; אמרו לו: מלך גדול שכמותך תשתחוה ליהודי זה? אמר להן: דמות דיוקנו שלזה מנצחת לפני בבית מלחמתי. אמר להם: למה באתם? אמרו לו: מקום שאנו מתפללין בו עליך ועל מלכותיך שלא תיחרב יתעוך גוים הללו ותתנו להם? אמר להם: מי הללו? אמרו לו: כותיים שעומדין לפניך. אמר להם: הרי הן מסורין בידכם. מיד נקבום בעקביהם ותלאום בזנבי סוסיהם וגררו אותן על הקוצים ועל הברקנים עד שהגיעו להר גריזים, חרשוהו וזרעוהו כרשנין כדרך שביקשו לעשות בבית אלהינו ואותו היום עשאוהו יום טוב. 5: Surely it was taught (in a baraita): The twenty first day in it (the month of Kislev) is the day of Mt. Gerizim, on which it is prohibited to eulogize. It is the day the Cutheans (Samaritans) requested the House of our God from Alexander the Macedonian, and he gave it to them. People came and informed Simeon the Righteous. What did he do? He put on priestly garments, robed himself in priestly garments, and the nobles of Jerusalem were with him with fiery torches in their hands, and all night long, these (the Jews) walked from this side and those (Alexander and the Samaritans) walked from the other side until the dawn rose. He (Alexander) said to them (the Samaritans): Who are these? They said to him: These are the Jews who rebelled against you. When they reached Antipatris, the sun came forth and they met one another. When he (Alexander) saw Simeon the Righteous, he descended from his chariot and bowed down before him. They said to him: A great king like yourself should bow down before this Jew? He said to them: The image of his likeness vanquishes before me in battle. He said to them (the Jews): Why have you come? They said to him: (is it possible that) the place where we pray in it for you and that your kingdom not be destroyed, the gentiles will mislead you and have you give it to them? He said: Who are these (misleading me)? They said: The Cutheans who are standing before you. He said to them: Behold they are delivered into your hands. Immediately they perforated their heels and tied them to the tails of their horses and dragged them over thorns and thistles until they arrived at Mt. Gerizim, which they ploughed and planted with vetch, just as they (the Samaritans) had requested to do to the house of our God. And that day they made a festive day.5

4 bMegillah 11a according to MS. London—BL Harl. 5508 (400). The translation is that of Maurice Simon (1938), slightly modified. Babylonian Talmud manuscripts are cited as they appear in The Sol and Evelyn Talmud Text Database of The Saul Lieberman Institute of Talmud Research of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. 5 bYoma 69a according to MS. New York—JTS Rab. 218 (EMC 270) with slight corrections 16 chapter one

6: מעשה באחד שהאריך וגמרו להיכנס אחריו. אמרו שמעון הצדיק היה. אמרו לו: למה הארכתה? אמר להן: מתפלל הייתי על מקדש אלהיכם שלא ייחרב. אמרו לו: אף על פי כן לא היית צריך להאריך. 6: A story of one (high priest) who prolonged (his prayer in the sanctuary when he exited the Holy of Holies on the Day of Atonement) and they decided to enter after him—they said it was Simeon the Righteous. They said to him: why did you prolong (your prayer)? He said to them: I was praying for the sanctuary of your God that it not be destroyed. They said to him: even so you should not have prolonged (your prayer).6

*** According to both Talmuds, Simeon the Righteous designated his successor to the high priesthood shortly before his death but despite his plans for a smooth succession, the subsequent succession was anything but smooth. The succession created a rift between Simeon’s sons and one of them eventually left Jerusalem and constructed a temple in Egypt, the temple of Onias. The story of this botched succession appears in two versions in the Pales- tinian Talmud (#7) and in two parallel versions in the Babylonian Talmud (#8), all of which are carefully scrutinized in Chapter 6. Chapter 6 compares the two Palestinian versions with each other and with their Babylonian counterparts, mapping out the evolution of the rabbinic tradition. Chap- ter 6 also explores the literary backdrop which supplied the raw materials that were reworked in the construction of this story. 7: ארבעים שנה שימש שמעון הצדיק את ישראל בכהונה גדולה ובשנה האחרונה אמר להן: בשנה זו אני מת. אמרו לו: למי נמנה אחריך? אמר להן: הרי נחוניון בני לפניכם. הלכו ומינו את נחוניון, וקינא בו שמעון אחיו והלך והלבישו אונקלה וחגרו צולצל. אמר להן: ראו מה נדר לאהובתו—אמר לה לכשאשמש בכהונה גדולה אלבש נקלה שליך ואחגור בצולצל שליך. בדקו את הדברים ולא מצאו אותו. אמרו משם ברח להר המלך משם ברח לאכלסנדריאה ועמד ובנה שם מזבח וקרא עליו את הפסוק הזה ״ביום ההוא יהיה מזבח לי׳י בתוך ארץ מצרים״ (ישעיה יט, יט). והרי הדברים קל וחומר: ומה אם זה שברח מן השררה ראו היאך נחזר עליה בסוף, מי שהוא נכנס ויוצא על אחת כמה וכמה! תני זו דברי ר׳ מאיר. ר׳ יהודה אומר: לא כי אלא מינו את שמעון וקינא בו נחונייון אחיו והלך והלבישו נקלה וחגרו צולצל. אמר להן: ראו מה נדר לאהובתו כול׳ היך קדמייא. והרי הדברים קל וחומר: ומה אם מי שלא נכנס לשררה ראו היאך העשיא את ישראל לעבודה זרה, מי שהוא נכנס ויוצא על אחת כמה וכמה! 7: Forty years Simeon the Righteous served Israel in the high priesthood and in the final year he said to them: During this year I shall die. They said to him: Whom shall we appoint after you? He said to them: Behold Onias my son on the basis of other manuscripts. My translation is highly influenced by Leo Jung’s translation in The Babylonian Talmud: Yoma (1938). Cf. bTamid 27b; Noam in Megillat Taʿanit (2003), pp. 264–265. For references to abridged versions of the rabbinic legend, see Chapter 5 n. 70. 6 yYoma 5, 1 42c; cf. tKippurim 2,13; bYoma 53b. the rabbinic traditions 17

is before you. They went and appointed Onias, and Simeon his brother was jealous of him. He (Simeon) went and put a gown on him (Onias) and girded him with a girdle. He said to them: See what he promised his beloved. He said to her when I serve in the high priesthood I’ll put on your gown and gird your girdle. They looked into the matter and did not find him. They said from there he fled to the Mountain of the King and from there he fled to Alexandria, and he stood and built there an altar, and regarding it read the passage “In that day there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt” (Isaiah 19, 19). Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one who fled power see how he coveted it in the end, one who is empowered and then removed from power all the more so (will covet power in the end)! It was learned (in a baraita): these are the words of R. Meir. R. Judah says: No, rather they appointed Simeon and Onias his brother was jealous of him. He (Onias) went and put a gown on him (Simeon) and girded him with a girdle. He said to them: See what he promised his beloved, and the rest (of the story unfolded) as (presented) previously. Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one who was not (even) empowered see how he incited Israel to idolatry, one who was empowered and then removed from power all the more so (will incite Israel to idolatry)!7

8: ובשעת פטירתו אמר להם: חוניו בני ישמש תחתי, נתקנא בו שמעי אחיו שהיה גדול ממנו שתי שנים ומחצה, אמר לו: בא ואלמדך סדר עבודה. הלבישו באונקלי וחגרו בצילצול והעמידו אצל המזבח, אמר להם לאחיו הכהנים: ראו מה נדר זה לאהובתו וקיים: ביום שאשמש בכהונה גדולה אלבש באונקלי שליכי ואחגור בצילצול שליכי. בקשו אחיו הכהנים להרגו רץ מפניהם רצו אחריו והלך לאלכסנדריה של מצרים ובנה מזבח והעלה עולות לשם עבודה זרה. וכששמעו חכמים בדבר אמרו: ומה זה שלא ירד לה כך זה שיורד לה על אחת כמה וכמה! דברי ר׳ מאיר. אמר לו ר׳ יהודה: לא כך היה המעשה אלא לא קבל עליו חוניו שהיה שמעי אחיו גדול ממנו שתי שנים ומחצה ואף על פי כן נתקנא חוניו בשמעי ואמר לו: בא ואלמדך סדר עבודה. הלבישו באונקלי וחגרו בצלצול והעמידו אצל המזבח, אמר להן לאחיו הכהנים: ראו מה נדר וקיים לאהובתו: אותו היום שאשמש בכהונה גדולה אלבש באונקלי שליכי ואחגור בצלצול שליכי. בקשו אחיו הכהנים להרגו סח להם כל המאורע. בקשו להרג את חוניו ורץ מפניהם ורצו אחריו; רץ לבית המלך ורצו אחריו; כל הרואה אותו אומר: זה הוא זה הוא, והלך לאלכסנדריה של מצרים ובנה מזבח והעלה עליו לשם שנאמר ״והיה ביום ההוא יהיה מזבח ליי בתוך ארץ מצרים״ (ישעיה יט, יט). וכששמעו חכמים בדבר אמרו: זה שברח הימנה כך המבקש לירד לה על אחת כמה וכמה! 8: In the hour of his departure (from life), he said to them: Onias my son shall assume the office (of high priest) after me. His brother Shimeʿi, who was two and a half years older than him, was jealous of him and said to him: Come and I will teach you the order of the Temple service. He thereupon put upon him a gown, girded him with a girdle, and placed him near the altar, and said to his brethren the priests: See what this man promised his beloved and has now fulfilled: “On the day in which I will assume the office of high priest I will put on your gown and gird myself with your girdle.” At this his brethren the

7 yYoma 6, 3 43c–d. 18 chapter one

priests sought to kill him (Onias). He ran from them, but they ran after him. He then went to Alexandria in Egypt, built an altar there, and offered thereon sacrifices in honor of idols. When the sages heard of this they said: If this is what happened (through the thirst for power) of one (i.e. Shimeʿi) who had never entered a powerful office, what would happen (through the thirst for power) of one who had once entered a powerful office (and been ousted from it)! This is the view of R. Meir. R. Judah said to him: That is not what happened, but rather Onias did not accept the office (of high priest) because Shimeʿi his brother was two and half years older than him. For all that Onias was jealous of his brother Shimeʿi and he said to him: Come and I will teach you the order of the Temple service. He (Onias) thereupon put on him a gown, girded him with a girdle, placed him near the altar, and said to his brethren the priests: See what this man promised his beloved and has not fulfilled: “On the day that I will assume the office of high priest I will put on your gown and gird myself with your girdle.” At this his brethren the priests sought to kill him, but he explained to them all that occurred. They thereupon sought to kill Onias; he ran from them but they ran after him. He ran to the King’s palace, but they ran after him; and whoever saw him cried out: There he is, there he is. He thereupon went to Alexandria in Egypt, built an altar there, and offered thereon sacrifices in honor of God, for so it is written: “In that day, there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt and a pillar to the Lord at its border” (Isaiah 19, 19). When the sages heard of this they said: If this is what happened (through the thirst for power) of one (Onias) who had (at first) fled from power, what would happen (through the thirst for power) of one who seeks to enter an office of power!8

*** According to a tannaitic tradition cited on various occasions in rabbinic literature, Simeon deduced that he would not live out the year when the specter of an old man which had entered and exited the Holy of Holies with him every Day of Atonement, entered but did not exit (#9). This tradition is discussed in Chapter 6 because it was interpolated into the supposed baraita in the Babylonian Talmud which relates the twin foundation stories of the temple of Onias. :9 םהלרמאקידצהןועמשהבתמשהנש : תמינאוזהנשב . ולורמא : עדויהתאןיינמ ? רמא םהל : ימעאצויוימעסנכנםינבלהסכתמוםינבלשבולדחאןקזהיהםירופכהתומילכ , הנש אציאלוימעסנכנוז . לגרהרחאל ⟨ הלח ⟩ תמוםימיתעבש ⟨. תמשמ ⟩ וענמנקידצהןועמש םשבךרבלמויחא . 9: In the year in which Simeon the Righteous died, he foretold them that he would die. They said to him: Whence do you know it? He said to them:

8 bMenahot 109b according to MS Munich 95 (with corrections based on other manuscripts). Translation is that of Cashdan (1948) with only minor changes. the rabbinic traditions 19

Every Day of Atonement there met me an old man, dressed in white and wrapped in white, who entered with me (into the Holy of Holies) and left with me; but this year he entered with me but did not leave. After the Festival (of Tabernacles) he was ill for seven days and then died. After Simeon the Righteous died, his brethren the priests forbore to pronounce the Name in the priestly benediction.9

*** Chapter 7 investigates Simeon the Righteous’s place in Second Temple chronology according to rabbinic literature. Towards this end, the chapter relates to all thirteen rabbinic traditions about Simeon in order to check whether they maintain compatible views on Simeon’s dating. In this context, the chapter introduces the final four traditions about Simeon, seeking to elicit each tradition’s view on when Simeon lived. The tradition of Simeon and the drought (#10) purports to describe a time of drought when the Jews fasted and God rewarded them with rain very late in the rain season. In order to explain why the people’s fasting succeeded, Simeon suggested that God had intentionally delayed the rains because of his desire to hear the plaintive entreaties and crying of his children. This tradition vaguely situates Simeon sometime in the period of the Second Temple but offers no hints for a more specific dating. :10 ארטימתיחנוארטימלעומצהיבםירשעב — לארשיליבשבאלאםידרויםימשגהןיאש רמאנש ״ םימשהתאבוטהורצואתאךל׳ייחתפי ״ ( חכםירבד , בי .) ןועמשימיבהיההזו קידצה ; םהלרמאו : ותיבןבלרמאוונבלעסעכשךלמללשמ : הכבישדעהסנרפינבלןתתלא ינפלןנחתיו . 10: On the twentieth of Adar they fasted for rain and rain fell—for rain falls only for Israel, as it is said: “The Lord will open for you His bounteous store, the heavens, to provide rain for your land in season and to bless all your undertakings” (Deuteronomy 28, 12). And this event took place in the days of Simeon the Righteous. He said to them (the people): “(The situation may be compared to) a parable of a king who was angry at his son and said to his servant: ‘Do not give my son a slice of bread until he cries and begs before me.’”10 In a chronological mishnaic list of individuals said to have prepared the ashes of a red heifer (#11), Simeon the Righteous appears after Ezra and before Yohanan the High Priest. In a similar vein, the Babylonian Talmud’s list of high priests (#12), arranged chronologically as well, also places Simeon the Righteous right before Yohanan the High Priest:

9 tSotah MS Vienna 13, 8. See also yYoma 5, 2 42c; LeviticusRabbah 21, 12 (p. 493); bMenahot 109b; bYoma 39b. 10 MegillatTaʿanit according to scholion MS Oxford on the twentieth of Adar (pp. 123–128). 20 chapter one

11 :ומי עשאן? הראשונה עשה משה, השניה עשה עזרא, וחמש מעזרא והלך דברי רבי מאיר; וחכמים אומרים: שבע מעזרא והלך. ומי עשאן? שמעון הצדיק ויוחנן כהן גדול עשו שתים שתים, אליועיניי בן הקייף וחנמאל המצרי וישמעאל בן פיאבי עשו אחת אחת. 11: And who prepared them (i.e. the ashes of the red heifers)? Moses prepared the first, Ezra prepared the second, and (there were) five more from Ezra on—these are the words of Rabbi Meir. And the sages said: seven from Ezra on. And who prepared them? Simeon the Righteous and Yohanan the high priest prepared two apiece, and Eliehoaenai ben Hakkof and Hanamel the Egyptian and Ishmael ben Piabi prepared one apiece.11

12 :אמר רבה בר בר חנה אמר רבי יוחנן: מאי דכתיב ״יראת ה׳ תוסיף ימים ושנות רשעים תקצרנה״ (משלי י, כז), ״יראת ה׳ תוסיף ימים״—זה מקדש ראשון, שעמד ארבע מאות ועשר שנים ולא שמשו בו אלא שמונה עשר כהנים גדולים, ״ושנות רשעים תקצרנה״—זה מקדש שני, שעמד ארבע מאות ועשרים שנה, ושמשו בו יותר משלש מאות כהנים. צא מהם ארבעים שנה ששמש שמעון הצדיק, ושמונים ששמש יוחנן כהן גדול, עשר ששמש ישמעאל בן פאבי, ואמרי לה אחת עשרה ששמש רבי אלעזר בן חרסום—מכאן ואילך צא וחשוב: כל אחד ואחד לא הוציא שנתו. 12: Rabbah bar Bar Hannah said in the name of R. Yohanan: What is the meaning of the passage, “The fear of the Lord prolongs life, while the years of the wicked will be shortened” (Proverbs 10, 27)? “The fear of the Lord prolongs life” refers to the first Sanctuary, which remained standing for four hundred and ten years and in which there served only eighteen priests. “While the years of the wicked will be shortened” refers to the second Sanctuary, which abided for four hundred and twenty years and at which more than three hundred (high) priests served. Take off therefrom the forty years which Simeon the Righteous served, eighty years which Yohanan the high priest served, ten which Ishmael ben Piabi served, or, as some say, the eleven years of Rabbi Eleazar ben Harsum. Count (the number of high priests) from then on and you will find that none of them completed his year (in office).12 The tradition of Simeon and Caligula (#13) is the very last tradition analyzed in Chapter 7. The tradition opens with the Roman emperor Gaius Caligula’s threat to erect an idol in the temple in Jerusalem. After word of the decree reached Jerusalem and the people presumably panicked, Simeon the Righteous heard a heavenly voice which revealed to him that the emperor’s order would not be executed. Subsequently, the tradition recounts how the emperor was murdered and his decree annulled just as foretold. From the perspective of historical chronology this tradition is aberrant because it is the solitary rabbinic tradition which explicitly locates Simeon the Righteous in Roman times.

11 mParah 3, 5. See also ySheqalim 4, 2 48a; Pesikta de-Rav Kahana 4 (pp. 73–74). 12 bYoma 9a. (The translation is Jung’s (1939), very slightly modified.) See also Sifre Num- bers 131 (p. 56); yYoma 1, 1, 38c; Leviticus Rabbah 21, 9 (pp. 487–489). the rabbinic traditions 21

:13 גחהברעםלשורילהעומשהאבולכיהבםלצדימעהלורזגסוקסולקימיבש . םהלרמא קידצהןועמש : החמשבםכידעומושע , םתעמששהמלכמרבדןיא . לאבוטםויןיאיצומ ורמאוםלואה : הזהתיבבודובכןכששימ , ךכרודורודלכבוניתובאלםיסנהשעשםשכ הזהןמזבםיסנונלהשעי … לקןועמשעמשו : אלכיהלהאתיהלהאנסרמאדאתדיבעתליטב , ויתוריזגולטבוסגלקסקליטקיא . 13: In the days of Gaius Caligula they decreed to erect an idol in the temple and word reached Jerusalem on the eve of the festival of Sukkot. Simeon the Righteous said to the people: Fulfill the festival with joy for naught will come out of what you have heard. On the night following the festival he entered the hall of the temple and said: He whose honor dwells in this house, just as he performed miracles for our fathers in every generation, so too will he perform miracles in this time … And Simeon heard a voice: “The decree which the enemy intended to bring into the temple is annulled.” Gaius Caligula was killed and his decrees annulled.13

13 Scholion to Megillat Taʿanit on the twenty second of Shevat according to MS Oxford with additions based on the hybrid version of the scholion and omissions (as well as some translated phrases) inspired by Kister’s reconstruction of the original story. See Megillat Taʿanit (2003) 288–289; Kister (2006) 457. See also tSotah 13, 6; ySotah 9, 12 24d; bSotah 33a.

chapter two

SIMEON THE RIGHTEOUS, THE GREAT ASSEMBLY OF AVOT AND THE RABBINIZATION OF EARLY SECOND TEMPLE JUDAISM

Simeon the Righteous is probably best known for his appearance in the second mishnah of Avot: הלודגהתסנכירישמהיהקידצהןועמש . רמואהיהאוה : דמועםלועהםירבדהשלשלע : לע םידסחתולימגלעוהדבעהלעוהרותה . Simeon the Righteous was of the remnants of the Great Assembly. He used to say: On three things the world stands: on Torah, on worship, and on the bestowal of kindnesses.1 Simeon’s mishnah, Avot 1, 2, is comprised of two components: a preface explored in this chapter and a wisdom saying investigated in the next. The preface introduces Simeon as one of the remnants of the Great Assembly. This fascinating description of Simeon’s institutional affiliation is mysteri- ously opaque since the Great Assembly is entirely absent from Second Tem- ple sources while rabbinic literature roughly contemporary to Avot, i.e. tannaitic literature, provides no additional information about the Great Assem- bly not found already in Avot. Despite the absence of the Great Assem- bly from Second Temple sources and the dearth of explicit tannaitic references to the Great Assembly, I believe that Second Temple and rabbinic sources can nonetheless shed much light on the Great Assembly albeit in a rather unconventional manner. Instead of detailing the responsibilities and the composition of an actual Second Temple institution entitled the Great Assembly, our sources hold out the promise of illuminating the role of the Great Assembly in the rabbinic imagination and of enabling us to trace the origins of this important literary construct. Through the analysis of a select group of tannaitic and Second Temple sources, I hope both to shed light on the evolution of the tannaitic conception of the Great Assembly and to explain why the tannaim perceived Simeon as a remnant of this venerable institution.

1 mAvot 1, 2. 24 chapter two

*** Avot 1, 2 depicts Simeon the Righteous as one of the remnants of the Great Assembly but the Great Assembly is neither described nor characterized in this mishnah since it was already introduced in the previous mishnah, Avot 1, 1: עשוהילהרסמויניסמהרותלביקהשמ םינקזלעשוהיו םיאיבנלםינקזו הלודגהתסנכישנאלהורסמםיאיבנו . םירבדהשלשורמאםה : ןידבןינותמויה הברהםידימלתודימעהו הרותלגייסושעו . Moses received the Torah from Sinai and passed it on to Joshua, and Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets, and the prophets passed it on to the men of the Great Assembly. They said three things: Be deliberate in judgment, and raise up many disciples, and make a fence for the Torah. Skipping over the opening of Avot 1, 1 for the moment, let us consider the tripartite saying attributed to the men of the Great Assembly. The first leg in the saying, “Be deliberate in judgment,” is apparently directed to judges and calls upon them to judge each case brought before them thoroughly and unhurriedly even if they are familiar with the issues at hand and have adju- dicated identical matters in the past. “If a case comes before you once, twice and a third time, say not (on the fourth time) ‘this case has already come before me, and I (even judged it) a second time and a third time (so I need not waste time deliberating now),’ but rather be deliberate in judgment.”2 The second leg addresses teachers and instructs them to “raise up many disciples.” Judah Goldin suggested that the particular syntactic structure of this leg—verb + direct object + “harbeh” (“many”)—in conjunction with its particular message are reminiscent of a phrase found at the end of Ecclesiastes:3

2 This early interpretation of the saying’s first leg is found already in Sifre Deuteronomy 16 (p. 25). For a discussion of a more expansive later interpretation which views the saying as calling upon everyone, and not only judges, to be level-headed and slow to anger see Kister (1998) 136. See also Guthold (1993) 52–59. 3 Goldin (1988) 12–14. For a rather different take on the saying’s first and third legs see the simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 25

רשבתעגיהברהגהלוץקןיאהברהםירפסתושערהזהינבהמהמרתיו . A further word: Against them, my son be warned! The making of many books is without limit and much study is a wearying of the flesh.4 While the epilogue of Ecclesiastes discourages “ʿasot sefarim harbeh,” the making (or study) of many books, the men of the Great Assembly encourage the making of many disciples, “vehaʿamidu talmidim harbeh.” The contrast between the two passages not only highlights the more optimistic attitude towards wisdom and knowledge ascribed to the men of the Great Assem- bly, but also hints at two distinct media of knowledge transmission. While Ecclesiastes refers to the knowledge of books, the men of the Great Assem- bly’s saying most likely presupposes an oral medium through which sages orally transmitted their teachings to their disciples. The third and final leg of the men of the Great Assembly’s saying, “make a fence for the Torah,” is interpreted already in tannaitic literature as an appeal to take precautionary measures so as to prevent violations of Torah law. In order to illustrate this principle, the Mekhiltade-RabbiIshmael relates how the sages sought to distance people from potential transgression by prohibiting the fulfillment of certain duties after midnight, such as the eating of the Passover sacrifice and the burning of the fat pieces of offerings, even though the letter of the law permitted the fulfillment of these duties until the rise of dawn.5 Fearing that individuals might accidentally or negli- gently violate the time constraints of certain precepts, the sages established more stringent time constraints so as to prevent the violation of the biblically mandated constraints. The Mekhilta’s illustration not only clarifies the nature of the “fence” in the men of the Great Assembly’s instruction but also suggests that the instruction was primarily addressed to legislating sages and not to the Jewish people as a whole. In sum, the three legs of the men of the Great Assembly’s saying address three different types of leaders: judges, teachers and legislators.6 Each type of leader is instructed to enhance the role of Torah in Jewish life in a manner suitable to his profession and field of expertise. The judge is cautioned not to rashly misapply Torah law out of haste; the teacher is encouraged to educate rest of Goldin’s article. See also Finkelstein (1940) 455–469, who purports to reconstruct an earlier version of the men of the Great Assembly’s saying on the basis of a parallel saying in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan. 4 Ecclesiastes 12, 12. 5 Mekhilta Pisha 6 (p. 19); (mBerakhot 1, 1; bBerakhot 4b, Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A 2 (p. 14); Avot de-Rabbi Nathan B 3 (p. 14)). See also Kister (1998) 131–132 (n. 86). 6 Cf. Oppenheimer (1994–1995) 59–64. 26 chapter two many disciples who can disseminate the Torah and transmit it to future generations; and the legislator is instructed to make a hedge around the Torah so that its precepts will not be violated. Though judge, teacher and legislator comprise three distinct leadership roles, the rabbinic sages assumed all three roles. Since the men of the Great Assembly’s saying addresses the three fundamental leadership functions of the rabbis, the rabbi as judge/arbitra- tor, the rabbi as teacher and the rabbi as legislator/jurist, it may be viewed as a programmatic statement for the rabbinic movement. Additionally, it bears stressing that the saying is concerned with the protection and propa- gation of Torah, the central lore of rabbinic Judaism.7 Thus, the men of the Great Assembly’s saying is not only an appropriate opening for a treatise that continually underscores the importance of Torah but also befits the consti- tutional assembly that is portrayed in Avot 1, 1 as the founding institution of rabbinic Judaism, a Judaism steered primarily by the wisdom and knowledge of learned sages.

*** The opening of Avot 1, 1 sketches the history of the transmission of the Torah from Moses on Mt. Sinai, through Joshua, the elders and the prophets until arriving at the men of the Great Assembly, an institution depicted as heir to the prophets. The final prophetic books in the Hebrew Bible date to the period of Persian rule in the early Second Temple period, and, indeed, the rabbis viewed that time roughly as the close of the classical era of prophecy.8 Thus, Avot 1, 1 traces the transmission of the Torah from its inception on Sinai until its reception by the men of the Great Assembly in the early Second Temple period. Unlike the preceding links in the chain of transmission, the men of the Great Assembly are not familiar personal- ities from the Bible and unlike their predecessors, they alone are ascribed a wisdom saying. These features of the men of the Great Assembly in conjunction with the contents of their tripartite saying suggest that, for Avot, the Great Assemnly spearheaded a new phenomenon in Jewish history that

7 On this latter point see Bahye ben Asher, Commentary on Avot ad loc. (pp. 113–116); cf. Twersky (1998–1999) 25–27. 8 See Seder ʿOlam Rabbah 30 (pp. 140–141); tSotah 13, 3 (and parallels); Mekhilta de-Rashbi 20, 16 (p. 155); yTaʿanit 2, 1 65a (and parallels). See also Urbach (5706) 1–11; Greenspahn (1989) 37–49; Feldman (1990), 398–407; Gray (1993) 7–34; Milikowsky (1994) 83–94; Levison (1997) 35–57; Neusner (1998b) 45–60; Blenkinsopp (2004) 197–199; Cook (2001) 149–173. (We need not interpret that the rabbis believed that all prophecy was quenched during the early Second Temple period, only that the classical era which produced the canonical prophetic writings terminated then.) simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 27 marked the birth of the rabbinic movement. In reference to the end of the era of classical prophecy, Seder ʿOlam Rabbah 30 states “from here on out, ‘incline your ears and listen to the words of the sages’ (Proverbs 22, 17)” and this very transition from prophecy to rabbinic Judaism is embodied in the transition from the prophets to the men of the Great Assembly depicted in Avot 1, 1. Avot 1, 2, as noted above, describes Simeon the Righteous as a remnant of the Great Assembly, a description which indicates that he outlived most other members of the Great Assembly. Together Avot 1, 1 and 1, 2 depict Simeon as one of the last surviving members of the founding institution of rabbinic Judaism, an institution which flourished at the very beginning of the Second Temple period. Avot apparently stresses that Simeon was one of the last living members of the Great Assembly because, as we shall see momentarily, Avot seeks to portray Simeon as a bridge between the Great Assembly and its successors. In Avot, the Great Assembly and its representative, Simeon the Righteous, are not of significance simply because they received the Torah from the prophets. Rather, the full import of their role in Avot is only realized in the continuation of the tractate where the story of the chain of transmission unfolds throughout the Second Temple period and beyond. In order to gain an appreciation for their role as links to the future, consider the following overview of the first two chapters of Avot which highlights how the rabbinic chain of transmission supplies the central structuring principle for these chapters: א, א: עשוהילהרסמויניסמהרותלביקהשמ םינקזלעשוהיו םיאיבנלםינקזו הלודגהתסנכישנאלהורסמםיאיבנו … א, ב: הלודגהתסנכירישמהיהקידצהןועמש … א, ג: קידצהןועמשמלביקוכוסשיאסנגיטנא … א, ד: ונממולביקםילשורישיאןנחויןבהסויוהדירצשיארזעויןבהסוי … א, ו: ןהמולביקילבראהייתמוהיחרפןבעשוהי … א, ח: ןהמולביקחטשןבןועמשוייבטןבהדוהי … א, י: ןהמולביקןוילטבאוהיעמש … א, בי : ןהמולביקיימשוללה … ב, ח: יימשמוללהמלביקייכזןבןנחויןבר … ויהםידימלתהשמח [ ול ] ׳רל [ ןהוליאוייכזןבןנחוי ]: סונקרוהןברזעילא , היננחןבעשוהי׳ר , ףסוי׳ר [ ןהכה ,] לאנתנןבןועמש׳רו , ךרעןברזעלא׳ר … 1, 1: Moses received the Torah from Sinai and passed it on to Joshua, and Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets, and the prophets passed it on to the men of the Great Assembly. 28 chapter two

1, 2: Simeon the Righteous was of the remnants of the Great Assembly … 1, 3: Antigonus of Sokho received from Simeon the Righteous … 1, 4: Yose ben Yoezer of Zereidah and Yose ben Yohanan of Jerusalem received from him … 1, 6: Joshua ben Perahyah and Mattai of Arbela received from them … 1, 8: Judah ben Tabbai and Simeon ben Shatah received from them … 1, 10: Shemaiah and Avtalyon received from them … 1, 12: Hillel and Shammai received from them … 2, 8: Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai received from Hillel and from Shammai … Five disciples were there to R. [Yohanan ben Zakkai and these are they:] Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, R. Joshua ben Hananiah, R. Joseph [ha-Kohen], and R. Simeon ben Nathanel, R. Eleazar ben Arakh. The keyword “qibbel,” “received,” recurs time and again in Avot’s chain of transmission. Just as Moses “received” the Torah from Sinai, Antigonus of Sokho, the five Pairs of leaders from Second Temple times9 and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, the first rabbinic leader after the destruction of Second Temple Jerusalem, all “received” the Torah from their predecessors.10 Fol- lowing the precedent of the men of the Great Assembly, all the tradents from Simeon the Righteous through the students of RabbanYohanan ben Zakkai are ascribed a wisdom saying,11 an apparent sign of their belonging to the community of rabbinic sages.12 With Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and his students, the chain of transmission emerges after the destruction of the Second Temple in the rabbinic beit midrash (or house of study). In other words, Avot’s chain of transmission constructs a narrative of the continuous transmission of Torah from Moses until the tannaim, and both the Great Assembly and Simeon the Righteous serve as instrumental links in this story of transmission.13

9 The Pairs are also listed in mHagigah 2, 2. 10 I have skipped over the sayings of the House of Gamaliel (1, 16–2, 7), which appear between the last of the Pairs and Rabban Yohananben Zakkai, because it has long been recognized that these mishnayot do not belong to the earliest layer of Avot’s chain of transmission. Indeed, the word “received” is entirely absent from the mishnayot of the House of Gamaliel. See Finkelstein (1950) 5–6; Boyarin (2003) 285–318; Tropper (2004) 22–24. 11 Only Hillel is assigned more than one saying. See Sharvit (2004) 267. 12 On the synthesis of named-sayings and a chain of transmission in the Graeco-Roman context, see Tropper (2004) 174–184. Cf. the introduction to Menahem ben Solomon Meiri’s Commentary on Avot (p. 39) and Obadiah ben Abraham Yare Bertinoro, Commentary on Avot 1, 1 (p. 101). 13 Chapters three and four of Avot lack the keyword “received” and the teacher-disciple schema of the first two chapters, but they nonetheless continue the chain of transmission in an implicit fashion by generally adhering to a rough chronological order. See the preface in Obadiah ben Jacob Sforno’s Commentary on Avot (p. 96); Finkelstein (1950) 64; Lerner (1987) 265–267; Tropper (2004) 24. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 29

In Avot, the Great Assembly links the classical age of prophecy to the emergence of rabbinic Judaism, a transition which the rabbis dated to the early Second Temple period. In a similar vein, Avot portrays Simeon the Righteous as the link between the Great Assembly of the Persian era, the final historical era explicitly discussed in the biblical narrative, and the Jewish leadership of the Hellenistic period. Although the Persian period actually ended nearly two hundred years after the erection of the Second Temple, it is well known that the rabbis were unaware of (or elected to ignore) the true duration of the Persian empire and that they collapsed Persian rule during Second Temple times to a mere thirty four years.14 In line with standard rabbinic chronology, Avot apparently imagines that the Great Assembly flourished just when classical prophecy waned during the era of Persian rule in the early Second Temple period. George Foot Moore has argued that since Persian rule in rabbinic chronology lasted for only thirty four years after the construction of the Second Temple, the rabbis may have concluded, not unreasonably, that one of the last living members of the Great Assembly, i.e. Simeon the Righteous, survived into the Hellenistic period as well.15 Indeed, Simeon the Righteous’s successor in Avot’s chain of transmission is Antigonus of Sokho and his Greek name is far more typical of the Hellenistic period than of the Persian.16 Hence it seems that Avot depicts Simeon not only as a member of a grand institution which flourished during Persian times, but also as a sage who transmitted the Torah received by the Great Assembly to his disciple Antigonus, a man of the Hellenistic era.

*** Before considering the origins of the rabbinic conception of the Great As- sembly and the rationale underlying Simeon the Righteous’s institutional affiliation, we would be well served by investigating Avot’s chain of transmission a little further. We have already surveyed the structure of the chain of transmission and grasped its account of the Torah’s continuous transmission, but we have not specified the precise nature of this Torah. Avot 1, 1 clearly states that Torah is the object of transmission, but commentators differ on the precise interpretation of the term “Torah” in this context. Is the Torah of the chain of transmission the torah shebikhtav, the written Torah of

14 See Seder ʿOlam Rabbah 31 (p. 141); bAvodah Zarah 9a. 15 See Moore (1927) 358–359. 16 The dearth of early rabbinic sages with Greek names (see Ilan (2002), 257–312) indicates that Greek names were not very popular in early rabbinic circles. Consequently, it seems that the rabbis would have easily recognized that “Antigonus” is a Greek name. 30 chapter two

Moses (i.e. the Pentateuch17)? Alternatively, is Torah here the torah shebeʿal peh, the body of oral law believed to have been delivered to Moses on Sinai and so hallowed by its oral medium that it was prohibited to be committed to writing? Or does Torah here include both the written Torah and the oral Torah?18 During the tannaitic period, the term “Torah” usually referred to the Pen- tateuch so at the very least, the Torah of Avot 1, 1 originally referred to the Pentateuch or the torahshebikhtav. In addition, since the full fledged Hebrew term for the oral Torah, torah shebeʿal peh, never appears in tannaitic literature,19 it seems unlikely that the Torah of Avot’s chain of transmission would have denoted the later amoraic term, torah shebeʿal peh. Nonethe- less, central facets of the concept of torah shebeʿal peh were already articulated in tannaitic literature, albeit infrequently. For example, the Sifra states: “‘and the torot’(Leviticus 26, 46)—this teaches that two torot were given to Israel one in writing and one orally … ‘On Mt. Sinai by the hand of Moses’ (ibid.)—this teaches that the Torah was given with its rules and details and explanations through Moses from Sinai;”20 and Sifre Deuteronomy similarly explicates that “two torot were given to Israel, one in writing and one orally.”21 Given that extra-pentateuchal oral traditions attributed to the Sinaitic revelation were already labeled “Torah” during tannaitic times, it is highly likely that the Torah of Avot’s chain of transmission originally denoted these extra-biblical traditions as well, even if they were not yet labeled torah shebeʿal peh. The likelihood that the Torah of Avot’s chain of transmission denoted extra-pentateuchal traditions and interpretations is strengthened by the following additional considerations. First, a chain of transmission both autho-

17 Though the Bible never contends that the entire Pentateuch was delivered to Moses on Sinai, the rabbinic view of the Pentateuch as the Torah of Moses justifies the notion that Torah in Avot refers to the Pentateuch at the very least. 18 Medieval commentators differ on whether the term “Torah” here includes just the oral law (Menahem ben Solomon Meiri, Commentary on Avot ad loc. (p. 102); Simeon ben Zemah Duran, Commentary on Avot ad loc. (p. 103)) or the written law as well (Jonah ben Abraham Gerondi, Commentary on Avot ad loc. (p. 101); Jacob ben Samson, Commentary on Avot ad loc. (p. 102)). Some modern scholars (and perhaps Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A 1 and B 1 (pp. 1–2) as well) suggest that Torah here refers to the written law only.See Heschel (1965) 75–79; Blidstein (1998) 55–72; Fox (1999) 6–21, 17 n. 37. 19 See Blidstein (1972–1973) 496–498; Schäfer (1978) 153–197; Rosenthal (1993) 455–456 n. 30; Sussmann (2005) 227 (nn. 7–8). 20 Sifra Behuqotai 7, 6, 12 (p. 112c with division notation according to Naeh (1999–2000), 99–104 and Weiss Halivni’s translation ((2007) 146)). 21 Sifre Deuteronomy 351 (p. 408). simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 31 rizes the persons listed in the chain and legitimates their teachings22 so as a divine text, the Pentateuch alone had little need for a chain of transmission. Belief in the Pentateuch’s divine origin provided sufficient grounds for submission to its dictates. Second, though the chain of transmission’s keyword, “qibbel,” “received,” can refer to the reception of a physical object as in “Agrippa the king received (the Torah) standing and read it sitting,”23 when “qibbel” appears in other mishnaic chains of transmission it denotes the reception of an oral tradition, as we shall see below.Indeed, the word “qibbel” in chains of transmission is synonymous and used interchangeably with -Thus, the Torah of Avot’s chain of transmis 24.(” עמש “) ”the word “to hear sion apparently referred both to the Pentateuch and to extra-pentateuchal traditions and interpretations thought to have been delivered to Moses on Sinai.25 A few other tannaitic texts, such as the citations from the Sifra and Sifre brought above, also explicitly envision the reception of extra-biblical lore on Sinai, but none of them grants this notion so striking and prominent a role in its literary structure as does Avot.26 Traditionally scholars have maintained that there is nothing particularly innovative in the tannaitic conviction expressed in Avot that extra- pentateuchal traditions were delivered to Moses on Sinai since the Pharisees had already subscribed to the very same conception of Torah back in Second Temple times.27 According to this traditional stance, the Pharisaic conception of the παραδόσεις τῶν πατέρων, the “traditions of the fathers,” is identical to Avot’s conception of divinely inspired extra-biblical traditions.28 However, no Second Temple source indicates that the Pharisees actually attributed extra-biblical traditions to the Sinaitic revelation. While Avot apparently refers to extra-biblical traditions and interpretations as Torah, the Phar- isees of Second Temple times labeled them “traditions of the fathers” or

22 See Weiss Halivni (1986) 47; Blidstein (1998); Tropper (2004) 157–172. 23 See mSotah 7, 8. (See also Stemberger (2003) 285–287.) 24 See Sussmann (2005) 262 n. 16. 25 See Saldarini (1982) 6–7; Cohen (1990) 62–63; Weiss Halivni (1997) 54–55; Jaffee (1997) 78–85; Fox (1999) 6–21; Alexander (2001) 276–278; Miller (2006) 207 n. 224; Werman (2006) 180–197; cf. Neusner (1985) 51–53; id. (1998) 26–31; Weiss Halivni (2007) 137–163; Jaffee (2000) 53–54. 26 See, for example, tSotah 7, 11–12; Sifra Behar 1, 1, 1 (p. 105a) and references in nn. 20 and 21 above. See also the discussion of Naeh (2001) 860–865. 27 See Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, 13, 297, 13, 408; Mark 7, 3; Matthew 15, 2; Galatians 1, 14. 28 See, for example, Gerhardsson (1998) 19–32; Rivkin (1978) 35–43; Schürer, Vermes, Millar, Black and Goodman (1979–1987), vol. 2, p. 390; Baumgarten (1972) 12–14; Baumgarten (1987) 63–77; Schaper (1999) 409; Main (1990) 176–179; Sussmann (2005) 373; Werman and Shemesh (2011) 72–103. 32 chapter two

“traditions of the elders.”29 This difference may not only reflect two distinct notions of the scope of Torah but also two different conceptions of the authority of extra-pentateuchal traditions. Whereas the Pharisees valued the traditions of the fathers because of their hoary antiquity, Avot elevated these traditions to the status of Torah and considered them binding commandments of God.30 In light of the comparison of the tannaitic conception of Torah to the Pharisaic “traditions of the fathers,” we can discern both continuity and innovation in the claims of Avot’s chain of transmission. Both Pharisees and tannaim revered extra-pentateuchal traditions and viewed them as binding on the Jewish people. Avot, however, proposed an understanding of these traditions distinct from the Pharisaic conception of ancestral traditions. For Avot, a group of tradents passed on the Torah, including its extra- pentateuchal traditions, from the time of Moses until the time of the tannaim. The tradents from Moses until the destruction of the first temple are familiar to us from the Bible, but with the beginning of the Second Temple period, an institution otherwise unknown comes to the fore. The men of the Great Assembly, including Simeon the Righteous, are crucial figures in this new tannaitic story of oral transmission because they function as important links in the chain of transmission. They are portrayed in Avot as proto- tannaim who received the Torah delivered on Sinai from their predecessors

29 See Fraade (1999) 39; Jaffee (2001) 48. Although scholars have traditionally assumed that the ancestral traditions mentioned in Josephus’s writings and the New Testament were Pharisaic traditions orally transmitted from teacher to disciple, Martin Goodman has offered the tantalizing suggestion that these traditions were neither Pharisaic nor oral (Goodman (1999) 17–21; id. (2002) 201–213). Goodman has pointed out that neither Josephus nor the New Testament ever labels ancestral traditions Pharisaic and so he suggests that these traditions were popular customs common to many ordinary Jews. Goodman also proposes that since Josephus never mentions oral transmission, it is more likely that he “had in mind traditional behaviour rather than traditional teachings. For most individuals in most societies religion is caught, through imitation of parental customs, rather than taught, whether through writings or verbal instruction” (Goodman (1999) 18; see also Weiss Halivni (1986) 118). In other words, the Pharisees encouraged ordinary Jews to observe popular Jewish ancestral customs that were passed down from generation to generation through mimesis, through partici- pation in family and communal life, and not via a scholastic education. The scholastically oriented tannaim, according to this view, were not necessarily Pharisees or even heirs of the Pharisees, but like the Pharisees they revered, interpreted (Mandel (2007) 19–32) and encouraged the observance of traditional Jewish practices. (See also Sivertsev (2005); Miller (2010).) 30 See Fraade (1999) 39–42; Jaffee (2001) 39–61. Other groups in the Second Temple period justified extra-pentateuchal traditions and interpretations on other grounds, such as non- Sinaitic revelations and congruency with Natural Law. See Najman (2003); Shemesh (2009). simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 33 and then passed it on to their successors.31 Whereas the Pharisees viewed extra-biblical traditions as originating with ancient, unnamed fathers, Avot viewed these traditions as part and parcel of the commentary originally taught to Moses on Sinai and subsequently transmitted orally by the great sages of each generation.

*** Our analysis of the men of the Great Assembly’s wisdom saying and the Great Assembly’s role in Avot’s chain of transmission has shed some light on the significance of this institution in rabbinic eyes, but as far as the nature of the institution is concerned we are still very much in the dark. Avot 1, 2 asserts that Simeon the Righteous was one of the remnants of this important early Second Temple institution, but how did the rabbis envision this institution? At first glance Second Temple sources are of no help at all because they are not even aware of the existence of an institution entitled the Great Assembly. Later amoraic sources are also of no assistance because even though they attribute various activities to the Great Assembly, there is no reason to assume that these late attributions were based on ancient traditions or other historical evidence.32 It seems more likely that the amoraim imaginatively thickened the rather thin description of the Great Assembly bequeathed to them by the tannaim. Yet even when we turn to tannaitic works we find that save for Avot, tannaitic literature contributes absolutely nothing to the portrait of the Great Assembly. The Great Assembly appears in tannaitic literature only twice outside of Avot, once in the Mekhilta de- Rabbi Ishmael and once in Sifre Deuteronomy, and on both occasions the midrashic works merely cite Avot 1, 1.33 Thus, Avot 1, 1–2 is our earliest source for the Great Assembly and the sole evidence for the tannaitic conception of this institution. In light of the fact that the Great Assembly is absent from Second Temple literature and appears for the very first time in Avot’s chain of transmission, scholars of the late nineteenth century already concluded that the Great Assembly was originally devised to serve as a link in the rabbinic chain of transmission. They reasoned that the Great Assembly was constructed by the rabbinic imagination in order to fill a gaping hole in the chain of transmission.34 This conclusion seems reasonable enough though it also begs the

31 See Moore (1927) 359. 32 See Kuenen (1894) 125–160; Schiffer (1977) 237–276; Tamari (1972) 1–4; cf. Mantel (1983). 33 See Mekhilta Pisha 6 (p. 19); Sifre Deuteronomy 1 (p. 25); (Midrash Tannaim 1, 16 (p. 9)). 34 See Ryle (1914) 279–282; Neusner (1971) 19; Goodblatt (1994) 80. See also n. 32 above. 34 chapter two question: why was there a gap in the chain of transmission in the first place? If we can reconstruct how the gap in the chain was initially formed, we might be able to discover what inspired the rabbis to create the Great Assembly and assign it a role in the Torah’s chain of transmission. However, since a gap by definition is that which is not, it is difficult to determine the origins of a gap in a straightforward manner. Only by ascertaining the literary origins of the chain of transmission and its constituent links can we reveal how gaps were left between the links. Thus, I shall seek out the sources of inspiration that most probably engendered the creation of Avot’s chain of transmission in the hopes that this literary backdrop will shed light on the tannaitic conception of the Great Assembly.

*** Louis Finkelstein has argued that the chain of transmission was not originally formulated for Avot and that Avot’s chain is actually based on an earlier source, a source which was subsequently preserved in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan. Although Avot de-Rabbi Nathan was edited long after Avot, Finkelstein has suggested that Avot de-Rabbi Nathan’s chain of transmission belongs to a group of early traditions in the work that antedate Avot: עשוהילהרסמויניסמהרותלבקהשמ םינקזלעשוהיו םיטפושלםינקזו םיאיבנלםיטפושו יכאלמלוהירכזלויגחלםיאיבנו הלודגהתסנכישנאלורסמיכאלמוהירכזיגח . Moses received the Torah from Sinai and passed it on to Joshua, and Joshua to the elders, and the elder to the judges, and the judges to the prophets, and the prophets to Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi, Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi passed (it) on to the men of the Great Assembly.35 Avotde-RabbiNathan’s chain includes two links which do not appear in Avot, namely the judges and the late prophets Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi. According to Finkelstein, Avot de-Rabbi Nathan’s chain was the source of

35 See Avotde-RabbiNathanB 1 (p. 2); cf. Avotde-RabbiNathanA 1 (pp. 1–2). See also Finkel- stein (1950) 8–11. (Finkelstein (1938) 37–38 argues that Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A preserves the earliest extant chain while Avot de-Rabbi Nathan B attests to a later version which preserves the gist of the chain’s contents in version A but in a terse form borrowed from Avot. See also Finkelstein (1969) 77–90.) simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 35

Avot’s chain of transmission and Avot’s editor abridged the original chain by omitting two links.36 If Finkelstein’s assessment were correct, we would now know that the rabbinic chain of transmission originally included two more links than we initially had thought though we would still be no closer to understanding how the original links in the chain were selected or arranged. Finkelstein’s assessment, however, is most probably incorrect since Avot de- Rabbi Nathan’s longer chain is apparently an expansion of Avot’s shorter and earlier chain.37 All else being equal, philologists tend to consider the shorter version of a text to be earlier than its longer parallel38 and in our particular case there is a well-attested trend amongst later developers of the rabbinic chain of transmission to expand earlier chains by listing the names of the individual members of a collective entity, such as the prophets, and by filling in gaps. For example, a rabbinic chain of transmission from Geonic times presented in Seder Tannaim ve-Amoraim includes numerous figures absent from Avot and Avot de-Rabbi Nathan such as Othniel, Ehud, Sam- gar, Deborah, Barak, Gideon, Abimelech, Tola and Jair the Gileadite,39 and Maimondies’s medieval chain similarly lists Eli, Samuel, David, Ahijah the Shilonite, Elijah, Elisha, Jehoiada, Zechariah, Hosea, Amos, Isaiah, Micah, Joel, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Jeremiah, Baruch and Ezra.40 In line with these other late chains, Avot de-Rabbi Nathan apparently produced an expanded version of Avot’s earlier chain of transmission in its efforts to bridge two gaps created by Avot’s chain.

*** Avot de-Rabbi Nathan’s chain of transmission was just eliminated as a possible source for Avot’s chain because, contrary to Finkelstein’s claims, Avot de-Rabbi Nathan’s chain seems to be a later expansion of Avot rather than a literary precedent. However, there are four chains of transmission in tannaitic literature, three in the Mishnah and one in the Tosefta, which bear a striking resemblance to Avot’s chain of transmission and most likely antedate it. Whereas Avot is the only tannaitic chain of transmission that purports to trace the historical transmission of the Torah and establish its legal

36 Finkelstein offers an imaginative and rather farfetched hypothesis to explain why the editor of Avot chose to omit certain links from the original chain. See Finkelstein (1950) 8–11; cf. Tropper (2004) 158. 37 See Nodet (1997) 279 n. 11. 38 This text-critical rule is widely known as “lectio breviorlectiopotior,” “the shorter reading is the preferred reading.” See Tov (2001) 305–307. 39 See Seder Tannaim ve-Amoraim 1 (p. 1). 40 See Maimonidies, Mishneh Torah (2001) 1. 36 chapter two authority, the four other tannaitic chains aim to trace the transmission and establish the authority of individual rabbinic traditions. It stands to reason that the local tannaitic chains for individual traditions antedate Avot’s chain since once Avot had established that extra-pentateuchal traditions were part and parcel of the Torah delivered on Sinai, there no longer would have been any need to trace the transmission of any particular extra-pentateuchal tradition, i.e. there would have been no need to create localized chains of transmission. In other words, it seems most likely that the localized tannaitic chains of transmission antedate Avot’s generalized chain.41 These localized chains apparently introduced the chain of transmission literary genre into rabbinic literature and, as a late tannaitic example of this genre, Avot inherited much from these literary precedents but also developed the genre further.42

*** Mishnah Peah is a tractate whose first four chapters deal with the obligation to set aside for the needy a peah, a standing portion of crop at the end of a field.43 Mishnah Peah 2, 5–6 explore one dimension of the peah obligation, namely the ramifications of the kind of seed planted in a field for the extent of the peah obligation, and in this context Mishnah Peah 2, 6 introduces a chain of transmission: ב, ה: תחאהאיפןתונתונרגיתשהשועאוהשיפלעףאדחאןימוהדשתאערוזה . ינשהערז תואיפיתשןתונתחאןרוגהשועאוהשיפלעףאםינימ . םיטיחינימינשוהדשתאערוזה , [ םא ] תחאהאיפןתונתחאןרוגןאשע , תואיפיתשןתונתונרגיתש . ב, ו: לאילמגןברינפלהפצמהשיאןועמש׳רערזשהשעמ [ ולעו ] תיזגהתכשלל [ ולאשו ,] רלבלהםוחנרמא : ןמולביקשתוגוזהןמלביקשאבאמלביקשאשיימיברמינאלבוקמ יניסמהשמלהכלהםיאיבנה : םיטיחינימינשוהידשתאערוזה [, םא ] ןתונתחאןרוגןאשע תחאהאיפ , תואיפיתשןתונתונרגיתש .

41 It is therefore unlikely that Avot’s chain is a Pharisaic document from the Second Temple period. Cf. Finkelstein (1950) 5–18, 212–238. On the date of Avot and its relationship to the Mishnah, see Tropper (2004) 88–116; cf. Stemberger (2005) 243–258. 42 Elias Bickerman has noted that knowledge of Avot’s chain of transmission “had a great practical significance: it eliminated the need to guarantee each individual tradition on its own” ((2007) 537). I concur with Bickerman’s observation and seek to go beyond it by claiming not only that Avot eliminated the need for chains legitimating individual traditions, but that Avot was actually modeled on such chains. It also bears noting that my position does not posit that Avot was particularly well known at an early date—it merely assumes that the editors of the Mishnah and Tosefta would have been familiar with it. Since Avot was included in the Mishnah, this seems to be a fair assumption. 43 See Leviticus 19, 9–10. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 37

2, 5: He who sows his field with one kind (of seed), even though he makes up two threshing floors, he (need) give (only) one peah. If he sows it with two kinds, even though he makes up only one threshing floor, he (must) give two peot. He who sows his field with two species of wheat, if he makes up one threshing floor, he (need) give one peah, (but if) two threshing-floors, he (must) give two peot. 2, 6: It once happened that R. Simeon of Mizpah sowed (his field with two species of wheat and came) before Rabban Gamaliel and they went up to the Chamber of Hewn Stone and inquired (as to the law). Nahum the Scribe said: “I have received from R. Meyasha, who received from his father, who received from the Pairs, who received from the prophets, a law (given) to Moses from Sinai: He who sows his field with two species of wheat,44 if he makes up one threshing floor, he (need) give one peah, (but if) two threshing-floors, he (must) give two peot.”45 The three laws stated in Mishnah Peah 2, 5 are rather straightforward. The first law states that if one sows a field with one kind (i.e. genus) of seed, one is obligated to give a single peah; the second law states that if one sows a field with two kinds of seed, one gives two peot; and the third law states that if one sows a field with two species of wheat (i.e. two species of a single genus), then one gives peot according to the number of threshing-floors needed to harvest the field, i.e. according to the size of the field. If only one threshing-floor is needed,46 then the field is considered a single field and only one peah is required; but if two threshing-floors are needed, the field is considered a double field and two peot are required.47

44 On the different types of wheat mentioned in rabbinic literature see Feliks (1985) 60. 45 In my translations of mPeah 2, 5–6, mEduyyot 8, 7 and mYadayim 4, 3, I have borrowed liberally from Danby (1933) and Hayes (2000) 68–71. 46 On the meaning of the term “threshing floor” in our context see Weiss (1978) 119–120. 47 In contrast to its simple subject matter, the presentation and style of Mishnah Peah 2, 5 unnecessarily complicate matters in two ways. First, the number of threshing-floors is entirely irrelevant to the first two laws of the mishnah and applies only to the third and final law, yet the mishnah nonetheless discusses the number of threshing floors in its presentation of the first two laws for no apparent reason. Second, since the first law in the mishnah introduces a new topic that the subsequent two laws develop further, the mishnah should have opened the three laws as follows: :1 דחאןימוהדשתאערוזה … :2 םינימינשהערז … :3 םיטיחינימינשהערז … 1: He who sows his field with one kind … 2: (If) he sows it with two kinds … 3: (If) he sows it with two species of wheat … The mishnah, however, does not open the third law with the words “(If) he sows it” but surprisingly repeats the very terminology used in the first law: “He who sows his field.” In short, 38 chapter two

Mishnah Peah 2, 6 continues where Mishnah Peah 2, 5 left off and relates a story that illustrates the third and final law of MishnahPeah 2, 5. R. Simeon of Mizpah planted two species of wheat in a field and asked Rabban Gamaliel the Elder how many peot he was required to set aside for the field. Since Rabban Gamaliel did not know the answer, the two men went to the Cham- ber of Hewn Stone in the Jerusalem temple to consult the members of the supreme-court, i.e. the Sanhedrin, who presided there.48 Their expectations of the Sanhedrin were fulfilled when Nahum the Scribe, presumably a member of the Sanhedrin, answered their query. Not only did Nahum the Scribe report the law, he explained that he was familiar with this particular law because it had been passed down to him via a chain of transmission. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, who features prominently in Avot (and in the other tannaitic chains), is missing from Nahum the Scribe’s chain but his absence is well warranted since Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s star only rose after the destruction of the temple and this story is said to have taken place during temple times. Instead of opening with Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, Nahum the Scribe’s chain commences with R. Meyasha and his father, two figures who neither appear in Avot’s chain of transmission nor in any other tannaitic chain. In fact, R. Meyasha, his father and Nahum the uncalled for appearance of the threshing floors in the first two laws and the surprising introductory clause of the third law complicate the mishnah unnecessarily and I propose that these literary difficulties are not the results of haphazard or careless formulations but rather the leftover byproducts of stages in the literary evolution of Mishnah Peah 2, 5. Nahum the Scribe’s law presented at the end of 2, 6, is identical to the third law of 2, 5, word for word (see Hayes (2000) 68; Neusner (1998a) 2), and it stands to reason that the formulation in one of these mishnayot is a copy of the formulation in the other. Since we have already seen that the introductory clause of the third law in 2, 5 (“He who sows his field”) is jarring and unexpected, we may conclude that the law was not originally formulated specifically for 2, 5 but rather was borrowed from the narrative of 2, 6. In other words, the final law of 2, 5 is a copy of Nahum the Scribe’s legal tradition cited at the end of the story in 2, 6. Furthermore, the third and final law of 2, 5, which deals with the case in which two species of a single kind are planted in the same field, presupposes the law in two extreme cases. It presupposes that a field with one kind of seed requires one peah and that a field with two kinds of seed requires two peot. These extreme cases are precisely the cases which are presented in the first two laws of 2, 5 and therefore one may surmise that the first two laws of 2, 5 were incorporated into the mishnah in order to furnish the legal background presupposed by the third law. Moreover, even the formulation of the third law apparently influenced the formulation of the first two laws. The introductory clause of the third law was apparently borrowed to introduce the first law and the number of threshing-floors, which is a relevant factor only in the third law, was transferred to the first two laws as well. Thus, the literary difficulties of 2, 5 mentioned above point to a three stage process wherein the story of 2, 6 gave rise to the third law of 2, 5 which, in turn, prompted the formulation of the first two laws of 2, 5. (Cf. Weiss (1978) 149–151.) 48 See, for example, mSanhedrin 11, 2; tHagigah 2, 9; tSheqalim 3, 27; tSanhedrin 7, 1. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 39 the Scribe are found nowhere else in all tannaitic literature and Simeon of Mizpah only appears on two other occasions.49 Thus, all the people who appear in MishnahPeah 2, 5–6, save for Rabban Gamaliel, are obscure figures (from the point of view of rabbinic literature) said to have lived in the final decades of the Second Temple period. The continuation of Mishnah Peah’s chain of transmission is arresting both for its similarities and differences to Avot. In both chains the keyword “received” recurs throughout, the Pairs and prophets function as important links and Moses receives an oral communication from God on Sinai. These similarities are simply too great for us to imagine that the two chains could have developed entirely independently as unrelated literary phenomena and they demonstrate that both chains belong to the very same literary genre.50 In addition to the claim (presented above) that there was no need for a localized chain of transmission once Avot existed, two types of differences between the chains strongly intimate that Avot belongs to a later stage in the trajectory of the rabbinic chain of transmission. As noted above, later chains typically fill in the gaps of earlier chains with additional links51 and explicitly identify the members of collective enti- ties that appear in earlier chains.52 A comparison between Mishnah Peah and Avot reveals that Avot inserted additional links not found in Mish- nah Peah, such as Joshua, the men of the Great Assembly and Simeon the Righteous, and also spelled out the names of the collective entity simply called the “Pairs” in Mishnah Peah. Thus the similarities between the two chains establish that they belong to the same literary trajectory while their differences strongly suggest that Avot’s chain postdates Mishnah Peah’s chain. In Mishnah Peah, the prophets are the conduit for the transmission of halakhah in pre-exilic times while the Pairs are the conduit during the bulk of the Second Temple period. I propose that Mishnah Peah’s early bare bones sketch of the chain of transmission reveals the original rationale for

49 See tKippurim 1, 13; tZevahim 6, 13. 50 Shamma Friedman has argued: “Similar but differing texts do not spring into existence in primeval twinship. Changes come about developmentally and usually editorially, and their effects can be recognized in terms of a wide range of well-known literary and stylistic categories which are far from unique to our corpus” ((2000a) 38). See also the second rule of thumb at the end of the Introduction above. 51 See above nn. 38–40. 52 Thus, for example, Avot referred to the Great Assmebly as a collective entity but the later Seder Tannaim ve-Amoraim 1 (pp. 1–2) identified the individual members of the Great Assembly. 40 chapter two the inclusion of these two groups in the chain: the prophets link Moses to Second Temple times and the Pairs link the prophets to the rabbinic sages. Without Joshua, the elders, the men of the Great Assembly and Simeon the Righteous, Mishnah Peah unveils the original role of the prophets and Pairs. Originally the prophets and Pairs were not merely two generic links in a longer chain but rather the primary and central links in a terse chain of transmission: the prophets transmitted the Torah during pre-exilic times while the Pairs did the same for the Second Temple period.53

*** Mishnah Eduyyot is unlike any other mishnaic tractate in that it is comprised of a wide variety of legal materials and does not focus on any single topic or even on a small set of related topics. Mishnah Eduyyot includes numerous testimonies in which named (as opposed to anonymous) rabbinic sages report laws they learned from their predecessors54 and the tractate’s title, “Testimonies” in English, reflects this formal characteristic of the tractate. Mishnah Eduyyot’s final mishnah, 8, 7, underscores Mishnah Eduyyot’s testimony theme by opening with a chain of transmission: עשוהי׳ררמא : יניסמהשמלהכלהוברמוברווברמעמששייאכזןבןנחויןברמינאלבוקמ תאברקלועורזבןיברוקמהתאקחרלאלאברקלוקחרלרהטלואמטלאבוהיילאןיאש עורזבןיקחורמה ; תרחאדועועורזבןויצןיבהקחירוןרדיהרבעבהתיההפירצתיבתחפשמ

53 Mishnah Peah 2, 5 presents all three of its halakhot in apodictic fashion, i.e. without any justification or derivation, while Mishnah Peah 2, 6 traces the origins of 2, 5’s final halakhah via a chain of transmission. The identity between the legal formulation in 2, 5 and in 2, 6 led us to conclude in n. 47 above that the final law of 2, 5 was teased out of 2, 6 and though ancient rabbinic sages might not have sensed this diachronic relationship, they probably would have been struck by the fact that what 2, 5 presents as apodictic law, 2, 6 presents as a law passed down from Sinai. The juxtaposition of an apodictic law to its chain of transmission raises the possibility that other laws in the Mishnah, and perhaps even all rabbinic teachings, also reach back to Sinai and that their chains were omitted from the Mishnah due to to the Mishnah’s standard apodictic style. This sort of reaction to Peah 2, 5–6, I believe, is not merely hypothetical but is actually attested in the Palestinian Talmud (yPeah 2, 6 17a = yHagigah 1, 8 76d; see also Sefer Tagin, p. 674; cf. tSotah 7, 12; bBerakhot 5a; bMegillah 19b; Weiss Halivni (2007) 149–151). In this vein, perhaps the juxtaposition of 2, 5 to 2, 6 bolstered the idea underlying Avot’s chain and suggested that, like Nahum the Scribe’s particular tradition, all legitimate extra-pentateuchal traditions were originally received on Sinai and then passed down over the generations. 54 Scholars debate whether Eduyyot was assembled out of a fear that Torah and scribal traditions would be forgotten (see tEduyyot 1, 1) because of catastrophic political conditions, because the growing mass of legal positions was difficult to memorize or because the original and authentic traditions were getting lost amidst the proliferation of legal opinions. See Aderet (1993) 251–265; Naeh (2005) 582–586; Steinmetz (2002) 55–68 (nn. 40, 43 and 44 in particular). simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 41

עורזבןויצןיבהברקוםשהתיה ; ברקלוקחרלרהטלואמטלאבוהיילאולאןוגכ . הדוהי׳ר רמוא : קחרלאללבאברקל . רמואןועמש׳ר : תוקלחמהתאתוושהל . םירמואםימכחו : אל רמאנשםלועבםולשתושעלאלאברקלאלוקחרל ״ והיילאתאםכלחלושיכנאהנה איבנה ״ ׳וגו ( גיכאלמ , גכ ) ״ םתובאלעםינבבלוםינבלעתובאבלבישהו ״ ( גיכאלמ , דכ .) 55 R. Joshua said: I have received from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai who heard from his master and his master from his master a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai that Elijah will not come to declare impure or pure, to remove afar or to bring near, but to remove afar those brought near by force and to bring near those removed afar by force. The family of Beit Zereifah was in the land across the Jordan and Ben Zion removed it afar by force. And yet another (family) was there and Ben Zion brought it near by force. The like of these Elijah will come to declare impure or pure, to remove afar or to bring near. R. Judah says: To bring near but not to remove afar. R. Simeon says: To reconcile disputes. And the sages say: Neither to remove afar nor to bring near, but to make peace in the world, as it is said, “Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you” etc. (Malachi 3, 23) “He shall reconcile fathers with sons and sons with fathers” (Malachi 3, 24). The mishnah opens with R. Joshua’s prediction of Elijah’s future role as the precursor to the messiah, a prediction that is presented as an ancient tradition passed down via a chain of transmission. Elijah, R. Joshua asserts, will not come to clarify the purity or impurity of any individual or family even though some families widely thought to be pure are in fact impure and vice versa. However, in two types of cases Elijah will break his policy of non-interference: he will declare pure a family whose lineage was tainted by force, such as the family of Beit Zereifah, and he will declare impure a family who attained the presumption of purity through force, such as a certain unnamed family from across the Jordan. The mishnah then records three positions attributed respectively to R. Judah, R. Simeon56 and the sages. R. Judah and the sages explicitly disagree with R. Joshua’s prediction and R. Simeon seems to imply as much. R. Judah concedes to R. Joshua that Elijah will bring near families removed afar by force but their agreement ends there. In contrast to R. Joshua, R. Judah states that Elijah will not remove afar families brought near by force. R. Simeon does not discuss lineage and his silence may well imply that he rejects the shared approach of R. Joshua and R. Judah which involves Elijah in the clarification of lineages. In lieu of lineage declarations, R. Simeon claims that Elijah will come to reconcile disputes. The word here for disputes, “hamahleqot,” is ambiguous

55 mEduyyot 8, 7. 56 On a later version of the text which cites R. Ishmael instead of R. Simeon see Fried- mann’s discussion in Seder Eliahu Rabbah 24. 42 chapter two and it is unclear whether R. Simeon believes that Elijah will reconcile legal disputes, eliminate sectarian divisions or resolve feuds.57 After R. Simeon’s position, the mishnah and tractate as a whole conclude with the position of the sages which explicitly rejects Elijah’s role as the authority that will pronounce the final word on lineages. Instead the sages argue on the basis of Malachi 3, 23–24 that Elijah will bring peace to the world as he reconciles fathers with sons and sons with fathers. In sum, the mishnah commences with two positions that link Elijah to the clarification of familial lineage and concludes with two positions that view him as a peacemaker. Before considering the role of R. Joshua’s chain of transmission in the literary trajectory of the chain of transmission genre, let us analyze three puzzling features of Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7. First, R. Joshua presents his prediction as “a halakhah (given) to Moses on Sinai,” but it is surprising for the Mishnah to label an opinion about the messianic era as a halakhah since the term halakhah in tannaitic literature usually refers to legal traditions and accepted religious practices.58 Second, if R. Joshua asserts that his tradition was transmitted from Moses all the way to Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai his teacher, how could R. Judah, R. Simeon and the sages possibly disagree with him?59 Third, why is there such a striking break between the first two

57 See Naeh (2001) 856–857 n. 23; Steinmetz (2002) 62 n. 37. 58 See Friedmann (1977–1978) xxxvi–xl; Safrai (1990) 11; Weiss Halivni (1986) 117–119; Sho- hatman (1997–1998) 183–192; Jaffee (2001) 84–99. Weiss Halivni (1996) 53–55 argues that the term “halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” was not meant literally here (or in Mishnah Yadayim) and Safrai (1990) 11–38 develops a similar claim at great length, but Hayes (2000) 71 (see also Rosenthal (1993) p. 460 n. 35) is correct to note that the terms “received” and “heard” along with the chain of transmission imply “a fairly literal understanding” of the term “halakhah (given) to Moses on Sinai.” 59 Various solutions have been offered to this problem. Maimonides in his commentary on the Mishnah ad loc. ((1964) 336–337) claims that all disputants in the mishnah agreed that the “halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” here consists of the idea that Elijah will come to eradicate injustice. They only disagreed over the nature of this injustice, something Moses did not specify. Christine Hayes suggests that the mishnah simply lacks the notion that the authority of a “halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” is absolute though she also softens this claim by recognizing that the mishnah’s position may be due to its aggadic subject matter. Alternatively, Hayes also suggests that perhaps all the disputants agreed that the authority of a “halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” is absolute, but rejected R. Joshua’s claim to possess an authentic “halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” (Hayes (2000) 72 n. 18). Steinmetz suggests that there is a subtle difference between “hearing” and “receiving,” wherein only “receiving” connotes an irrefutable tradition and therefore our mishnah which heard,” indicates that R. Joshua’s position was not authoritative“ ”, עמש “ employs the word (see Steinmetz (2002) 67 n. 48; cf. Sussmann (2005) 260 n. 17). Others conclude that the term “halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” is not meant literally here and therefore is not absolutely authoritative (see n. 58 above). simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 43 and latter two positions in the mishnah? In other words, why do the latter two positions abandon Elijah’s role as clarifier of lineages, established in the first two positions, in favor of his conciliatory and peacemaking roles? These three questions highlight the problematic nature of our mishnah and I would like to suggest that the key to understanding the mishnah lies hidden in the process through which the mishnah was formed, a process I will attempt to reconstruct. The mishnah opens with R. Joshua’s chain of transmission, a chain quite different from Nahum the Scribe’s chain in Mishnah Peah 2, 6. For example, R. Joshua claims to have received his halakhah from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai who, in turn, received it from his master, while Nahum the Scribe claims to have received his halakhah from R. Meyasha who, in turn, received it from his father. Both the chain in Mishnah Peah and the chain in Mishnah Eduyyot belong to the same literary genre but they are not identical chains. However, there is a third chain in the Mishnah, explored below in greater detail, which is identical to R. Joshua’s chain. This chain is attributed to R. Eliezer in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3: באומוןומעשיניסמהשמלהכלהוברמוברווברמעמששייכזןבןנחויןברמינאלבוקמ תיעיבשבינערשעמ . I have received from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai who heard from his master and his master from his master a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai that (in) Amon and Moab poor tithe (must be given) in the seventh year. Since the chains in Mishnah Eduyyot and Mishnah Yadayim are exactly the same, word for word,60 it stands to reason that one is earlier and more original than the other61 but at first glance it is not clear which chain is the original and which the later copy. However, comparisons to the respective parallel halakhot in the Tosefta seem to clarify that the chain of transmission in Mishnah Eduyyot was copied from Mishnah Yadayim.

60 See Kahana (2003) 63 n. 52. 61 There is, of course, the possibility that both chains are derived from a common source (or that there was an intermediate text between them), but so long as we lack evidence for the existence of this hypothetical common source (or intermediate text), I prefer to posit that one of these chains was copied from the other. (See also the first rule of thumb at the end of the Introduction above.) In line with the oral conceptual lens as developed by Elizabeth Shanks Alexander (2006), one might speculate that the schematic chain of transmission was a generic compositional building block that could be incorporated into different oral performances. However, since this schema appears in only two (unrelated) contexts, it is preferable to view one of these contexts as original and the other as secondary. See also n. 62 below. 44 chapter two

The toseftan parallel to Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7 is Tosefta Eduyyot 3, 4 (cited below in its entirety) and it opens as follows: עורזבןויצןבהקחירוןדריהרבעבהתיההפירצהתיבתחפשמ , הבריקוםשהתיהתרחא עורזבןויצןב , םעפםהידימלתלוםהינבלןתואןירסומלבאםהילעתולגלםימכחוצראלו עובשבתחא , קחרלוברקלרהטלואמטלאבוהילאוליאןוגכ . רמואריאמ׳ר : אללבאברקל קחרל . רמואהדוהי׳רו : םירבדהףוליח … The family of Beit ha-Zereifah was in the land across the Jordan and Ben Zion removed it afar by force, another (family) was there and Ben Zion brought it near by force, and the sages did not want to divulge who they (i.e. the members of the unnamed family) were but they would pass on (their identity) to their sons and students once every seven years. The likes of these Elijah will come to declare impure or pure, to remove afar or to bring near. R. Meir says: to bring near but not to remove afar. R. Judah says: the matters are reversed … Whereas Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7 discusses the family of Beit Zereifah while explicating R. Joshua’s position, the toseftan parallel opens with the family of Beit Zereifah but fails to mention R. Joshua and his chain of transmission. Why would the Tosefta omit R. Joshua and his chain of transmission and begin with the story of the family of Beit Zereifah when the Mishnah only brought the story of the Beit Zereifah family in the first place to illuminate R. Joshua’s position? Presumably the Tosefta would not have omitted R. Joshua’s position or his chain of transmission had it known them. Consequently, it seems likely that the toseftan parallel antedated the mish- nah62 and that the insertion of R. Joshua and his chain of transmission at the beginning of Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7 was the handiwork of Mishnah Eduyyot’s editor. In contrast to the toseftan parallel to Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7, the toseftan parallel to Mishnah Yadayim 4, 363 confronts us with an entirely different situation. … הכלההשממםיאיבנוםיאיבנהןמתוגוזהותוגוזהןמלביקשיאכזןבןנחויןברמינלבוקמ תיעיבשבינערשעמןירשעמבאומוןומעשיניסמהשמל . … I have received from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai who received from the Pairs, and the Pairs from the prophets, and the prophets from Moses, a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai that Amon and Moab tithe poor tithe in the seventh year.

62 Though the Tosefta was compiled after the Mishnah, scholars have already found many instances in which the Tosefta preserves an earlier version of a text that is paralleled in the Mishnah. See Friedman (2002a); Hauptman (2000) 13–34; ead. (2004) 1–24. 63 tYadayim 2, 16. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 45

Tosefta Yadayim offers a detailed chain of transmission reminiscent of the early chain from Mishnah Peah in that it mentions both the Pairs and the prophets. A comparison to the Mishnah Yadayim chain of transmission suggests that on the basis of the toseftan chain, the editor of Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 constructed a schematized version of the chain of transmission. I shall discuss below the significance of this schematic format, but for current purposes I wish to stress that Mishnah Yadayim’s chain of transmission appears to be the original setting for the schematic chain also found in Mishnah Eduyyot. Since Mishnah Yadayim’s chain seems to be a modified version of the close parallel in Tosefta Yadayim while Tosefta Eduyyot is apparently unaware of R. Joshua’s chain of transmission in Mish- nah Eduyyot, I surmise that the chain of transmission in Mishnah Eduyyot is a copy of the chain of transmission in Mishnah Yadayim and not vice versa. In light of the idea that R. Joshua’s chain of transmission was borrowed from Mishnah Yadayim, let us return to two of the puzzling questions posed above: why was a non-legal tradition cited by R. Joshua labeled a halakhah and how did sages dispute what was purportedly a halakhah given to Moses on Sinai? In response to the first question I suggest that originally, as attested in the Tosefta, the notion that Elijah will bring near those removed afar by force and remove afar those brought near by force was not labeled “a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai.” In other words, the term “halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” is strikingly out of place in our mishnah because it really does not belong there. The term is an integral and original element of Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 but a foreign transplant in Eduyyot, a translaplant which does not fit seamlessly into this new context. In response to the second question I propose that the dispute over the nature of Elijah’s future activities existed before the chain of transmission and the term “halakhah (given) to Moses on Sinai” were transplanted into Mishnah Eduyyot. Origi- nally, as attested in Tosefta Eduyyot, rabbinic disputants disagreed over the nature of Elijah’s role in the messianic era but none of them claimed to possess a tradition that was passed down orally from Moses until their own days. In short, two of the three difficulties in our mishnah most probably emerged as unintended byproducts when the chain from Mishnah Yadayim was copied into Mishnah Eduyyot. The last of the three puzzling features of the mishnah is the striking break between the first two and final two positions in the mishnah. A comparison to the parallel halakhah in the Tosefta is enlightening because the final two positions in the mishnah simply do not appear in the Tosefta. 46 chapter two

עורזבןויצןבהקחירוןדריהרבעבהתיההפירצהתיבתחפשמ , ןבהבריקוםשהתיהתרחא עורזבןויצ , תחאםעפםהידימלתלוםהינבלןתואןירסומלבאםהילעתולגלםימכחוצראלו עובשב , קחרלוברקלרהטלואמטלאבוהילאוליאןוגכ . רמואריאמ׳ר : קחרלאללבאברקל . רמואהדוהי׳רו : םירבדהףוליח . רמואיידעןבאיננח : רמואאוהירה ״ תילארשיהשאןבאציו ילארשיהשיאותילארשיהןבהנחמבוציניולארשיינבךותבירצמשיאןבאוהו ״ ( ארקיו דכ , י ,) רמוחולקםירבדירהו : דעםירזממהתולגלהצראלוהילאלשובראוהשהשמהמו ןמצעמולגתנש , ולגתישדעםירזממההלגיאלשהמכוהמכתחאלעהשמלשודימלתוהילא ןמצעמ ! וידימלתוםידימלתולשישימ ⟨ ןידימלת ⟩64— יברותואןיארוק . וחכתשנ 65 וידימלת — ןיארוק ןברותוא . וליאווליאוחכתשנ — ומשבותואןיארוק . The family of Beit ha-Zereifah was in the land across the Jordan and Ben Zion removed it afar by force, another (family) was there and Ben Zion brought it near by force, and the sages did not want to divulge who they (i.e. the members of the unnamed family) were but they would pass on (their identity) to their sons and students once every seven years. The likes of these Elijah will come to declare impure or pure, to remove afar or to bring near. R. Meir says: to bring near but not to remove afar. R. Judah says: the matters are reversed. Hanania ben Adai says: Behold it (the Torah) says, “There came out among the Israelites one whose mother was Israelite and whose father was Egyptian. And a fight broke out in the camp between the half-Israelite and a certain Israelite. (The son of the Israelite woman pronounced the Name in blasphemy, and he was brought to Moses—now his mother’s name was Shelomith daughter of Dibri of the tribe of Dan)” (Leviticus 24, 10–11). And behold these words (imply) an a fortiori argument: Since Moses who was the master of Elijah did not want to reveal (the identity) of bastards until they revealed themselves, all the more so will Elijah, the student of Moses, not reveal (the identity) of bastards until they reveal themselves!

talmidin”), “disciples,” was accidentally omitted here“) ” ןידימלת “ It seems that the word 64 and therefore one should not read “he who has disciples, his disciples call him ‘Rabbi.’” The reasons for this emendation are as follows. First, in the following two sentences of this portion qorʾin”), “they call,” and so“) ” ןיארוק “ of the halakhah, there is no explicit subject for the verb there probably was no explicit subject in this sentence as well. Second, the final sentence of the halakhah refers to “these” and “those” but the only plural subject mentioned explicitly is the disciples. With the insertion of the emendation, “those” refers to “his disciples’ disciples.” talmid”), “disciple,” appears three times in a row, it is easy to“) ” דימלת “ Third, since the word imagine how the third appearance was accidentally omitted. Fourth, Rav Sherira Gaon cites the text with the emendation (see Lewin (1921) 126)). 65 Rav Sherira Gaon offers a different version of the final portion of this halakhah in which “nishtakhu,” “they were forgotten,” is replaced with “nishtabhu,” “they were praised.” (See Lewin (1921) 126; Lieberman (1938) 185.) David Fardo was unfamiliar with Sherira’s version and he emended “nishtakhu,” “they were forgotten,” to “nistamkhu,” “they were appointed (as rabbis)” (see Hasdei David, ad loc. (p. 781)). However, the toseftan witnesses MS Vienna, MS Erfurt and MS Berlin, Staatsbibliothek—Or. Fol. 1220 (159) all have “nishtakhu,” the more difficult reading, and so it should be preferred. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 47

He who has disciples and his disciples (have) disciples—they call him “Rabbi.” (When) his disciples are forgotten, they (i.e. his disciples’ disciples) call him “Rabban” (i.e. our teachers’ teacher). When both these (his disciples) and those (his disciples’ disciples) are forgotten, they call him by his name. Just as there is no trace of Mishnah Eduyyot’s chain of transmission in the Tosefta, the Tosefta also bears no trace of the mishnah’s final two positions and so I conclude that these positions, just like the chain of transmission, were introduced by our mishnah’s editor. Whereas all the positions in the Tosefta relate to lineage, the editor of our mishnah apparently opted to leave out Hanania ben Adai’s a fortiori argument and brought instead two other views of Elijah’s role in the messianic age that are entirely unrelated to questions of lineage.66 Why would he introduce two opinions which have nothing to do with the issue of lineage so prominent in the first part of Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7? The most satisfying answer, I believe, is that the editor felt that both R. Simeon’s notion of reconciling disputes and the sages’ idea of bringing peace to the world formed an excellent conclusion for Mishnah Eduyyot. Devora Steinmetz has illustrated how the dangers that the proliferation of opinions and controversies held for the rabbinic community form a central theme of Mishnah Eduyyot. Mishnah Eduyyot cites many rabbinic disputes and the story of Akavya ben Mahalalel’s excommunication in the very center of the tractate highlights the potentially divisive consequences of partici- pation in rabbinic discourse.67 Thus, the final two statements of Mishnah Eduyyot were apparently introduced in order to end the tractate on a high note with the assurance that, in the end of days, disputes will be resolved and peace will reign supreme.68 In a similar vein, it seems likely that the editor of Mishnah Eduyyot also inserted the chain of transmission into the final mishnah of the tractate

66 The sages’ opening words in the mishnah, “Neither to remove afar nor to bring near,” were probably added to their statement in order to connect their position to the previous discussion. 67 See Steinmetz (2002) 49–68. 68 Similarly, if we turn to the final words of Tosefta Eduyyot 3, 4, the concluding halakhah of the parallel toseftan tractate, we find that the Tosefta’s editor also sought to construct a suitable conclusion for his tractate. Tosefta Eduyyot opens the tractate by expressing the rabbinic anxiety that Torah and the teachings of the scribes might eventually be forgotten (tEduyyot 1, 1) and then the tractate goes on to record numerous testimonies and controversies in the hopes of ensuring their safekeeping. In the wake of these concerns, the editor concluded Tosefta Eduyyot with a statement that stresses the maintenance and preservation of Torah across the generations. The very final section of Tosefta Eduyyot 3, 4 suggests that even though masters and disciples pass away and “are forgotten,” their teachings are remembered and later generations continue to cite their teachings in their names. 48 chapter two in order to enhance the tractates’s ending. Devora Steinmetz has demonstrated how “rupture in the transmission of Torah and the attendant loss of Torah”69 are central themes in Mishnah Edduyot. Mishnah Eduyyot emphasizes throughout the role of the sages in the transmission of halakhot as attested, for example, by Mishnah Eduyyot 1, 6: “Why do we recall the words of the individual against that of the majority when it does not prevail? That if one should say, ‘I have received (such a tradition),’ one may say to him, ‘you heard it (only) as the position of so and so.’” Rabbinic sages studied and memorized the teachings of their masters and the concluding mishnah amplifies the nature and value of this project by suggesting that R. Joshua’s tradition, a tradition of supposed Mosaic origin, was carefully passed down throughout history.70 However, this insertion came with a heavy literary price: R. Joshua refers to a non-legal tradition as halakhah and various tannaim disagree with his supposedly Mosaic (and hence unassailable) tradition. Let us conclude our discussion of Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7 with a short analysis of its chain of transmission. Unlike the chains in Mishnah Peah and Tosefta Yadayim, the chain in Mishnah Eduyyot, which was transported from Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3, does not name the two groups of tradents between Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and Moses, i.e. the Pairs and prophets. Instead, Mishnah Eduyyot and Mishnah Yadayim state, “Rabban Yohananben Zakkai, who heard from his master and his master from his master a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai.” Since there were obviously more than two generations between Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and Moses and since, in lieu of named tradents, the chain employs the generic term “master” three times to cover this period, the chain gives the distinct impression that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai received the halakhah from his master who received it from his master andsoon all the way back to Moses on Sinai.71 One

69 Steinmetz (2002) 49. 70 Although Mishnah Eduyyot omits the final section of Tosefta Eduyyot which explains why some sages are entitled “Rabbi,” others “Rabban” and yet others are called by name, Mishnah Eduyyot’s chain of transmission includes a “Rabbi,” i.e. Rabbi Joshua; a “Rabban,” i.e. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, and a rabbinic sage called by his name whose disciples and disciples’ disciples are long forgotten, i.e. Moses. Perhaps this similarity and others (such as the transmission of knowledge from teacher to disciple and Moses’s role as a rabbinic master) are not coincidences but indicate that Tosefta Eduyyot 3, 4 helped inspire the introduction of the chain of transmission in Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7. Cf. David Fardo, Hasdei David, ad loc (p. 781). 71 The version of the chain in the printed edition of Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 makes this ʿad”), “until,” before the words “a“) ” דע “ implied understanding explicit by adding the word halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai.” simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 49 advantage of this schematic formulation is that it obviates the tendency to fill in gaps with additional links since it replaces the links in the chain with a repetitive variable which covers all the generations between Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and Moses. Furthermore, while the additional names in other chains help create the impression that those chains offer a more precise and realistic portrayal of the past, the schematic chain’s bare bones presentation loses some of the “reality effect” created by these rhetorical details but strikingly highlights the chain’s essential message.72 In light of our analysis of the chain of transmission in Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7, we can now compare it to Avot’s chain.73 Both chains belong to the same literary genre though they develop the genre in different ways. Whereas Avot fills in gaps and unpacks the collective links which we find in Mishnah Peah and Tosefta Yadayim, Mishnah Eduyyot and Mishnah Yadayim use a variable to simplify and schematize the chain. For the purposes of these two tractates, a schematized chain is sufficient because it captures the core idea of the chain but this kernel was insufficient for Avot. Avot unfolds and develops the chain because the chain itself, and not merely the idea of the chain, is the very centerpiece of the tractate. The details which are viewed as unnecessary and irrelevant in Mishnah Eduyyot and Mishnah Yadayim, are of central rhetorical importance in Avot’s chain of transmission because they enable the chain to produce a more realistic and convincing portrayal of the transmission of the Torah in history.74

*** The third mishnaic chain of transmission appears in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3, a rather unusual mishnah which sets forth a lengthy discussion said to have taken place “on that day.” The phrase “on that day” presumably refers to a specific day already mentioned in Mishnah Yadayim and indeed an

72 On the reality effect, see Barthes (1989) 141–148; Jakobson (1987) 19–27. 73 It bears noting that like Mishnah Eduyyot, many chapters and tractates of the Mishnah close with an aggadic conclusion. Scholars surmise that some of these conclusions were fashioned by the editors of the Mishnah while others were introduced by later sages or scribes. (See Epstein (2000) 974–979; Fraenkel (1991) 443–444; id. (2005), 655–656, 676 n. 99, 679 n. 108.) 74 Robert E. Scholes and Robert Kellogg call a bare bones narrative which conveys a message but eliminates irrelevant and potentially distracting details an illustrative narrative, while they call a narrative that invites the reader into a compelling narrative world by including apparently unnecessary and irrelevant details a representational narrative (see Scholes, Kellogg and Phelan (2006), pp. 82–105; Simon-Shoshan (2007) 113–123). Thus on the illustrative-representational spectrum, the chains in Mishnah Peah, Tosefta Yadayim and Avot are more representational while those in Mishnah Eduyyot and Mishnah Yadayim are more illustrative. 50 chapter two appropriate day is noted just a few mishnayot before 4, 3. Mishnah Yadayim 3, 5 refers to the day “when they sat R. Eleazar ben Azariah in the Yeshivah,” that is when R. Eleazar ben Azariah was appointed as a rabbinic sage in Yavneh.75 Thus, our mishnah, Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3, presents a discussion involving R. Eleazar ben Azariah said to have taken place on the very day he was officially initiated into the beit midrash at Yavneh. בו ביום אמרו: עמון ומואב מה הן בשביעית? וגזר ר׳ טרפון מעשר עני, וגזר ר׳ אלעזר בן עזריה מעשר שני. אמר ר׳ ישמעאל: אלעזר בן עזריה, עליך ראיה ללמד שאתה מחמיר ⟨שכל המחמיר⟩ עליו ראיה ללמד. אמר לו ר׳ אלעזר בן עזריה: ישמעאל אחי, אני לא שניתי מסדר שנים ר׳ טרפון אחי שינה ועליו ראיה ללמד. השיב ר׳ טרפון: מצרים חוץ לארץ ועמון ומואב חוץ לארץ, מה מצרים מעשר עני בשביעית אף עמון ומואב מעשר עני בשביעית. השיב ר׳ אלעזר בן עזריה: בבל חוץ לארץ עמון ומואב חוץ לארץ, מה בבל מעשר שיני בשביעית אף עמון ומואב מעשר שיני בשביעית. אמר ר׳ טרפון: מצרים מפני ⟨שהיא⟩ קרובה עשאוה מעשר עני שיה⟨ו⟩א עניי ישראל נסמכין עליה בשביעית, אף עמון ומואב שהן קרובין נעשין מעשר עני שיהוא עניי ישראל נסמכין עליה בשביעית.76 אמר לו אלעזר בן עזריה: הרי אתה כמהנן ממון ואין אתה אלא כמפסידן נפשות וקובע אתה את השמים מלהוריד טל ומטר שנאמר ״היקבע אדם אלהים? כי אתם קובעים אותי; ואמרתם: במה קבענוך?[המעשר] והתרומה״ (מלאכי ג, ח). השיב ר׳ טרפון. אמר ר׳ יהושע: הרי אני כמשיב על דברי אחי טרפון אבל לא לענין דבריו; מצרים מעשה חדש ובבל מעשה ישן והנדון שלפנינו מעשה חדש, ידון מעשה חדש ממעשה חדש ואל ידון מעשה חדש ממעשה ישן. מצרים מעשה זקנים ובבל מעשה נביאין והנדון שלפנינו מעשה זקנים יידון מעשה זקנים ממעשה זקנים ואל ידון מעשה זקנים ממעשה נביאים. נמנו וגמרו עמון ומואב מעשר עני בשביעית. וכשבא ר׳ יוסי בן דורמסקית אצל ר׳ אליעזר ללוד אמר לו: מה חידוש היה לכם בבית המדרש היום? אמר לו: נמנו וגמרו עמון ומואב מעשר עני בשביעית. בכה ר׳ אליעזר ואמר: ״סוד יי ליראיו ובריתו להודיעם״ (תהלים כה, יד), צא ואמור להן אל תחושו למניינכם מקובל אני מרבן יוחנן בן זכיי ששמע מרבו ורבו מרבו הלכה למשה מסיני שעמון ומואב מעשר עני בשביעית.77

75 See Shapira (2001) 231; Kahana (2003) 56, nn. 20–21. 76 MS Kaufmann accidentally repeated a line here which I have omitted. See Kahana (2003) 52 n. 5. 77 mYadayim 4, 3. For observations on the variations between manuscripts, see Kahana (2003) 51–53. For the most part, the explanation of the mishnah offered below follows Kahana’s lucid reading. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 51

On that day they said: What of Amon and Moab in the seventh year? And R. Tarfon decreed: poor tithe. And R. Eleazar ben Azariah decreed: second tithe. R. Ishmael said: Eleazar ben Azariah, you must bring forth proof since you are more stringent and whoever is more stringent must bring forth a proof. R. Eleazar ben Azariah said to him: Ishmael my brother, I have not changed the order of the years, R. Tarfon my brother has changed and he must bring forth proof. R. Tarfon responded: Egypt is outside the land (of Israel), Amon and Moab are outside the land, just as poor tithe (is given) in Egypt in the seventh year so poor tithe (is given) in Amon and Moab in the seventh year. R. Eleazar ben Azariah responded: Babylon is outside the land, Amon and Moab are outside the land, just as second tithe (is given) in Babylon in the seventh year, so second tithe (is given) in Amon and Moab in the seventh year. R. Tarfon said: Because Egypt is close (to the land of Israel) poor tithe was imposed on it so that the poor of Israel might rely on it in the seventh year, so Amon and Moab, since they are close (to the land of Israel), poor tithe was imposed on it so the poor of Israel might rely on it in the seventh year. R. Eleazar ben Azariah said to him: Behold you are as one who would benefit them with money yet you are but as one who would make their souls perish and you would delay78 the heavens from sending down rain and dew, as it is said, “Ought man to defraud God? Yet you are defrauding me. And you ask, ‘How have we been defrauding you?’ In tithe and contribution” (Malachi 3, 8). R. Tarfon responded. R. Joshua said: Behold, I am as one that will respond on behalf of my brother Tarfon but not according to the subject of his words. (The rule concerning) Egypt is a new work and (the rule concerning) Babylon is an old work and the argument before us is a new work, let us argue concerning a new work from a new work and let us not argue concerning a new work from an old work. (The rule concerning) Egypt is a work of the elders and (the rule concerning) Babylon is a work of the prophets and the argument before us is a work of the elders, let us argue concerning a work of the elders from a work of the elders and let us not argue a work of the elders from a work of the prophets. They voted and decided: (In) Amon and Moab, poor tithe (must be given) in the seventh year. And when R. Yose ben Durmasqit came to R. Eliezer in Lydda, (the latter) said to him: What new thing did you have in the beitmidrash today? He said to him:

78 See Albeck (1952–1959) vol. 6, p. 608. 52 chapter two

They voted and decided: (In) Amon and Moab, poor tithe (must be given) in the seventh year. R. Eliezer cried and said: “The secret of the Lord is for those who fear Him, to them He makes known his covenant” (Psalms 25, 14), Go out and tell them, Do not be anxious79 about your vote. I have received from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai who heard from his master and his master from his master a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai that (in) Amon and Moab poor tithe (must be given) in the seventh year. The mishnah opens with a question regarding tithe obligations in the lands of Amon and Moab during the seventh year. In the land of Israel, according to rabbinic halakhah, one is obligated to separate the second tithe (which is eaten by its owners in Jerusalem or is redeemed with cash used to purchase food that is eaten by its owners in Jerusalem) during the first, second, fourth and fifth years of the seven year Sabbatical cycle and to give tithe to the poor in the third and sixth years. There are no tithe obligations in the land of Israel during the seventh year because the laws of the Sabbatical year dictate that the land lay fallow during this year. Amon and Moab, however, are areas adjacent to the land of Israel wherein the halakhah obligates tithing just like in the land of Israel but, unlike the land of Israel, the halakhah does not require that the land lay fallow in the seventh year.80 Thus, the question arises as to which tithe one is required to separate in Amon and Moab during the seventh year, the second tithe or the poor tithe. This question is posed in the opening of our mishnah and marks the commencement of a discussion in the beit midrash at Yavneh. In response to the opening question, R. Tarfon decrees in favor of the poor tithe and R. Eleazar ben Azariah in favor of the second tithe. Then R. Ishmael, the apparent leader of the session,81 declares that the burden of proof lies with R. Eleazar ben Azariah since he has set forth a more stringent position and the burden of proof generally falls on the more stringent position.82 As Menahem Kahana has pointed out, the principle that the burden of proof lies with the more stringent position is a procedural rule of the beit midrash that was preserved in a collection of such rules in

79 I have followed Kahana here in translating “ʾal tahushu leminyankhem” as “do not be anxious about your vote” rather than “think nothing of your voting.” See Kahana (2003) 61 n. 46; Rubenstein (2010) 107; cf. Weiss Halivni (2007) 148. 80 See Albeck (1952–1959) vol. 6, p. 483; vol. 1, pp. 243–244. 81 See Weiss (1988) 53 n. 3; Kahana (2003) 57. 82 Various explanations have been offered as to why R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s position is considered more stringent than R. Tarfon’s position. See, for example, Maimonides (1963– 1968) vol. 6, p. 715; Kahana (2003) 57 n. 28. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 53 the Tosefta.83 R. Eleazar ben Azariah replies to R. Ishmael that the burden of proof actually lies with R. Tarfon since R. Tarfon’s stance disrupts the accepted order in which tithes are distributed over the course of the seven year cycle while his own position does not. In other words, since the poor tithe, which is given in years three and six of the Sabbatical cycle, is always given in years immediately following those in which the second tithe is separated, i.e. years two and five, and since the second tithe is not separated in the sixth year, R. Tarfon’s position violates the accepted order of tithe dis- tribution by assigning the poor tithe to the seventh year. R. Tarfon takes R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s challenge seriously and responds with a comparison to another land outside the land of Israel where the poor tithe is given during the seventh year, namely Egypt. R. Eleazar ben Azariah retorts that Babylon, like Amon and Moab, is also outside the land of Israel and the second tithe, not the poor tithe, is separated in Babylon during the seventh year. No prooftexts or sources are adduced in favor of R. Tarfon’s assumption that the poor tithe is given in Egypt during the seventh year or in support of R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s assumption that second tithe is separated in Baby- lon during the seventh year, but these assumptions remain uncontested and are accepted by all. In response to R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s comparison to Babylon, R. Tarfon insists that Egypt is a better parallel to Amon and Moab than Babylon. Egypt is close to the land of Israel and R. Tarfon argues that the poor tithe was imposed on Egypt so that the poor of Israel could rely on it during the seventh year. Since Amon and Moab are also close to the land of Israel and the poor of Israel could rely on tithes from these lands as well, R. Tarfon concludes that the poor tithe should also be imposed on Amon and Moab. R. Tarfon’s response upsets R. Eleazar ben Azariah who cries that R. Tarfon risks provoking the wrath of God for the sake of helping the poor since by transforming second tithe produce into poor tithe produce he disrespects and denigrates the holy second tithe. R. Tarfon then answers R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s heated accusation but the mishnah does not record the content of his answer,84 perhaps indicating that R. Tarfon did not introduce any new arguments in the wake of R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s theological protest but simply reiterated that helping the poor was sufficient justification for establishing the poor tithe in Amon and Moab.

83 See tSanhedrin 7, 6. See also Kahana (2003) 57–60. Perhaps R. Ishmael felt he had to inform R. Eleazar ben Azariah of this procedural rule because R. Eleazar ben Azariah was new to the beit midrash. 84 See Kahana (2003) 54. 54 chapter two

At this point in the story, R. Joshua enters the fray and defends R. Tarfon’s equation of the law for Amon and Moab with the law for Egypt against R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s equation with the law for Babylon. R. Joshua argues that the obligation to separate second tithe in Babylon was established long ago by prophets while the obligation to give the poor tithe in Egypt is a “new” law established by elders and since the law for Amon and Moab is currently being debated by elders, i.e. the seventy two sages in Yavneh,85 it should follow the more recent precedent and that set by the same kind of authority. In other words, since the prophets were active so long ago their legal decisions should not be taken as binding precedents, but since the elders were active in the less distant past their legal decisions should be viewed as binding precedents. Furthermore, since the source for prophetic authority stems from the supernatural realm while both the authority of the elders from earlier days and the authority of the rabbinic elders are rooted in the natural realm, the precedent of the elders is to be preferred to the precedent of the prophets. When R. Joshua finishes his argument and no further arguments are set forth, the sages in Yavneh vote on the matter and decide in favor of the poor tithe, in line with R. Tarfon and R. Joshua. The vote marks the end of the discussion in the beitmidrash of Yavneh but not the end of the mishnah’s story. The mishnah relates that after the vote one of the sages at Yavneh, R. Yose ben Durmasqit, visits (the excommunicated?86) R. Eliezer in Lydda who asks him what new teaching he learned in the beit midrash. R. Yose ben Durmasqit replies that the sages voted and decreed that the poor tithe must be given in Amon and Moab during the seventh year. Upon hearing this teaching, R. Eliezer cries out in happiness and cites a verse from Psalms which implies that the rabbinic decision-making process is divinely inspired.87 R. Eliezer then instructs R. Yose to assure the sages in Yavneh that their decision is correct since he “received from Rab- ban Yohanan ben Zakkai who heard from his master and his master from his master a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai that (in) Amon and Moab poor tithe (must be given) in the seventh year” just as the Yavnean sages had decreed.88 In this manner, R. Eliezer teaches that from the opening question

85 See mYadayim 3, 5. 86 See mKelim 5, 1; tEduyyot 2, 1; bBerakhot 19a; bBaba Mezia 59b. See also Neusner (1973) 343–346. 87 See Kister (2004) 21–22. 88 See Shemesh (2000) 153–155. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 55 all the way through the final vote and decision, the give and take of the beit midrash was divinely guided so as to ensure that the sages proclaim the law as it was given to Moses on Sinai. Our mishnah is highly unusual and not only because it includes one of the three mishnaic chains of transmission outside of Avot. Mishnayot usually do not present detailed descriptions of the deliberations of the sages in the beit midrash but Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 offers the most intricate description of beit midrash deliberation procedures in the entire Mishnah. The mishnah establishes the topic of a session, cites the positions of the two central disputants, records a procedural rule cited by the leader of the session, portrays the give and take between the two disputants,89 inserts the input of a third colleague and then concludes with a vote and the sages’ verdict. The parallel halakhah in the Tosefta brings this unique feature of the mishnah into even sharper relief since it only reports the legal bottom line and lacks the entire deliberation story that unfolds in the mishnah.90 Why, then, was a portrait of the deliberations of the sages in Yavneh presented in this specific mishnah? Menahem Kahana reasonably suggests that R. Eleazar ben Azariah’s introduction into the beit midrash at Yavneh mentioned in Mish- nah Yadayim 3, 5 serves as the backdrop for the description of his initiation into the world of the beit midrash in our mishnah. The mishnah’s description of the give and take in the beit midrash portrays the new intellectual world into which R. Eleazar ben Azariah was initiated and its chain of transmission legitimates the authority of the sages in the beit midrash.91 R. Eliezer’s chain of transmission not only confirms the specific halakhah discussed in this particular mishnah, but it makes the broader conceptual claim that “a new thing” and “a new work” apparently determined by the rabbis in Yavneh can be “a halakhah (given) to Moses from Sinai” in reality. The mishnah sets forth this claim by juxtaposing R. Eliezer’s chain of transmission with the lengthy deliberation in the beit midrash, thereby imply- ing that the deliberation procedures of the beit midrash produce laws that correspond to the laws received by Moses on Sinai. The perfect agreement between the results of the vote in the beit midrash and the halakhah passed down from Moses is not portrayed as a coincidence: R. Eliezer’s citation from Psalms suggests that this felicitous agreement is actually the product

89 The mishnah gives the impression that it is citing the words of the disputants verbatim in a protocol-like presentation of the session by having them refer to one another by name (without titles) and by employing the term “my brother.” 90 See tYadayim 2, 15. See also Kahana (2003) 61 n. 48. 91 See Kahana (2003) 55. 56 chapter two of divine providence. Thus, as Menahem Kahana has observed, R. Eliezer’s confirmation lends itself to the generalization that every rabbinic court session akin to the session of seventy two elders that took place on the day R. Eleazar ben Azariah was initiated into the beit midrah will merit having its decisions correspond to a law transmitted to Moses on Sinai (so long as proper procedure is followed).92 It seems to me that long before Kahana, the author of Avot’s chain of transmission may have already recognized the potential ramifications of Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 and sought to make them explicit. Avot’s chain of transmission not only develops the chain of transmission literary genre found in Mishnah Yadyaim 4, 3, but also extends R. Eliezer’s words far beyond the question of tithes. Though R. Eliezer only claims to have received a single law via a chain of transmission, the implications of his chain are far reaching. In light of the immediate literary context, R. Eliezer’s chain of transmission implies that extra-biblical rabbinic traditions, even those which are entitled “new works” and are explicitly attributed to the rabbis themselves, belong to the Torah that was delivered to Moses on Sinai. Indeed, R. Eliezer’s position implies that the deliberations of the beit midrash do not create new laws but rather recover the original Torah and even in the absence of a specific chain of transmission, the deliberation procedures of the beit midrash are divinely guided so as to produce results that conform to the laws delivered to Moses on Sinai. In Avot, the implications of R. Eliezer’s chain are made explicit in a chain of transmission which offers a blanket justification for all halakhot, a chain which maintains that every rabbinic decision and extra-biblical tradition corresponds to the Torah that Moses received on Sinai.

*** Insofar as the details of Avot’s chain of transmission are concerned, let us recall from our discussion of Mishnah Peah 2, 6 and Mishnah Eduyyot 8, 7 that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, the Pairs, the prophets, Moses, Sinai and the keyword “qibbel” were all present in the literary trajectory of the chain of transmission prior to Avot, while Joshua, the elders, the men of the Great Assembly and Simeon the Righteous were not.93 R. Eliezer’s chain of transmission in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 contributes no additional links to the chain of transmission genre, but I would like to suggest that if we shift

92 See Kahana (2003) 61–63. See also Neusner (1997) 9–10; Hayes (2000) 69–71. 93 There is also no hint of Antigonus of Sokho in any of the earlier chains and I presume that this mysterious figure was inserted into the chain so as to represent another generation in Second Temple history. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 57 our focus from R. Eliezer’s chain of transmission to its immediate literary context in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3, we may find the source of inspiration for some other links in Avot’s chain. The word “elders” appears five times in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 where it functions as a generic term with different referents. The “elders,” for Mishnah Yadayim, comprise a type of leadership whose authority stems from the natural realm, not from prophetic revelation, and examples of which flourished in different eras. In light of the appearance of the term “elders” in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 and its generic meaning in this context, I propose that Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 may have inspired the inclusion of the term “elders” in Avot’s chain of transmission. Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 does not explicitly refer to the “elders who lived on after Joshua,”94 but the very use of the term “elders” in Mishnah Yadayim could have easily triggered an association with those well-known earlier elders and recommended them as an additional link in Avot’s chain of transmission. In other words, I am proposing that the appearance of the word “elders” both in Avot 1, 1’s chain of transmission and alongside the mishnaic chain in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 is no coincidence but rather the result of a process in which Avot was crafted in light of Mishnah Yadayim’s earlier chain of transmission and its immediate literary context. Let us now take a closer look at the use of the term “elders” in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3. עשוהי׳ררמא : וירבדןינעלאללבאןופרטיחאירבדלעבישמכינאירה ; השעמםירצמ שדחהשעמונינפלשןודנהוןשיהשעמלבבושדח , ןודילאושדחהשעממשדחהשעמןודי ןשיהשעממשדחהשעמ . השעמונינפלשןודנהוןיאיבנהשעמלבבוםינקזהשעמםירצמ םיאיבנהשעממםינקזהשעמןודילאוםינקזהשעממםינקזהשעמןודייםינקז . R. Joshua said: Behold, I am as one that will respond on behalf of my brother Tarfon but not according to the subject of his words. (The rule concerning) Egypt is a new work and (the rule concerning) Babylon is an old work and the argument before us is a new work, let us argue concerning a new work from a new work and let us not argue concerning a new work from an old work. (The rule concerning) Egypt is a work of the elders and (the rule concerning) Babylon is a work of the prophets and the argument before us is a work of the elders, let us argue concerning a work of the elders from a work of the elders and let us not argue a work of the elders from a work of the prophets. R. Joshua states that the elders established the law for Egypt while the prophets established the law for Babylon and since he also states that the law for Egypt is a “new work” and that for Babylon an “old work,” we may

94 See Joshua 24, 31; Judges 2, 7. 58 chapter two deduce that R. Joshua believes that the elders came after the prophets. Since the rabbis viewed the early Second Temple period roughly as the end of the prophetic era, we may also conclude that, according to R. Joshua, the elders who established the law for Egypt flourished in the early Second Temple period. In addition, R. Joshua compares the activity of these elders to the activity of the elders who must establish the law for Amon and Moab, namely the rabbinic sages at Yavneh,95 and this comparison construes these earlier elders as predecessors of the rabbinic sages of Yavneh.96 Indeed, the high profile our mishnah grants the deliberation procedures in Yavneh in tandem with R. Joshua’s comparison of rabbinic sages to elders from the early Second Temple period suggest that, in the eyes of our mishnah, the early Second Temple elders comprised an institution akin to the beit midrash of Yavneh. Thus, I would like to suggest that R. Joshua’s discussion of elders from the early Second Temple period served as the inspiration for the insertion of the men of the Great Assembly into Avot 1, 1. The Great Assembly is synonymous for a group of elders of the early Second Temple period and although Mishnah Yadayim does not use the term Great Assembly, its discussion of a group of elders of the early Second Temple period closely matches the concept of the Great Assembly. In short, it appears that the term “elders” in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 performed a double duty in the formation of Avot’s chain of transmission. On the one hand, the “elders” of Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 denoted a group of sages of the early Second Temple period who could fill in a large gap in the rabbinic chain of transmission and, on the other hand, the term itself brought to mind the elders who followed Joshua. Once the idea to insert Joshua’s successors into the chain was born, the author could not allow his chain to read “and the elders (passed the Torah) to the prophets, and the prophets passed it on to the elders,” so he coined a different title for the latter elders: “the men of the Great Assembly.” The choice of this particular title was probably influenced by the early Second Temple assemblies described in Nehemiah 8–10,97 but perhaps the need for a title in the first place was generated by the desire to avoid referring to two groups of “elders.” The only tradent in Avot 1, 1 as yet unaccounted for is Joshua and it is not unlikely that he was introduced in order to bridge the gap between Moses and the elders. Joshua is explicitly described as Moses’s heir in Deuteronomy

95 The parallel halakhah in tYadayim 2, 16 also refers to the rabbis as elders though in a different context. See also mMaʿaser Sheni 5, 9; mShabbat 16, 8; mTaʿanit 3, 6. 96 Cf. Fraade (1991) 75–77. 97 See nn. 32 and 34 above. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 59

34, 9, “Now Joshua son of Nun was filled with the spirit of wisdom because Moses had laid his hands upon him; and the Israelites heeded him, doing as the Lord had commanded Moses,” and the elders explicitly succeeded Joshua according to Joshua 24, 31, “Israel served the Lord during the lifetime of Joshua and the lifetime of the elders who lived on after Joshua, and who had experienced all the deeds that the Lord had wrought for Israel.”98 Thus, the insertion of the elders into the chain may have prompted the introduction of Joshua which eased the transition from Moses to the elders.

*** Once the author of Avot’s chain of transmission had composed a list of tradents from Moses through the Great Assembly which included Joshua, the elders and the prophets, one may wonder why he did not attempt to flesh out and expand his list a bit more. Why not also include other figures from pre-exilic times who taught Torah or led the people, such as kings, officers and priests?99 Scholars have been particularly troubled by the absence of priests from Avot’s chain of transmssion and this lacuna is often interpreted as an implicit polemic against the priests or against a Second Temple priestly group such as the Sadducees or the sect at Qumran. The rabbis, according to this line of reasoning, denied the priests their rightful role in the chain of transmission in order to downplay the historical importance of a trou- blesome rival within Second Temple Judaism.100 However, Avot’s chain of transmission, as we have seen, was apparently constructed after the destruction of the temple during tannaitic times and therefore it seems unlikely that it would have polemicized against any priestly group of the Second Temple period.101 Although Avot’s chain of transmission could still be interpreted as a

98 See also Judges 2, 7. 99 Cohen (1990) 61. 100 See Herr (1979) 44–56; Kimelman (1983) 145; Gafni (1987) 86–87; Cohen (1990) 61; Elior (2004) 228; Boyarin (2004) 77; Schäfer (2008) 166–167; Zfatman (2010) 294–297. 101 I have developed elsewhere (in Tropper (forthcoming)) three further arguments against viewing the omission of priests in Avot 1, 1 as polemically motivated. First, Avot 1, 2 famously cites Simeon the Righteous, a high priest of the Second Temple period, and if the author had wanted to omit the priests from his chain of transmission, why did he bring a high priest as the first named tradent from the Second Temple period? Second, the chain of transmission by its nature limits each tradent to a particular bounded period of time, but the priests functioned over the course of numerous periods and as a result, they have no place in the chain of transmission. Third, if the priests had been included in lieu of the prophets or adjacent to them, one could easily have read their inclusion as polemically motivated since in that case the priests (like the prophets) would have been relegated to the distant past and any priestly claims to authority in the present would have thereby been undercut. If the inclusion of the 60 chapter two polemic directed against contemporary priests who competed with the tannaim for power and influence, explicit evidence for this polemic is extremely thin.102 Thus, I remain unconvinced that the omission from Avot 1, 1 of priests, or of officers and kings for that matter, should be interpreted as a polemical move. Instead, I propose that the cause for the exclusion of additional links in Avot’s chain, such as priests and kings, can be found in the very text which (as argued above) stands behind the idea that the early Second Tem- ple elders belonged to a great assembly, namely Nehemiah 8–10. Nehemiah 8 opens with a description of an assembly of all the people of Israel—men, women and children—said to have taken place on the first day of the seventh month sometime in the reigns of Ezra and Nehemiah. Ezra, surrounded by his thirteen assistants, read the Torah before the people and the Torah was then explained to the people. The people wept when they heard the Torah’s dictates realizing that they had been sinful and Ezra, Nehemiah and the Levites comforted the people, discouraging them from weeping and mourning on a holy day. After being comforted the people ate and drank, merrily celebrating the festival. The chapter continues with a second assembly which is said to have taken place on the second day of the month. This assembly was a study session attended by the lay and clerical leadership only. The assembled leadership learned that Israelites must dwell in booths during the upcoming festival of Sukkot and the people subsequently observed this law. Nehemiah 8, 17 then states that the Israelites had not dwelt in booths on Sukkot “from the days of Joshua son of Nun to that day” and 8, 18 reports that Ezra read the Torah on each day of the festival. Joshua functions here typologically as the leader of the new settlement in the land of Israel who reconstitutes the covenant and promulgates the law,103 and the activities of Ezra and the other leaders of the early Second Temple period are portrayed in Nehemiah in line with the Joshuan prototype.104 Indeed, Nehemiah 9 and 10 bolster this impression by describing a penitential service with a communal confession that occurred on the twenty fourth of the seventh month which was followed by a confessional prayer and the rededication of the people to the law.105 It bears noting that the typological use of Joshua in Nehemiah underscores his importance priests in the chain, just like their exclusion, can be interpreted as a polemical move, the polemical interpretation is deeply problematic. (See also Wilk (1987) 75 n. 12; cf. Fraade (1991) 70–73.) 102 See Himmelfarb (2006) 165–173; Fine (2005) 1–9. 103 See Joshua 8, 30–35; 23, 1–24, 31. 104 See Blenkinsopp (1988) 290. 105 See Blenkinsopp (1988) 310–311. See also Ben-Shahar (2004) 45–47, 69–71. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 61 in Avot 1, 1 as well and suggests that the Great Assembly also functioned as Joshua’s counterpart, reconstructing the Jewish polity in the time of resettlement during the early Second Temple period. The solution to the problem of the omission of groups such as priests and kings from Avot 1, 1 is to be found, I believe, in the confessional prayer of Nehemiah 9. After praising and surveying the history of Israel from the creation of the world until the exodus from Egypt, the prayer notes how God delivered the laws on Mt. Sinai (9, 13) into the capable hands of Moses (9, 14) and then describes how the people of Israel often rebelled against God, even after He had given them the land of Israel. As 9, 26 states, the people of Israel killed God’s prophets who sought to bring them back to Him when they strayed from the path of God and 9, 30 notes how the prophets warned the people to mend their ways many times over the years but the people did not heed their words. After the survey of the history of Israel, the prayer concludes with a final petition which opens as follows: ( בל ) לכתאךינפלטעמילאדסחהותירבהרמושארונהורובגהלודגהלאהוניהלאהתעו יכלמימימךמעלכלווניתבאלוונאיבנלוונינהכלוונירשלוניכלמלונתאצמרשאהאלתה הזהםויהדערושא (. גל ) ונעשרהונחנאותישעתמאיכונילעאבהלכלעקידצהתאו (. דל ) רשאךיתודעלוךיתוצמלאובישקהאלוךתרותושעאלוניתבאוונינהכונירשוניכלמתאו םהבתדיעה . (32) And now, our God, great, mighty, and awesome God, who stays faithful to His covenant, do not treat lightly all the suffering that has overtaken us—our kings, our officers, our priests, our prophets, our fathers, and all Your people—from the time of the Assyrian kings to this day. (33) Surely You are in the right with respect to all that has come upon us, for You have acted faithfully and we have been wicked. (34) Our kings, officers, priests and fathers did not follow Your teaching, and did not listen to Your commandments or to the warnings that You gave them.106 While evoking the suffering of the people of Israel, verse 32 refers to the kings, officers, priests and prophets who led the Israelites during pre-exilic times. Verse 33 justifies the punishments God inflicted on his people who were always at fault and then verse 34 reproduces the list from verse 32 but with a significant difference: the prophets are not mentioned in verse 34. According to verse 34, the kings, officers and priests did not follow the Torah or heed God’s commandments and warnings but since the prophets are not mentioned, the verse implies that they did. The prophets sought to fulfill their mission but were ignored or killed, as described in verses 26 and 30, and amongst all the leaders of their period the prophets are the

106 Nehemiah 9, 32–34. 62 chapter two only ones justified here. Thus, Nehemiah 9 teaches that most leaders of the pre-exilic period, i.e. kings, officers and priests, were of poor moral standing and did not obey the law, while the prophets stand out as the only good and law-abiding leaders. Joshua and the elders preceded the prophets and so were apparently exempt from Nehemiah 9’s biting critique. Moreover, Joshua is mentioned very favorably in Nehmiah 8 and the elders, who are not mentioned at all in 9, 32–35, were probably viewed by the rabbis as the leadership of the early first temple period who, along with Joshua, reconstituted the covenant with God. Hence, in light of Nehemiah, it is not surprising that priests and other leaders from pre-exilic times do not serve as links in Avot 1, 1. I have argued that Nehemiah 8–10 was an important source for the idea of the Great Assembly, an idea devised specifically for Avot, and Nehemiah clearly states that the prophets were the only leaders to follow the Torah from their own time until the time of Ezra and Nehemiah.

*** In sum, I have offered in this chapter a hypothetical reconstruction of Avot’s chain of transmission on the basis of earlier rabbinic chains of transmission and Nehemiah 8–10. According to my reconstruction, the earlier tannaitic chains illuminate the state of the rabbinic chain of transmission literary genre prior to Avot and reveal that the skeletal structure of the chain, the keyword “qibbel,” Sinai, Moses, the prophets, the Pairs and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai were already features of the genre prior to Avot. In the earliest extant versions of the chain, the prophets transmitted the Torah in pre-exilic times and the Pairs during the Second Temple period. The word “elders” in Mishnah Yadayim, I proposed, prompted the insertion of the elders in Avot and then Joshua was inserted in their wake. Furthermore, since the elders of Mishnah Yadayim flourished after the prophets, I suggested that Mishnah Yadayim’s elders also served as the inspiration for inventing the idea of the Great Assembly, a link which filled a gaping hole in the chain between the prophets and the Pairs. Mishnah Yadayim’s elders were naturally identified with the assemblies from the time of Ezra and Nehemiah and Nehemiah 8–10 seems to offer an excellent explanation for why Avot 1, 1 looks favorably upon Joshua, the elders and the prophets but not on other leaders of the pre-exilic period. Thus, I have sought to demonstrate how the literary formulation of Avot’s chain of transmission was greatly indebted to a small group of related Jewish texts. Although the literary matrix of Jewish texts discussed above apparently contributed much to the formulation of Avot’s chain of transmission, it bears remembering that the broader literary setting of the ancient world served a simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 63 no less formative role. As scholars have shown, Greek and Roman intellectu- als would have recognized the rabbinic chain of transmission as an exemplar of the successions literary genre, a Hellenistic genre that sketched the history of the traditions and the institutional leadership of a school.107 Indeed, the very idea of portraying the history of Torah transmission as a succession of tradents in a teacher-disciple framework emerged from the Graeco- Roman scholastic setting. In addition, certain features of Avot’s succession list are more closely paralleled in gentile succession lists than in the four other chains of transmission in tannaitic literature. For example, the tannaitic chains of transmission outside Avot commence in the present and work their way back to Moses on Sinai, while Avot, like succession lists from the Graeco-Roman world (such as those formulated for the history of skepticism and Roman jurisprudence),108 begins with a legendary sage from the hallowed past and then gradually works its way to the present. In addition, the interspersing of wisdom sayings throughout Avot’s chain of transmission is unparalleled in all the rabbinic literary precedents but was apparently common in Graeco-Roman successions.109 Thus it appears that Avot’s chain of transmission is the product of a broad literary matrix and cultural environment which extends far beyond the Mishnah and the Bible into the scholastic literary context of the Graeco-Roman world.

*** In the wake of our analysis of the literary matrices from which Avot emerged, let us explore potential ramifications of this analysis for Simeon the Righ- teous and his institutional affiliation. I proposed above that the creation of the Great Assembly and its inclusion in Avot were prompted by the elders who produced “new work” according to Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3. On the one hand, Avot identifies these elders of the early Second Temple period with Ezra, Nehemiah and the grand assemblies which took place in their time. Moreover, just as Nehemiah portrays Ezra as a new Joshua who reconstituted the Jewish people and promulgated Torah law after the resettlement of the land of Israel, Avot similarly views the Great Assembly as an early Second Temple institution parallel to Joshua and his successors, the elders. On the other hand, Avot does not view the Great Assembly as a fleet- ing episode or short series of assemblies as portrayed in Nehemiah, but as

107 See Bickerman (2007) 528–542; Cohen (1957) 4; id. (1966) 275–277; Fischel (1973) 119–129; Wasserstein (1994) 225–226; Tropper (2004) 157–172, 202–204, 207–240. 108 See Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers 9, 116; Justinian, Digest, 1.2.2.48–53. 109 See Tropper (2004) 181–184. 64 chapter two an institutional body that endured for some time. Mishnah Yadayim’s anal- ogy between the rabbinic “elders” and the “elders” of the Great Assembly suggests that the two groups were quite similar. More precisely, the unique and extensive description of the workings of the beit midrash in Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3 raises the possibility that in light of our mishnah, Avot retrojected the world of the beit midrash back to the early Second Temple period. Thus, Avot did not view the elders of the early Second Temple period simply as a traditional group of esteemed leaders or as the members of a series of short assemblies, but rather as a rabbinic house of study, a beit midrash. Indeed, the men of the Great Assembly’s saying in Avot, “Be deliberate in judgment, and raise up many disciples, and make a fence to the Torah,” corroborates this interpretation by highlighting activities which define the rabbinic agenda: judging, teaching and protecting the Torah. Though Joshua and the elders were the original prototype for Jewish leadership during a period of settlement, it seems that the Great Assembly was construed more in the image of a later reconstituting institution, namely the rabbinic house of study.110 In short, Avot’s chain of transmission may be read as telling the following story. Moses received the Torah on Sinai and passed it on to Joshua his disciple who brought the Israelites into the Land of Israel. Joshua reconstituted the people in the Land of Israel and ensured, along with the elders in his footsteps, the safekeeping of the Torah. Joshua and the elders observed and protected the Torah, calling upon the people to do so as well. The elders passed on the Torah to the prophets who went on to preserve the Torah for hundreds of years. During the time of the prophets, priests, kings and officers came and went though many of them were not committed to the Torah. The prophets called upon the people to follow the Torah, but they were often ignored and sometimes even killed. Eventually the prophetic era ended as did the period of the First Temple, and the Second Temple saw the emergence of a new group, the Great Assembly, who received the Torah from the final prophets. The Great Assembly established the educational framework and judicial system for the Second Temple period and in time Antigonus of Sokho received the Torah from Simeon the Righteous, one of the last of the

110 On anachronisms created by the retrojection of features belonging to a later figure or event onto an earlier prototype, see Daube (1980) 21–25; Cohn (2008) 205–225. It bears noting that the vision of a working beit midrash is already apparent in tannaitic descriptions of rabbinic acitivity at Yavenh. The legend of the pluralistic or indeterminate Judaism of Yavneh which was invented in the fifth or sixth centuries according to Daniel Boyarin is clearly not relevant to the current discussion. See Boyarin (2004) 151–201; id. (2005) 237–289; but cf. Miller (2007) 353–355. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 65 men of the Great Assembly. Antigonus, in turn, transmitted the Torah to the Pairs who formed the largest link between the ancient past and the tannaim. Like the prophets during the pre-exilic period, the Pairs comprised the link between the period of reconstitution after the (re)settlement of the land and the subsequent period of reconstruction after the destruction of the temple, i.e. between the Great Assembly and the rabbinic sages. For Avot, Simeon the Righteous and the men of the Great Assembly were the leaders who originally created the world of the beit midrash and established a Judaism with elders and not prophets at the helm, a Judaism we call rabbinic Judaism. Avot’s chain of transmission constructed a view of the past which not only legitimated the teachings and authority of the rabbinic elders by grounding them in the past, but also enhanced and elevated the self-perception and identity of the rabbis by portraying their activities in line with the constitu- tive roles of the Great Assembly, Joshua and his successors, the elders. Simeon the Righteous does not appear in any of the tannaitic chains outside of Avot and presumably he was introduced into the chain, like the Great Assembly and Antigonus of Sokho, in order to bridge the gap between the prophets and the Pairs.111 As a well respected Jewish leader of Second Temple times, Simeon served as an ideal link in the chain which could lessen the gap between the Great Assembly and the Pairs. However, while the other tradents “receive” the Torah from their predecessors, Simeon the Righteous does not “receive” the Torah but is portrayed instead as a final member of the Great Assembly. According to Avot, the Great Assembly received the Torah from the prophets and since Simeon is portrayed as a member of this esteemed institution, there was no need to state that he received the Torah. Nonetheless, we may ask why Avot broke the pattern with Simeon the Righteous and described him as a final member of the Great Assembly rather than simply stating: “Simeon the Righteous received from the men of the Great Assembly.” If Avot had created the notion of the Great Assembly in the first place as argued above, it could not have had access to any historical traditions which affiliated Simeon with the Great Assembly and therefore we may wonder why Avot chose to refer to Simeon the Righteous as one of the final members of the Great Assembly. The rationale for portraying Simeon the Righteous as one of the final remnants of the Great Assembly and at the closing of an era stems, I believe, from the location of Simeon the High Priest in Ben Sira.112 Chapters 44 through

111 Cf. Bickerman (2007) 555–562. 112 See also Neusner (1971) 18–19, who suggests that Simeon the Righteous was perhaps 66 chapter two

50 of Ben Sira present the Praise of the Fathers which lauds illustrious figures from the past in chronological order,113 from Enoch and Noah through the early Second Temple leaders, Zerubbabel, Joshua son of Jehozadak and Nehemiah. Simeon the High Priest appears in chapter 50 as the final ancestor eulogized in the Praise of the Fathers and, as we shall discuss in Chap- ter 7,114 the rabbis apparently identified Ben Sira’s Simeon as Simeon the Righteous. Simeon the High Priest is the only figure in the Praise of the Fathers not mentioned in the Bible yet he is proudly cited at the end of this list of worthy ancestors. Though Ben Sira probably concluded with Simeon because Simeon, his contemporary, was the last great figure he considered worthy of presenting in the Praise of the Fathers, rabbinic readers of Ben Sira were likely to view Simeon the High Priest’s location in the Praise of the Fathers as indicative of his historical significance. Coming at the end of a long list of great historical figures from the past, Simeon the High Priest is easily construed as the final representative of a former age and since he is the only ancestor mentioned who lived after Nehemiah, the rabbis would have probably viewed him as a late member of the Jewish institutional leadership of Nehemiah’s days, i.e. as a remnant of the Great Assembly. In short, it seems likely that Simeon the Righteous is portrayed in Avot as a remnant of the Great Assembly and not as an independent link who received the Torah from his predecessors because of the suggestive location of Simeon the High Priest in Ben Sira.

*** My study of Avot 1, 1–2 suggests that the image of Simeon the Righteous played an important role in Avot’s creative reconstruction and reinvention of Second Temple history. In this historical reconstruction, Avot incorporated Simeon into the Great Assembly, the rabbinic institution retrojected into the early the Second Temple period, and it is worth investigating whether this rabbinized Simeon is the standard or sole portrait of Simeon the Righ- teous found in tannaitic literature.115 In point of fact, a survey of Simeon the Righteous’s appearances in tannaitic literature reveals that all his appearances, save for his appearance in Avot’s chain of transmission, relate to his known from Ben Sira but does not consider the possible importance of Simeon the High Priest’s placement in Ben Sira. Cf. Bickerman (2007) 560; Moore (1927) 359. 113 The chronological order is broken for the retrospective evocation of Enoch, Joseph, Shem, Seth and Adam in 49, 14–19. On Simeon the High Priest in Ben Sira more generally see Mulder (2003). 114 See also Moore (1927) 359. 115 Cf. Kister (1989–1990) 374. simeon the righteous, the great assembly and rabbinization 67 priestly role in the temple.116 Consider, for example, the following passage from Tosefta Sotah: רידתיברעמרנהיהםייקקידצהןועמשהיהשןמזלכ , הבכשוהואצמווכלהתמשמ . ןכימ קלודםימעפהבכםימעפךליאו . For as long as Simeon the Righteous was alive, the westernmost lamp (of the temple’s candelabra) was constantly [lit], once he died they went and found it extinguished. From that time on, sometimes it was found extinguished and sometimes lit.117 Both Avot and Tosefta Sotah 13, 7 give the impression that Simeon the Righ- teous marked the end of an era but they differ greatly on the nature of the change that occurred with his passing. For Tosefta Sotah 13, 7, Simeon was a holy priest whose presence miraculously ensured that the western lamp of the temple’s candelabra remained lit at all times. His greatness was otherworldly and miraculous and it influenced the temple precincts which he oversaw. In contrast, Simeon the Righteous of Avot’s chain of transmission was a tradent of the Torah just like a rabbinic sage. Here he represents the end of a former, glorious age in which the Great Assembly, along with Ezra and Nehemiah, renewed the covenant with God and expressed their commitment to upholding the Torah. The Tosefta demonstrates that the rabbis were perfectly comfortable portraying Simeon the Righteous as a priestly figure and therefore we should not rush to conclude that Avot’s portrayal of Simeon as a member of the Great Assembly is necessarily an anti-priestly polemic. Rather, Avot demonstrates how a famous Second Temple priest, who was elevated to practically mythical proportions in both Ben Sira and tannaitic literature, could be enlisted in the rabbinic account of the origins of the rabbinic movement. In Avot, Simeon the Righteous is assigned an important place in the rabbinic narrative of Second Temple history, a narrative in which the rabbis constructed the past in their very own image.

116 See mParah 3, 5; tNezirut 4, 7, Sifre Numbers 22 (pp. 59–60), tSotah 13, 6–8. 117 tSotah 13, 7 according to MS Erfurt.

chapter three

SIMEON THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE ORIGINS OF THE WORLD’S THREE PILLARS

One of the most famous of all rabbinic statements is the solitary teaching attributed to Simeon the Righteous in all rabbinic literature: his wisdom saying in Mishnah Avot 1, 2: רמואהיהאוה : דמועםלועהםירבדהשלשלע : םידסחתולימגלעוהדבעהלעוהרותהלע . He used to say: On three things the world stands: on Torah, on worship, and on the bestowal of kindnesses. In part, Simeon’s saying’s renown is due to its literary merits and didac- tic power. The saying concisely encapsulates central values in the Jewish tradition and over the generations young Jewish children have been encouraged to imprint Simeon’s saying on their hearts and minds. However, equally artistic and sweeping sayings in less renowned compositions generally have not enjoyed the fame of Simeon’s wisdom saying and so the saying’s popularity is arguably most indebted to its highly visible location in the opening mishnayot of the most well-known rabbinic composition of all time.1 In the context of our study, two aspects of Simeon’s wisdom-saying are of particular interest: the saying’s meaning and the history of its formation. Due to the popularity of Simeon’s saying, many have explored the saying’s first aspect, i.e. its meaning, and my intention is to navigate through the exemplary work of earlier commentators and scholars in order to reconstruct the saying’s original meaning. The latter aspect, however, is virgin territory and so far as I know, scholars have not attempted to reveal the sources of inspiration which undergird Simeon’s saying. In light of this lacuna in extant scholarship, I propose to enter this untouched terrain hoping both to trace the formation of Simeon’s saying and to explain why this specific teaching was ascribed to Simeon the Righteous.

***

1 On the popularity of Avot see Tropper (2004) 1. 70 chapter three

The world, according to Simeon the Righteous’s wisdom-saying, is upheld by three pillars: Torah, worship and the bestowal of kindnesses. The notion that the world is founded on pillars is not novel and appears already in Psalms 75, 4: “Earth and its inhabitants dissolve, it is I who keep its pillars firm. Selah.”2 However, the image of a tripod upholding the world is unprecedented in Jewish literature and Isaac Gottlieb has informed me that he recalls hearing a suggestion attributed to Saul Lieberman that the tripod image here may have been inspired by the three legged tables (cilliba in Latin and τρίπους in Greek) popular in ancient times.3 Be that as it may, Simeon’s saying is not only the first Jewish text to quantify the number of pillars sup- porting the world, it is also the first to identify the distinct nature of each pillar. Simeon’s first pillar, “Torah,” is the revelation delivered to Moses on Mt. Sinai, i.e. the divine handbook (and its oral interpretation) designed to guide Jews through life. Simeon’s saying, however, does not spell out in what sense Torah functions as a pillar of the world, failing to specify whether the world is upheld by the Torah scroll, the platonic idea of Torah, the Torah’s precepts or their implementation. Nonetheless, a comparison to the two other pillars, “worship” and “the bestowal of kindnesses,” seems to clarify the matter. Since the two other pillars entail the implementation of a certain series of actions or set of behaviors, “Torah” apparently denotes the implementation and observance of the Torah’s precepts by human agents.4 This contextual understanding was implicitly rejected, however, by the Palestinian Talmud and Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, later compositions which opted to interpret “Torah” here as talmud torah, Torah study. The transformation of an otherwise unspecified Torah into talmud torah seems unwarranted on literary grounds but was a natural interpretation for sages immersed in the scholastic ideology of rabbinic Judaism.5 Simeon the Righteous’s second pillar “ʿavodah,” or “worship,” is a rabbinic term for the temple service and therefore “worship” in our context refers to sacrificial offerings and the temple cult. Indeed, this understanding

2 See Taylor (1897) 12 n. 3. 3 See Smith (1875) 749–750. 4 In a similar vein, Menahem Kister has pointed out that Torah, worship and the bestowal of kindnesses are also grouped together (albeit in an entirely different configuration) in Ben-Sira 35 (32), 1–4 and Ben-Sira’s formulation there, “ὁ συντηρῶν νόμον,” “He who keeps the law,” reflects the importance of observance, not study. See Kister (1983) 128–129 n. 8; id., (1989–1990) 308; id., (1998) 186. 5 See yMegillah 3, 5 74b; Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A 4 (p. 18); Avot de-Rabbi Nathan B 5 (pp. 18–19). simeon the righteous and the origins of the three pillars 71 is explicitly attested both in the Palestinian Talmud and in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan.6 Certain rabbinic texts, however, offer a homiletic interpretation construing it as prayer7 and in— ע. ב. ד.—”of the root of the word “ʿavodah light of this homiletic interpretation, Pirqe de-Rabbi Eliezer as well as various medieval commentaries render Simeon’s second pillar as prayer.8 These commentators translate “worship” as prayer in an attempt to enhance the relevance of this pillar in a world without a temple in Jerusalem. In contrast to the first two pillars, the third pillar, “the bestowal of kindnesses,” “gemilut hasadim,” does not seem to have undergone any noticeable shift in meaning during ancient times. The term “gemilut hasadim” appears for the very first time in Second Temple literature, in Ben-Sira 37, 14, and already then it conveyed a meaning that would remain unchanged throughout the rabbinic period and beyond. Throughout history “gemilut hasadim” has denoted the kind and considerate deeds which characterize the good person.9 Thus, the simple, straightforward and apparently original meaning of Simeon’s saying is that the world stands on the three pillars of Torah observance, Temple service and kindly deeds. As time passed, however, some sages viewed “Torah” as talmud torah in light of the scholastic ideology of the rabbinic movement and some updated Temple “worship” to prayer. In any event, Simeon’s saying suggests that the world will topple over should any one of its three legs falter or disappear.10

*** If Simeon the Righteous had truly articulated the wisdom-saying attributed to him then there would be little point in trying to uncover the rabbinic

6 See references in n. 5. See also Taylor (1897) 12–13, n. 5; Sharvit (2006) 62. 7 See Sifre Deuteronomy 41 (pp. 87–88); Mekhilta de-Rashbi 23, 25 (p. 220); yBerakhot 4, 1 7a; bTaʿanit 2a. 8 Pirqe de-Rabbi Eliezer 16 (p. 48). For relevant medieval commentaries see, for example, Jonah ben Abraham Gerondi (2005) ad loc. (122–124); Simeon ben Zemah Duran (2005) ad loc. (123); Cf. Jacob ben Samson (2005) ad loc. (121–122). 9 See Segal’s commentary in Ben-Sira, 231, 237; Sharvit (2006) 62. For a rather different take on Simeon’s saying, see Goldin (1988) 27–37 (though cf. Kister (1998) 186–187). 10 Scholars have noted that Simeon’s saying follows the literary principle known as the law of increasing members, a principle which determines the order of items in a list in accordance with the length of their names: “hatorah” with three syllables is first; “haʿavodah” with four syllables is second; and “gemilut hasadim” with six syllables is last. (See Friedman (1970–1971); Sharvit (2006) 26.) Nonetheless, the guiding principle underlying this literary structure is not solely technical since synonymous terms could have been selected to denote the pillars. For example, the term “hesed,” “kindness,” could have been employed in lieu of gemilut hasadim (see tPeah 4, 21), and after the application of the law of increasing members, “hesed” would have preceded “ʿavodah.” See also n. 31 below. 72 chapter three sources of inspiration underlying his saying since rabbinic literature was formulated centuries after his lifetime. After all, Simeon apparently lived sometime in the third century bce, hundreds of years before the creation of the earliest rabbinic compositions. However, if the attribution to Simeon is pseudepigraphic, then it is distinctly possible that the formation of the saying was influenced by some early rabbinic texts. I believe that the attribution to Simeon is pseudepigraphic and after presenting two reasons for rejecting the authenticity of the attribution, one general and one specific, I hope to show how a few rabbinic texts illuminate both the formation of Simeon’s saying and the rationale for ascribing it to Simeon the Righ- teous. A general reason to discount the veracity of the attribution to Simeon the Righteous is that the institution responsible for the oral transmission of rabbinic traditions did not exist yet during his lifetime. Rabbinic traditions were carefully memorized and transmitted within the beit midrash, the house of study,and scholars have demonstrated that the beitmidrash, the earliest rabbinic institution, only emerged in the first century ce.11 Consequently, it is highly unclear how Simeon’s saying would have been orally transmitted during the centuries prior to the advent of the beit midrash. Indeed, the fact that rabbinic literature records no other teachings of Simeon the Righteous only reinforces the notion that his teachings were not preserved by the rabbis for posterity. More specifically, Shamma Friedman has demonstrated that Simeon’s saying could not have been formulated prior to the first century ce since the term “ʿolam,” “world,” only acquired a spatial meaning at that time. On the basis of a painstaking and thorough analysis, Friedman has shown that “ʿolam” originally meant forever and only in the first century ce did “ʿolam” come to denote the world as well.12 Since Simeon the Righteous lived centuries before the first century ce, Friedman surmised that his saying was pseudepigraphic and we may conclude that Simeon’s saying was formulated sometime between the first century ce and the editing of Avot in the third century ce. One might protest and argue that perhaps an earlier authentic saying actually stated by Simeon was reformulated in a later period, but it is preferable not to posit the existence of an earlier form of the saying when we lack any evidence for it. The attribution to Simeon is the sole reason to date the saying prior to the first century ce and this reason alone supplies insufficient grounds for postulating the existence of an earlier form of the

11 See Hezser (1997) 185–239; Cohen (1999) 950–956; Shapira (2001) 129–214. 12 See Friedman (2008) 77; id. (forthcoming). simeon the righteous and the origins of the three pillars 73 saying for which there is absolutely no evidence.13 Rather, the evidence of the saying itself, i.e. the use of ʿolam’s spatial meaning, intimates that the saying was not composed by Simeon the Righteous himself.

*** Simeon’s saying opens “On three things the world stands” and then follows through with a list of the three pillars which uphold the world. The closest textual parallel to Simeon’s saying, a text which adheres to the same structure and even utilizes the very same opening “On three things the world,” appears uncannily in Avot. Moreover, this highly similar text is brought in the final mishnah of the very chapter Simeon’s saying opens: רמואלאילמגןבןועמשןבר : םייקםלועהםירבדהשלשלע : םולשהלעותמאהלעוןידהלע . Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel says: On three things the world is maintained: on judgment and on truth and on peace.14 The similarities between the two sayings are truly striking and both traditional commentators and critical scholars alike have sought to make sense of the similarities and differences between them. A traditional commen- tator like R. Simeon ben R. Zemah Duran was troubled by the possibility that Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel disagreed with his predecessor, Simeon the Righteous, so he argued that the two figures actually set forth two distinct claims: whereas Simeon stated that the universe was originally created for the purpose of Torah, worship and kindly deeds, Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel asserted that social intercourse is made possible and maintained by judgment, truth and peace.15 From a modern academic view- point, Jacob Neusner has argued that Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s saying “clearly represents a post-135 revision” of Simeon’s saying: “the Torah now is truth, a philosophizing tendency; the Temple service is now replaced by justice; and deeds of forgiveness are replaced by peace. Morton Smith observes that the basis of ‘the world’ is no longer the coherent ‘brother- hood of Israel,’ but the pax Romana.”16 Despite the different interpretations offered by these traditional and critical commentators, both interpretative stances surveyed here posit that Simeon’s saying is the earlier one and that it supplied the literary structure for Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s later saying.

13 See also the first rule of thumb at the end of the Introduction above. 14 mAvot 1, 18. 15 Simeon ben Zemah Duran (2005) Avot 1, 18 (215). See also Jonah ben Abraham Gerondi (2005) Avot 1, 2 (119–120); Menahem ben Solomon Meiri (2005) Avot 1, 2 (120). 16 Neusner (1971) 18. 74 chapter three

In contrast, I believe that we should not posit the priority of Simeon the Righteous’s saying since a judicious assessment of the two sayings actually suggests the reverse; namely, it suggests that Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s saying is earlier and that it supplied Simeon the Righteous’s saying with its literary structure.17 Unlike Simeon the Righteous, Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel lived in relatively close temporal (and familial) proximity to the editor of Avot18 and it is distinctly possible that the saying attributed to him stems from the second century ce, i.e. the century during which he lived. Indeed, the attribution to Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel may well be authentic. In addition, scholars have noted that the first chapter of Avot is enclosed by a literary envelope (or inclusio) formed by the similar sayings attributed to the two Simeons and I propose that the chapter’s editor not only placed two similar sayings at the opening and close of the chapter, but actually modeled Simeon’s saying on Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s saying. In constructing an envelope for the chapter, the editor apparently borrowed the literary structure and terminology of the later Simeon’s saying in order to formulate the saying of the earlier Simeon, retrojecting contemporary features of the wisdom-saying into the distant past. Though I have just proposed that both the literary structure and opening phrase of Simeon the Righteous’s saying were modeled on Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s wisdom-saying, the three pillars themselves were not derived from Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s saying. Simeon’s notion that three items uphold the world is, I believe, indebted to Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s saying, but the identities of these three items are not dependent on Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s saying since Rabban Simeon lists “judgment,” “truth” and “peace” while Simeon lists “Torah,” “worship” and “the bestowal of kindnesses.”19 Apparently the source of inspiration for the three items came from elsewhere and the most likely candidate is Mishnah Yoma

17 It is theoretically possible that there is no genetic connection between the two sayings and that both are modeled on an independent literary paradigm but the absence of other examples of the paradigm in rabbinic literature speaks against this possibility. In addition, the proximity of the two sayings in Avot enhances the connection between them. (See Chapter 2 n. 61.) 18 See Tropper (2004) 88–116. 19 Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s “qayam,” “is maintained” was apparently changed to “ʿomed,” “stands” so as to distinguish between the meanings of the two sayings. While Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s saying refers to the maintenance of the social world, Simeon the Righteous’s saying apparently refers to the foundations of the universe which enable it to exist. (See n. 15 above. See also Sharvit (2006) 61; Gottlieb (1997). In light of the discussion below, perhaps the fact that the high priest read the Torah standing, “ʿomed,” in MishnahYoma 7, 1 inspired the use of the same word in Simeon’s saying in Avot.) simeon the righteous and the origins of the three pillars 75

7, 1 (or its slightly modified parallel, Mishnah Sotah 7, 7). Save for Simeon the Righteous’s saying, Mishnah Yoma 7, 1 is the only other tannaitic text which contains the clause “ʿal hatorah veʿal haʿavodah,” “on the Torah and on the worship.” ולשמןבלתלטסאבאלםאוארוקץובידגבבהצורםאתורקללודגןהכולאב . תסנכהןזח תסנכהשארלונתונוהרותרפסלטונ , ןגסלונתונתסנכהשארו , לודגןהכלונתונןגסהו , ןהכו ארוקולבקמודמועלודג . ארוקודמוע ״ תומירחא ״ ( זטארקיו , א- דל ) ו״ רושעבךא ״ ( ארקיו גכ , וכ - בל .) בותכםכינפליתירקשהמימרתוירמואווקיחבהחינמוהרותהתאללוגו . ״ רושעבו ״ םידוקפהשמוחמבש ( טכרבדמב , ז- אי ) תוכרבהנומשהילעךרבמוהפלעארוקו : םינהכהלעולארשילעושדקמהלעוןוועהתליחמלעוהידוההלעוהדובעהלעוהרותהלע הליפתהראשלעו . Then the high priest came to read. If he was minded to read in the linen garments he could do so; and if not (he would read) in his own white vestment. The minister of the synagogue used to take a Torah scroll and give it to the chief of the synagogue, and the chief of the synagogue gave it to the prefect, and the prefect gave it to the high priest, and the high priest received it standing and read. Standing he read “After the death” (Leviticus 16, 1–34) and “Mark, the tenth day” (Leviticus 23, 26–32). Then he used to roll up the Torah scroll and put it in his bosom and say: More is written here than I have read out before you. “And on the tenth” which is in the Book of Numbers (Numbers 29, 7–11), he recited by heart and pronounced over it eight blessings: on the Torah and on the worship and on the thanksgiving and on the forgiveness of sin, and on the temple and on Israel and on the priests and on the rest of the prayer.20 Mishnah Yoma 7, 1 describes the activities of the high priest upon completion of the long temple service of the Day of Atonement. First, a series of temple officers pass a Torah scroll from one to another until the prefect passes it to the high priest. After receiving the Torah scroll, the high priest stands and reads to the people various portions from the Torah scroll. He then closes the scroll, recites an additional portion by heart and pronounces eight blessing. The first two blessings recited are entitled “ʿal hatorah veʿal haʿavodah,” “on the Torah and on the worship.” According to the Palestinian Talmud, the blessing on the Torah concludes with the phrase “haboher batorah,” “who chose the Torah,” and the blessing on the worship, like the original version of the parallel blessing in the daily ʿamidah (standing prayer), concludes “sheʾotkha nirʾe venaʿavod,” “You, whom we fear and worship.”21 A comparison between Mishnah Yoma 7, 1 and Avot 1, 2 reveals that the only two texts in all tannaitic literature which employ the clause “ʿal hatorah veʿal haʿavodah,” “on the Torah and on the worship,” involve the

20 My translation is dependent on Danby (1933) ad loc. (p. 170). 21 See yYoma 7, 1 44b; ySotah 7, 7 22a; bYoma 70a. See also Luger (2001) 173–183. 76 chapter three high priesthood. The temple service of the Day of Atonement was famously performed by the high priest and Mishnah Yoma describes in great detail every step of the high priest’s activities on the Day of Atonement. In a similar vein, Avot 1, 2 attributes a saying to probably the most famous and well- regarded high priest of Second Temple times (in rabbinic eyes), Simeon the Righteous.22 In my opinion, the ascription of the clause “on the Torah and on the worship” to a high priest in the only two tannaitic texts wherein the clause appears is simply too robust a similarity to be mere coincidence and therefore I conclude that there must be a genetic connection, a causal relationship, between the texts. In other words, the resemblances between the two texts are simply too uncanny and striking for mere coincidence and hence the natural conclusion is that one text influenced the formation of the other. A priori it is theoretically possible that Simeon’s saying influenced the formation of Mishnah Yoma 7, 1, but there are good reasons to believe that Mishnah Yoma 7, 1 is the earlier of the two texts and that it influenced the formation of Simeon’s saying. First, scholars have forcefully argued that the blessings of the high priest listed in Mishnah Yoma are not novel rabbinic constructions but rather stem from Second Temple times23 hence it seems preferable to postdate a rabbinic construction, such as Simeon the Righ- teous’s saying, to a list of authentic Second Temple blessings. Second, while the reference to “Torah” in Simeon’s saying is somewhat vague as noted above, the reference to a “Torah” blessing in Mishnah Yoma is perfectly clear. It stands to reason that the reference to “Torah” in Simeon’s saying is vague because as often happens when a pre-existent clause is borrowed, it does not fit seamlessly within its new literary context. Third, Yoma’s eight-item list is a perfectly sensible collection of blessings for the high priest to have recited on the Day of Atonement and the only apparent reason this original list was truncated to become Simeon’s three-item list is that Simeon’s list was modeled on Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel’s three-item formula. In light of these considerations, I suggest that the phrase “on the Torah and on the worship” first appeared in the list of blessings recorded in Mishnah Yoma and only later was exported to Simeon the Righteous’s saying in Avot. When the editor of Avot sought to construct a wisdom-saying for Simeon the

22 In addition, the rabbis viewed Ben Sira’s Simeon the High Priest as Simeon the Righ- teous and in ancient times, Ben Sira’s detailed account of Simeon’s temple worship was identified as a description of the Day of Atonement service. See Segal’s comments in Ben Sira, 343. 23 See, for example, Kister (2008a) 332–333. simeon the righteous and the origins of the three pillars 77 high priest that would help introduce the Torah’s chain of transmission, he naturally derived inspiration from a mishnah that details the high priest’s blessings recited over the Torah.24 While the suggestion just outlined locates the origins of the first two pillars in Simeon’s saying, it does not seem to shed any light on the third pillar, -gemi“) ” םידסחתולימג “ at least at first glance. Whereas Simeon’s third pillar is lut hasadim”), “the bestowal of kindnesses,” the third blessing in Mishnah Yoma 7, 1 is that of “thanksgiving,” “hodayah.” Indeed, one might even argue that if my suggestion above were correct, Simeon’s saying should have read: “On three things the world stands: On Torah and on worship and on thanksgiving.” However, Simeon’s saying could not conclude with thanksgiving as its third pillar because thanksgiving is not of sufficient weight to merit being one of the three pillars of the world. Nonetheless, I would like to suggest that even though Simeon’s saying did not turn “thanksgiving” into the world’s third pillar, it did the next best thing: it derived inspiration for its third pillar, “the bestowal of kindnesses,” from the content of the thanksgiving blessing. According to the Palestinian Talmud, the high priest’s thanksgiving blessing, just like the ʿamidah’s thanksgiving blessing, concludes with the phrase “hatov lekha lehodot,” “You to whom it is good to give thanks.”25 Since the worship and thanksgiving blessings in both the high priest’s blessings and the ʿamidah convey the same respective themes, employ the same respective closing phrases and follow one another in the very same sequence, scholars have concluded, in line with a baraita in the Babylonian Talmud, that the high priest’s worship and thanksgiving blessings should be identified with the parallel blessings in the ʿamidah.26 Rabbinic literature did not preserve the full text of the thanksgiving blessing but the blessing’s text, in the context of the ʿamidah, is found in three different versions in the Cairo Genizah, two Palestinian and one Babylonian, and, all three versions focus on the thanksgiving due God for his kindness to mankind.27 All three ver- hesed”), “kindness,” and I propose that the“) ” דסח “ sions include the word kindness of God highlighted in the thanksgiving blessing inspired the notion

24 In addition, perhaps the literary similarities between the context in Avot and Mishnah Yoma 7, 1 enhanced the connection between the two texts for just as Mishnah Yoma describes the passing of the Torah scroll via the literary device called anadiplosis, wherein the final term at the end of each clause is repeated at the beginning of the next clause, the transmission of the Torah across the generations is similarly portrayed by means of anadiplosis in Avot 1, 1, the mishnah prior to Simeon’s saying. 25 See yYoma 7, 1 44b; ySotah 7, 7 22a. Translation according to Elbogen (1993) 52. 26 See Elbogen (1993) 50–53; Luger (2001) 173–195. 27 Luger (2001) 184; Ehrlich (2006) 485 (n. 20). 78 chapter three that kindly deeds should form the third pillar of the world. Moreover, the Palestinian versions of the thanksgiving blessing most probably antedate the Babylonian version28 and one of the Palestinian versions29 reads as follows: םימחרהודסחהתובוטהלכלעוניתובאיהלאווניהולאייאוההתאךלונחנאםידומ ונידעסיייךדסחונילגרהטמונרמאםאוונינפלמוניתובאםעוונמעהתישעשוונתלמגש . תודוהלךלבוטהייהתאךורב .30 We give thanks to you Lord our God and God of our fathers for all the goodness, kindness and mercy that you bestowed upon us and that you did for us and for our fathers before us and if we think our foot has given way, your kindness support us. Blessed are you the Lord, You to whom it is good to give thanks. gemilut hasadim”) appears in“) ” םידסחתולימג “ Remarkably, the very phrase לכלע “ ,this version of the thanksgiving blessing in a slightly altered fashion -ʿal kol hatovot hahesed veharahamim shege“) ” ונתלמגשםימחרהודסחהתובוטה maltanu”), “for all the goodness, kindness and mercy that you bestowed on us,” and this finding further strengthens the relationship between Mishnah Yoma 7, 1 and Avot 1, 2. While the editor of Avot simply copied the first two items listed in Mishnah Yoma, the third item, “thanksgiving,” would not have made a very good pillar so he surveyed the contents of the thanksgiving blessing and then elicited from them the third pillar: “gemilut hasadim.”

*** While in the previous chapter I suggested that the editor of Avot invented both the Great Assembly and Simeon the Righteous’s affiliation with this institution, I have sought in this chapter to reconstruct how the editor created Simeon the Righteous’s wisdom-saying in Avot. According to my reconstruction, the structure and opening of the saying were drawn from a later Simeon’s saying and they enabled the editor to enclose chapter one of Avot in a neat envelope. Unlike the structure and the opening, the pillars of

28 Various considerations favor the priority of the Palestinian versions. The Palestinian versions conclude with the closing cited in rabbinic literature while the Babylonian version employs an apparently later closing unattested in rabbinic literature (see Luger (2001) 194). The Babylonian version seems to have expanded the blessing and lent it a universalistic dimension while the original blessing was apparently shorter and more nationalistic. Uri Ehrlich expressed to me his opinion that the nationalistic sentiment appears more original here since it creates an inclusio with the first blessing of the ʿamidah and Menahem Kister has even found an early Christian parallel which echoes the nationalistic sentiment of the Palestinian version (see Kister (2008b) 232–233). 29 Fleisher consider this to be the earlier Palestinian version. See Fleisher (2000) 311–312. 30 Cambridge University TS K27.33. simeon the righteous and the origins of the three pillars 79

Simeon’s were inspired by the first three blessings recited by the high priest after the Torah reading on the Day of Atonement as recorded by Mishnah Yoma 7, 1, blessings that offered a doubly appropriate source for Simeon the Righteous’s saying. As blessings pronounced by the high priest on the most important day in his calendar year, the blessings were obvious source material for an author who sought to invent a saying that was to be ascribed to a high priest. As blessings pronounced immediately following the reading of the Torah, they were also appropriate source material for a saying designed to stand at the opening of the Torah’s chain of transmission. Using varied source material, it seems that Avot’s editor fashioned a wisdom-saying that embodied rabbinic values but also could have been easily articulated by a high priest in Second Temple times.31

31 Some scholars who maintain that Simeon’s three pillars are organized in a descending order of importance have expressed surprise that a priest would have placed Torah before the temple service. A priest in Solomon’s temple, it is argued, would have certainly given pride of place to the temple service over Torah. (See Finkelstein (1989) 98; Knohl (2003) 7, 123.) In light of the pseudepigraphic nature of Simeon’s saying, these scholars could now argue that Simeon’s saying sets forth later rabbinic values that were projected back onto a Second Temple high priest. However, I suspect that the Second Temple period was quite unlike Solomon’s times and that many Second Temple priests probably would not have taken issue with the placement of Torah before the temple service. Torah obligations were of critical importance during Second Temple times even amongst so-called priestly groups like the Qumran sectarians.

chapter four

SIMEON THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE NARCISSISTIC NAZIRITE

Simeon the Righteous’s role as high priest and temple functionary is a recurring and conspicuous feature in most of the rabbinic traditions about him. High priests were viewed as exalted and sacred personages in Second Tem- ple Jewish society and, of all Jews, high priests alone entered the Holy of Holies, the innermost chamber of the sanctuary in Jerusalem. High priests, like all other priests, were supposed to abstain from intoxicants while serving in the sacrosanct temple; they were prohibited from defiling themselves with corpse impurity even for immediate relations who had died; and their head, which they were forbidden to shave like other priests and Jews, served as the central locus of their sanctity.1 By portraying Simeon the Righteous as a high priest, the rabbis expressed their belief that Simeon had occupied the most eminent and hallowed office in Jerusalem of the Second Temple period. In contrast to the sanctity of the high priest, the laity for the most part did not maintain a comparable level of holiness but if a layperson so desired, he or she could exploit a biblically mandated method for enhancing personal sanctity, i.e. he or she could become a nazirite. The biblical institution of the nazirite entailed pronouncing a vow which, for a designated period of time, obligated one to abstain from intoxicants and any grape produce, to refrain from cutting one’s hair and to avoid corpse contamination even for the dead of one’s immediate family.2 The striking similarities between the prohibitions placed on the nazirite and the high priest suggest that naziriteship supplied a means of satisfying the laity’s aspirations for holiness by enabling a layperson to approximate the sacred status of the high priest. Accordingly, both nazirites and priests were deemed “consecrated to the Lord.”3

1 On the high priest’s visit to the Holy of Holies see Leviticus 16, 1–17; on priestly abstinence from intoxicants see Leviticus 10, 8–11; on the prohibition of corpse defilement for the high priest see Leviticus 21, 11; on the sanctity of the high priest’s head, see Exodus 29, 7; Leviti- cus 21, 10; 21, 12; and on the prohibition of shaving the head see Leviticus 21, 5 for priests and Deuteronomy 14, 1 for the laity. 2 See Numbers 6, 1–21. 3 See Numbers 6, 8; Leviticus 21, 6. See also Milgrom (1990) 355. Bible scholars have 82 chapter four

In light of the parallels between the nazirite and high priest, it is perhaps unsurprising that an early rabbinic story about Simeon the Righteous confronts this renowned high priest with a nazirite. In the course of the narrative Simeon the Righteous unequivocally determines the merits of this troubled nazirite and Simeon is wholly suited to do so since, as high priest, he well understands what it means to be “consecrated to the Lord.”

*** The story of Simeon and the nazirite was well known in late antiquity appearing twice in tannaitic literature, in Sifre Numbers and Tosefta Nazir, twice in the Palestinian Talmud and twice in the Babylonian Talmud.4 All these versions of the story are very similar though the later versions found in the two Talmuds include some obvious alterations and editorial revisions. Insofar as the earlier (tannaitic) versions are concerned, a close comparison between the two suggests that Sifre Numbers has preserved the earlier and more original version. The story’s preface in Sifre Numbers, “‘To set himself apart for the Lord’ (Numbers 6, 2): The (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God …” encapsulates the story’s central message and also foreshadows the citation of Numbers 6, 2 in the story’s conclusion. Hermeneutically speaking, the citation of Numbers 6, 2 in both the preface and conclusion suggests that the story is an elucidation or illustration of this biblical passage and the immediate literary context in Sifre Numbers confirms this suggestion. The Sifre relates our story in a perfectly natural location, near the opening of its exposition on the nazirite laws of Numbers 6, and in line with its location the story serves as an ideal introduction to the world of the nazirite. By contrast, the Tosefta’s version lacks Sifre Numbers’ preface and unlike the natural setting for the story in Sifre Numbers, the Tosefta surprisingly recounts our story in the midst of a series of nazirite laws even though our story has no legal import. In addition, the relative brevity of the Sifre’s version in comparison to the Tosefta’s version suggests that the latter is a slightly expanded version of the former. The Tosefta (MS Erfurt) includes reʾitiv,” “I saw“) ” ויתיאר “ ,(”maʿaseh,” “A story of“) ” השעמ “ some words such as uvedavar sheʿatid liheyot,” “and in what is“) ” תויהלדיתעשרבדבו “ him”) and destined to become”) which were apparently added to the Sifre’s earlier and also argued that the priesthood looked upon naziriteship with disfavor viewing it as “an unproductive, wasteful form of life” (Milgrom (1990) 357). 4 See Sifre Numbers 22 (pp. 59–60); tNezirut 4, 7; yNedarim 1, 1 36d; yNazir 1, 7 51c; bNedarim 9b–10a; bNazir 4b. See also Numbers Rabbah 10 (p. 38). simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 83 shorter version in order to enhance either the flow or clarity of the narrative; it is hard to imagine that the Sifre inherited the Tosefta’s version and then libi,” “my heart”) was“) ” יבל “ excised these words. In a similar vein, the Sifre’s (”yizri,” “my impulse“) ” ירצי “ apparently transformed into the more explicit in the Tosefta (which was then subsequently inherited by the Talmuds). Consequently, it seems most likely that Sifre Numbers preserves the earliest extant version of the rabbinic tale of Simeon the Righteous and the nazirite from the south.5 Since the Sifre’s version is apparently the most original extant version of our story, it serves as the primary focus of my investigation while developments in the later literary trajectory of the story are only noted intermittently when they shed light on the original story. My goal in the study of Sifre Numbers’ version of the story of Simeon and the nazirite is twofold: I hope both to interpret the story of Simeon and the nazirite and to shed light on its formation. My interpretation is rooted in a close reading of the story that interweaves the various parts of the narrative into a coherent and overarching whole6 and my study of the story’s formation seeks to unveil the literary matrix from which the story emanated.

*** ״ יילריזהל ״ ( ורבדמב , ב :) םשלרזניהלהוצמ . ריזנןיאואלםאוריזנםשלרזנםאוא ? ת״ל ״ ריזנ , םוקמלכמ״ . תהמאה ״ל ״ יילריזהל ״? םשלרזנהלהוצמ . קידצהןועמשרמא : דחאאלאיימימתוריזנםשאיתלכאאל . הפיםורדהןמדחאאבשכ םילתלתולתורדוסמויתוצווקויאורבוטוםיניע , וליתמנ : הזרעישולתיחשהלתיארהמ האנ ? ילםנ : םייענהןמתולמליתכלהויריעביתייההעור . ילעיבלזחפילשהאיבביתלכתסנ םלועהןמינריבעהלשקיב . וליתמנ : ךלשוניאשבהאגתמהתאירהעשר , המירלשורפעלשב העילותלשו ! םימשלוחלגמינירה ! ושארלעויתקשנוושארתאיתכמ , וליתמנ : ובריךתומכ םייקתנךילעולארשיבםוקמהןוצרןישוע ״ השאואשיא ( ריזהלריזנרדנרודנלאילפייכ ׳הל )״ ( ורבדמב , ב .) 7 “To set himself apart for the Lord” (Numbers 6, 2): The (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God. Is it the case that if one sets onself apart to God one is a nazirite but if not one is not a nazirite? Scripture therefore states “nazirite” (Numbers 6, 2) (to teach) that one is a nazirite in any case. Then what does Scripture teach by stating “To set himself apart for the Lord?” (Scripture teaches thereby that) the (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God.

5 On the method adopted here for the comparison of parallel versions see Friedman (2000a) 35–57. 6 On the method of close reading enlisted here see Fraenkel (2001) 34; Rubenstein (1999) 8–10. 7 For an analysis of certain difficult words and differences in language among the various versions of the story, see Spiegel (1963) 397–400; Bendavid (1967) 223–227. 84 chapter four

Simeon the Righteous said: Only once in (all) my days have I eaten a nazirite penalty offering. When one came from the south, with beautiful eyes and of handsome appearance, and with his locks arranged in curls. I said to him: why did you see fit to destroy this beautiful hair? He said to me: I was shepherding in my town and went to draw (water) from a well. When I gazed upon my reflection (in the well) my heart rose upon me seeking to remove me from the world. I said to it (my lustful heart): Wretch! How you pride yourself in what is not yours, in what is of dust, worm and maggot! Behold I will shave it off for the sake of heaven! I lowered his head and kissed him on his head (and) I said to him: May there be many like you carrying out the will of God in Israel and in you is fulfilled (the verse): “If anyone, man or woman, (explicitly utters a nazirite’s vow, to set himself apart for the Lord)” (Numbers 6, 2). The preface sets the stage for the story by establishing the story’s hermeneutic function. The biblical nazirite legislation commences in Numbers 6, 1–2 as follows: “The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites and say to them: If anyone, man or woman, explicitly utters a nazirite’s vow, to set himself apart for the Lord.” Focusing on the final phrase of verse 2, “to set himself apart for the Lord,” the preface interprets it in a definitive rather than in a merely descriptive vein. Setting oneself apart for the Lord is not merely a description of naziriteship, a description of the legal reality created by the contraction of the nazirite vow, rather it is naziriteship’s raison d’être. The religious institution of the nazirite, says the preface, offers a means of committing oneself to God with self-dedication to the divine as the nazirite’s primary goal. Although anyone who utters the nazirite vow becomes a nazirite regardless of his or her intention, the preferred intention is one of selfless dedication to God. The story that follows the preface is brought to illustrate how an individual might ideally fulfill the nazirite precept using the behav- ioral requirements of naziriteship as a means of dedicating him- or herself to God.8 After the anonymous preface, the story proper opens with the words “Simeon the Righteous said” and from here on out Simeon is the narrator. As narrator, Simeon the Righteous serves an important literary role in this story and in order to fully appreciate the story we must understand the motives and intentions of Simeon’s literary persona. Simeon’s literary persona begins his tale with the introductory clause “Only once in (all) my days have I eaten a nazirite penalty offering” and this clause was already the subject of intense debate in amoraic times.

8 Cf. Kahana (2011) 198, 203. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 85

Two related interpretive difficulties arise from this passage. First, since priests were supposed to eat the nazirite penalty offering,9 why had Simeon the high priest never eaten such an offering before? Did he have legal or ideological objections to penalty-offerings, nazirites or ascetics? Alternatively, had Simeon simply been deprived of the experience for some mundane and prosaic reason? Second, could it be that even though Simeon refers explicitly to the nazirite’s penalty offering he also meant to include the nazirite’s other offerings? According to the biblical account of the nazirite ritual, a nazirite who completed the term of his vow brought a burnt offering, a sin offering and an offering of wellbeing but not a penalty offering. The penalty offering was only sacrificed by a nazirite who was defiled by a corpse and was required to reconsecrate his hair: “If a person dies suddenly near him, defiling his consecrated hair, he shall shave his head on the day he becomes clean; he shall shave it on the seventh day. On the eighth day he shall bring two turtledoves or two pigeons to the priest at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. The priest shall offer one as a sin offering and the other as a burnt offering, and make expiation on his behalf for the guilt that he incurred through the corpse. That same day he shall reconsecrate his head and rededicate to the Lord his term as nazirite; and he shall bring a lamb in its first year as a penalty offering. The previous period shall be void since his consecrated hair was defiled.”10 In referring to a penalty offering, was Simeon carefully specifying the exact sacrifice he had in mind or was he employing the nazirite’s penalty offering as a proxy in lieu of all nazirite offerings? The second interpretive difficulty was already disputed by the two Tal- muds. In both Talmuds the fifth generation amora R. Mana poses a question, but the different versions of his question presented in the Talmuds tacitly disagree over the types of sacrifices Simeon claimed not to have eaten. The Palestinian Talmud’s R. Mana assumes that Simeon refrained from eating all nazirite offerings because Simeon viewed naziriteship itself as problematic, while the Babylonian Talmud’s R. Mana assumes that Simeon only abstained from the nazirite’s penalty offering because he was only troubled by nazirites who had been defiled by corpse impurity. For the Palestinian Talmud, the penalty offering stands in lieu of all the nazirite offerings and functions as their proxy.11 In contrast, the Babylonian

9 See Numbers 6, 10–12. 10 Numbers 6, 8–12. 11 See also Epstein (1988) 375; Fraenkel (1991) 497 (n. 74). 86 chapter four

Talmud offers a more literal reading in which “penalty offering” denotes the nazirite’s penalty offering only.12 Two factors, I believe, tip the scales in favor of the Babylonian Talmud’s literal reading as the more original reading. First, the Tosefta situates our story alongside laws related to the nazirite’s defilement indicating that the Tosefta, like the Babylonian Talmud, also understood Simeon’s use of the penalty offering literally.13 Since the Tosefta is a tannaitic composition, it appears that the literal reading was not a late innovation of the Babylo- nian Talmud but rather an early reading already current in tannaitic times. Second, if the story had intended to employ a single sacrificial offering in a representative manner, it should have selected a more typical offering, i.e. one of the three offerings brought at the successful completion of the nazirite’s term. By choosing an exception to the rule and selecting an uncommon offering only brought in the wake of unexpected corpse contamination, the story draws special attention to this unusual sacrifice thereby under- mining the notion that the penalty offering represents all nazirite offerings. Having settled the second interpretive difficulty in favor of the literal reading of “penalty offering,” let us return to the first interpretive difficulty, namely: why had Simeon never eaten a nazirite penalty offering before? The Talmuds offer two possible solutions, but both are problematic. One solution raised by the anonymous stratum of the Palestinian Talmud and Abbaye in the Babylonian Talmud asserts that Simeon the Righteous refrained from eating nazirite offerings because he opposed the nazirites’ ascetic abstention from wine, viewing teetotaling nazirites as sinners. רמואןועמש׳ר : רמאנשריזנבםירדונויהשויהםיאטוח ״ לעאטחרשאמוילערפכו שפנה ״ ( ורבדמב , אי .) ןייהןמומצעענמשושפנלעהזאטח , קידצהןועמשדאייתאו ןועמש׳רכ .14 R. Simeon says: Those who contracted the nazirite vow were sinners as it is written “and he shall make expiation on his behalf because he sinned against a soul” (Numbers 6, 11). He sinned against his own soul by preventing himself from (drinking) wine. And (the story) of Simeon the Righteous agrees with R. Simeon.

12 See yNedarim 1, 1 36d; bNedarim 9b. See also Lieberman (1955–1988) vol. 7, p. 550 and n. 17 below. 13 See tNezirut 4. See also Chepey (2005) 123. 14 yNedarim 1, 1 36d. See also bNedarim 10a. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 87

This interpretation aligns Simeon the Righteous with R. Simeon, con- tending that Simeon the Righteous refrained from eating nazirite offerings out of ideological opposition to asceticism.15 However, there are two major difficulties with the proposed solution. First, as R. Mana objects in the Palestinian Talmud, if Simeon’s refusal to eat nazirite sacrifices stemmed from his belief that ascetic naziriteship was sinful, how would he have justified eating the sacrifices of other sinners? Since Simeon’s objection is limited to nazirite offerings alone, his literary persona presumably ate the penalty and sin offerings of non-nazirites; but if he objected to the offerings of one type of sinner why not object to the offerings of all sinners? Second, if Simeon’s persona truly viewed nazirites as sinning ascetic extremists he should have refused to eat all nazirite sacrifices, but, as we saw above, he only refrained from eating one of the many nazirite sacrifices and a rare one at that. Hence we may conclude that the talmudic ascription of an anti-ascetic ideology to Simeon the Righteous does not reflect the original import of our story but rather a later amoraic interpretation. The second talmudic explanation for why Simeon had never eaten a nazirite penalty offering beforehand comes in two variations, one in the Palestinian Talmud and one in the Babylonian Talmud.16 In both cases, Sim- eon fears that nazirites regret having contracted their nazirite vow and this regret renders their offerings unconsecrated. The Palestinian Talmud, which assumes that Simeon refrained from all nazirite offerings, argues that nazirites usually contract their vows out of anger or fear but as time passes these powerful feelings subside and self-doubt emerges. Once the nazirite is laden with doubts and second thoughts regarding his vow, his offerings are no longer deemed properly consecrated and hence Simeon refused to eat any and all nazirite offerings. For the Babylonian Talmud, which maintains that Simeon refrained from eating the nazirite penalty offering only, Simeon’s concern was that the unanticipated addition of a second nazirite term (following the term aborted by corpse contamination) causes the nazirite to regret his vow and thus renders his offering unconsecrated.17 In

15 It bears noting that this interpretation has featured prominently in scholarly discussions of asceticism. See, for example, Urbach (2002) 441; Fraade (1987) 273–274; Baumgarten (2000) 5 n. 12; Roei (2001) 20–21; id. (2005) 482. 16 See Weiss Halivni (1968) 273. 17 According to this position in the Babylonian Talmud, Simeon presumably abstained from all offerings of defiled nazirites and not only their penalty offering. However, he could 88 chapter four both of its variations, however, this solution is difficult and farfetched. Our narrative reveals absolutely no hint of this rather obscure solution and even on its own terms the solution is legally baseless. As David Weiss Halivni notes, “To be sure, most people indeed have second thoughts after they contract vows, but it is difficult to see why second thoughts should affect unconsecrated , הרזעבןילוח the offerings to such a degree that they become offerings.”18 Dissatisfied with the talmudic explanations for Simeon’s abstention from nazirite sacrifices, Weiss Halivni has raised a third possible solution to our quandary. Weiss Halivni suggests that Simeon abstained from nazirite offerings because he disapproved of the self-centered and sometimes frivolous motivations underlying the nazirite vows of his time.19 Self-centered motivations for contracting the nazirite vow abound in Second Temple and tannaitic sources and these sources reveal that nazirite vows were contracted in times of distress and as a means of enlisting divine aid. Josephus reports, for example, that it was customary for those suffering illness and other afflic- tions to become nazirites and the Mishnah states that Queen Helena of Adiabene pronounced a nazirite vow in the hopes of ensuring her son’s safe return from war.20 Indeed, nazirite vows of this kind are in line with the common Greek practice of vowing to offer up one’s hair to a god in times of danger or distress. In Homer’s Iliad, for example, Achilles tells how his father vowed to the river-god Spercheius that Achilles would offer up his hair to him when he returned safely from Troy.21 Insofar as frivolous motives are concerned, the Mishnah supplies hypothetical examples of flippant vows, such as those contracted on a whim or as part of a wager,22 and these hypothetical cases apparently had some basis in reality. Weiss Halivni argues that Simeon objected to self-centered and puerile nazirite vows but, contrary to traditional thinking, Simeon had nothing in principle against naziriteship or asceticism. For Weiss Halivni, Simeon approved of the nazirite from the south because, unlike the vows of many of his contemporaries, the southerner’s vow was motivated by pious devotion to God—he truly “set himself apart for the Lord”—and therefore Simeon happily ate his penalty offering. not state that he had never eaten a nazirite’s burnt or sin offering because these offerings were also brought by nazirites who successfully completed their terms and so he presumably ate many of them. 18 Weiss Halivni (1967–1968) 247. See also Landman (1970) 346–348. 19 See Weiss Halivni (1967–1968) 248–250; Weiss Halivni (1968) 274. 20 See Josephus, Jewish War 2, 313–314; mNazir 3, 6. 21 See Homer, Iliad 23, 140–151. See also Smith (1972) 332; Chepey (2005) 192. 22 See, for example, mNazir 5, 5–7. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 89

Weiss Halivni’s consideration of a broader context is of significance and further clarifies the ramifications of the story’s preface: “To set himself apart for the Lord” (Numbers 6, 2): The (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God. Is it the case that if one sets onself apart to God one is a nazirite but if not one is not a nazirite? Scripture therefore states “nazirite” (Numbers 6, 2) (to teach) that one is a nazirite in any case. Then what does Scripture teach by stating “To set himself apart for the Lord?” (Scripture teaches thereby that) the (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God. The preface stresses that the selfless impulse to dedicate oneself to God defines the nazirite and the fact that many nazirites in antiquity were impelled by self-interest and other less lofty and pious motives perhaps inten- sified the Sifre’s call for selfless dedication. Nonetheless, there are serious flaws in Weiss Halivni’s claim that Simeon abstained from nazirite offerings because he rejected the validity of widespread personal motivations and insisted upon pious devotion instead. The notion that motivations can invalidate a sacrifice is revolutionary and apparently without legal basis in rabbinic law23 and it is also far from obvious that personal motivations and pious devotion are mutually exclusive: piety and supplication often go together hand in hand. In addition, if Simeon objected to the selfish motivations of most nazirites, why did he abstain from their penalty offerings but not their other nazirite offerings?24 In sum, although Weiss Halivni underscores a spiritual dimension of the story, he fails to explain satisfactorily why Simeon had never eaten a penalty-offering before he met the shepherd from the south. Despite their differences, the three solutions discussed above share an important assumption: all posit that Simeon intentionally abstained from nazirite (penalty) offerings and I will refer to this assumption as the

23 It would be very surprising if our story would have mentioned in passing a legal position nowhere attested in rabbinic legal literature. 24 Weiss Halivni argues that Simeon abstained from eating all nazirite offerings but referred only to penalty offerings because the story happens to be about a penalty offering. In Weiss Halivni’s reading, the penalty offering and the fact that such an offering was only brought after corpse contamination play no special role in the story: the story just happens to be about a penalty offering. Weiss Halivni may believe that the penalty offering appears in the story because our shepherd brought a penalty offering in real life (see Weiss Halivni (1967–1968) 251; id. (1968) 273), but I doubt that the penalty offering is part of an ancient historical kernel. Moreover, when major details in a narrative conflict with one’s interpretation, it seems inadvisable to argue that the story just happens to be about those details. (See also Landman (1970) 349–350). 90 chapter four traditional approach to our story. In my opinion, however, Simeon’s declaration is best explained by a recent suggestion set forth by Aharon Shemesh, a suggestion which rejects the traditional approach.25 According to Shemesh, Simeon was not troubled by naziriteship, asceticism, second thoughts or self-interest. Simeon’s introduction, in point of fact, makes no claim that Simeon ever intentionally abstained from nazirite offerings of any sort. It simply states that he ate a nazirite penalty offering only once and Shemesh suggests that he did so because such offerings were rare indeed. Nazirites were defiled only through corpse impurity and in ancient Jewish society, where people were highly sensitive to purity issues, it was not terribly difficult to avoid corpse contamination. In addition, the most popular length of time for a nazirite term was thirty days26 and so nazirites did not even have all that much time to encounter a dead body. Indeed, the Bible under- lines the unexpected suddenness of the contamination, “If a person dies suddenly near him,”27 because it recognizes that only a sudden and unanticipated death would catch the nazirite unaware and contaminate him against his will. Thus Shemesh concludes that Simeon had never eaten a nazirite penalty offering for a simple and mundane reason: defiled nazirites were few and far between. Simeon’s declaration itself, “Only once in (all) my days have I eaten a nazirite penalty offering,” does not disclose why Simeon had never eaten a nazirite penalty offering and so Shemesh’s interpretation is not superior to the traditional approach on semantic grounds. Semantically speaking, Simeon’s declaration sheds no light on the underlying reason for his not having eaten a nazirite penalty offering; it simply does not indicate if he was never granted the opportunity to eat a nazirite penalty-offering or if he abstained for ideological reasons.28 Nonetheless, I believe that there are three good reasons for preferring Shemesh’s reading over the traditional approach. First, while the traditional approach posits that Simeon’s declaration alludes to some specific feature of the ancient historical setting, be it rabbinic attitudes to asceticism, the ramifications of self-doubt for sacrifices or widespread motivations for contracting the nazirite vow, Shemesh makes sense of the declaration on the basis of the Bible alone. The advantage of

25 See Shemesh (2008–2009) 653–658. 26 See Chepey (2005) 60, 80, 135, 119; Furstenberg and Furstenburg (2007) 59–60. 27 Numbers 6, 9. 28 Cf. Shemesh (2008–2009) 657. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 91 his reading is that if one can explain the declaration solely on the basis of the most glaringly obvious backdrop, i.e. the biblical account of the nazirite, why complicate matters with other backdrops that are less obviously relevant. Second, whereas the traditional approach has great difficulty making sense of the nazirite’s penalty offering, the penalty offering makes perfect sense in Shemesh’s reading of the story. According to Shemesh, Simeon had eaten plenty of sin, burnt and wellbeing nazirite offerings since they were all brought by nazirites who completed their naziriteship term; the solitary nazirite offering he had never eaten was the penalty offering since only defiled nazirites, who were few and far between, brought penalty offerings. Hence, in Shemesh’s reading only, the penalty offering is not subjected to interpretive acrobatics in order to bring it in line with the (unfounded) presupposition that Simeon opposed naziriteship for some reason or other. For Shemesh, the penalty offering establishes the rarity of the event Simeon recounts and coheres naturally with rest of the story in a seamless whole. Indeed, this simple hermeneutic unity is a significant literary advantage of Shemesh’s interpretation. Third, I believe that we can pinpoint precisely when and why the notion that Simeon objected to naziriteship was originaly conceived. Shemesh’s interpretation suits the tannaitic versions of the story perfectly and though the traditional approach may be read into Simeon’s introduction, the tannaitic versions do not even hint that Simeon intentionally abstained from nazirite penalty-offerings. Rather, the traditional approach is made explicit for the very first time only in amoraic sources. The traditional approach appears in Palestinian Talmud Nazir but the sugya (or pericope) there is actually a copy of a sugya in Palestinian Talmud Nedarim.29 In other words, the traditional approach appeared initially in Palestinian Talmud Nedarim and only afterwards was transported to Palestinian Talmud Nazir. Similarly, Babylonian Talmud Nazir cites our story without any comment on Simeon’s reason for not eating the nazirite penalty offerings while Babylonian Talmud Nedarim, like Palestinian Talmud Nedarim, interprets our story in the traditional vein. Thus the very earliest appearances of the traditional approach

29 See Lieberman (1955–1988) vol. 7, p. 394. yNedarim originally developed the sugya in order to flesh out the rabbinic ambivalence over the contraction of vows mentioned in the Mishnah ad loc. (see mNedarim 1, 1; cf. tNedarim 1, 1). The rabbinic ambivalence over vows was never at issue in yNazir and yNazir only copied the sugya in order to expand upon R. Judah’s claim that a nazirite vow once prolonged a person’s life. In other words, our sugya suits the literary context in yNedarim very naturally but is only tangentially related to the context in yNazir. 92 chapter four are not found as expected in the talmudic tractates of Nazir, but rather in those of Nedarim. This finding, I contend, is of no small significance and points to the fact that the traditional approach was originally adopted to serve a specific function in the local literary context in Nedarim. Mishnah Nedarim 1, 1 which discusses abbreviated vow formulae concludes as follows: ״ םיעשרירדנכ ״— העובשבוןברקבוריזנברדנ ; ״ ןירשכירדנכ ״— םולכרמאאל ; ״ םתובדנכ ״ — ןברקבוריזנברדנ . (If one said:) “As the vows of the wicked …”—his vow is binding with regard to the nazirite, the offering and the oath. (If he said:) “As the vows of the pious …”—he has said naught; (but if he said:) “As their freewill offerings …”—his vow is binding with regard to the nazirite and the offering.30 The assumption underlying the final laws in this mishnah is that the wicked contract vows while the pious do not. Instead of vows, the pious make freewill-offerings, a less problematic form of self-obligation in rabbinic eyes, and even become nazirites voluntarily without actually contracting the nazirite vow.31 In its discussion of this portion of the mishnah, the Palestinian Talmud correlates the freewill-offerings of the pious with R. Judah’s position cited as the first opinion in the following baraita (i.e. non-mishnaic tradition attributed to tannaitic sages) from Tosefta Nedarim: תאטחןברקאיבהלןיואתמםינושארהםידיסח . ויהואטחםדיבקיפסמםוקמההיהאל תאטחןברקאיבהלליבשבריזנבםירדונ . רמואןועמש׳ר : ריזנבםירדונויהשויהםיאטוח רמאנש ״ שפנהלעאטחרשאמוילערפכו ״ ( ורבדמב , אי .) ומצעענמשושפנלעהזאטח ןייהןמ .32 Early pietists were desirous of bringing a sin offering but God did not enable them to sin so they would contract nazirite vows in order to bring a sin offering. R. Simeon says: those who contracted the nazirite vow were sinners as it is written “and he shall make expiation on his behalf because he sinned against his person” (Numbers 6, 11). He sinned against his person by preventing himself from (drinking) wine. The Palestinian Talmud states that just like the final law in Mishnah Nedarim 1, 1, R. Judah also believes that the pious (voluntarily) become nazirites (without actually contracting the nazirite vow33) and the tradition of the

30 My translation borrows liberally from Danby (1933) ad loc. (p. 264). 31 See Albeck (1952–1959) vol. 3, 147. 32 yNedarim 1, 1 36d. 33 See tNedarim 1, 1. See also Margoliot, Penei Moshe ad loc., s.v. matnita; Epstein (5760) 580–581. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 93 early pietists is adduced as proof of his claim. R. Simeon, however, disagrees with R. Judah arguing that naziriteship is sinful asceticism. To coun- terbalance the support that R. Judah’s position gained from the reported practice of the early pietists, the Palestinian Talmud cites our story as support for R. Simeon. The practice of the early pietists was already linked to R. Judah’s position in Tosefta Nedarim 1, 1, but no tannaitic text links our story to R. Simeon’s position. I imagine that the Palestinian Talmud’s desire to adduce an early anti-nazirite tradition in support of R. Simeon encouraged it to read R. Simeon’s ideology into the declaration of another Simeon, Simeon the Righteous, despite the difficulties entailed by this reading. In addition, the context of Mishnah Nedarim 1, 1 supplies a prism that divides nazirites into two groups, the wicked and the pious, and this prism apparently contributed to the notion that Simeon’s declaration condemned the many wicked nazirites of his day and exalted the single pious one. In short, I propose that in light of the prism of Mishnah Nedarim Simeon’s introductory declaration was interpreted as an objection to naziriteship by the Palestinian Talmud and thus the traditional approach, subsequently inherited by the Babylonian Talmud’s parallel discussion, was born. The Talmuds overlooked or ignored the original interpretation of Simeon’s words rediscovered by Shemesh because it did not suit their needs in Nedarim and once the traditional approach was canonized in both Talmuds to Nedarim, it became the standard way of understanding our story. Having addressed at some length the interpretive difficulties involved in Simeon’s opening declaration, let me summarize my understanding of the declaration. Simeon the Righteous declares that he enjoyed the rare treat of a nazirite penalty-offering only once in his life. Nazirite penalty-offerings were rare because they were only brought by nazirites defiled by corpse impurity, a state most nazirites did their utmost to avoid. Once, however, unfortunate circumstances got the better of a nazirite who was defiled and his story, Simeon assures us, is worth hearing.

*** Simeon opens his tale by recounting the arrival in the temple precincts of a man from the south. “The south” suggests that the man arrived from a distance and may serve to highlight his origins in the periphery. Indeed, perhaps the term was meant to evoke the rabbinic stereotype of the southerner as a boor and ignoramus.34 If so, our expectations from this southerner are

34 See, for example, yPesahim 5, 3 32a. See also Schwartz (5743) 105–107. Schwartz has also argued that since the south refers to the Negev in the Bible and to the southern mountains 94 chapter four initially quite low and his upright and blameless behavior in the continuation of the story will strongly contrast with our initial expectations. Simeon then describes the man’s handsomeness referring in particular to his outstanding eyes and impressive locks. The southerner’s hair was so beautiful that Simeon was shocked by his decision to become a nazirite, a commitment which obligated him to cut off his hair, and so he asked him, “why did you see fit to destroy this beautiful hair?” From Simeon’s question we learn that the southerner was a nazirite and presumably the very person whose penalty offering Simeon mentioned in his introduction. The description of the nazirite from the south suggests that his hair had not yet been shaved off when Simeon greeted him but since a high priest was talking to him and eventually would even touch him, the southerner presumably was no longer impure. If the southerner was no longer impure but had yet to remove his hair, we may ascertain at what point along the timeline of the nazirite’s purification procedure the encounter between the nazirite and high priest is supposed to have taken place. On the seventh day of his week of purification, a contaminated nazirite is cleansed at the temple when a priest sprinkles purificatory waters on him.35 Once purified, the nazirite shaves off his hair on the very same day and then brings his sacrifices on the following day, though tannaitic literature allows for the shaving and sacrifices to be delayed a day or two or more.36 Thus, Simeon’s discussion with the nazirite is portrayed as having taken place at some point after the nazirite had been sprinkled by the purificatory waters but before he shaved off his hair. The nazirite responded to Simeon’s query and explained how he had become a nazirite. With the nazirite’s response, the narrative shifts from a frame story about Simeon’s rare experience to a flashback of the events which prompted the shepherd to become a nazirite. The nazirite’s flashback

of Hebron in rabbinic parlance, and since neither area was settled by Jews during the fourth century bce, Simeon the Righteous would not have encountered a shepherd from the south. Thus, he suggests, perhaps we ought to revive the suggestion that the rabbis’ Simeon the Righteous was Simeon Cantheras or some other later Simeon, or perhaps we should conclude that while Simeon the Righteous truly told the story, a later editor inserted the term “south” (see Schwartz (1986) 36; cf. Chapter 6 below). Since I find it unlikely that this story was actually articulated by Simeon the Righteous sometime in the middle of the Second Temple period and then passed down for hundreds of years until it was preserved for posterity in tannaitic literature, I see no difficulty with having a literary Simeon the Righteous referring to a shepherd from the south. 35 See Numbers 6, 9–12; 19, 11–12. 36 See Sifre Numbers 28 (p. 83); mNazir 6, 6. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 95 opens with a new setting, “I was shepherding in my town,” and thereby takes us to his hometown in the south prior to his becoming a nazirite. Shepherds, in rabbinic literature, are not typically known for their piety so perhaps his role as a shepherd was supposed to lower even further our already low expectations of this southerner.37 Be that as it may, his role as a shepherd leads naturally to the next stage in the story. The shepherd traveled to a well to draw water for his flock and glanced at his reflection in the water. At this stage the story takes an unusual turn when the shepherd’s heart rushed upon him and overloaded him with desire. The shepherd became entranced by his visage and his stunning hair in particular stimulated and electrified his sexual passions.38 Tragically he desired not another but himself and his sexual passions were so overwhelming yet so impossible to appease that they threatened to destroy his very being.39 The shepherd, however, fought back and chastised his lustful and rapacious heart as if it were another person:40 “Wretch! How you pride yourself in what is not yours, in what is of dust, worm and maggot!” The shepherd castigated his personified passions arguing that physical beauty is not worthy of pride since it is not his but his maker’s and like all living things, is destined to turn to dust and be consumed by worms and maggots. In order to rid himself of the source of his wrongful pride, the shepherd pronounced: “Behold I will shave it off for the sake of heaven!” These words were no mere threat but a performative utterance that created a new legal reality. The utterance was a nazirite vow and the vow enabled the shepherd to triumph over his powerful and formidable sexual passions.41 As a nazirite, he dedicated himself to God, committing to shave off his hair and burn it in the temple precincts.42

37 See, for example, tBikkurim 2, 16; tSanhedrin 5, 5. See also Alon (1980) 277–285. yizri”), “my“) ” ירצי “ libi”), “my heart,” with“) ” יבל “ Other versions of the story replace 38 impulse,” thereby making the erotic dimension of the shepherd’s experience even more explicit (see n. 5 above). For rabbinic views on desire, see Porter (1901) 93–156; Boyarin (1993) 61–70; Rosen-Zvi (1999) 55–84; Schofer (2003) 19–53; id. (2005) 84–119. In reference to the specific connection between hair and desire, see Dinur, Lipshitz and Shoham (2008) 33–67. 39 See also mAvot 2, 11; 4, 21. 40 See Fraenkel (1991) 498; James (1928) 167. 41 See mNazir 2, 5–6. See also Epstein (1957) 284; Fraenkel (1991) 298; Shemesh (2008– 2009) 654. (Since the shepherd articulates his vow at this point in the story, the claim that he was already a nazirite at the beginning of the story is untenable. Cf. Landman (1970) 350–351; Kahana (2011) 202 n. 112.) 42 If the nazirite had hoped to burn his long locks with his sacrifices, it is quite possible that his plan was foiled since a defiled nazirite does not burn his locks with his sacrifices according to the tanna qamma (i.e. the anonymous sage cited first) in mNazir 6, 8. Unlike the 96 chapter four

The erotic charge of the shepherd’s long and thus feminine hair is in keeping with ancient Jewish sensibilities that called for a woman to cover her hair in public or during prayer,43 and the erotic potential of hair is also a commonplace in Greek and Latin literature. Diogenes Laertius, for example, relates the following anecdote about the philosopher Herillus, a student of Zeno in the third century bce: “He is said to have had many admirers when a boy; and as Zeno wished to drive them away, he compelled Herillus to have his head shaved, which disgusted them.”44 In our case as well, it stands to reason that the shepherd anticipated that shearing off his hair would temper or even eradicate his sexual allure. In a less pragmatic and more literary vein, Eliezer Diamond has read the shepherd’s removal of his hair “as an act of symbolic castration.”45 This reading captures the shepherd’s sense of desperation that prompts him to take drastic measures, though I would stress the word “symbolic” in “symbolic castration.” Despite the temptations of the passions, our story and rabbinic Judaism more generally may play with the notion of symbolic castration but never call for actual castration or perpetual abstinence. In this sense, biblical naziriteship, which does not prohibit sexual intercourse, differs greatly from the monastic Christian tradition. However, if the shepherd’s sole purpose in making the nazirite vow was symbolic castration or the defacement of his visage, he could have sheared off his hair just as easily at home or at the barbershop. The choice to shave off his hair as a nazirite must have served some other purpose as well. Jonah Fraenkel has suggested that the decision to enlist a halakhic frame-

shorn hair of the nazirite who successfully completes his full term without becoming defiled, the tanna qamma states that the hair of the defiled nazirite is not sacrificially burned (though R. Meir disagrees) and according to mTemurah 7, 4 it is buried in the ground. (See Numbers 6, 18. See also Dinur, Lipshitz and Shoham (2008) 42–45, 62–63.) Thus, according to the tanna qamma in mNazir 6, 7 and mTemurah 7, 4, the shepherd’s ritual contamination bungled the hoped for sacrificial offering of his long beautiful locks. Instead, the shepherd would have been forced to endure a second, probably short, nazirite term at the end of which he would have burned the meager amount of hair that had grown in the interim. 43 See, for example, Sifre Numbers 11 (pp. 37–38); bKetubot 72a; 1Corinthians 11, 2–16. It bears noting that a woman’s obligation to cover her hair is never explicitly mandated in the Bible and the Sifre probably did not view this practice as a biblical precept. See Broyde (5767) 248–265; id. (2009) 121–128; Baker (2002) 94–100. 44 Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers 7, 166. See also Plutarch, Moralia 754A. The relevance of the sources cited here was noted by Halevi (1975) 33. On the erotic potential of hair in the Roman world, see Bartman (2001) 3–5. 45 Diamond (1997) 17, n. 74; id. (2004) 195–196 n. 210. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 97 work for the suppression of desire is of critical importance here.46 Though Fraenkel does not pursue this avenue further, perhaps we may suggest that the halakhic framework delivers the perfect antidote to the shepherd’s solipsistic narcissism. The ordinary language philosopher Stanley Cavell argues that humans are naturally drawn to solipsistic skepticism because they are separated from the world and each other, and this skepticism may be overcome only when humans acknowledge that they speak in a language not of their own creation, an inter-subjective language that embeds them within a community of speakers.47 In our case, the nazirite overcomes his own self- centered denial of others by reengaging the world through the age old legal system of the Jewish people, the tradition and language of his community. The nazirite saves himself from doom by enmeshing himself within the law and language of his community.48 While the removal of his hair helps the shepherd vanquish his overpowering desire, the nazirite law affords him a reliable means of rejoining his community. Yet another goal underlying the shepherd’s decision to shave off his hair as a nazirite and not at home or at the barbershop is surely the spiritual dimension of naziriteship.49 First and foremost the nazirite is an offering to God, a form of self-dedication, but since one cannot literally sacrifice oneself to God and survive the ordeal as well the nazirite consecrates and sacrifices his hair, a renewable part of the body which symbolically substitutes for his person as a whole.50 When the shepherd is mesmerized and captivated by his own beauty, he behaves like the polar opposite of the nazirite. Far from selflessly dedicating himself to God, the shepherd, at first, is entirely self-absorbed to the exclusion of all others, God included. Naziriteship, consequently, is the ideal corrective for the self-obsessed shepherd because how better to remedy a self-centered existence devoid of the divine than by dedicating oneself entirely to God. One element absent from the shepherd’s account is the manner of his unfortunate contamination by a corpse, an absence which has led to a few strained and improbable readings. Some, like the Palestinian Talmud, suppose that the absence of a contamination scene indicates that the shepherd

46 Fraenkel (1991) 498. See also Calderon (2001) 76–78. 47 See Cavell (1976) 52. For an excellent summary and interpretation of Cavell’s position see Hammer (2002) 1–91. 48 Cf. Spiro (1994) 156–165. 49 See Shemesh (2008–2009) 654–655. 50 See Diamond (1997) 1–12. 98 chapter four was not contaminated and therefore even though Simeon states that he never ate a nazirite penalty-offering, he must have meant all nazirite offerings. However, as argued above, it is unlikely that the atypical penalty- offering would have been selected to function in a representative fashion. Others have argued that the shepherd was so distraught over his vain and sinful thoughts that he considered himself defiled,51 but the notion that thoughts transmit corpse impurity is halakhically most unusual. In contrast, Shemesh’s reading suggests that the story omits an account of the shepherd’s impurity contraction because it is irrelevant to the plotline. The precise manner in which the shepherd incurred corpse impurity is of no significance to the plot; only the fact of a nazirite’s rare defilement is of significance and this fact is conveyed in Simeon’s introduction. The narrative concludes with Simeon’s two-stage reaction to the nazirite’s story. First, Simeon kissed the nazirite’s head on or near the very hair that was to be shorn and his kiss was a gesture redolent with loving admiration. Then Simeon responded to the nazirite with words of praise and reassur- ance. Simeon’s declaration, “May there be many like you carrying out the will of God in Israel,” expressed his wish that others follow in the shepherd’s footsteps and wage a vehement battle against their passions. This battle for self-control surely can take on different forms but in light of the nazirite literary context, the Babylonian Talmud imagines that Simeon must have been referring specifically to naziriteship and so it attributes to him the words: “May there by many nazirites like you in Israel.” In any event, Weiss Halivni’s observation that the shepherd’s pious motive for contracting the nazirite vow was quite exceptional in antiquity helps explain why Simeon was so impressed with our shepherd-nazirite for if every nazirite had been similarly motivated, it stands to reason that our shepherd would not have merited the glowing praise he received. Simeon finally concludes the narrative, affirm- ing the southern nazirite’s behavior with the assurance that he had fulfilled the verse: “If anyone, man or woman, explicitly utters a nazirite’s vow, to

51 See, for example, Chepey (2005) 123; Kahana (2011) 200–203. A variation on this approach argues that the shepherd was already a nazirite when he encountered his beautiful reflection and so he intentionally defiled himself in order to be allowed to rid himself of his seductive hair (see Dinur, Lipshitz and Shoham (2008) 60–63). If this were the case, however, the shepherd would not have been able to offer up his hair to heaven (see n. 42) and hence his exclamation, “behold I will shave you off for the sake of heaven,” seems inappropriate. Moreover, this exclamation, as noted above, is most likely the very utterance which created the naziritehood and the claim that it expresses the shepherd’s decision to defile himself with corpse contamination is rather difficult. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 99 set himself apart for the Lord” (Numbers 6, 2). For Simeon, the shepherd is a wondrous52 nazirite because he truly “set himself apart for the Lord” in exemplary fashion. Before concluding our close reading of the story of Simeon and the nazirite, let us consider the story’s literary structure. We noted above that the shepherd’s account of his nazirite vow was a flashback and a structural analysis reveals that this flashback stands in the center of the story as the core of its chiastic structure.53 A1: “To set himself apart for the Lord” (Numbers 6, 2): The (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God. Is it the case that if one sets onself apart to God one is a nazirite but if not one is not a nazirite? Scrip- ture therefore states “nazirite” (Numbers 6, 2) (to teach) that one is a nazirite in any case. Then what does Scripture teach by stating “To set himself apart for the Lord?” (Scripture teaches thereby that) the (preferred fulfillment of the) precept is to set oneself apart to God. Simeon the Righteous said: Only once in (all) my days have I eaten a nazirite penalty offering. B1: When one came from the south, with beautiful eyes and of handsome appearance, and with his locks arranged in curls. C1: I said to him: why did you see fit to destroy this beautiful hair? He said to me: I was shepherding in my town and went to draw (water) from a well. When I gazed upon my reflection (in the well) my heart rose upon me seeking to remove me from the world. C2: I said to it (my lustful heart): Wretch! How you pride yourself in what is not yours, in what is of dust, worm and maggot! Behold I will shave it off for the sake of heaven! B2: I lowered his head and kissed him on his head (and) I said to him: May there be many like you carrying out the will of God in Israel A2: and in you is fulfilled (the verse): “If anyone, man or woman, (explicitly utters a nazirite’s vow, to set himself apart for the Lord)” (Numbers 6, 2). The narrative opens in A1 and closes in A2 with the biblical passage that is illustrated and interpreted in the intervening story. The ultimate nazirite who “sets himself apart for the Lord” has no ulterior motives but consecrates himself entirely for the sake of heaven. A1 also refers to the only nazirite penalty-offering Simeon ever ate and A2 informs us that that this specific offering was not only memorable for its rareness, but also for the impressive

,(”yafliʾ“) ” אילפי “ Fraenkel (1991, p. 498) suggests that Simeon is interpreting the word 52 which in the biblical context means “explicitly utters,” as “does wonders” in accordance with .(”peleʾ“) ” אלפ “ an alternative meaning of the root 53 As Fraenkel has demonstrated, chiasms are not uncommon in rabbinic narrative. See Fraenkel (1981) 183–197; id. (1991) 263–266; id. (2001) 113–128. See also Rubenstein (1999) 253–254. 100 chapter four qualities of the nazirite who brought it. In B1 and B2, Simeon addresses the nazirite asking him in B1 why he decided to shave off his hair and praising him for doing so in B2. In addition, Simeon kisses in B2 the very head he describes in B1. C1 and C2 present the nazirite’s flashback which also serves as the narrative’s flash-point. C1 concludes the first half of the narrative which sets forth the setting and portrays the challenge which confronted the nazirite and C2 describes the nazirite’s imaginative and courageous reaction which Simeon eventually praises. In this carefully structured narrative, the nazirite’s personal story, the heart of the narrative, is encased within Simeon’s story and together both are enveloped by the biblical citation that encapsulates the narrative’s central message.

*** Let us now explore the literary matrix from which the story of Simeon and the nazirite probably emerged, searching for the sources and literary models which most likely contributed to the formation of the story. The most obvious source, often mentioned by scholars, is the myth of Narcissus.54 Nar- cissus was very popular in the Roman world and appears in almost fifty murals at Pompeii alone.55 His myth was told with marked variations but the most popular version is that of the youth who becomes enraptured and obsessed by his own reflection when he catches sight of it in a well. Narcis- sus’s self-admiration is so potent and overwhelming that he becomes rooted to the spot and refuses to depart from beside the well for fear of losing sight of his beloved visage. Our nazirite, like Narcissus, undergoes the very same unusual experience and in both cases the youth’s overpowering passions come to threaten his life. Ovid preserves in his Metamorphoses the fullest extant version of the Narcissus myth and his account is worth sketching here. Narcissus, writes Ovid, was a handsome young man whose love was sought by many youths and maidens, but he was too arrogant and haughty to love anyone in return. A nymph named Echo fell in love with him but he spurned her as well and her broken heart caused her to waste away and lose her physical form. One of Narcissus’s slighted admirers beseeched the gods to punish Narcissus with unrequited love and Nemesis, goddess of retribution, granted his wish. At long last Narcissus fell in love but the object of his love, the reflection of his visage in the water of a spring, could not love him in return. Narcissus

54 See, for example, Halevi (1975) 33; Fraenkel (1991) 498; Milgrom (1990) 358. 55 See Rose and Spawforth (1996) s.v. Narcissus (p. 1026). simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 101 yearned to kiss and touch his reflection but to no avail and unwilling to remove himself from the spring, he wasted away and died.56 Unlike Ovid’s Metamorphoses, the rabbinic narrative makes no reference to any rejection of aspiring lovers and so the shepherd’s predicament apparently is not the product of long-term ongoing hubris. The shepherd may well have been an upstanding youth prior to his experience at the well perhaps even loving and being loved in return, but the absence of any mention of his earlier life indicates that his previous behavior is irrelevant for the purposes of the rabbinic narrative. The shepherd’s story revolves around a onetime event wherein the shepherd was so overcome by desire that his passions came to threaten his very existence. In communion with his reflection, the shepherd not only rejected all potential lovers, but he repulsed anyone and everyone, God included. The shepherd’s trance is a caricature of desire and his obsessive self-centered behavior excluded even God. While Narcissus’s hubris is expressed in the social sphere of human interaction, the shepherd’s has an added spiritual dimension as well. Naziriteship, however, successfully extricates the shepherd from his trance by replacing his all consuming selfishness with uncompromising selflessness.57 Thus while the tragic myth of Narcissus cautions us to be mindful of fate’s inexorable retribution, the rabbis’ optimistic story illustrates the ongoing possibility of repentance and redemption. Though we cannot point to any specific Greek or Latin text, such as Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and claim that our author read it and was influenced by it, the striking similarities between our rabbinic narrative and the myth of Narcissus demonstrates that the ancient myth served as the source of inspiration for the shepherd’s predicament.58 On the other hand, other central elements in the rabbinic narrative surely do not stem from the myth of Nar- cissus. The nazirite and the role of hair in the rabbinic narrative are utterly alien to the Greek myth. Ovid describes Narcissus’s eyes, cheeks, neck, face and hair in order to express his beauty, but beyond its descriptive function Narcissus’s hair plays no role in any extant version of the myth. Hair offerings akin to naziriteship certainly existed in the Greek world as noted above but none appear in relation to Narcissus. Since these themes were not inspired by the myth of Narcissus, perhaps their origins can be detected elsewhere.

***

56 See Ovid, Metamorphoses 3, 340–510. Cf. Pausanias, Description of Greece 9, 31, 7–8; Conon (1923) 26 F 1, 24 (pp. 197–198); Oxyrhynchus Papyri (2005) no. 4711. 57 Cf. Stein (2001) 384. 58 See the third rule of thumb at the end of the Introduction above. 102 chapter four

Our search for the sources which inspired the construction of the hair and nazirite themes of our story begins quite naturally with an analysis of the description of the nazirite’s good looks, a description borrowed in its entirety from the Bible. The first two phrases in the description, “with beautiful eyes and of handsome appearance,” were drawn from the biblical depiction of another shepherd: David. ישילאלאומשרמאיו : םירענהומתה ; רמאיו : ןאצבהערהנהוןטקהראשדוע ; לאומשרמאיו הפואבדעבסנאליכונחקוהחלשישילא . בוטוםיניעהפיםעינומדאאוהווהאיביוחלשיו יאר . Then Samuel asked Jesse, “Are these all the boys you have?” He replied, “There is still the youngest; he is tending the flock.” And Samuel said to Jesse, “Send someone to bring him, for we will not sit down to eat until he gets here.” So they sent and brought him. He was ruddy-cheeked, with beautiful eyes and of handsome appearance.59 The phrase “with beautiful eyes and of handsome appearance” stems from the biblical account of the handsome and youthful David. The notion that the biblical depiction of David informed the construction of the southern shepherd’s character was already obvious in ancient times, leading the Palestinian Talmud to insert into our story a third term used to depict David in 1Samuel, i.e. “ruddy-cheeked,” and causing the Babylonian Tal- mud to assume that the southern shepherd was tending his father’s flock just like David. Moreover, not only was the description of the shepherd’s countenance borrowed from the biblical depiction of David, but the shepherd’s profession was also apparently inspired by David’s youthful occupa- tion.60 Thus, both the adoption of phrases from the biblical description of David and the fact that both David and the southerner were shepherds suggest that the biblical portrayal of David influenced, in part, the formation of the nazirite’s character. However, David was not known for his hair nor was he a nazirite so the biblical depiction of David cannot shed light on the origins of these particular themes. The third and final phrase in the description of the nazirite’s beautiful visage is “with his locks arranged in curls,”61 a phrase borrowed from the description of the beloved in Song of Songs:

59 1Samuel 16, 10–12. 60 In addition, like the southern shepherd, David too was overwhelmed by his sexual passions. David’s great desire for Bathsheba even led him to sleep with a married woman and then arrange the death of her husband. (See 1Samuel 16, 7. See also Lieberman (1955–1988) vol. 7, pp. 550–551.) 61 The three descriptive phrases employed in our story also appear in the description of simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 103

הבברמלוגדםודאוחצידוד . ברועכתורחשםילתלתויתוצוקזפםתכושאר . לעםינויכויניע תאלמלעתובשיבלחבתוצחרםימיקיפא . ויתותפשםיחקרמתולדגמםשבהתגורעכויחל רבערומתופטנםינשוש . םיריפסתפלעמןשתשעויעמשישרתבםיאלממבהזילילגוידי . םיזראכרוחבןונבלכוהארמזפינדאלעםידסימששידומעויקוש . ולכוםיקתממוכח םלשוריתונביערהזוידודהזםידמחמ . My beloved is clear-skinned and ruddy, preeminent among ten thousand. His head is finest gold, his locks are curled and black as a raven. His eyes are like doves by watercourses, bathed in milk, set by a brimming pool. His cheeks are like beds of spices, banks of perfume, his lips are like lilies; they drip flowing myrrh. His hands are rods of gold, studded with beryl; his belly a tablet of ivory, adorned with sapphires. His legs are like marble pillars set in sockets of fine gold. He is majestic as Lebanon, stately as the cedars. His mouth is delicious and all of him is delightful. Such is my beloved, such is my darling, O maidens of Jerusalem!62 “The most beautiful of women” describes here the body of her beloved, from head to toe, and this description is highly reminiscent of a similar biblical description of the most beautiful of men: םומובהיהאלודקדקדעוולגרףכמדאמללהללארשילכבהפישיאהיהאלםולשבאכו . ושאררעשתאלקשווחלגווילעדבכיכחלגירשאםימילםימיץקמהיהוושארתאוחלגבו ךלמהןבאבםילקשםיתאמ . No one in all Israel was as beautiful as Absalom; from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head he was without blemish. When he cut his hair—he had to have it cut every year, for it grew too heavy for him—the hair of his head weighed two hundred shekels by royal weight.63 Not only is Absalom described as the most beautiful in Israel just as the lover in Song of Songs is described as “the most beautiful of women” and not only is his body depicted as the perfect male physical form, from head to toe, like the depiction of the beloved’s body in Song of Songs; but his remarkable hair also receives special attention just like the description of the beloved’s curled locks in Song of Songs. These two vivid descriptions of the male form conspicuously stand out in the Bible since no other biblical descriptions of male beauty present such extensive illustrations of the male body or highlight the allure of long male hair. As a result, both texts in a beautiful youth in another rabbinic story (see Lamentations Rabbah in Midrash Rabbah, 4 (p. 55); yHorayot 3, 7 48b; bGittin 58a). The hair of that youth, however, plays no role whatsoever in his story and the phrase about his hair does not even appear in the tannaitic version of his story in tHorayot 2, 5 (or in Lamentations Rabbah 4, 2 (p. 143)). It therefore seems that the later amoraic versions of this other story inserted the phrase “and with thick locks of hair” in the wake of our story. 62 Song of Songs 5, 10–16. 63 2Samuel 14, 25–26. 104 chapter four ancient times would have been closely associated with the biblical ideal of male beauty and I suggest that the description of the southern shepherd’s curled locks was inspired by the biblical ideal of male beauty, an ideal which owes much to the depiction of Absalom. Furthermore, Absalom is not only the exceedingly handsome biblical figure famed for his locks but also the son of David and hence heir to David’s “beautiful eyes” and “handsome appearance.” In short, the physical depiction of the southern shepherd employs biblical terminology associated with the biblical ideal of male beauty, an ideal exemplified by David and Absalom. Moreover, as we shall see below, the influence of the biblical depiction of Absalom upon the formation or our story is confirmed in other ways as well. The hair theme of our story, absent from the Narcissus myth, apparently stems from the biblical depiction of Absalom’s hair. Absalom, like our shepherd, was also a beautiful man with remarkable hair and the similarities between the two does not end there. Just as the shepherd’s hair almost killed him, Absalom’s long locks were instrumental in his death: הלאהךבושתחתדרפהאביודרפהלעבכרםולשבאודודידבעינפלםולשבאארקיו רבעויתחתרשאדרפהוץראהןיבוםימשהןיבןתיוהלאבושארקזחיוהלודגה . שיאאריו רמאיובאוילדגיודחא : הלאביולתםלשבאתאיתיארהנה . ולדיגמהשיאלבאוירמאיו : תחאהרגחוףסכהרשעךלתתלילעוהצראםשותיכהאלעודמותיארהנהו . שיאהרמאיו באוילא : ךלמההוצונינזאביכךלמהןבלאידיחלשאאלףסכףלאיפכלעלקשיכנאאולו םולשבאברענבימורמשרמאליתאתאוישיבאתאוךתא . רבדלכורקשישפנביתישעוא דגנמבציתתהתאוךלמהןמדחכיאל . באוירמאיו : ךינפלהליחאןכאל ; םיטבשהשלשחקיו הלאהבלביחונדועםולשבאבלבםעקתיוופכב . תאוכיובאויילכיאשנםירענהרשעובסיו והתימיוםולשבא . Absalom encountered some of David’s followers. Absalom was riding on a mule, and as the mule passed under the tangled branches of a great terebinth, his hair got caught in the terebinth; he was held between heaven and earth as the mule under him kept going. One of the men saw it and told Joab, “I have just seen Absalom hanging from a terebinth.” Joab said to the man who told him, “You saw it! Why didn’t you kill him then and there? I would have owed you ten shekels of silver and a belt.” But the man answered Joab, “Even if I had a thousand shekels of silver in my hands, I would not raise a hand against the king’s son. For the king charged you and Abishai and Ittai in our hearing, ‘Watch over my boy Absalom, for my sake.’ If I betrayed myself—and nothing is hidden from my king—you would have stood aloof.” Joab replied, “Then I will not wait for you.” He took three darts in his hand and drove them into Absalom’s chest. (Absalom) was still alive in the thick growth of the terebinth, when ten of Joab’s young arms-bearers closed in and struck at Absalom until he died.64

64 2Samuel 18, 9–15. Scholars have noted that the role of hair in our story is reminiscent of simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 105

Moreover, just as the shepherd’s obsession with his hair endangered his life, Absalom’s fatal flaw in rabbinic eyes was his excessive pride in his beautiful locks. This rabbinic view of Absalom is clearly attested in the ki gaʾoh“) ” הָאָגּהֹאָגיִכּ “ Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael’s comments on the phrase gaʾah”), “for he triumphed with pride,” sang by the Israelites’ at the Red Sea:65 רמאנשונממערפנובהאגתנשהמבםולשבאבאצומהתאןכו ״ שיאהיהאלםולשבאכו ושארתאוחלגבו׳וגוהפי ״ ׳וגו ( דיבלאומש , הכ - וכ …) ופוסבהיההמ ? ״ םולשבאארקיו דרפהלעבכורםולשבאודודידבעינפל ״ ׳וגו ( חיבלאומש , ט .) And so you find in reference to Absalom, in the very thing he took pride (“shenitgaʾeh”), he was punished as it is said, “No one (in all Israel) was as beautiful as Absalom …,” “When he cut his hair …” (2Samuel 14, 25–26) … How did matters end? “Absalom encountered some of David’s followers. Absalom was riding on a mule …” (2Samuel 18, 9)66 In a similar vein, the mishnaic rendering of this teaching expands upon Absalom’s measure for measure comeuppance by linking it to other tannaitic traditions about Absalom. ולןידדומהבדדומםדאשהדימב … ורעשבהלתינךכיפלורעשבהוונתינםולשבא ; יפלו רמאנשתוייכנולרשעובונתינךכיפלויבאישגליפרשעלעאבש ״ יאשנםירענהרשעובוסיו באויילכ ״ וגו ( חיבלאומש , וט ;) ישנאבלוןידתיבבלוויבאבלתובינגשולשבנגשיפלו םיטבשהשלשובועקתינךכיפללארשי , רמאנש ״ בלבםעקתיוופכבםיטבשהשולשוחקיו םולשבא ״ ( חיבלאומש , די .) With the measure a man measures out, it shall be measured to him (in return) … Absalom gloried in his hair—therefore, he was hanged by his hair; and since he came upon ten concubines of his father, therefore they thrust ten spears into him, as it is said, “when ten of Joab’s young arms-bearers closed in …” (2Samuel 18, 15) and since he stole three stolen objects, the heart of his father and the heart of the court and the heart of Israel, therefore three darts were stuck into him, as it is said, “He took three darts in his hand and drove them into Absalom’s chest” (2Samuel 18, 14).67 In short, the Bible portrays Absalom as a beautiful and vain prince who rebelled against his father, the legitimate king, and strengthened his new

its role in the biblical account of Absalom (see Chepey (2005) 123; cf. Roei (2001) 22). I fully concur with this insight and seek here to extend it further, showing not only the linguistic cues which strengthen the link to Absalom, but also additional dimensions of Absalom’s influence upon the formation of our story. 65 Exodus 15, 1. 66 Mekhilta Shirata 2 (p. 123). See also Mekhilta de Rashbi 15, 1 (pp. 74–75); tSotah 3, 16; ySotah 1, 8 17b; bSotah 10a, 10b. See also Walfish (5761) 255–259. 67 mSotah 1, 7–8. 106 chapter four rule by taking his father’s concubines for himself.68 Like our shepherd, Absa- lom was a handsome youth overwhelmed by his powerful passions. More- over, Absalom’s fatal flaw in rabbinic eyes was his inordinate pride in his hair and the very word for pride used in the Mekhilta,“nitgaʾeh,” is also employed in reference to the shepherd’s immoderate pride in his hair: “harei ʾatah mitgaʾeh beshe-ʾeino shelkha,” “how you pride yourself in what is not yours.”69 In fact, Absalom and the shepherd from the south are the sole individuals in all rabbinic literature who take too much “pride” (“mitgaʾim”) in their hair. This vain glorification of one’s hair, moreover, plays a pivotal role in both of their stories since in both stories, hair figures within a measure for measure equation. Whereas Absalom is cornered and killed because of the long hair in which he was excessively proud, the shepherd saves himself by shearing off the long locks which aroused his self-destructive passions.70 Besides providing the literary background for the shepherd’s dangerous pride in his hair, the Absalom account does even more: it identifies Absalom as the source for the typology of the nazirite who prides himself in his hair. As noted above, the Bible reports that Absalom cut his hair infrequently and the rabbis took this to mean that Absalom was a nazirite. Indeed, the very text from the Mekhilta cited above encloses the following dispute: רמואהדוהי׳ר : רמאנששדחרשעםינשלחלגמהיהוהיהםלועריזנ ״ הנשםיעבראץקמיהיו אנהכלאךלמהלאםולשבארמאיו ״ ׳וגו ( וטבלאומש , ז) רמואו ״ יתבשבךדבערדנרדניכ רושגב ״ ׳וגו ( םש , חוט .) רמואילילגהיסוי׳ר : םויםישלשלתחאחלגמהיהוהיהםימיריזנ רמאנש ״ םימילםימיץקמ ״ ׳וגו ( דיםש , וכ .) רמואיבר : ינבךרדןכשחלגמהיהתבשברעלכ תבשברעלכבחלגלםיכלמ . R. Judah says (Absalom) was a nazirite for life and would shave his hair every twelve months, as it is said, “After a period of forty years had gone by, Absalom said to the king, ‘Let me go (to Hebron and fulfill a vow that I made to the Lord’” (2Samuel 15, 7)), and it says, “For your servant made a vow when I lived in Geshur” (2Samuel 15, 8). R. Jose the Galilean says he was a nazirite of a certain number of days and he would shave once every thirty days, as it is said, “after a period of days” (2Samuel 14, 26). Rabbi says every Friday he would shave his hair for such is the custom of the princes to shave every Friday.71

68 See 2Samuel 15, 10–12; 16, 21–22. 69 See Lieberman (1955–1988) vol. 8, pp. 641–642. 70 It also bears noting that like the shepherd from the south, Absalom also comes to Jerusalem (2Samuel 14, 23), is kissed by a majestic leader (14, 33) and contracts a vow (15, 7–9). 71 See also Mekhilta de Rashbi 15, 1 (pp. 74–75); tSotah 3, 16. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 107

Although the third and final position here attributed to R. Judah ha-Nasi might not view Absalom as a nazirite,72 the first two certainly do. This view of Absalom as a nazirite, I suggest, prompted the notion of portraying the shepherd as a nazirite who, like Absalom, took excessive pride in his hair. However, whereas Absalom’s naziriteship was apparently driven by his vanity, the shepherd from the south had the opposite motivation: he hoped to demolish his vanity through naziriteship.73

*** My investigation has suggested that both the biblical account of Absalom and the Greek myth of Narcissus contributed to the formation of the story of Simeon and the nazirite. In order to further clarify their roles in the construction of the narrative, I offer here a hypothetical reconstruction of some key stages in the process through which the narrative was created. No longer working backwards from the extant evidence, I attempt to reconstruct how the story emerged from its literary matrix. Much of this reconstruction is speculative and I do not imagine that the process unfolded precisely as I map it out. Nonetheless, I believe that my reconstruction is of heuristic value as it offers a plausible explanation for the way in which the story of Simeon and the nazirite was constructed. The literary context in Sifre Numbers suggests that our story was brought there in order to illustrate the Sifre’s interpretation of the final phrase in Numbers 6, 2: “to set himself apart for the Lord.” In its biblical context, the phrase refers to the legal reality created by the nazirite vow, the consecra- tion of the individual to God, and not the proper or ideal motivation for contracting the vow. In point of fact, the Bible never discusses the variegated motives a potential nazirite might have for consecrating himself. Sifre Numbers, however, offers a new interpretation of this phrase which reads into it an ideal motive for becoming a nazirite. Ideally, contends the Sifre, naziriteship should be prompted by a selfless will to dedicate oneself to God. In order to illustrate this claim the Sifre brings the story of Simeon and the nazirite, the story of a nazirite driven by his pious devotion to God. In line with the literary context in the Sifre, the story of Simeon and the nazirite is introduced first and foremost to showcase an ideal conception of naziriteship. Naziriteship, in rabbinic eyes, involves the dedication of the self to God and in order to accentuate this essential dimension of naziriteship,

72 See Lieberman (1955–1988) vol. 8, p. 642; Chepey (2005) 130 n. 218; Shemesh (2005–2006) 53–54. 73 Cf. Lieberman (1955–1988) vol. 8, pp. 641–642. 108 chapter four the author of our story chose to contrast self-dedication with its polar opposite, self-love. In seeking to portray the ultimate self-lover, our author modeled his character, in part, on a well-known figure in antiquity who embodied egotism more than any other: Narcissus. Narcissus’s self-obsession is unmatched in all classical literature and he is without a doubt a perfect example of self-centered vanity. Recognizing that the radical transformation of a Narcissus into a nazirite would lucidly illustrate the impressive powers of naziriteship, our author chose to model the crux of his story on the myth of Narcissus. Jacob Neusner has argued that “we certainly cannot speculate on who would have made Narcissus into a Nazirite or what would have pro- voked retelling the story in a Jewish framework,”74 but I am suggesting that a plausible conjecture is in order. In my view, the Narcissus myth was retold in a Jewish framework precisely because Narcissus represents the extreme reversal of naziriteship self-dedication and therefore served as the perfect foil in a story designed to promote self-control and the conquest of desire The shepherd’s indulgent and immoderate pride in his hair, however, stemmed not from Narcissus but from the biblical precedent of Absalom. Undoubtedly Absalom is the vainest of all biblical figures and the closest counterpart to Narcissus in all biblical literature. Moreover, when constructing a story about naziriteship one is inevitably informed and influenced by accounts of earlier nazirites and the rabbis viewed Absalom as a nazirite. In light of our author’s wish to present naziriteship as the antidote to narcissism, the biblical account of Absalom naturally resonated with him since Absalom’s beauty, vanity and eventual downfall perfectly illustrate the dire threat of unchecked desire and self-obsession. Our author thus synthesized Narcissus and Absalom in the creation of a new hero. However, since the purpose of the rabbinic story was to showcase naziriteship as an ideal, the tragic dooms that befell Narcissus and Absalom had to be reversed. Whereas Narcissus and Absalom both died because of their self-centered behavior, the shepherd, as the ideal nazirite, defied his own passions and modeled naziriteship as a means of self-control and metamorphosis. Absalom embodied the biblical ideal of male beauty and since our story revolves around a handsome youth obsessed with his good looks, biblical descriptions of male beauty were integrated into the story. In addition, since two of the biblical phrases employed in the story were derived from descriptions of Absalom’s father David, it may be that David also served as the inspiration for portraying the nazirite as a shepherd.

74 Neusner (1971) 25. simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 109

Once the shepherd’s core story was born, the author sought a way to introduce it so he invented a frame story. The frame story links the shepherd’s account to Simeon the Righteous, a highly regarded high priest in rabbinic eyes who would have encountered many nazirites in his lifetime. Moreover, by virtue of his job and reputation Simeon had the requisite authority to confirm the shepherd’s piety.Simeon’s stature is thus deployed to strengthen the message of the story and perhaps it is no coincidence that a high priest known for his righteousness recognizes righteousness and piety when he finds it in others. In summing up Simeon’s assessment of the shepherd/nazirite, Weiss Halivni writes as follows: “His image of a Nazirite—which is essentially the Biblical image—was of a man who renounces the pleasure of drinking wine for the sake of God as a token of his devotion to Him, and not as one who contracts a Naziritic vow in order to impress his friends with his acumen.”75 But is Simeon’s image truly the biblical image? We noted above that the Bible never actually discusses the proper motivations for becoming a nazirite and the exegesis juxtaposed to the shepherd’s story is not based on a contextual reading of the phrase “to set himself apart for the Lord.” In fact, our story’s interpretation of naziriteship is actually heavily influenced by Graeco-Roman ascetic ideals. Stoic self control, ἐγκράτεια, and moder- ation, σωφροσύνη, only became Jewish ethical values under the influence of philosophical ideals that were widespread in the Hellenistic world.76 For example, fasting in the Bible is never supposed to help an individual sub- due his passions and it first became a means of self-control in Jewish works from the Hellenistic period, such as The Testaments of the Twelve Patri- archs.77 Similarly, Deuteronomy 21, 12–13 legislates that a captured woman “trim her hair, pare her nails and discard her captive’s garb” and though modern scholars surmise that these activities signify the discarding of the captive’s former life in favor of her new one, rabbis such as R. Akiva argued that these actions were designed to discourage the marriage of captives by making them unattractive and undesirable to their captors.78 For R. Akiva, the

75 Weiss Halivni (1967–1968) 249. 76 See Satlow (2004) 486–504. Indeed, the classic rabbinic formulation of the importance of self-control, “Who is mighty? He who subdues his (evil) inclination” (mAvot 4, 1), not only gives voice to a widespread Graeco-Roman value but even employs the famous Stoic “paradoxical” literary formulation. See Fischel (1973) 70–73. 77 See Tropper (5759) 85–99; Lambert (2003); cf. Rosen-Zvi (2006) 92–93. See also Shaw (1998). 78 See Sifre Deuteronomy 212 (pp. 245–246). See Tigay (1996) 194; Olyan (1998) 617–619; Stern (1998) 91–127. 110 chapter four biblical mandate to make captives undesirable was designed to assist Jewish men in overcoming their desire for these captives. In our case as well, the Bible does not grade the different possible motivations for becoming a nazirite and the notion that the ideal motivation is self-control is actually a novel interpretation inspired by ethical ideals widely held throughout the Graeco-Roman world. Hence, not only does our story weave together a biblical figure with one from Greek mythology, it also reinterprets biblical naziriteship in line with contemporary Graeco-Roman notions of ascetic self-control.

*** Over the course of the chapter, I have offered a close reading of the story of Simeon the Righteous and the nazirite as well as an analysis of the story’s formation. The close reading suggested that in the earliest extant version of the story Simeon recounts a rare event which is memorable not only for the rarity of its setting but also for the piety of its hero. The formation analysis argued that the shepherd/nazirite was modeled on two narcissistic figures well known in antiquity, Narcissus and Absalom, and that Simeon’s positive appraisal of the shepherd/nazirite in effect reinterpreted the biblical nazirite in line with Graeco-Roman ascetic ideals. In something of a bridge between these two analyses, I conclude the chapter with a historical sketch of Simeon’s changing character in different versions of the story. In the tannaitic versions of our story, Simeon tells a story memorable not only for the rare sacrificial offering it mentions but also for the uncommon piety of its hero. Jews in Second Temple times made nazirite vows, just as contemporary Greeks made hair offering vows, in times of distress, so the shepherd’s use of the nazirite vow to subjugate his evil impulse was deemed truly remarkable. As noted above, the Bible does not mandate the proper or ideal motivations for becoming a nazirite and the use of naziriteship to master the passions was in keeping with widespread Graeco-Roman ascetic ideals. In praising naziriteship contracted as a means of self-control, Simeon emerges as a spokesman for the ascetic ideals of the time. Ascetic abnegation, however, was not approved by all. Perhaps in reaction to certain extreme ascetic practices, sages such as Abbaye, R. Simeon and R. Eleazar ha-Qappar viewed the nazirite as a sinner even though naziriteship was biblically mandated and approved: ייבארמא : רפקהרזעלא׳רוןועמשיברוקידצהןועמש , יוהאטוחריזנדןהתחאהטישןלוכ . ןועמשיברוקידצהןועמש — ןרמאדאה ; יברברפקהרזעלאיברו — אינתד : רפקהרזעלא׳ר רמואיברב : ״ שפנהלעאטחרשאמוילערפכו ״ ( ורבדמב , אי —) הזאטחשפנוזיאביכו ? simeon the righteous and the narcissistic nazirite 111

ןייהןמומצערעיצשאלא , רמוחולקםירבדאלהו : ןייהןמאלאומצערעיצאלשהזהמו אטוחארקנ , המכוהמכתחאלערבדלכמומצערעצמה ! ןאכמ , ארקנתינעתבבשויהלכ אטוח . Abbaye said: Simeon the Righteous, R. Simeon and R. Eleazar ha-Qappar, all are of the same opinion that the nazirite is a sinner. Simeon the Righteous and R. Simeon as we stated, and R. Eleazar ha-Qappar Berabbi as it was taught (in a baraita): R. Eleazar ha-Qappar Berabbi says: “and he shall make expiation on his behalf because he sinned against a soul” (Numbers 6, 11). Against which “soul” has he sinned? Rather it is because he afflicted himself (by abstaining) from wine. Now, does this not afford an argument from the minor to the major? If this one who afflicted himself (by abstaining) only from wine is called a sinner, how much more so one who afflicted himself (by abstaining) from everything? Hence, anyone who fasts is called a sinner.79 Naziriteship, like fasting, is viewed here as excessive, needless and unwarranted self-denial, and, in agreement with the parallel sugya in the Pales- tinian Talmud, Simeon the Righteous is enlisted here as an opponent of naziriteship. Positing the traditional view that Simeon intentionally abstained from nazirite offerings prior to meeting the shepherd, both Talmuds portray Simeon as an anti-ascetic who disapproved of nazirite abstemious- ness in principle. In this manner, the Talmuds ironically flip Simeon’s original role in our story on its head by transforming the very individual who was enlisted to extol the virtues of ascetic self-denial into asceticism’s dire opponent.

79 bNedarim 10a. (My translation borrows liberally from Freedman (1936) 23–24).

chapter five

SIMEON THE RIGHTEOUS AND ALEXANDER THE GREAT

In previous chapters we encountered a few early rabbinic texts which portray Simeon the Righteous as a member of the Great Assembly or as a holy high priest. Those rabbinic texts did not depict Simeon as a heroic guardian of the Jewish people but the leadership dimension of Simeon’s character does appear in other sources. In Babylonian Talmud Megillah, for example, a supposed baraita presupposes that Simeon safeguarded his people when it includes Simeon’s name in a list of guardians who rescued and protected the Jewish people under different gentile regimes. Alongside the Hasmoneans, Simeon is presented as a savior during “the days of the Greeks.” אנתאתינתמב ״ םיתסאמאל ״ ( וכארקיו , דמ —) לאשימהיננחםהליתדמעהשםיידשכימיב הירזעו ; ״ םיתלעגאלו ״ ( םש —) לודגןהכןנחויןבהיתתמוקידצהןועמשםהליתדמעהשםינוויימיב וינבויאנומשחו ; ״ םתולכל ״ ( םש —) רתסאויכדרמםהליתדמעהשןמהימיב ; ״ םתאיתירברפהל ״ ( םש —) תורודימכחויברתיבלשםהליתדמעהשםיימורימיב ; יינאיכ ׳ םהיהלאי ״ ( םש —) ןהבטולשלהלוכיןושלוהמואלכןיאשאובלדיתעל . In a baraita it was taught: “I have not rejected them” (Leviticus 26, 44)—in the days of the Chaldeans, when I raised up for them Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah; “neither did I abhor them” (ibid.)—in the days of the Greeks, when I raised up for them Simeon the Righteous, and Matityahu ben Yohanan the High Priest and Hashmonai and his sons; “to destroy them utterly” (ibid.)—in the days of Haman, when I raised up for them Mordecai and Esther; “to break my covenant with them” (ibid.)—in the days of the Romans, when I raised up for them the members of the house of Rabbi (Judah ha-Nasi) and the sages of the various generations; “for I am the Lord their God” (ibid.)—in the time to come, when no nation or people will be able to subject them.1

1 bMegillah 11a according to MS. London—BL Harl. 5508 (400). 114 chapter five

The gentile regimes serve here as chronological markers for distinct historical periods and each Jewish hero is correlated with the regime that ruled in his or her lifetime. Moreover, the heroes not only flourished under these regimes but also represented the Jewish people before them. The biblical books of Daniel and Esther explicitly describe the relationships Hananiah, Mishael, Azariah, Mordecai and Esther fostered with contemporary non- Jewish authorities. The rabbis were aware of the leading role of the Has- monean family during Hellenistic times2 and they perceived Rabbi Judah ha-Nasi and other leading rabbinic sages as the Jewish people’s interface with the Roman authorities.3 Thus, the inclusion of Simeon the Righteous here suggests that the baraita’s editor imagined that Simeon also represented the Jews before the gentiles. It bears noting, however, that Simeon’s name does not appear in parallel versions of the baraita so it is quite likely that a post-tannaitic editor interpolated Simeon’s name when he expanded and embellished an original tannaitic literary kernel.4 Since none of the texts discussed in previous chapters makes any mention of Simeon’s role as a heroic representative of the Jews, the inclusion

2 See, for example, bShabbat 21b; bSotah 49b; bAvodah Zarah 9a. 3 See Meir (1999) 263–299; Oppenheimer (2007) 41–57. 4 All parallel versions of the story including the solitary one recorded in a tannaitic composition lack any mention of Simeon the Righteous. In fact, no early parallels mention any of the Jewish deliverers listed here (see Sifra Behuqotai 2, 8, 10 (p. 122a); Samuel’s position on bMegillah 13a; Esther Rabbah in Midrash Rabbah, Petihta 4 s.v. Shemuel (p. 2); Midrash Panim Aherim A, A s.v. layehudim (p. 48); Midrash Aggadah, Leviticus, 26, 44 (p. 71)). The Babylo- nian Talmud, as it is wont to do, apparently expanded and embellished an earlier source with colorful details (see Friedman (2000b) 191–201; Friedman (2004a) 195–203, 246–247). It also bears noting that Simeon the Righteous is omitted, along with Matityahu (and Daniel), from MS. Oxford Opp. Add. fol. 23 and it is conceivable that his name was interpolated into this talmudic text (along with those of Matityahu and Daniel) during post-talmudic times. (Daniel, it should be noted, is also missing from MS Goettingen 3 and MS. London—BL Harl. 5508 (400) and both Daniel and Matityahu may be late interpolations.) Indeed, from a literary perspective, MS. Oxford Opp. Add. fol. 23 offers a concise, well-balanced text and all the historical figures it links together felicitously entwine. Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah are a well established trio; Mordecai and Esther a famous duo; Hashmonai and his sons the well-known heroes of the Maccabean revolt; and Rabbi Judah ha-Nasi and the rabbinic sages the natural leaders of the Roman period in rabbinic eyes. Simeon the Righteous, however, does not form an obvious trio with “Hashmonai and his sons” and makes an even less natural quartet once Matityahu is thrown in. Thus, if Simeon’s name was inserted into our text after the close of the talmudic period, his role here cannot be used in reconstructing his portrait during talmudic times. For my purposes, however, the moment when Simeon was introduced into this text is immaterial since I only wish to use the text to demonstrate that someone, during talmudic times or later, viewed Simeon the Righteous as a savior and felt that he belonged in this text. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 115 of Simeon’s name in a list of Jewish guardians was apparently inspired by a different tradition, a tradition that explicitly describes how Simeon successfully protected his people from the encroaching arm of a gentile super- power. Presumably, the tradition that prompted Simeon’s inclusion in the list of guardians is the well-known rabbinic account of the dramatic meeting between Simeon the Righteous and Alexander the Great, a famous legend which certainly justified depicting Simeon as a saving agent of God in the Hellenistic period. Seeing as the legend of Simeon and Alexander appears in both scholia to Megillat Taʿanit and in a parallel baraita in Babylonian Tal- mud Yoma, it seems quite possible that the rabbinic account of this legend was already formulated in tannaitic times. Alexander the Great inspired more writing than any other historical figure in classical antiquity and his visage was among the best known. He was written up in works of history, poetry, philosophy and romances, and the Alexander legends which proliferated were often only loosely based on the historical record, if at all. The Romans were captivated by this powerful and commanding figure who inspired them as a general, politician and creator of a new world order. Though the sober and severe mores of the Roman Republic were at odds with Alexander’s reported extravagance, drunkenness and excesses, his reputation improved with time as power in Rome came to reside with a single ruler and the Romans sought to identify Alexander as their imperial predecessor.5 Some Romans imagined “how the Roman state would have fared in war with Alexander,”6 and whereas historically minded Romans merely speculated on the outcome of such an encounter, legends often took over where history fell short.7 Easterners, like Romans, were fascinated with Alexander and thus, for example, various eastern cities fictitiously attributed their founding to Alexander the Great.8 Thus, the rabbinic account of Alexander the Great’s confrontation with Simeon the Righteous emerged in a setting wherein Alexander was not a distant memory but a potent contemporary icon. In telling their own legend of Alexander the Great the rabbis participated in a widespread cultural activity and appropriated this illustrious historical personality for their own purposes.9

5 See Baynham (2004) 3–29; Stewart (2004) 31–66. See also Spencer (2002). 6 See Livy, Ab Urbe Condita 9, 17–19; cf. Plutarch, Moralia 326A–C; Plutarch, Pyrrhus 19, 1–2. 7 See Tcherikover (1959) 42. 8 See Fraser (1996). 9 See Gruen (1998) 189–190. 116 chapter five

The rabbinic account of Alexander the Great’s spectacular encounter with a Jewish high priest is not the only ancient version of the story; Jose- phus tells a strikingly similar story in book eleven of his Jewish Antiquities and some of the story’s motifs appear in a late addition to the Alexan- der romance by Pseudo-Callisthenes.10 However, the Jewish portion of the Alexander romance, which probably relied on Jewish Antiquities, is so different from the rabbinic story that it is irrelevant for our purposes. In contrast, the numerous and conspicuous similarities between the parallel stories in Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities and rabbinic literature beg a comparison. Furthermore, since Jewish Antiquities was written in the late first century, its Alexander story most probably antedates the rabbinic version and so I assume that Jewish Antiquities represents the earliest extant stage in the literary trajectory of the legend. Indeed, as we shall see below, it is not unlikely that Jewish Antiquities is the ultimate source of the rabbinic account.11 Thus, the goal of this chapter is to contrast the rabbinic story to its Josephan counterpart, mapping out the differences between the narratives in order to reveal how the rabbis reinvented a legend they had inherited from the past.

*** Since my goal in this chapter is to compare the rabbinic tale of Simeon the Righteous’s encounter with Alexander the Great to its Josephan parallel, I commence with an overview of the earlier parallel: Jewish Antiquities 11, 304–347. In point of fact, only Jewish Antiquities 11, 326–339 (quoted below) describes the dramatic meeting itself, but since the context is crucial for discerning the import of the story and also differs from the context supplied in rabbinic literature, it is necessary to expand the scope of our purview. In books one through ten of Jewish Antiquities, Josephus rewrites biblical history from creation until the destruction of the first temple and the Baby- lonian exile. Book eleven opens with Cyrus’s edict, the return of the Jewish people to their homeland and the rebuilding of the temple. Josephus then continues with the history of the Jews under Persian rule, including a rewrite of the Greek version of Esther, and concludes with the murder of the priest Jesus at the hand of his brother Joannes, the high priest. Our story, which

10 See Anonymi Byzantini: Vita Alexandri regis Macedonum, pp. 76–78; Marcus in Jose- phus, Jewish Antiquities (1933–1965) vol. 6, pp. 514–515. (The Samaritan tradition (see Martin (1969–1970) 102–114) has preserved a similar story which was probably dependent on Jewish Antiquities (cf. Fletcher-Louis (2004) 81).) 11 See Cohen (1982–1983) 65; cf. Kazis (1962) 7–8; Goldstein (1993) 97–98; Fletcher-Louis (2004) 80–81. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 117 takes place during the transition from Persian to Macedonian rule, immediately follows the story of priestly fratricide, beginning with the death of Joannes and the accession of his successor, Jaddua (11, 302). Jaddua, we are told, had a brother Manasseh. Sanballat, the satrap of Samaria, sought to create an alliance between the Jews and Samaritans by giving his daughter, Nikaso, in marriage to Manasseh (11, 302–303). At this point, Josephus interrupts his narrative of Sanballat’s planned alliance with a short aside designed to situate the narrative of local events within a global context. Around the time of these events, Philip king of Macedon died and Alexander his son succeeded him. Not long after his coronation, Alexander crossed the Hellespont with a powerful army, defeated the Persians at the Granicus and invaded various other regions of Asia Minor (11, 304–305). Now Josephus returns to local affairs in Judaea and reports that the Jerusalem elders were disturbed by Manasseh’s choice of spouse, fearing that his poor example would be used to justify others who also desired to marry non-Jews. The elders, along with Jaddua, requested that Manasseh either divorce his wife or desist from serving in the temple. Manasseh informed his father- in-law Sanballat that despite his love for Sanballat’s daughter he felt compelled to divorce her since he was unwilling to be deprived of his priestly prerogatives. Sanballat, however, persuaded Manasseh to remain married by promising to construct a temple on Mt. Gerizim, similar to the one in Jerusalem, in which Manasseh would be high priest. Hoping to fulfill his promises with Darius’s consent, Sanballat also promised to appoint Man- asseh governor over all the areas he ruled. In the wake of Manasseh’s assent to his father-in-law’s offer, many intermarried Jews, both commoners and priests, joined Manasseh in Samaria where Sanballat supported and accom- modated them in order to please his son-in-law (11, 306–311). At this point the narrative returns momentarily to the world stage in order to interweave a drastic upheaval in international affairs into Josephus’s rendering of local events. Josephus reports that upon hearing of Alexan- der’s military successes in Asia Minor, Darius gathered together an army and sought to stop Alexander at Issus (11, 313–314). Sanballat heard about the upcoming battle and informed Manasseh that he would elicit Darius’s consent for his temple plans when Darius returned successfully from his campaign against the Macedonians. Josephus then explains that all Asia was convinced that the Persians would easily defeat the Macedonians because of the great size of the Persian army. “But the event proved other than they expected” and the Macedonians emerged victorious. Darius fled to Persia and his mother, wife and children were taken captive (11, 315–316). Alexan- der invaded Syria, captured Damascus and Sidon, and laid a siege on Tyre. 118 chapter five

In the context of the description of the siege on Tyre, Josephus relates Alexander’s initial contact with the Jewish people. From Tyre, Alexander sent a letter to the Jewish high priest requesting supplies and the tribute formerly given to Darius, but the high priest denied the request claiming he would not take up arms against the Persian king and thereby violate his oath to Darius. Alexander was infuriated by Jaddua’s refusal and threatened to make a lesson of the Jews after the conquest of Tyre. Upon concluding the conquest of Tyre, however, Alexander surprisingly travelled to Gaza rather than to Jerusalem as expected. He besieged Gaza while Babemesis, the local commander of the Persian garrison (elsewhere called Batis or Betis12), was inside the city (11, 317–320). After surveying the conquest of Tyre and the siege on Gaza, Josephus’s narrative abruptly flashes back to the beginning of the siege on Tyre describing how at that time Sanballat grabbed the opportunity to further his own interests by deserting Darius in favor of Alexander. Sanballat along with thousands of Samaritans greeted Alexander at Tyre and submitted to his sovereignty. Since Alexander treated them in a friendly manner, Sanballat decided to solicit Alexander’s consent for his temple plans. Sanballat also explained to Alexander that Alexander would profit from the construction of a temple on Mt. Gerizim because the existence of two temples would divide the rebellious Jewish nation in two. Alexander consented and San- ballat went to work, excited by the prospect that his daughter’s descendants would enjoy the esteemed genealogy of Jewish high priests. The siege of Tyre lasted seven months, the siege of Gaza two, and then Sanballat died (11, 321–325). Returning to the siege of Gaza, Josephus resumes his account of Alexan- der’s travels and describes how after conquering Gaza, Alexander hastily traveled to Jerusalem to make good on his earlier threat (11, 325). ὁ δὲ ἀρχιερεὺς Ἰαδδοῦς τοῦτ’ ἀκούσας ἦν ἐν ἀγωνίᾳ καὶ δέει, πῶς ἀπαντήσει τοῖς Μακεδόσιν ἀμηχανῶν, ὀργιζομένου τοῦ βασιλέως ἐπὶ τῇ πρότερον ἀπειθείᾳ. πα- ραγείλας οὖν ἱκεσίαν τῷ λαῷ καὶ θυσίαν μετ’ αὐτοῦ τῷ θεῷ προσφέρων ἐδεῖτο ὑπερασπίσαι τοῦ ἔθνους καὶ τῶν ἐπερχομένων κινδύνων ἀπαλάξαι. κατακοιμηθέντι δὲ μετὰ τὴν θυσίαν ἐχρημάτισεν αὐτῷ κατὰ τοὺς ὕπνους ὁ θεὸς θαρρεῖν καὶ στεφα- νοῦντας τὴν πόλιν ἀνοίγειν τὰς πύλας, καὶ τοὺς μὲν ἄλους λευκαῖς ἐσθῆσιν, αὐτὸν δὲ μετὰ τῶν ἱερέων ταῖς νομίμοις στολαῖς ποιεῖσθαι τὴν ὑπάντησιν, μηδὲν προσδο- κῶντας πείσεσθαι δεινὸν προνοουμένου τοῦ θεοῦ. διαναστὰς δὲ ἐκ τοῦ ὕπνου ἔχαιρέν τε μεγάλως αὐτός, καὶ τὸ χρηματισθὲν αὐτῷ πᾶσι μηνύσας καὶ ποιήσας ὅσα κατὰ τοὺς ὕπνους αὐτῷ παρηγέλη, τὴν τοῦ βασιλέως παρουσίαν ἐξεδέχετο.

12 See Arrian, Anabasis 2, 25, 4; Curtius, History 4, 6, 7. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 119

Πυθόμενος δ’ αὐτὸν οὐ πόρρω τῆς πόλεως ὄντα πρόεισι μετὰ τῶν ἱερέων καὶ τοῦ πολιτικοῦ πλήθους, ἱεροπρεπῆ καὶ διαφέρουσαν τῶν ἄλων ἐθνῶν ποιούμενος τὴν ὑπάντησιν εἰς τόπον τινὰ Σαφεὶν λεγόμενον. τὸ δὲ ὄνομα τοῦτο μεταφερόμενον εἰς τὴν Ἑληνικὴν γλῶσσαν σκοπὸν σημαίνει· τά τε γὰρ Ἱεροσόλυμα καὶ τὸν ναὸν ἐκεῖ- θεν συνέβαινεν ἀφορᾶσθαι. τῶν δὲ Φοινίκων καὶ τῶν ἀκολουθούντων Χαλδαίων ὅσα βασιλέως ὀργὴν εἰκὸς ἦν ἐπιτρέψειν αὐτοῖς τήν τε πόλιν διαρπάσειν καὶ τὸν ἀρχιερέ- α μετ’ αἰκίας ἀπολέσειν λογιζομένων, τὰ ἐναντία τούτων ἐγένετο. ὁ γὰρ Ἀλέξανδρος ἔτι πόρρωθεν ἰδὼν τὸ μὲν πλῆθος ἐν ταῖς λευκαῖς ἐσθῆσιν, τοὺς δὲ ἱερεῖς προεστῶ- τας ἐν ταῖς βυσσίναις αὐτὼν, τὸν δὲ ἀρχιερέα ἐν τῇ ὑακινθίνῳ καὶ διαχρύσῳ στολῇ καὶ ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἔχοντα τὴν κίδαριν καὶ τὸ χρυσοῦν ἐπ’ αὐτης ἔλασμα, ᾧ τὸ τοῦ θεοῦ ἐγέγραπτο ὄνομα, προσελθὼν μόνος προσεκύνησε τὸ ὄνομα και τὸν ἀρχιερέα πρῶτος ἠσπάσατο. τῶν δὲ Ἰουδαίων ὁμοῦ πάντων μιᾷ φωνῇ τὸν Ἀλέξανδρον ἀσπα- σαμένων καὶ κυκλωσαμένων αὐτὸν, οἱ μὲν τῆς Συρίας βασιλεῖς καὶ οἱ λοιποὶ τοῦτο ποιήσαντος κατεπλάγησαν, καὶ διεφθάρθαι τῷ βασιλεῖ τὴν διάνοιαν ὑπελάμβανον, Παρμενίωνος δὲ μόνου προσελθόντος αὐτῷ καὶ πυθομένου τί δήποτε προσκυνούν- των αὐτὸν ἁπάντων αὐτὸς προσκυνήσειε τὸν Ἰουδαίων ἀρχιερέα; “οὐ τοῦτον,” εἶπεν, “προσεκύνησα, τὸν δὲ θεόν, οὗ τῇ ἀρχιερωσύνῃ οὗτος τετίμηται· τοῦτον γὰρ καὶ κατὰ τοὺς ὕπνους εἶδον ἐν τῷ νῦν σχήματι ἐν Δίῳ τῆς Μακεδονίας τυγχάνων, καὶ πρὸς ἐ- μαυτὸν διασκεπτομένῳ μοι πῶς ἂν κρατήσαιμι τῆς Ἀσίας, παρεκελεύετο μὴ μέλειν ἀλὰ θαρσοῦντα διαβαίνειν· αὐτὸς γὰρ ἡγήσεσθαι μου τῆς στρατιᾶς καὶ τὴν Περσῶν παραδώσειν ἀρχήν. ὅθεν ἄλον μὲν οὐδένα θεασάμενος ἐν τοιαύτῃ στολῇ, τοῦτον δὲ νῦν ἰδὼν καὶ τῆς κατὰ τοὺς ὕπνους ἀναμνησθεὶς ὄψεώς τε καὶ παρακελεύσεως, νομίζω θείᾳ πομπῇ τὴν στρατείαν πεποιημένος Δαρεῖον νικήσειν καὶ τὴν Περσῶν καταλύσειν δύναμιν καὶ πάνθ’ ὅσα κατὰ νοῦν ἐστί μοι προχωρήσειν.” ταῦτ’ εἰπών πρὸς τὸν Παρμενίωνα καὶ δεξιωσάμενος τὸν ἀρχιερέα, τῶν Ἰουδαίων παραθεόντων, εἰς τὴν πόλιν παραγίνεται. καὶ ἀνελθὼν ἐπὶ τὸ ἱερὸν θύει μὲν τῷ θεῷ κατὰ τὴν τοῦ ἀρχιερέως ὑφήγησιν, αὐτὸν δὲ τὸν ἀρχιερέα καὶ τοὺς ἱερεῖς ἀξιοπρεπῶς ἐτίμησεν. δειχθείσης δ’ αὐτῷ τῆς Δανιήλου βίβλου, ἐν ᾗ τινα τῶν Ἑλήνων καταλύσειν τὴν Περσῶν ἀρχὴν ἐδήλου, νομίσας αὐτὸς εἶναι ὁ σημαινόμενος τότε μὲν ἡσθεὶς ἀπέλυ- σετὸ πλῆθος, τῇ δ’ ἐπιούσῃ προσκαλεσάμενος ἐκέλευσεν αὐτοὺς αἰτεῖσθαι δωρεὰς ἅς ἂν αὐτοὶ θέλωσιν. τοῦ δ’ ἀρχιερέως αἰτησαμένου χρήσασθαι τοῖς πατρίοις νό- μοις καὶ τὸ ἕβδομον ἔτος ἀνείσφορον εἶναι, συνεχώρησε πάντα. παρακαλεσάντων δ’ αὐτὸν ἵνα καὶ τοὺς ἐν Βαβυλῶνι καὶ Μηδίᾳ Ἰουδαίους τοῖς ἰδίοις ἐπιτρέψῃ νό- μοις χρῆσθαι, ἀσμένως ὑπέσχετο ποιήσειν ἅπερ ἀξιοῦσιν. εἰπόντος δ’ αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὸ πλῆθος, εἴ τινες αὐτῷ βούλονται συστρατεύειν τοῖς πατρίοις ἔθεσιν ἐμμένοντες καὶ κατὰ ταῦτα ζῶντες, ἑτοίμως ἔχειν ἐπάγεσθαι, πολοὶ τὴν σὺν αὐτῷ στρατείαν ἠγάπησαν. When the high priest Jaddus (i.e. Jaddua) heard this, he was in an agony of fear, not knowing how he could meet the Macedonians, whose king was angered by his former disobedience. He therefore ordered the people to make supplication, and, offering sacrifice to God together with them, besought Him to shield the nation and deliver them from the dangers that were hanging over them. But, when he had gone to sleep after the sacrifice, God spoke oracularly to him in his sleep, telling him to take courage and adorn the city with wreaths and open the gates and go out to meet them, and that the people should be in white garments, and he himself with the priests in the robes prescribed by 120 chapter five

law, and that they should not look to suffer any harm, for God was watching over them. Thereupon he rose from his sleep, greatly rejoicing to himself, and announced to all the revelation that had been made to him, and, after doing all the things that he had been told to do, awaited the coming of the king. When he learned that Alexander was not far from the city, he went out with the priests and the body of citizens, and, making the reception sacred in character and different from that of other nations, met him at a certain place called Saphein. This name, translated into the Greek tongue, means “Lookout.” For, as it happened, Jerusalem and the temple could be seen from there. Now the Phoenicians and the Chaldeans who followed along thought to themselves that the king in his anger would naturally permit them to plunder the city and put the high priest to a shameful death, but the reverse happened. For when Alexander while still far off saw the multitude in white garments, the priests at their head clothed in linen, and the high priest in a robe of hyacinth-blue and gold, wearing on his head the mitre with the golden plate on it on which was inscribed the name of God, he approached alone and prostrated himself before the Name and first greeted the high priest. Then all the Jews together greeted Alexander with one voice and surrounded him, but the kings of Syria and the others were struck with amazement at his action and supposed that the king’s mind was deranged. And Parmenion alone went up to him and asked why indeed, when all men prostrated themselves before him, he had prostrated himself before the high priest of the Jews, whereupon he replied, “It was not before him that I prostrated myself but the God of whom he has the honour to be high priest, for it was he whom I saw in my sleep dressed as he is now, when I was at Dium in Macedonia, and as I was considering with myself how I might become master of Asia, he urged me not to hesitate but to cross over confidently, for he himself would lead my army and give over to me the empire of the Persians. Since, therefore, I have beheld no one else in such robes and on seeing him now I am reminded of the vision and the exhortation, I believe that I have made this expedition under divine guidance and that I shall defeat Darius and destroy the power of the Persians and succeed in carrying out all the things which I have in mind.” After saying these things to Parmenion, he gave his hand to the high priest and, with the Jews running beside him, entered the city. Then he went up to the temple, where he sacrificed to God under the direction of the high priest, and showed due honour to the priests and to the high priest himself. And, when the book of Daniel was shown to him, in which he had declared that one of the Greeks would destroy the empire of the Persians, he believed himself to be the one indicated; and in his joy he dismissed the multitude for the time being, but on the following day he summoned them again and told them to ask for any gifts which they might desire. When the high priest asked that they might observe their country’s laws and in the seventh year be exempt from tribute, he granted all this. Then they begged that he would permit the Jews in Babylon and Media also to have their own laws, and he gladly promised to do as they asked. And, when he said to the people that if any wished to join his army simeon the righteous and alexander the great 121

while still adhering to the customs of their country, he was ready to take them, many eagerly accepted service with him.13 After finishing his dealings with the Jews, Alexander left Jerusalem and the Samaritans, who had not been mentioned since Sanaballat’s death, reap- pear in the narrative once again greeting Alexander outside the city. The Samaritans are described here as a people whose chief city, Shechem, was next to Mt. Gerizim and was inhabited by Jewish apostates. Their nature is such, Josephus reports, that they claim kinship with the Jews as descendants of Ephraim and Manasseh only when it suits them. After greeting Alexander, the Samaritans invited him to visit their city and temple just as he had visited Jerusalem and the Jewish temple. Alexander declined their invitation and promised to visit another time. Then the Samaritans requested to be exempt from tribute in the seventh year like the Jews and “he inquired who they were that they made this request.” The Samaritans replied that they were Hebrews and he asked whether they were Jews to which they replied that they were not. Hearing that the Samaritans were not Jews, Alexander sent them away without a tribute exemption. Sanballat’s soldiers, however, were not sent away but rather were taken with Alexan- der to Egypt where he granted them allotments of land and assigned them territory to protect (11.340–345). Book 11 then concludes with the deaths of Alexander and Jaddua; the succession of Jaddua’s son Onias; and the claim that the temple on Mt. Gerizim served as a sanctuary for Jews of Jerusalem who violated the commandments and wished to avoid punishment (11.346–347).

*** Many historians have addressed Josephus’s account of Alexander’s travels in Palestine and three strands in scholarship have drawn particular attention: the reconstruction of the narrative’s sources, the historicity of the account and its literary interpretation. One’s stand on these issues determines one’s understanding and assessment of Josephus’s narrative so by navigating through these strands, I intend to map out and explain my interpretation of the narrative. A prominent strand in scholarship claims that the Jewish Antiquities text is essentially the concatenation of a few discrete sources: two dealing with the Samaritans (11, 302–303; 11, 306–312; 11, 315; 11, 321–325 and 11, 340–345), one relating the legend of Alexander and Jaddua (11, 317b–319; 11,

13 Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 11, 326–339 (pp. 470–479) with Marcus’s translation. 122 chapter five

326–339) and one sketching Alexander’s conquests (11, 304–305; 11, 313–314; 11, 316–317a; 11, 320).14 Scholars detect traces of these sources in the clashes and contradictions which emerge between the different sections of Jose- phus’s narrative. The Jewish story of Jaddua and Alexander (11, 317b–319; 11, 326–339) mentions neither Sanballat nor the Samaritans and this surprising omission suggests that the Jewish story was originally unrelated to the Samaritan narrative. Indeed, there even seems to be a jarring discrepancy between the two stories. Whereas the Jewish story maintains that Alexander intended to invade Jerusalem immediately upon the conquest of Tyre, both the sketch of Alexander’s conquests and the Samaritan narrative state that he turned to Gaza after Tyre, not to Jerusalem. This unexpected delay in Alexander’s arrival in Jerusalem can easily be explained as an unintended byproduct of the conjoining of a Jewish source to other sources which were unaware of a royal visit to Jerusalem.15 The Samaritan narrative surrounds the Jewish story of Jaddua and Alex- ander and the first Samaritan installment, which precedes the Jewish story (11, 302–303; 11, 306–312; 11, 321–325), seems to conflict in various ways with the second installment, which follows the Jewish story (11, 340–345). After extensive dealings with Sanballat and the Samaritans in the first installment, Alexander suddenly does not know the Samaritans in the second and his warm relationship with the Samaritans in the first installment is replaced with a lukewarm if not cold reception in the second. This rather unenthusiastic reception is evident in Alexander’s declining the Samaritan invitation to visit their temple, rejecting their request to remit their tribute in the seventh year and relocating their soldiers to Egypt. In addition, the temple Sanballat received permission to construct in the first Samari- tan installment is already standing and functioning in the second, a mere nine months or so later. These tensions have led source-critics to conclude that Josephus’s Samaritan story was not part of a single running narrative, but was comprised of two separate narratives derived from independent sources. Adolfe Buchler and others in his wake characterized the first source, wherein Alexander sanctioned the construction of the temple on Mt. Ger-

14 See Buchler (1898) 1–26. Buchler’s thesis has been very influential though his arguments have also been modified and qualified (see Gruen (1998) 193 n. 10). Tcherikover, for example, presents the Jewish narrative and the second Samaritan installment as elements of a single source ((1959) 43–44) and I support below another variation on Buchler’s source critical thesis. (See also Pummer (2009) 129–134.) 15 See, for example, Cohen (1982–1983) 42–43; Cf. Goldstein (1993) 85. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 123 izim, as pro-Samaritan and the second as anti-Samaritan.16 Insofar as the relationship of these sources to the Jewish story of Jaddua is concerned, the first was apparently unaware of the Jewish account while the latter presupposed it. In addition to delineating the sources which underlie the Jaddua and the Samaritan narratives, scholars deduced that yet another source supplied the survey of Alexander’s conquests in the region. After Jewish Antiquities notes the conclusion of affairs in Tyre and the besieging of Gaza (in 11, 320), it immediately breaks the chronological flow of the narrative by returning to the very beginning of the siege of Tyre (in 11, 321). Since historians like Josephus usually try to write a flowing chronological narrative devoid of awkward repetitions, this violation of chronology apparently reflects a transition from one source to another, i.e. from the survey source to the first Samaritan source. The existence of a survey source is also suggested by the running narrative that can be reconstructed simply by cutting and pasting together the various narrative segments which survey Alexander’s conquests (11, 304–305; 11, 313–314; 11, 316–317a; 11, 320). More generally, the relative ease with which Josephus’s Alexander narrative as a whole can be neatly divided into its different sources enhances the argument that the text is a concatenation of various sources.17 The distinction between the first and second Samaritan installments was a central feature in the argument of early source-critics like Buchler but scholars have since objected that the contrasts between the installments are less stark than he made them out to be. For example, Alexander of the second installment has not forgotten his dealings with Sanballat and the Samaritans but rather questions the genealogy of the Samaritans in order to determine whether they merit a seventh year tribute remission like the Jews: Alexander does not ask “who they were” but “who they were that they made this request.”18 Indeed, the appearance of both the Samaritan temple and Sanballat’s soldiers in the second installment constitute cross references to the first installment and point to the dependence of the second installment

16 See Buchler (1898) 25; Momigliano (1984) 323. 17 The factors summarized in the previous two paragraphs have been discussed on numerous occasions since Buchler. See, for example, Tcherikover (1959) 43–44; Cohen (1982–1983) 41–43; Momigliano (1984) 323. (It has even been suggested that the discrepancies between the first and second Samaritan source were so great that they caused Josephus to kill off Sanballat at the end of the first installment (see Tcherikover (1959) 44; Schwartz (1990b) 187).) 18 See Kasher (1993) 25. 124 chapter five upon the first.19 In addition, the supposed pro-Samaritan perspective of the first Samaritan installment has been forcefully refuted since the text praises the Jews while painting the Samaritans in a very unflattering light. Jerusalem is the prominent city with which Sanballat wishes to establish ties; the Jewish elders disapprove of intermarriage with Samaritans; Sanballat bribes Manasseh not to divorce his daughter; the future temple on Mt. Gerizim is to be similar to the temple in Jerusalem; Sanballat procures support for Manasseh among intermarried Jews; Sanballat swiftly shifts his allegiance from Darius to Alexander when it suits him; and Sanballat advises Alexander how to split the rebellious Jewish nation in two. As James VanderKam put it, “Are these the claims of a Samaritan who is exalting his people and temple?”20 In short, scholars have rightfully observed that the first Samaritan installment has an anti-Samaritan tone just like the second Samaritan installment and that the second installment presupposes knowledge of both the Jaddua narrative and the first Samaritan installment. In light of these insights, some historians have rejected the conclusions of the source-critical approach and argued that the Josephan narrative was composed as a coherent and “well constructed unit, Jewish and anti-Samaritan throughout.”21 Source critics have generally overlooked the literary coherence of Josephus’s narrative here and scholars, such as Aryeh Kasher and Jonathan Goldstein, are justified in stressing this coherence (as we shall see below). However, the construction of a unified literary narrative with a prominent overarching theme neither undermines nor refutes all the source-critical insights noted above. In my opinion, the source critics have convincingly established that our “intricate narrative” is not a unified and “seamless whole”22 and therefore I accept the source-critical thesis, albeit with the following reservations and modifications.

19 See VanderKam (2004) 71. 20 VanderKam (2004) 70–71. See also Gutman (1940) 289. The consistently negative portrayal of the Samaritans apparently led Victor Tcherikover ((1959) 44) to posit that Josephus used a Jewish rewrite of a Samaritan source. According to Tcherikover’s line of reasoning, a Samaritan story which ascribed the founding of the Samaritan temple to Alexander the Great was reworked by a Jewish author whose anti-Samaritan attitude heavily colored his version of the story. However, though Tcherikover rightly sensed the anti-Samaritan flavor of Josephus’s account it seems rather unlikely that an original pro-Samaritan text would have assigned the founding of the Samaritan temple to a gentile conqueror; did the Jews of the Second Temple period glorify their temple by linking it to Cyrus? (See Goldstein (1993) 82–83; Gruen (1998) 194.) 21 Goldstein (1993) 81. See also Kasher (1993) 24–26. 22 Gruen (1998) 194. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 125

First, Josephus’s biblical paraphrase in the first half of Jewish Antiquities attests to his refashioning and editing of sources and therefore we cannot assume that in our case Josephus neither edited nor embellished his sources but simply cut and pasted them with the aid of some transitional phrases.23 Source criticism, accordingly, can help us uncover the general substance of Josephus’s sources but not necessarily their precise formulation.24 Second, the first Samaritan installment is patently anti-Samaritan and not pro-Samaritan. Third, the second Samaritan installment is the only portion of Josephus’s entire narrative wherein “the actors of one story (the Samaritans) refer to the actors of the other (the Jews).”25 In addition, the second Samaritan installment is anticlimactic in the wake of the dramatic encounter between Jaddua and Alexander, and one scholar has even characterized it as a “limp and ineffective ending.”26 These considerations suggest that the second Samaritan installment is in fact a secondary accretion to the text designed, probably by Josephus, to integrate and unite the otherwise independent stories about Sanballat and Jaddua into a single, coherent narrative. Inviting Alexander to visit the Samaritan temple was a rather fee- ble addition to the plotline given that construction on the temple had only commenced roughly nine months earlier,27 but, as I shall argue below, the rejection of this invitation enabled Josephus to contrast the glorious fate of the Jews with the disappointment of the Samaritans. In sum, I concur with the thrust of the source-critical approach and conclude that Josephus juxtaposed a narrative about Alexander and Sanballat with one about Alexander and Jaddua and contextualized them with the help of a third narrative which surveyed Alexander’s early conquests. He then appended the second Samaritan installment, which was probably of his own making, as a short concluding segment designed to link together the juxtaposed narratives and bring them to a satisfying end. Josephus’s conclusion may be weak and anticlimactic, but I shall argue that it successfully furnishes the finishing literary touches to his narrative.

23 See Mason (2003) 147–150. 24 See Schwartz (1990a) 2; Mason (2003) 145–158. 25 Cohen (1982–1983) 43. It bears noting that Jaddua also appears in the first installment of the Samaritan narrative (13, 309), although none of the events from the Samaritan narrative register traces in the Alexander and Jaddua story. 26 See Gruen (1998) 192. 27 Kasher ((1993) 24) argues that the Samaritans could have finished the temple in the allotted time, but most scholars doubt it. Ory Amitay ((2002) 149) contends that nine months is sufficient time to build foundations so that Alexander would have been invited to sacrifice on the foundations. I wonder, however, if one invites a great conqueror to come visit a temple’s foundations, even in a legendary account. Cf. Momigliano (1984) 323. 126 chapter five

*** Perhaps the central strand in scholarship on Josephus’s Alexander narrative is the question of historicity. This question is of particular significance in the current context because, on the assumption that Josephus’s account is essentially historical, many scholars have viewed the rabbinic parallels as an independent historical witness. However, the historicity of Josephus’s account of Alexander’s dealings with the Jews and Samaritans has been widely rejected on numerous grounds. First and foremost, not one gentile historian who recounts Alexander’s career mentions Alexander’s visit to Jerusalem or his dealings with the Samaritans reported by Josephus. Arrian, Diodorus Siculus, Quintus Curtius Rufus and Plutarch report unusual stories and auspicious omens about Alexander so they probably would have been happy to include Alexander’s colorful and propitious visit. In point of fact, they do not even leave sufficient time for the visit and many historians suspect that Jerusalem was not nearly important enough to warrant such a visit. On the other hand, the Jews had plenty of reasons to create a legend which glorified their leadership and holy city while painting the Samaritans in a bad light.28 In addition to these general considerations and the internal inconsistencies noted above, both the Samaritan and Jaddua narratives have been challenged on various grounds. In respect to the Samaritan narrative, three objections in particular severely undermine the supposed historicity of the account. First, there is no evidence for the existence of a governor named Sanballat during the time of Alexander outside Josephus’s Samaritan narrative and Nehemiah records a very similar story in respect to the Sanballat of his own time, roughly a century before Alexander. Chapter 13 of Nehemiah concludes with Nehemiah’s censure of those who married out of the Jewish people including an explicit condemnation of guilty priests and Levites. Moreover, in 13, 28 Nehemiah states: “One of the sons of Joiada of the high priest Eliashib was a son-in-law of Sanballat; I drove him away from me.” Just like Jewish Antiquities, Nehemiah reports that a direct descendent of Eliashib the high priest married Sanballat’s daughter, was condemned by Jewish leaders for marrying a foreigner and was banished from the temple.

28 See Buchler (1898) 1–2; Marcus in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (1937) 526–528; Tcheri- kover (1959) 41, 45; Cohen (1982–1983) 68; Momigliano (1984) 321; Bickerman (1988) 4–6; Grabbe (1992) 182; Goldstein (1993) 70–71; Gruen (1998) 195 (with references in n. 16). Pliny mentions Alexander’s campaign in the vicinity of Judaea (Natural History 12, 54, 117), but this is hardly evidence for a visit to Jerusalem. Cf. Amitay (2002) 153; id., (2010). simeon the righteous and alexander the great 127

Both texts also assert that priests intermarried around the very same time. These similarities are sufficiently numerous and striking to justify the conclusion that Josephus has presented an expanded version of Nehemiah’s story.29 Though some argue that the differences between the stories, such as the names Nikaso and Manasseh, indicate that Josephus reported a different event which actually occurred during the time of Alexander, expansions of earlier traditions often assign names to anonymous figures in the earlier tradition and creatively flesh out details.30 Second, Quintus Curtius Rufus31 describes the suppression of a Samaritan revolt against Alexander which is apparently corroborated by skeletons and documents discovered in a cave in Wadi Daliyeh.32 This evidence for a conflict between Alexander and the Samaritans is very hard to harmonize with Sanballat’s friendly relationship with Alexander in the first Samaritan installment and his cordial relations with the Samaritans in the second. Third, Yitzhak Magen has concluded after eighteen seasons of archaeological excavations on Mt. Gerizim that the temple there was built in the early fifth century, long before the time of Alexander.33 Thus, there are superb literary, historical and archaeological grounds for doubting the historical veracity of the Samaritan narrative. In respect to Josephus’s Jaddua narrative, many improbable and anachronistic details utterly undercut its historical credibility. For example, the only evidence that a high priest named Jaddua lived in the time of Alexander is found here in Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities and it is quite likely that Jose- phus (or his source) decided that Jaddua was the final high priest of the Persian period on the basis of the list of high priests for the Persian period given in Nehemiah 12, 22 (and 12, 10–11), a list that concludes with “Jaddua.” Nehemiah’s Jaddua, just like his Sanballat, apparently flourished long before the time of Alexander and thus a major character in Josephus’s account was probably borrowed from an earlier period.34 Josephus’s story revolves around

29 See Tcherikover (1959) 44; Schwartz (1990b) 179; Stoneman (1994) 40. 30 See Grabbe (1987) 237; Schwartz (1990b) 195; cf. Gutman (1940) 290; Cross (1974) 20–22; Kasher (1993) 27; Amitay (2002) 148–149; Pummer (2009) 112–118. 31 Curtius, History 4, 8, 9–11. 32 See Cross (1974) 17–18; Eshel (1996) 359–360. 33 Magen (2000) 117. 34 See Tamari (1972) 16–17; Grabbe (1987) 242; id. (2004) 146; Schwartz (1990b) 184, 189. Jaddua, according to Nehemiah 12, 23, lived in the time of Darius the Persian, most probably Darius II of the late fifth century bce (423–404bce), and Josephus apparently identified Darius the Persian incorrectly as Darius III (336–331bce), the Persian king whom Alexander defeated. See also Moore (1927) 359–364; Cf. VanderKam (2000) 177–200. 128 chapter five legendary and miraculous events, such as dreams and divine interventions, that are characteristic of legends but not history,35 and various anachronisms further weaken the historicity of his account.36 Alexander was accompanied by “Chaldeans” (11, 330) but had yet to conquer their homeland in Babylonia. Parmenion asked Alexander why he prostrated before the Jewish high priest “when all men prostrated themselves before him” (11, 333), but Alexander only tried to implement the Persian custom of prostration before the king later on in his career. Alexander read references to himself in the book of Daniel but Daniel had not yet been written. The Jews of Jerusalem begged Alexander to permit their brethren in Babylon and Media to follow Jewish law, but at the time of his conquest of Syria and Palestine Alexander had no authority over the Jews in Babylon and Media since he had yet to conquer those regions of the Persian empire. In sum, there are numerous reasons to reject the historicity of the Jaddua and Samaritan narratives in Jewish Antiquities. Nonetheless, some scholars attempt to refute the host of objections against the historicity of Josephus’s account in the hopes of rehabilitating his Alexander narrative as history. For example, rehabilitating historians interpret the silence of the gentile historians as the product of indifference or anti-semitism and they maintain that Alexander’s itinerary as portrayed by gentile historians leaves time for a visit to Jerusalem, or, alternatively, that Alexander encountered Jaddua on the coast rather than in Jerusalem and perhaps before the siege of Gaza or after his trip to Egypt.37 Rehabilitators generally maintain that Josephus’s Samaritan narrative is not dependent on Nehemiah 13, 28 and that Jaddua was indeed the high priest in the time of Alexander.38 They expunge the miraculous and legendary from the narrative like chaff in the hopes of leaving behind a historical kernel39 and declare apparent anachronisms not anachronistic. “Chaldeans” is said to have been

35 See Tcherikover (1959) 44–45. 36 See Tcherikover (1959) 45. Tcherikover (420 n. 13) also notes that, contrary to the claims in the Jewish Antiquities narrative, Alexander did not employ auxiliary troops from local populations when he was conquering Syria and Palestine. 37 See, for example, Spak (1911) 43–47; Kasher (1993) 20–21; Golan (1982) 32–33, 50; Mor (2004) 64–65; (cf. Gera (2005) 148). Golan ((1982) 48–49) argues that the existence of both rabbinic and Josephan “oral histories” of the Alexander narrative enhance its historicity, but that seems unlikely.The rabbinic version probably devolved somehow from JewishAntiquities and even if unrelated, it is a rabbinic variation on a Jewish legend and not an oral historical tradition. 38 See, for example, VanderKam (2004) 75–76, 85–99; Amitay (2002) 147–149. 39 See, for example, Kasher (1993) 21; Amitay (2002) 145–146. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 129 used to denote magicians;40 prostration before Alexander was already practiced at Issus; the reference to the book of Daniel may be a late Josephan interpolation or may not refer to our book of Daniel but to an earlier one; and the Jews could make a request on behalf of their brethren in Babylon and Media because Alexander’s intention to conquer those regions was known to them.41 Though rehabilitators differ amongst themselves in respect to the details, they all accept the essential historicity of Josephus’s account. Many of the rehabilitators’ arguments, however, are weak and farfetched. The argument for the suppression of the Alexander narrative by partial or biased historians is entirely without basis and it is fruitless to attempt to situate Alexander’s visit within itineraries which do not acknowledge it.42 Essential segments of Josephus’s plotline are miraculous and legendary and therefore it is difficult to view them as mere literary accretions to an original historical kernel.43 Prostration before Alexander may have been practiced already at Issus, but Parmenion claims that “all men” prostrate before Alexander, presupposing Alexander’s future conquest of the known world. The reference to Daniel works well with the book of Daniel as we know it so there is little reason to posit that the text refers to a no longer extant work called Daniel. In a similar vein, there are no internal indications that the reference to Daniel is a Josephan interpolation into a pre-existing source.44 In my opinion, the attempt to rehabilitate Josephus’s Alexander narrative as history has undoubtedly failed. The Jews in this case did not write history but devised legends about Alexander the Great, legends which were unknown to gentile historians simply because they were late fictions. In creating these legends, however, the Jews were no different than many other peoples in the Graeco-Roman world who also composed legends linking themselves to the most famous conqueror in the ancient world. Recognizing that Josephus’s Alexander narrative is fictitious, many historians have tried to pinpoint the specific event or historical setting which prompted the creation of the Jaddua legend and its anti-Samaritan ending. No consensus, however, has ever been reached and quite the contrary, sug- gestions have simply proliferated. The legend’s creation has been dated as

40 See Marcus in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (1937) 474 n. a; Cohen (1982–1983) 67 n. 79. 41 See, for example, Kasher (1993) 25–26; Amitay (2002) 150–153; Fletcher-Louis (2004) 82–83. 42 See, for example, Gruen’s critique (1998) 195. 43 See Nodet (1997) 135. 44 See Gruen (1998) 197 n. 22. 130 chapter five early as the early Hellenistic period and as late as the mid-first century ce and its provenance has been assigned to both Palestine and the Hellenistic diaspora. The types of events said to have prompted the legend’s creation range widely including visits to Jerusalem by gentile rulers such as Anti- ochus III and Marcus Agrippa, grants awarded the Jews by specific rulers such as Antiochus III and Julius Caesar, and documented outbreaks of animosity between Samaritans and Jews such as the disputation between the Jews and Samaritans in second century bce Alexandria.45 The attempt to determine a specific context, however, seems misplaced since the Alexander narrative expresses widespread Jewish sentiments and conveys messages that were poignant and resounding for Jews in many times and places. Thus, for example, it is unlikely that one shall ever be able to determine that a specific documented case of hostile and belligerent relations between Jews and Samaritans inspired the anti-Samaritan tone of the Alexander narrative since animosity between the two groups lasted for centuries.46 Rather than seeking a specific historical context, it is more promising both to explore the messages that lie at the heart of the narrative and to determine how they addressed Jewish concerns and anxieties in Hellenistic and Roman times.

*** The third strand in scholarship on Josephus’s Alexander narrative is the literary approach to the text, an approach, in this case, with two foci. The first focus is the investigation of the literary matrix from which the Alexander narrative emerged. What texts, topoi and literary conventions influenced the creators of the Alexander narrative consciously or subconsciously? As we saw above, an expansion of Nehemiah 13, 28 apparently contributed to the formulation of the Samaritan narrative but clearly this source is not alone. For example, Dium, the setting for Alexander’s dream, was well known as the city where Alexander celebrated before setting out for war and Parme- nion’s critique of Alexander’s behavior resonates with other similar critiques

45 For the time of Antiochus III as the backdrop for the creation of Josephus’s Alexander narrative, see Zeitlin (5685) 137–142; Purvis (1968) 125–126; for that of Julius Caesar, see Buchler (1898) 15–22; and for that of Marcus Agrippa, see Willrich (1895) 8–13. For second century Alexandria as the legend’s provenance, see Freudenthal (1874) 102–103; Stoneman (1994) 42–45; and for a Palestinian provenance, see Cohen (1982–1983) 65–68. For reviews of the various positions on these matters, see Kasher (1993) 14; Gruen (1998) 193–194; Noam in Megillat Taʿanit (2003) 263–264. 46 See Gruen (1998) 195. Even if we cannot pinpoint the specific historical context which prompted the creation of the Alexander legend, it stands to reason that descriptions of actual visits of foreign rulers and dignitaries supplied source material, such as the type of grants conferred upon the Jews, which was incorporated into the Alexander legend. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 131 of his reported elsewhere.47 Moreover, Shaye Cohen has argued that the Jad- dua narrative as a whole is actually comprised of two well-known literary motifs in Greek and Latin literature: the adventus and the epiphany.48 The adventus motif is a recurring literary pattern which describes the elaborate ceremonies that accompanied the reception of a dignitary into a city and the subsequent activities of the visitor in the city. The epiphany motif has various forms, one of which involves the visible manifestation of the divin- ity as a warning to an aggressor or as an encouragement to a defender. In our case, the adventus motif is easily identified in the warm reception Alexan- der receives at Jerusalem and in his benevolent reciprocation. The epiphany motif, on the other hand, seems appropriate for Jaddua’s dream49 but less so for Alexander’s which may be better understood as a “propagandistic divine legitimization of his conquest.”50 In any event, readers in the Graeco-Roman world would have been familiar with other stories about cities grandly wel- coming official dignitaries, saving divine visions and propagandistic dreams. Scholars have also suggested that reports of Alexander’s dream during the siege of Tyre wherein Hercules appeared to Alexander and encouraged him to complete the siege of the city were the inspiration for assigning Alexander a dream in which a divine-like figure, such as Jaddua, assured him of victory in battle. Indeed, Alexander’s dream of Jaddua and the reference to himself he finds in Daniel are apparently Jewish variations on the better known oracular predictions of Alexander’s success pronounced in Delphi and the Egyptian temple of Ammon.51 Moreover, the explicit reference to

47 On Dium, see Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 17, 16, 3–4; on Parmenion’s critiques, see, for example, Plutarch, Alexander 16, 2–4; 29, 7–9. See also Gruen (1998) 197; Fletcher- Louis (2004) 82; Amitay (2002) 150–151. 48 See Cohen (1982–1983) 44–68. The use of popular literary motifs reinforces the position stated above that one need not posit that the Jaddua narrative was based on a single specific historical event (see Cohen (1982–1983) 55). In addition, Cohen’s idea to divide the Alexander narrative into two literary motifs and to view these motifs as independent sources was apparently modeled on Elias Bickerman’s analysis of the Heliodorus episode in 2Maccabees 3 (see Cohen (1982–983) 41, 49 n. 24; Bickerman (2007) 432–464). Bickerman divided the Heliodorus episode into an epiphany and an aretalogy and argued that these two motifs originated in two independent sources. In both Bickerman’s and Cohen’s cases, however, it does not follow that the two interwoven motifs “existed originally as independent tales that were later combined in a clumsy blend. The author may well have made use of both conventions in composing his construct” (Gruen (1998) 196 n. 18 in reference to Cohen; see also Duran (1981) 19–21). 49 See also Gnuse (1993) 349–368. 50 Kim (2003) 440 (425–428). See also Cohen (1982–1983) 52–55. 51 For Delphi, see Plutarch, Alexander 14, 6–8; Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 17, 93, 4. 132 chapter five

Daniel is perhaps not as innocent as it seems since the striking similarities between the Jaddua narrative and Daniel may actually be the result of Daniel’s influence upon the formation of the Jaddua narrative. Tae Hun Kim has recently surveyed parallel elements between the Jaddua narrative and Daniel 4. In both cases, she argues, a pagan king sees a human-like figure in his dream and eventually honors the Jews when his dream is fulfilled.52 Some scholars have noted the role of the Jew as the revealer of mysteries in both Daniel and the Jaddua narrative and others have commented on the shared prostration theme: Alexander prostrates before Jaddua in Jewish Antiquities and Nebuchadnezzar prostrates before Daniel in Daniel 2, 46.53 So far as I know, however, no one has called attention to the extent of the similarities between the chronological flow of events in the Jaddua narrative and in Daniel 2.54 In both Daniel 2 and Josephus’s Jaddua narrative, the earliest event in the story is the vision received by a gentile king in a dream. The visions of both kings are concerned with the future and focus on a human figure: Alexander sees Jaddua and Nebuchanezzar a statue. The dreams produce a measure of puzzlement in the dreamers and while Nebuchadnezzar’s dream utterly confounds him, Alexander does not recognize the impressive figure in his dream. Sometime after the dream, Jews are threatened by the gentile king. Nebuchadnezzar’s frustration with his wise men and magicians who are unable to interpret his dream prompts him to decide to execute all his wise men, including Daniel and his Jewish companions, while Jaddua and the Jews of Jerusalem are in danger because Alexander is furious with Jaddua’s refusal to assist him. Both Daniel and Jaddua therefore implore God for assistance and both are awarded a vision. Daniel’s dream teaches him the meaning of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream just as Jaddua’s directs him

For the temple of Ammon, see Curtius, History 4, 7, 25–28; Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 17, 51, 1–4; Justin, Epitome 11, 11, 7–13. See also Cohen (1982–1983) 63–64; Gruen (1998) 197. 52 See Kim (2003) 429–431. Kim also points out differences between the stories and concludes that the Jaddua narrative and the dream narrative in Daniel 4 “are so divergent in other aspects that there seems little evidence for a direct correlation between the two” (p. 431). 53 On a Jewish figure as a revealer of mysteries and wisdom, see Mastin (1973) 87–89; Hartman and Di Lella (1978) 150–151. For the shared prostration theme, see Cohen (1982–1982) 56–57; Fletcher-Louis (2004) 79. On Josephus and Daniel see Mason (1994) 161–191; and on typology in Josephus more generally, see Daube (1980), 18–36. For an early example of typology wherein Josephus modeled the Tobiad story on the biblical account of Joseph, see Willrich (1895) 94–95; Gera (1998) 49–52; for later examples, see Schwartz (1990a) 34–35; Ilan (1998) 195–240. 54 See also Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 10, 195–215. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 133 how to dress so as to reveal to Alexander the identity of the figure in his dream. In both stories, once the full meaning of the king’s dream is made known to him by a Jew, he prostrates himself before the Jew, recognizes the power of the God of the Jews and rewards the Jews with gifts. Many details in the two stories of course differ, but the parallel roles of the double dreams, the saving force of the second dream, the prostration of the gentile king and the rewards he subsequently showers upon the Jews strongly suggest that the Jaddua narrative adheres to the chronological outline of Daniel 2. Indeed, though double dreams themselves are not unusual and thus, for example, Joseph and Pharoah are both attributed double dreams (Genesis 37, 5–10; 41, 1–7), a double dream in which one person’s dream holds the key to another’s is very rare and therefore it is likely that the parallel double dream structure of Daniel 2 inspired the similar double dream structure of the Jaddua narrative.55 In sum, the basic skeletal structure of Josephus’s Jaddua narrative apparently stems from Daniel though it was developed and elaborated with the aid of popular Graeco-Roman literary motifs, such as the adventus; topoi associated with Alexander the Great, such as the celebrations in Dium and Parmenion’s criticism; and Jewish conventions, such as the high priest and his beautiful vestments. In addition, the structural parallels between Jose- phus’s Jaddua narrative and Daniel seem to reflect a typological view of Jaddua wherein he was envisioned as a sort of Daniel redivivus, a Daniel for the early Hellenistic period. The second focus of the literary approach involves reading Josephus’s entire Alexander narrative as a coherent literary unit. Jonathan Goldstein has argued persuasively that the Sanballat and Jaddua narratives coalesce in a unified story and he has also maintained that this literary coherence undermines the arguments of the source critics.56 I agree with Goldstein that the Alexander narrative as a whole forms a coherent unit, but this coherence, in my opinion, does not conflict with the claim that the text is comprised of various sources. Instead, the literary coherence of the narrative demonstrates that discrete sources were not thrown together haphazardly but rather were juxtaposed, interwoven and edited so as to create contrasts and counterpoints which clarify and spotlight the divergent qualities and fate of the Jews and Samaritans.

55 Cf. Hanson (1980) 1415–1419 who includes the Jaddua narrative in a list of double-dream visions found in Greek and Latin literature but does not note the relevance of Daniel 2. 56 See Goldstein (1993) 80–90. 134 chapter five

The Sanballat narrative opens with Sanballat’s ploy to secure the good- will of the rebellious Jews57 by marrying his daughter to Jaddua’s brother, Manasseh. Intermarriage of the sort arranged by Sanballat was loathsome to the Jewish establishment58 so the Jewish elders along with Jaddua issue Manasseh an ultimatum to divorce his wife or desist from temple worship. To counteract the ultimatum, Sanballat entices Manasseh with promises of constructing a temple for him on Mt. Gerizim, a temple that violates the demand for a single temple spelled out in Deuteronomy 12, 2–14.59 Thus, in the first segment of the Alexander narrative, Sanballat is portrayed as an unscrupulous and impious Samaritan leader in contrast to Jaddua and the upright and responsible Jewish elders. Hearing of the upcoming battle between Darius and Alexander, Sanballat is confident that Darius will grant his request after Darius’s victory, but in contrast to the expectations of all Asia, Darius loses to Alexander. This is the first reversal of fortune in Josephus’s Alexander narrative and it foreshadows reversals yet to come. Sanballat swiftly adapts to the new situation and switches his allegiance to Alexander in order to advance his own interests. In contrast, Jaddua refuses to violate his oath of allegiance to Darius and his faithfulness earns him Alexander’s wrath. Thus, the fate of the Jews and Samaritans at the end of the first half of the narrative is in direct contrast to their moral qualities: the intermarrying and traitorous Samaritans are granted their wish to build a temple while the steadfast and righteous Jews of Jerusalem are threatened with annihilation.60 The fate of both Jews and Samaritans, however, undergoes a significant reversal in the second half of the narrative. After conquering Tyre and Gaza and instilling a terrible fear in the hearts of the Jews, Alexander launches his army against Jerusalem. At the critical moment when the Macedonian army confronts Jaddua, the priests and the Jews of Jerusalem, Alexander recognizes Jaddua, and this “eureka” moment leads to the second reversal in the narrative. Realizing that Jaddua was the figure in his dream back in Dium, Alexander understands that the Jewish God supports his imperial ambi- tions. Consequently he honors the Jewish temple with sacrifices, rewards the Jewish people with tribute exemptions in the seventh year and grants them the freedom to follow their own laws in Judaea and abroad.

57 The rebellious Jews topos was well known from Ezra 4, 12–16. See Goldstein (1993) p. 81. 58 See, for example, Ezra 9–10; Nehemiah 13. See also, Goldstein (1993) p. 81. 59 See Goldstein (1993) 82. 60 See Goldstein (1993) 84–85. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 135

Seeing the honors the Jews received, the Samaritans approach Alexander and request that he visit their temple as well but Alexander has no time to honor the self-interested Samaritans. When they ask for a tribute exemption like the Jews, he turns them down once again. He then takes Samaritan soldiers with him to Egypt and settles them there, far away from Samaria. Thus, the Alexander narrative traces the history of two significant reversals of fortune. The Jews who were terrified and endangered at the start of the story emerge honored and protected at its close while the Samaritans who started off with great success fail in all their endeavors at the end of the story.61 Though the story’s ending is somewhat anticlimactic as noted above, it enables the narrative to describe the depth of the transformation by recounting not only the unprecedented success of the righteous Jews, but also the pathetic failures of the unprincipled Samaritans. The framework of the Alexander narrative as a whole is not only coherent, but also aligns with central characteristics of the complex plot as set forth by Aristotle in his analysis of tragedy. According to Aristotle, complex plots are those “whose transformation contains recognition or reversal or both.”62 In our case, there are three entwined reversals of fortune: Alexan- der’s unexpected victory over the Persian, the Jewish transition from adversity to prosperity and the Samaritan transition from prosperity to moderate adversity. Moreover, the reversal of Jewish fortunes is prompted by a “recognition” scene since Alexander’s change of heart is the result of his recognizing Jaddua. Thus, we are a long way from the disjointed reading of the early source critics, finding here instead a unified reading which highlights the interconnected reversals of the narrative.63 Though Josephus (or perhaps his immediate source) combined various independent sources, he integrated them into a flowing narrative with a “complex” plotline. Let us conclude our discussion of the literary approach to Josephus’s Alexander narrative with some comments on the messages of the narrative and its roles in Jewish Antiquities. One crucial message of the Alexander narrative in toto, brought into sharp relief by the literary analysis offered above, is that God in the long run rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked or, in political terms, God sides with the Jews and not the Samaritans. The Jaddua narrative, however, seems to convey another political message all its own, a message that reflects a specific Jewish attitude towards gentile

61 See Goldstein (1993) 87. 62 Aristotle, Poetics, 10 (see also 11, 16). 63 See Mason (2003). 136 chapter five authorities. By appearing as a divine-like figure in Alexander’s dream, Jad- dua’s presence teaches Alexander that the Jewish God authorized his conquests and guaranteed their success and when Alexander prostrated before Jaddua, the leader of the Jews, and granted the Jews their requests, he honored the Jewish people and respected their tradition. If we interpret these features of the story on an ideological level, the legend seems to be stating that gentile rule over the Jews is just and divinely sanctioned, but the gentiles in turn must respect the Jews and their way of life.64 By legitimating gentile rule while defending Jewish honor and tradition, the Jaddua legend embodies the ideology of Jews who valued their Jewish identity but also strove to accommodate themselves to life under a Hellenistic king or imperial Rome. In the context of Jewish Antiquities, the Alexander narrative is apparently situated to help fill in a rather large gap in Josephus’s running history. Once the biblical material ran out, Josephus only had minimal source material for the centuries until the Hasmonean revolt and so the Alexander legends helped him fill in this gap65 just like the Great Assembly helped the rabbis close a similar gap in their chain of transmission.66 In addition to the historical use Josephus made of the Alexander narrative, it bears noting the narrative’s self-serving function as well. The hero of Josephus’s Alexander narrative is a Jewish leader who, like Josephus himself, surrendered to a foreign leader whose future success he had predicted (albeit in a dream). In short, the Alexander narrative accomplished a number of goals. It polemicized against the Samaritans and temples outside Jerusalem; it encouraged Jews living under a Hellenistic king or Roman emperor to accept the sovereignty of the gentiles with honor and pride; it supplied subject matter for a period with sparse historical sources; and it prefigured the actions of another priest who also surrendered to gentile invaders and legitimated their rule.

*** Having concluded our overview of Josephus’s Alexander narrative, the earliest extant stage in the history of the Jewish Alexander romance, we may now return to rabbinic literature. The best known rabbinic version of the story of Alexander and the Jewish high priest is probably the one found in

64 See, for example, Momigliano (1984) 324–325; Cohen, (1989) 16–17; Peek (1997) 106–108; Gruen (1998) 198. 65 See, for example, Momigliano (1984) 320; Grabbe (1987) 232. 66 See Chapter 2 above. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 137

Babylonian Talmud Yoma.67 A very similar rendition, as Vered Noam has shown,68 is found in the scholion to Megillat Taʿanit represented by MS Parma, De Rossi 117, and despite differences in formulation and a few unparalleled phrases, these two texts are sufficiently similar for our purposes to be considered a single version. Noam has also demonstrated that a slightly different version of the rabbinic legend appears in the scholion to Megillat Taʿanit represented by MS Oxford, Michael 388.69 Indeed, the MS Oxford and the BabylonianTalmud/MS Parma versions are quite similar structurally and even share many linguistic formulations. In addition, some of their differences may simply be the result of the poor state of the MS Oxford tradition which has suffered many omissions and errors. Hence, it appears that the MS Oxford and the Babylonian Talmud/MS Parma traditions originated from the same literary kernel and comprise variations on a single theme. Due to the poor state of the MS Oxford tradition, however, our discussion focuses primarily on the better preserved Babylonian Talmud/MS Parma story although substantive divergences in the MS Oxford tradition are noted when deemed significant.70 דפסמלאלדםיזירגרהםויהיבדחוםירשעבאינתהו ; וניהלאתיבתאםיתוכושקבשםוי םהלונתנוןודקומסורדנסכאלאמ . קידצהןועמשתאועידוהוואב . השעהמ ? ידגבשבל ןהידיברואלשתוקובאוומעםלשורייריקיוהנוהכידגבבףטעתנוהנוהכ ; ולוכהלילהלכ רחשהדומעהלעשדעהזדצמןיכלהמוללהוהזדצמןיכלהמוללה . ןהלרמא : וללהימ ? ורמא ול : ךבודרמשםיידוהיוללה . הזבהזועגפוהמחהחרזסרטפיטנאלועיגהשןויכ . הארשןויכ וינפלהוחתשהוותבכרממדריקידצהןועמשתא ; ולורמא : הוחתשתךתומכשלודגךלמ הזידוהיל ? ןהלרמא : יתמחלמתיבבינפלתחצנמהזלשונקוידתומד . םהלרמא : םתאבהמל ? ונתתווללהםיוגךועתיברחיתאלשךיתוכלמלעוךילעובןיללפתמונאשםוקמולורמא םהל ? םהלרמא : וללהימ ? ולורמא : ךינפלןידמועשםייתוכ . םהלרמא : םכדיבןירוסמןהירה .

67 bYoma 69a. See also bTamid 27b. 68 See Noam in Megillat Taʿanit (2003), p. 265. 69 See Noam in Megillat Taʿanit (2003), p. 264. In addition, Noam has revealed that the two early scholia, represented by MS Parma and MS Oxford, were combined during the Middle Ages. See Noam in Megillat Taʿanit, pp. 323–328. 70 Note that an abridged account of the legend is preserved elsewhere in rabbinic literature. (See Leviticus Rabbah 13, 5 (pp. 293–294); Pesikta de-Rav Kahana 9 (p. 75); Pesikta Rabbati 14 (pp. 65a–b); Midrash Tanhuma Huqat 27 (p. 119); Genizah Studies in Memory of Doctor Solomon Schechter, pp. 92–93; Midrash Tehilim 18, 11 (p. 141). Cf. yBerakhot 5, 1 9a (Gutman (1940) 285)). The Samaritans who play a central role in both Josephus’s Alexander narrative and in the full blown rabbinic legend were omitted from the abridged account, perhaps because they are irrelevant and even distracting in a text designed to highlight the respect Alexander showed Simeon the Righteous. In addition, the abridged account transformed Alexander’s prostration into his rising to his feet probably because the story was brought to illustrate how Alexander honored Simeon and respect for the righteous is expressed by standing in their presence, not by prostrating before them. 138 chapter five

ועיגהשדעםינקרבהלעוםיצוקהלעןתואוררגוםהיסוסיבנזבםואלתוםהיבקעבםובקנדימ םיזירגרהל , והואשעםויהותואווניהלאתיבבתושעלושקיבשךרדכןינשרכוהוערזווהושרח בוטםוי .71 Surely it was taught (in a baraita): The twenty first day in it (the month of Kislev) is the day of Mt. Gerizim, on which it is prohibited to eulogize. It is the day the Cutheans (Samaritans) requested the House of our God from Alexander the Macedonian, and he gave it to them. People72came and informed Simeon the Righteous. What did he do? He put on priestly garments, robed himself in priestly garments, and the nobles of Jerusalem were with him with fiery torches in their hands, and all night long, these (the Jews) walked from this side and those (Alexander and the Samaritans) walked from the other side until the dawn rose. He (Alexander) said to them (the Samaritans): Who are these? They said to him: These are the Jews who rebelled against you. When they reached Antipatris, the sun came forth and they met one another. When he (Alexander) saw Simeon the Righteous, he descended from his chariot and bowed down before him. They said to him: A great king like yourself should bow down before this Jew? He said to them: The image of his likeness vanquishes before me in battle.73 He said to them (the Jews): Why have you come? They said to him: (is it possible that) the place where we pray in it for you and that your kingdom not be destroyed, the gentiles will mislead you and have you give it to them? He said: Who are these (misleading me)? They said: The Cutheans who are standing before you. He said to them: Behold they are delivered into your hands. Immediately they perforated their heels and tied them to the tails of their horses and dragged them over thorns and thistles until they arrived at Mt. Gerizim, which they ploughed and planted with vetch, just as they (the Samaritans) had requested to do to the house of our God. And that day they made a festive day. The Babylonian Talmud’s version of the Alexander narrative opens with the introductory formula, “vehatania,” a formula that identifies the narrative as a baraita. The opening formula is followed immediately by a short quotation from Megillat Taʿanit which, in turn, introduces the legend of Simeon and Alexander. The quotation from Megillat Taʿanit which prompts the

71 The text is that of MS. New York—JTS Rab. 218 (EMC 270) with slight corrections on the basis of other manuscripts. baʾu yisraʾel vehodiʿu”), “Israel came and“) ” ועידוהולארשיואב “ :MS Parma reads here 72 informed.” beveit milhamti”) translates as “in the“) ” יתמחלמתיבב “ Literally, the difficult phrase 73 house of my battle.” Perhaps this phrase echoes Josephus’s description of Alexander’s vision תומדב “ :back in Dium. Variant readings are easier and thus, for example, MS Parma reads bedmut shel zeh ʾani roʾeh kesheʾeireid lamilhamah”), “I see“) ” המחלמלדראשכהאורינאהזלש his image when I descend (set forth) to war.” (See also Noam in Megillat Taʿanit, p. 265 n. 24.) simeon the righteous and alexander the great 139

Alexander narrative relates to a festival from Second Temple times entitled the Day of Mt. Gerizim. The Day of Mt. Gerizim, as its title indicates, celebrates the destruction of the Samaritan temple on Mt. Gerizim and thus, whereas Josephus linked Alexander to the building of the temple on Mt. Gerizim, the rabbis linked him to the destruction of the very same temple. Moreover, just as Josephus erred in attributing the building of the Mt. Ger- izim temple to the time of Alexander, so the rabbis erred in assigning its destruction to Alexander’s time for both modern archaeologists and Jose- phus date the destruction of Mt. Gerizim to the late second century bce, roughly two centuries after Alexander’s conquest.74 The destruction of the Samaritan temple is not the only anachronistic detail in the rabbinic narrative and we shall note other anachronisms below. These anachronisms further weaken the historicity of the rabbinic narrative which does not enjoy much historical credibility to begin with since the central factors that undermine the historical credibility of Josephus’s Alexander narrative, such as the silence of gentile authors and the widespread custom of inventing Alexan- der legends, apply just the same to the rabbinic narrative. In short, the rabbinic Alexander narrative, just like Josephus’s version, should be viewed as a legend and not as an historical account. The Alexander narrative proper commences with the day the Samaritans requested the holy temple of the Jews from Alexander and he ceded it to them. The narrative, at this early stage, does not divulge why the Samaritans desired the Jewish temple and various possibilities spring to mind. Perhaps the Samaritans merely wanted to run the temple instead of the current Jewish administration, perhaps they hoped to expel all Jews from the temple precincts in order to make it an exclusively Samaritan temple or perhaps they intended to raze the temple to the ground. Although the modern reader can conjure up a variety of possibilities, the ancient audience would have understood immediately that the underlying motive for the Samaritan request was the demolition of the Jewish temple. The well-known rivalry between Jews and Samaritans and the fact that the Samaritans already had their own temple on Mt. Gerizim strongly suggest that the Samaritans were not searching for an additional temple but rather intended to destroy the temple of their arch rivals. Indeed, the penultimate line of the text confirms this reading when it states that the Jews demolished the Samaritan

74 See Josephus, Jewish War 1, 63; Jewish Antiquities 13, 255–256. See also Noam in Megillat Taʿanit, p. 263. Scholars disagree as to whether the conquest occurred ca. 129bce or ca. 110bce. See Gera (2009) 146 n. 106 for a concise overview of this disagreement. 140 chapter five temple on Mt. Gerizim “just as the Samaritans had requested to do to our House of God.” Thus, there can be no question as to the Samaritans’ true intentions.75 Just as the opening of the story is sparse with information regarding the motivations underlying the Samaritan request, it is equally parsimonious in respect to Alexander’s consent. What prompted Alexander to transfer a temple from one people to another? The MS Oxford tradition states at this point that the Samaritans bribed Alexander, but there is no hint of bribery here.76 Rather, as the continuation of the story makes clear, the Samaritans incited Alexander against the Jews by informing him that the Jews had rebelled against him. The Samaritans apparently convinced Alexander to transfer the temple to their hands as punishment to the rebellious Jews whom they claimed could not be trusted. After the Samaritans receive Alexander’s consent, Simeon the Righteous, the Jewish high priest, is informed of this dire threat to the Jerusalem temple. The high priest in Josephus’s narrative is identified as Jaddua but, as we saw above, there is no external evidence which verifies that a high priest of that name lived in the time of Alexander the Great. In fact, it seems more likely that Josephus (or his source) borrowed the name of the Jaddua mentioned in Nehemiah 12, 22 whom he mistakenly figured was the last high priest of the Persian period. In a similar vein, though modern scholars debate the identity of Simeon the Righteous in rabbinic literature,77 all recognize that he did not live during the lifetime of Alexander the Great. Why then did the rabbis identify the high priest in our story as Simeon the Righteous? Some have suggested that the rabbis referred specifically to Simeon rather than Jaddua or some other high priest because Simeon had become “a catchall in

-lehahrivo”), “to destroy it,” accurately cap“) ” ובירחהל “ Manuscripts which insert the term 75 ture the Samaritans’ true intention. The explicit description of the Samaritans’ intention in the penultimate line here, however, is not paralleled in the MS Oxford tradition. Nonetheless, even without this line, the insidious intentions of the Samaritans would have been patently clear to the ancient Jewish audience. Cf. Noam in Megillat Taʿanit, p. 265. 76 In point of fact, the bribery line is confused in MS Oxford itself and is better preserved in the hybrid version of the scholion, MS Cambridge Add. 648.9 (see Noam in Megillat Taʿanit, pp. 100, 262). In the MS Oxford tradition, the Samaritans attempt to take over the Jewish temple after bribing Alexander and the Jews expel them from Jerusalem with sticks, but there is also no hint of these matters here. It bears stating that since we are dealing with fictitious legends rather than historical sources, the conflation of distinct versions of a legend risks violating the integrity of each version and creating a new hybrid version. Each version therefore must be interpreted on its own terms and should not be confused with parallel versions. Cf. Golan (1982) 29–55. 77 See Chapter 7 below. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 141

Jewish legends on laudable high priests.”78 This could well be the case but it should be noted that there really are not too many stories about Simeon the Righteous in rabbinic literature. In any event, George Foot Moore offered an additional explanation which is very compelling. Moore suggested that the rabbis thought Simeon lived in Alexander’s time.79 In Chapter 2 we saw that Avot’s chain of transmission locates Simeon on the border between Persian and Hellenistic rule and the legend of Simeon and Alexander situates him at the very same moment since Alexander’s conquests mark the beginning of the Hellenistic period. It is not clear if Avot’s chain antedated the rabbinic Alexander legend or vice versa, but the two texts corroborate one another by dating Simeon the Righteous to the start of the Hellenistic period. Indeed, it is quite likely that the impression given by Ben Sira that Simeon flourished at the very end of a bygone era undergirds both the conception of Simeon as

78 Schwartz (1990b) 188. (See also Derenbourg (1867) 44; Finkelstein (1940) 455 n. 3; Cohen (1986) 11.) Jaddua’s name appears only once in the entire story of Jaddua and Alexander, at the very beginning of the story; in the rest of the story, Jaddua is referred to as “the high priest” or is denoted with a pronoun. Since the solitary appearance of Jaddua’s name in the Jewish Alexander narrative is located “at the seam between the Sanballat material and the Alexander-high priest material” (Schwartz (1990b) 187), Schwartz speculates that Josephus inserted Jaddua’s name into the narrative. In light of Schwartz’s plausible speculation, it seems quite possible that Josephus inserted Jaddua’s name into a legend that did not identify the Jewish high priest by name. However, Schwartz also goes on to speculate that the repeated use of the term “the high priest” throughout the story suggests that “Josephus’s source gave another name for the high priest” (p. 188). According to Schwartz, Josephus’s source, like the rabbinic narrative, identified the high priest as Simeon the Righteous and Josephus altered his source at the beginning of the story, replacing Simeon the Righteous with Jaddua. Later on, according to Schwartz, Josephus replaced Simeon’s name with the neutral title “the high priest” because his editorial approach was simply too conservative to allow him to replace all the references to Simeon the Righteous with Jaddua. In contrast to Schwartz’s first speculation discussed above, I find this speculation difficult. A few possibly awkward formulations, i.e. Josephus’s repeated use of the term “the high priest,” do not seem to justify a reconstruction of Josephus’s source with the degree of specificity that Schwartz introduces (when he identifies the high priest in the source as Simeon the Righteous) and it is difficult to understand why Josephus’s conservative editorial stance would hinder him from continuing to replace Simeon’s name with that of Jaddua (after the initial replacement) but would allow him to replace Simeon’s name with a neutral title. It seems more likely that Josephus’s use of the title “the high priest” reflects the language of his source and it is even quite possible, as suggested above, that his source never identified the high priest by name. (In addition, since the rabbinic Alexander narrative was apparently composed after the time of Josephus and may even have devolved somehow from his Jewish Antiquities, it is unlikely that Simeon’s name appeared in the legend already in Second Temple times.) (Cf. Schwartz (2004) 23 n. 16, 106.) 79 See Moore (1927) 358–359. 142 chapter five the final remnant of the Jewish leadership under Persia and the notion that Simeon met Alexander and welcomed in the Hellenistic age. It therefore appears that the rabbis identified the high priest said to have met Alexander the Great as Simeon the Righteous for the same reason Josephus identified him as Jaddua—they thought he lived in the time of Alexander. Understanding the threat the Samaritans pose to the temple, Simeon prepares himself and the nobles of Jerusalem to intercept Alexander and intercede on behalf of the Jewish temple. Simeon dons his priestly garments and sets out at night alongside the nobles of Jerusalem to greet Alexander. Unlike the Jewish Antiquities account, Simeon is not guided by a dream. On his own initiative, he puts on his priestly vestments and gathers the nobles to accompany him on his mission. Thus, the rabbinic narrative lacks the double dream structure of the Josephan account and the typological portrayal of the high priest as Daniel redivivus. All night long, Simeon and the nobles, with torches in their hands, march towards Alexander and the Samaritans, who are apparently traveling together along the coastal road. From a distance, the illuminated Jewish procession would have probably appeared unthreatening since an army bent on attacking does not announce its presence with numerous fiery torches. Up close, the procession would have impressed Alexander with Simeon in his high priestly garb and the nobles of Jerusalem dressed most probably in their best attire. Presumably Simeon was hoping that a grand and unthreatening procession would make a good impression on Alexander and help convince him that the Jews were faithful subjects and not the revolutionaries the Samaritans had made them out to be. When dawn rises, Alexander asks the Samaritans the identity of the people advancing towards them and the Samaritans reply that they are the Jews who rebelled against him. As noted above, the Samaritan reply presupposes that Alexander already knew about the alleged Jewish revolt, knowledge he presumably acquired from the plotting Samaritans themselves. With this knowledge in hand, Alexander continues traveling towards the approaching Jews and the two opposing processions meet at Antipatris just as the sun begins to rise. Antipatris is the name of a city founded by Herod and thus an anachronistic detail in a story that takes place hundreds of years before the time of Herod.80 Nonetheless, some scholars consider Antipatris to be an authentic historical memory and Jonathan Goldstein has even contended that “once

80 See Tcherikover (1959) 48; Marcus in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (1933–1965), p. 518. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 143 stories circulated about a meeting at or near Jerusalem,” no one would have moved the meeting to Antipatris.81 Other scholars suppose that Alexander was on his way to Jerusalem when the Jews went out to greet him just like in Jewish Antiquities, but whereas Josephus located their meeting at Mt. Scopus the rabbis placed it at Antipatris.82 A close reading of the rabbinic narrative, however, undercuts both the claim that Antipatris is a remnant of an ancient tradition and the notion that the rabbinic Alexander was on his way to Jerusalem. Once Alexander conceded the Jerusalem temple to the Samaritans in the rabbinic narrative, taking possession was their problem alone, not his.83 The rabbinic Alexander consequently was not on his way to Jerusalem and that is precisely why Simeon and the Jerusalem nobles had to travel all the way to Antipatris to meet him. Situated near the shore, Antipatris was a natural location for Jerusalemites to intersect a party traveling through Palestine along the coastal road. Whereas the Alexander of Jewish Antiquities intended to punish the high priest and therefore travelled to Jerusalem, the rabbinic Alexander cedes the temple in Jerusalem to the Samaritans and so he personally has no reason to visit Jerusalem. Antipa- tris’s logical role in the flow of the rabbinic narrative indicates that the city was an integral element in the literary formulation of the story and so there is no reason to posit that it is an authentic historical memory. When the Jews confront Alexander at Antipatris he appears before them in his chariot as the perfect image of the conquering king. To the surprise of the Jews and the consternation of the Samaritans, he descends from his chariot and prostrates before Simeon. The Samaritans therefore ask Alexander why “a great king” like him should bow down to a Jew. Alexander’s title at the beginning of the story (and throughout rabbinic literature) is “the Macedonian” so the phrase “a great king like yourself” perhaps alludes to Alexander’s well known cognomen in antiquity, “the Great,” an allusion which showcases the humbling of “the Great” before “the Righteous.” Alexander responds to the Samaritans that he bowed down before Sim- eon because Simeon’s image vanquishes before him in battle. Alexander then asks the Jews why they have come all this way to greet him and they reply that gentiles deceived him to cede them the temple in which the Jews

81 Goldstein (1993) 73. See also Golan (1982) 50. 82 See, for example, Halevi (1982) 115; Bickerman (1988) 29–30. Cf. Marcus in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (1933–1965), vol. 6, pp. 472–473 n. b, 518. 83 Similarly, once Alexander turns over the Samaritans to the Jews at the end of the story, the punishment of the Samaritans is the sole responsibility of the Jews. 144 chapter five pray for his welfare and the welfare of his kingdom.84 Praying for the welfare of the king and his kingdom is a sure sign of loyalty and the Jews refer to these prayers in the hopes of exposing and incriminating the Samaritans. Not only did the Samaritans invent a Jewish rebellion, they even intended to destroy a temple wherein prayers were said for the benefit of the king. Upon hearing of his unintended role in this vicious plot, Alexander asks his new friends the very same question he posed to the Samaritans just a short time before: “Who are these?” The Jews respond to Alexander that the Samaritans standing before him, the very individuals whom Alexander thought were his allies, are actually the ones behind the plot to destroy the Jewish temple and terminate the prayers said there for the welfare of the king. Alexander is naturally disturbed by this revelation and he tells the Jews: “Behold they are delivered into your hands.” The term used for mesurin,” is derived from the same root as the term“ ”, ןירוסמ “ ,delivered mesorot,”85 and this wordplay suggests that the“ ”, תורוסמ “ ,for informants Samaritan punishment was meted out measure for measure: those who sought to “deliver” the Jews to the authorities, were “delivered” themselves into the hands of the Jews. Having been granted permission by Alexander, the Jews torture the Samaritans in a most unusual manner. “Immediately they perforated their heels and tied them to the tails of their horses and dragged them over thorns and thistles until they arrived at Mt. Gerizim.” This bizarre punishment is reminiscent of the torture that the commander of the Persian garrison at Gaza was said to have suffered at the hands of Alexander. “For while Betis still breathed, thongs were passed round his ankles, he was bound to the king’s chariot, and the horses dragged him around the city, while the king boasted that in taking vengeance on an enemy he had imitated Achilles, from whom he derived his race.”86 The resemblance between these punishments suggests that the rabbis had heard of Betis’s strange punishment at the hands of Alexander and decided to assign the very same punishment to the Samaritans, another enemy of Alexander. Jonathan Goldstein has pointed out that the “thorns and thistles” of the punishment were drawn from Gideon’s punishment of the elders of Succoth,87 and thus the rabbinic

84 Cf. Ezra 6, 9–10. mesorot,” in MS Parma and“ ”, תורוסמ “ ,The Samaritans are explicitly called informants 85 other scholion witnesses. 86 Curtius, History 4, 6, 29. See Spak (1911) 42 n. 1; Gutman (1940) 282; Amitay (2007) 238; cf. Tcherikover (1959) 421 n. 20. See also a later use of this punishment in bSanhedrin 26b (noted by Gutman (1940) 281). 87 Goldstein (1993) 97. See also Judges 8, 16. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 145 narrative combined a biblical and a Greek punishment in the description of the Samaritans’ fate. It is not immediately clear, however, why the rabbis chose to echo here the torture Gideon inflicted upon the elders of Succoth since Succoth, after all, is not even in Samaritan country. Perhaps the asso- ciative link to Gideon was formed in the wake of the continuation of the biblical narrative when Gideon’s son, Abimelech, destroyed Shechem, the future Samaritan capital. Just as Abimelech razed Shechem “and sowed it with salt”88 after the Shechemites broke faith with him, the Jews, after tortur- ing the treacherous Samaritians, plough Mt. Gerizim and sow it with vetch. In plowing and sowing Mt. Gerizim with vetch, the Jews utterly annihilate the Samaritan temple on the top of the mountain.89 As the narrative explains, the devastation of Mt. Gerizim was only fitting since the Samaritans had intended to do the very same to the Jerusalem temple on Mt. Moriah. God, however, orchestrated the reversal of fortune by having Alexander recognize Simeon as the image from his visions and in gratitude, the Jews consecrated the day of their redemption as a festival, known thereafter as the day of Mt. Gerizim.90

*** From start to finish, the rabbinic Alexander narrative adheres to a running linear chronology. Save of course for the introductory line from Megillat Taʿanit which presupposes the final outcome, the narrative is chronological without flashbacks or digressions as we find in Josephus’s account. If the chronological flow is also viewed as the key structural element in the narrative, then one would naturally expect to find the narrative’s climax towards the end of the narrative, perhaps in the penultimate scene. Unsurprisingly, the penultimate scene portrays the physical torture of the Samaritans and the razing of Mt. Gerizim and, in light of the introductory line from Megillat Taʿanit, there seems to be some justification for viewing the Samaritan suffering and the destruction of Mt. Gerizim as the narrative’s climax.91 How- ever, I would like to offer another way to read the narrative which acknowl- edges its linear chronology but does not view chronology as the key or only structuring principle. A close reading of the rabbinic Alexander narrative

88 Judges 9, 45. shehayah beit tefilatam”), “which“) ” םתליפתתיבהיהש “ ,See the insertion in MS Oxford 89 was their house of prayer,” which leaves no room for doubt that the Jews destroyed a Samar- itan temple and not merely a sacred mount. 90 On reversals in the Babylonian Talmud, see Rubenstein (1999) 248. 91 See Amitay (2007) 239. 146 chapter five uncovers its chiastic structure92 and this literary structure seems to situate the story’s climax in the very center of the narrative. A1: Surely it was taught (in a baraita): The twenty first day in it (the month of Kislev) is the day of Mt. Gerizim, on which it is prohibited to eulogize. B1: It is the day the Cutheans (Samaritans) requested the house of our God from Alexander the Macedonian, and he gave it to them. C1: People came and informed Simeon the Righteous. What did he do? He put on priestly garments, robed himself in priestly garments, and the nobles of Jerusalem were with him with fiery torches in their hands, and all night long, these (the Jews) walked from this side and those (Alexander and the Samaritans) walked from the other side until the dawn rose. D1: He (Alexander) said to them (the Samaritans): Who are these? They said to him: These are the Jews who rebelled against you. E1: When they reached Antipatris, the sun came forth and they met one another. F: When he (Alexander) saw Simeon the Righteous, he descended from his chariot and bowed down before him. They said to him: A great king like yourself should bow down before this Jew? He said to them: The image of his likeness vanquishes before me in battle. E2: He said to them (the Jews): Why have you come? They said to him: (is it possible that) the place where we pray in it for you and that your kingdom not be destroyed, the gentiles will mislead you and have you give it to them? D2: He said: Who are these (misleading me)? They said: The Cuthe- ans who are standing before you. He said to them: Behold they are delivered into your hands. C2: Immediately they perforated their heels and tied them to the tails of their horses and dragged them over thorns and thistles until they arrived at Mt. Gerizim, B2: which they ploughed and planted with vetch, just as they (the Samari- tans) had requested to do to the house of our God. A2: And that day they made a festive day. Our story opens and closes with A, the preface and epilogue. The preface introduces the Day of Mt. Gerizim as a traditional festival and the epilogue concludes with the establishment of the festival in memory of the total destruction of the Samaritan temple related in the intervening narrative. The epilogue returns us to our point of departure and explains that the story has unveiled the origins of the day of Mt. Gerizim. On a linguistic level, the epilogue’s “festive day” echoes the preface’s “the day of Mt. Gerizim.”

92 See Chapter 3 n. 53. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 147

The Alexander narrative proper begins with B1, the Samaritan request to demolish the temple in Jerusalem. The parallel terminology in B1 and B2 creates a powerful contrast between the opening and closing of the story.B1’s “requested the house of our God” is carefully repeated in B2’s “as they had requested … to the house of our God.” The repetition of this particular phrase is of great significance because the story is ultimately generated by the Samaritan “request” to destroy “the house of our God.” In B1, the Samaritan request is granted and we may imagine that the Samaritans anticipated the upcoming destruction of the Jewish temple. In B2, however, the Samaritan request is flipped on its head and the Jews utterly decimate the Samaritan temple. The reversal of fortune arrives at a measure for measure extreme in B2 and the mirror image structure of the narrative brings home that order and balance have been providentially restored by the story’s end. C relates the journey of the Jews to and from their encounter with Alexan- der. C1 describes with uncharacteristic detail the Jewish procession that departs from the Jerusalem temple and the gradual closing of the distance between the Jews and Samaritans “until the dawn rose.” C1’s vivid description is mirrored in the equally vivid description of C2, the journey away from Alexander “until they arrived” at the Samaritan temple. In C2, however, the Samaritans no longer march proudly alongside Alexander the Great but are dragged by their heels with their faces along the ground in a painful and humiliating fashion. D highlights Alexander the Great’s question, “who are these?” which he poses to the Samaritans in D1 and to the Jews in D2. The Samaritans respond to Alexander with a vicious lie, misleadingly informing him that the approaching procession is comprised of “the Jews who rebelled against you.” The parallel Jewish response “the Cutheans who are standing before you” compensates the Samaritans for their lie. Alexander’s parallel questions with their corresponding answers create two opposing scenes in which the lie of the first is brought to light in the second. E1 covers the final stages in the journey of the Jewish leaders culminating in their arrival at their final destination, Antipatris. The Jews traveled a long way at night to greet Alexander and Alexander probably sensed that such a journey and impressive procession only could have been triggered by a matter of utmost importance. Therefore he asks in E2 why the Jews have come this long way and the Jews explain that a gentile plot against their temple lies behind their early morning appearance in Antipatris described in E1. At the heart of the Alexander narrative stands F, the climactic scene which serves as the turning point in the story. Alexander unexpectedly prostrates before Simeon, giving homage to the Jews and their God while 148 chapter five confounding and terrifying the Samaritans. His explanation to the Samari- tans only worsens matters for them because rather than excusing his bizarre behavior as a momentary weakness or passing madness, he divulges his miraculous relationship with the Jewish high priest. From this point on, the threat of Samaritan treachery has lost its force and all the suffering the Samaritans hoped to inflict upon the Jews in the first half of the narrative, is visited upon the Samaritans instead. The journey from the Jewish temple to Antipatris in the first half of the narrative finds its reflection in the journey from Antipatris to the Samaritan temple in the second half, and betwixt the two journeys stands center stage the unimagined upheaval, the climax which signals that divine providence will be served.

*** Having investigated Josephus’s Alexander narrative and the rabbinic legend independently, the time has come to make good on the promise made at the beginning of the chapter and compare the two narratives. The shared elements in the rabbinic tale and Josephus’s parallel legend demonstrate unequivocally that the two stories are not entirely independent creations. Simeon the Righteous’s high priestly garb, the Jewish procession, the encounter with Alexander, Alexander’s prostration, the Samaritan query and Alexander’s response form such a striking parallel to the core of Josephus’s Jaddua narrative that it is simply not feasible that the two tales emerged independently. It seems rather that the Jaddua narrative and the rabbinic legend stem from the same literary tradition. In addition, Jewish Antiquities links a Samaritan narrative to the Jaddua narrative and the rabbis develop the Samaritan connection further, but source criticism suggests that the Samaritans had nothing to do with the Jaddua narrative before Josephus’s editorial work (or perhaps that of his immediate source). Consequently it seems quite plausible that the rabbinic tale devolved somehow from Jew- ish Antiquities itself. This is not to say that the rabbis necessarily read Jewish Antiquities but rather that Jewish Antiquities, or Jewish Antiquities-like traditions,93 contributed to the corpus of literary traditions which informed them. When reviewing the rabbinic tale, we noted in passing a few points on which it differs from Jewish Antiquities. The identity of the high priest, for

93 The phrase “Jewish Antiquities-like” traditions is modeled on Richard Kalmin’s phrase “Josephus-like traditions” and is meant to make room for the possibility that the same or a similar tradition devolved to Josephus and the rabbis. (See Kalmin (2005) 218 n. 41, 235–236.) The rabbis and Josephus could have used the same or a similar source or, alternatively, Josephus’s writings themselves could have engendered traditions which were eventually integrated into rabbinic discourse. See also Schwartz (2008b) 69–84. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 149 example, varies between the two versions and the rabbinic tale lacks the double dream structure of the Jaddua narrative. The two parallels, of course, differ on many other points as well but these numerous differences, like the two examples noted here, are not necessarily related to one another. I sub- mit, however, that there are at least seven differences between the narratives which are all interrelated and when viewed together they elicit an insight that sheds new light on the rabbinic tale as a whole. These differences span the parallels from beginning to end and relate to central features of their plotlines, to their historical and literary contexts and to some seemingly minor details as well. Though these contrasts range from essential narrative elements to ostensible decorative embellishments, I suggest that they are all products of a single literary maneuver made by the rabbinic author who recasted the Alexander legend. The interrelated differences, as noted, are seven in number and before demonstrating how they coalesce in a single overarching theme, let us consider them one at a time. For the sake of clarity, I pose seven questions and present two answers to each question, one on the basis of Jewish Antiquities and the other on the basis of the rabbinic parallel. First, why does Alexander oppose the Jews? What leads him to mount an offensive against Jerusalem in Jewish Antiquities and cede the Jerusalem temple to the Samaritans in the rabbinic narrative? Alexander mounts an assault on the Jews in Jewish Antiquities because Jaddua blatantly refused his request for assistance, while in the rabbinic narrative, long-term rivals and enemies of the Jews, the Samaritans, provoke Alexander’s animosity towards the Jews with treacherous lies. Second, what is the object of the Samaritans’ desire? In Josephus’s Samar- itan narrative, the Samaritans seek a temple of their own on Mt. Gerizim and though they advise Alexander that it is in his best interests to weaken the power of the rebellious Jews, they never consider damaging the Jewish temple. In contrast, the Samaritans of the rabbinic narrative fully intend to raze the Jewish temple to the ground. Third, at what stage in the story is the dramatic tension resolved? Until what point is the reader kept in suspense? In the Jaddua narrative, the suspense abates early on, since once divine assurance is granted in Jaddua’s dream, salvation is a given. In the rabbinic narrative, however, Simeon does not experience an epiphany so the reader is held in suspense all the way until the miraculous upheaval takes place in the heat of the encounter with Alexander the Great. Fourth, who accompanies Alexander during his encounter with the Jews? In Jewish Antiquities, the king is accompanied by Phoenicians, Chaldeans 150 chapter five and Macedonians such as Parmenion, and all perform a role in the story: the Phoenicians and Chaldeans anticipate plundering Jerusalem and Par- menion questions Alexander regarding his unusual behavior. In the rabbinic tale, however, the Phoenicians and Chaldeans are replaced by the Samari- tans and other than the Jews, the Samaritans are Alexander’s only interlocutors: they incite Alexander against the Jews, identify the Jewish procession for him and pose Parmenion’s question. Fifth, what happens immediately after Alexander bows down before the high priest? In Jewish Antiquities, as Shaye Cohen has noted, the events which follow the prostration episode are standard fare in the adventus ceremony.94 Just as in other accounts of the reception of an honored dignitary in a city, the dignitary offers sacrifices, grants requests and awards special favors. In the rabbinic narrative, by contrast, the adventus ceremony is replaced with an entirely unexpected dialogue. Alexander asks the Jews why they came to greet him and they reply that their temple is in danger because Alexander was tricked into transferring it to deceitful gentiles. Alexander then asks the Jews to identify those who treacherously misled him and they inform him that the Samaritans standing by his side, the very people whom he took for faithful companions and advisers, are the guilty party. Learning of the Samaritan treachery, Alexander allows the Jews to inflict upon the Samaritans all that the Samaritans had intended for them. Sixth, when was the temple of Mt. Gerizim destroyed? For Josephus, the destruction of Mt. Gerizim is entirely unrelated to the Alexander narrative and takes place roughly two hundred years after Alexander’s conquest in the time of Yohanan Hyrcanus.95 In the rabbinic narrative, as soon as Alexander grants permission the Jews immediately take their revenge on the Samari- tans and destroy the Samaritan temple on Mt. Gerizim. Seventh, is the story linked to the establishment of a festival? Josephus’s Alexander narrative has absolutely nothing to do with any Jewish festival while the rabbinic parallel is explicitly designed to explain the origins of the Day of Mt. Gerizim. According to the rabbinic narrative, the day on which the Jews were saved from the Samaritan plot was established for posterity as a festive day on which eulogies and fasting were prohibited. The key to perceiving the close relationship between all these seven differences lies hidden in the literary matrix which stands behind the rabbinic

94 See Cohen (1982–1983) 45–49. 95 See Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 13, 254–256, 281. simeon the righteous and alexander the great 151

Alexander narrative. When the rabbinic author recasted the Alexander legend he was naturally influenced by traditions already linked to Alexan- der and thus, as we saw above, the bizarre torture of the Samaritans was apparently inspired by reports of Alexander’s torture of Betis, the commander of the Persian garrison at Gaza. Alexander traditions, however, were not the only relevant sources of inspiration and the source which I believe explains and unites all seven differences is the biblical book of Esther. First, unlike Josephus who blames Alexander’s animosity towards the Jews on the Jewish high priest, the rabbinic tale claims that gentile enemies of the Jews deceived Alexander—just as Esther portrays Haman as the enemy who orchestrated the persecution of the Jews under Ahasuerus.96 Second, whereas Josephus’s Samaritans merely seek to construct their own temple, the Samaritans of the rabbinic narrative intend to destroy the Jew- ish temple—just as Haman hoped to annihilate the Jewish people.97 Third, whereas the tension dissipates early on in Josephus’s account, the tension in the rabbinic account only dissipates at a relatively late stage in the story when Simeon meets Alexander—just as the tension dissipates late in Esther, during the queen’s second feast. Fourth, the rabbinic narrative replaces Jose- phus’s Phoenicians and Chaldeans with Samaritans, the central culprits of its story, just as Esther focuses on Haman, the arch-villain of its story. Like the Samaritans who accompany Alexander, Haman accompanies Ahasuerus throughout Esther all the way to the final denouement. Fifth, the unexpected dialogue which takes place after Alexander bows down before Simeon and replaces Josephus’s adventus ceremony, is no longer surprising in light of Esther 7, 2–6: On the second day, the king again asked Esther at the wine feast, “What is your wish, Queen Esther? It shall be granted you. And what is your request? Even to half the kingdom, it shall be fulfilled.” Queen Esther replied: “If Your Majesty will do me the favor, and if it pleases Your Majesty, let my life be granted me as my wish, and my people as my request. For we have been sold, my people and I, to be destroyed, massacred and exterminated. Had we only been sold as bondmen and bondwomen, I would have kept silent; for the adversary is not worthy of the king’s trouble.” Thereupon King Ahasuerus demanded of Queen Esther, “Who is he and where is he who dared to do this?” “The adversary and enemy,” replied Esther, “is this evil Haman!”

96 Esther 3, 8–11. 97 Esther 3, 9. (The “bribery” in this passage is similar to the bribery which appears in the MS Oxford tradition.) 152 chapter five

Alexander’s question “who are these,” which seeks to identify the evil culprits who led him astray, is highly reminiscent of Ahasuerus’s parallel query. Similarly, the Jewish response which fingers the Samaritans standing before Alexander is very similar to Esther’s fingering “this evil Haman” who, like the Samaritans, was witness to his own downfall. Sixth, just as the retribution against the enemies of the Jewish people is not delayed in Esther, the destruction of the temple on Mt. Gerizim according to the rabbinic narrative takes place forthwith and not two centuries later as in Jewish Antiquities. In addition, it bears noting that just as the Jews punished the Samaritans “as they (the Samaritans) had requested to do to our house of God,” so too “the very day on which the enemies of the Jews had expected to get them in their power, the opposite happened, and the Jews got their enemies in their power.”98 The rabbinic Alexander narrative, like Esther, presents not only a reversal of fortune in the Aristotelian sense, but a measure for measure punishment designed to reflect divine justice. Seventh, just as the rabbinic tale, but not Jewish Antiquities, employs the Alexander narrative to explain the origins of a festival, Esther does the same for the festival of Purim: “Morde- cai recorded these events. And he sent dispatches to all the Jews throughout the provinces of King Ahasuerus, near and far, charging them to observe the fourteenth and fifteenth days of Adar, ever year—the same days on which the Jews enjoyed relief from their foes and the same month which had been transformed for them from one of grief and mourning to one of festive joy. They were to observe them as days of feasting and merrymaking, and as an occasion for sending gifts to one another and presents to the poor. The Jews accordingly assumed as an obligation that which they had begun to practice and which Mordecai prescribed for them.”99 Of course there are many differences between Esther and the rabbinic Alexander narrative and despite the lines of similarity outlined here, the stories are by no means identical. Nonetheless, there are good grounds for the moderate claim that Esther influenced the formation of the rabbinic Alexan- der narrative. The extensive and uncanny similarities between the two stories are best explained as the products of Esther’s formative impact on the rabbinic narrative. When the rabbis sought to transform the pre-existing Alexander legend into an aetiological account of the Day of Mt. Gerizim,

98 Esther 9, 1. 99 Esther 9, 20–23. (It is worth noting that like the rabbinic Alexander narrative, Esther also spotlights prostration before a human (3, 1–6) and describes the glorious clothes of a Jewish hero (9, 15).) simeon the righteous and alexander the great 153 they were influenced by Esther, a tale which underlies another Second Tem- ple festival, the festival of Purim. Just as Josephus seems to have structured his account of a prostrating king on Daniel, the rabbis apparently employed the plotline of Esther as a major structural paradigm in their fictional portrayal of the origins of the Day of Mt. Gerizim. In the rabbinic Alexander narrative, Simeon the Righteous is Esther rediviva or perhaps Mordecai redivivus. The notion that the book of Esther and not Daniel served as a formative influence on the rabbinic Alexander narrative is understandable in light of the narrative’s explicit goal. The narrative’s editor wished to explain the origins of a Second Temple festival and it stands to reason that he would have modeled his explanation on the foundation story of a different Second Temple festival. While Esther established the festival of Purim, Daniel was not linked to any festival whatsoever so it seems logical that the major structural role Daniel played in Josephus was replaced by Esther in the rabbinic narrative. One may wonder, however, why the author chose to model the foundation of the Day of Mt. Gerizim on Purim and not on Hannukah. Hannukah is also a major Second Temple festival and it could have served as an excellent source for our story. The author could have portrayed Simeon the Righteous’s role as the leader of the Jewish forces who utterly destroyed those threatening to destroy the temple in Jerusalem and the Jewish way of life. The fact that the author chose not to do so calls for an explanation. I believe that the author’s preference for Purim over Hannukah may be explained by two factors. First, Purim resonated far more strongly amongst the rabbis than Hannukah probably because Esther was included in the Hebrew Bible while 1Maccabees and 2Maccabees were not. Indeed, the fact that the Mishnah, Tosefta and Talmuds all have a tractate for Purim but not for Hannukah is testimony to Purim’s greater popularity. Hence when our author sought a paradigm for a foundation story for a Second Temple festival, he naturally turned to the popular biblical book of Esther. Second, the choice of Purim over Hannukah is in keeping with the accommodating stance vis a vis gentile rule typical of rabbinic literature. If we envision a spectrum of potential Jewish attitudes to an overarching (or neighbor- ing) gentile polity spanning from violent confrontation at one polar extreme to peaceful accommodation at the other, the rabbis, for the most part, were closer to the accommodating pole.100 Daniel R. Schwartz has pointed out that

100 See Boyarin (2002) 37–102. (See also Yerushalmi (2002/3) 19–52; Weitzman (2005).) 154 chapter five in various ancient Jewish compositions of an accommodating spirit, gentile kings are generally considered benevolent and fair towards the Jews and violent conflicts are perceived as the results of misunderstandings or of the evil plots of unscrupulous advisers.101 Esther is a classic expression of this accommodating stance with its portrayal of a Jewish community fearful of violent confrontation, a benevolent king who honors the Jews, a conniving adviser and a resolution achieved through the careful manipulation of the gentile monarch. Hannukah, in contrast, celebrates the Hasmonean victory over the gentiles in a violent confrontation and therefore is at odds with the rabbinic inclination for appeasement. Indeed, the Babylonian Talmud downplays the confrontational dimension of Hannukah and underscores instead the miraculous jug of oil which burned on the candelabra for eight days.102 From a political point of view, the accommodating stance of Esther was apparently congenial to the editor of the rabbinic Alexander narrative and so he used Esther as a literary paradigm, adopting accommodating features of the biblical work such as the roles of the king and his evil underling.

*** In addition to Simeon’s portrayal in tannaitic literature as a holy high priest and member of the Great Assembly, the rabbinic Alexander narrative adds a new dimension to Simeon’s persona: savior of the Jewish people. The Alexander narrative enriches Simeon the Righteous’s image by transforming Simeon into the high priest honored by Alexander the Great and by project- ing Simeon onto the global stage. On a local level, the animosity between the Jews and Samaritans in the rabbinic narrative is far more intense than the rivalry portrayed by Josephus and Simeon the Righteous emerges as the leader who protected the Jews from the Samaritans’ wily machina- tions. It bears noting as an aside that just as the rabbinic author of the Alexan- der legend transformed the high priest who saved the sanctuary into Simeon the Righteous, a similar process explains Simeon’s role as guardian of the Jerusalem temple in the following baraita as cited in the Palestinian Talmud:

Presumably, the willingness to resort to outright rebellion is dependent, amongst other things, on a good measure of military force and political self confidence but in the wake of the failed Jewish revolts of the first two centuries ce, these necessary prerequisites for rebellion would have been absent from most Jewish communities of late antiquity. On the other hand, non-violent, non-threatening and covert forms of cultural resistance pervade rabbinic literature. 101 See Schwartz (1999) 29–40; id. (2008a) 45–51. 102 See bShabbat 21a; cf. Megillat Taʿanit, 25 Kislev (pp. 103–107). simeon the righteous and alexander the great 155

וירחאסנכיהלורמגוךיראהשדחאבהשעמ . היהקידצהןועמשורמא . ולורמא : המל התכראה ? ןהלרמא : ברחייאלשםכיהלאשדקמלעיתייהללפתמ . ולורמא : יפלעףא ךיראהלךירצתייהאלןכ . A story of one (high priest) who prolonged (his prayer in the sanctuary when he exited the Holy of Holies on the Day of Atonement) and they decided to enter after him—they said it was Simeon the Righteous. They said to him: why did you prolong (your prayer)? He said to them: I was praying for the sanctuary of your God that it not be destroyed. They said to him: even so you should not have prolonged (your prayer).103 This baraita is introduced to illustrate the final line in Mishnah Yoma 5, 1 which states that the high priest did not prolong his prayer in the sanctuary upon exiting the Holy of Holies on the Day of Atonement “lest he terrify Israel” by his delay to exit the sanctuary. The Jews believed that the high priest risked his life in entering the Holy of Holies and every year they waited with bated breath to see whether he would emerge alive and well. In the baraita’s story, Simeon the Righteous prolongs his prayer one Day of Atonement and this delay causes the worried priests to enter the sanctuary in order to find out what is keeping him. When they realize that he is well but has prolonged his prayer they ask him why he has done so and he informs them that he was praying for the welfare of the temple. Like in the Alexander legend, Simeon is portrayed here as the guardian of the sanctuary and just like the Alexander legend, this story too was not about Simeon the Righteous originally. The sentence “they said it was Simeon the Righteous” does not appear in the baraita’s parallels104 and appears to have been interpolated by the editor of the sugya in the Palestinian Talmud. Perhaps in the wake of Simeon’s role in the legendary tale of his confrontation with Alexander the Great, the Palestinian Talmud decided to transform the anonymous high priest who prayed for the welfare of the temple into Simeon the Righteous. In respect to details, genre, structure and ideology, the literary matrix behind our carefully constructed rabbinic narrative has proven especially illuminating. Details and topoi culled from the Bible and histories of Alexan- der were synthesized in this novel literary creation. Thus, for example, the “thorns and thistles” from Gideon’s punishment of the elders of Succoth and Betis’s punishment at the hands of Alexander were merged in the description of the Samaritan’s dismal fate. The Alexander narrative, in both Jew- ish Antiquities and rabbinic literature, belongs to the Alexander romance

103 yYoma 5, 1 42c. 104 See tKippurim 2,13; bYoma 53b. 156 chapter five literary genre and like the rabbinic version of the Hellenistic successions genre discussed in chapter two, we find here another instance wherein Simeon appears in a Jewish adaptation of a widespread non-Jewish literary genre. Josephus structured his Jaddua narrative in no small part on Daniel and probably saw more than a bit of himself in these two Jewish heroes who advised powerful gentile kings. The rabbinic author, in turn, found inspiration for the structure of his Alexander narrative in the book of Esther and his portrayal of Simeon reflects the accommodating stance many rabbis shared with Esther, a stance which preferred appeasement and the gentle manipulation of the authorities to violent confrontation. It really comes as no surprise that in amoraic legend, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai also exited a threatened Jerusalem to welcome a gentile conqueror and predict his future success. Just like Simeon the Righteous who risked his life to save the temple, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai risked his life to save Yavneh and its rabbinic sages.105 Both legends apparently reflect the political mentality of a community, who like many other colonized groups in late antiquity, suppressed its nationalistic aspirations for independence and cultivated instead its spiritual and cultural heritage.

105 See Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A 4 (pp. 22–24); Avot de Rabbi Nathan B 6 (p. 19); Lamentations Rabbah 1, 5 (pp. 65–69); bGittin 56a–b; Midrash Mishle 15 (pp. 125–126). (The earliest extant version of the legend of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s escape from Jerusalem and removal to Yavneh, the version found in Avot de Rabbi Nathan B 6 (p. 19), is comprised of five central elements: (1) Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s peaceful stance and opposition to the revolt; (2) spy reports on Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s opposition to the revolt that were sent to the Roman camp attached to arrows; (3) Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s escape from Jerusalem in a coffin; (4) the prophetic revelation to Vespasian and (5) Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s removal to Yavneh. All five of these elements were apparently inspired by earlier sources: (1) Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s peaceful stance as recorded in tannaitic literature (see Mekhilta Bahodesh 11 (p. 244); (yYoma 6, 3 43c; bYoma 39b)); (2) spy reports sent by arrow from Jerusalem to Sanherib’s camp describing the peaceful intentions of Hezekiah and Isaiah (see Leviticus Rabbah 5, 5 (pp. 118–119); see also Kaminka, (1944) 73 n. 9; Zfatman (2010) 117–120); (3) Alexandra’s attempt to exit Jerusalem with her son in coffins (see Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 15, 42–49 (see also Zfatman (2010) 114 n. 19; cf. Zeitlin (1978) 78); (4) Josephus’s famous prophecy to Vespasian (see The Jewish War 3, 399–408); (5) tannaitic sources which locate Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai in Jerusalem during temple times and in Yavneh after the destruction (see, for example, tParah 3, 8 and mRosh Hashanah 4, 1). When constructing a story that explains how Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai left Jerusalem and relocated to Yavneh, a story that also functions as a foundation story for the rabbinic movement, our rabbinic author was apparently influenced by these earlier sources, all of which were naturally linked to his topic in one way or another. (See also Tropper (2005) 1–17.)) chapter six

SIMEON THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE TEMPLE OF ONIAS

In previous chapters, we explored various features of Simeon the Righteous’s literary persona and certain events in his career as imagined by the rabbis. More specifically, we examined the formation and significance of Simeon’s roles as faithful transmitter of Torah, historical link to the biblical past, holy high priest, sympathetic cleric, notable savior, ghostly apparition and Jewish representative to the gentiles. In contrast, the current chapter focuses on events surrounding Simeon’s death. Both Talmuds state that shortly before dying Simeon designated his successor to the high priesthood, undoubtedly in the hopes of ensuring a smooth transition in national leadership upon his demise. Despite his plans, the transition was anything but smooth and the rift it created between his heirs led to the construction of a Jewish temple in Egypt, the temple of Onias. The story of the hapless succession and subsequent erection of a Jewish temple in Egypt appears in two distinct versions within the Palestinian Talmud and, with variations, in two parallel versions within the Babylonian Talmud. My goal in this chapter is to compare the various rabbinic versions of the botched succession with one another and to explore the literary backdrop which, in my opinion, helped produce their shared literary kernel. Furthermore, I shall suggest that the rabbinic accounts of the Oniad schism share salient features with other rabbinic narratives that depict the origins of heresies or divisive rifts, features which reveal much about the nature of legitimate authority in rabbinic eyes.

*** Before relating to the rabbinic accounts of the priestly infighting which followed Simeon’s death and led to the erection of a schismatic temple in Egypt, let us review what non-rabbinic sources have to say about Onias’s temple. Apart from rabbinic literature, the only extant ancient texts that explicitly mention the temple of Onias are Josephus’s writings.1 Josephus

1 Theodore of Mopsuestia of the fifth century also reports the founding of Onias’s temple (Commentary on Psalms, 54 (pp. 351–353)), but Theodore apparently derived this information from Josephus’s writings (see Parente (1994) 95; Gruen (1997) 49–50). Various scholars have 158 chapter six unequivocally reports that a high priest named Onias (Ὀνίας) founded a Jewish temple in the city of Leontopolis in the nome of Heliopolis in Egypt. Unfortunately the details surrounding the erection of this temple are very unclear since Josephus’s account in The Jewish War contradicts his account in Jewish Antiquities in various ways. The Jewish War claims that Onias III, son of Simeon II, founded the temple of Onias while Jewish Antiquities asserts that the founder was Onias IV, son of Onias III and grandson of Simeon II. The Jewish War states that Onias (III) fled to Egypt around the time the Jerusalem temple was plundered during the persecution of the Jews by Antiochus Epiphanes (ca. 168–167bce) but, according to Jewish Antiquities, Onias (IV) fled some years after Antiochus Epiphanes’s death in 164bce, when Alcimus, a scion of a competing priestly family, was appointed high priest. The Jewish War reports that Onias (III) fled to Egypt in order to escape Antiochus Epiphanes and his Jewish supporters, that he told Ptolemy Philometor the construction of a Jewish temple in Egypt would solidify Jewish support for Ptolemy against Antiochus and that Onias hoped to avenge his exile by seducing Jews to switch their allegiance from the Jerusalem temple to his new temple in Leontopolis. In contrast, Jewish Antiquities states that in pursuit of personal glory, Onias (IV) sought to build a temple in Egypt only once Alcimus was appointed high priest and Onias realized that he would never serve as high priest in Jerusalem. In addition, Jewish Antiquities purports to quote a letter of Onias which states that in building a temple in Heliopolis, Onias hoped both to rectify the improper forms of worship Jews practiced in Egypt and to unify the Egyptian Jews so they might better serve Ptolemy. In short, The Jewish War and Jewish Antiquities differ on the identity of the founder of the temple of Onias, the date of his exile to Egypt and his motives for building a temple in Egypt.2 Both accounts are also riddled with internal contradictions and historical inaccuracies. For example, on five occasions Josephus notes that Onias’s found allusions to Onias’s temple in other Second Temple writings. See Robert Hayward’s overview of these supposed allusions in Hayward (1982) 430 and see also Bohak (1994a) 163–170; id. (1994b). It also bears mentioning that some scholars maintain that archaeological finds from Tell el-Yehoudieh, a site some two miles south of Shibin al-Kantir, include the remains of Onias’s temple though this identification is hotly contested. See Kasher (1985) 119–132; cf. De Vaux (1968) 204–205; Taylor (1998) 316–320. 2 See Josephus, The Jewish War, 1, 31–33; 7, 420–432; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, 12, 237–241; 12, 387–388; 13, 62–73; 13, 285–287; 20, 235–237. I have selected some of the more pronounced and obvious inconsistencies between Josephus’s accounts of the founding of Onias’s temple. For overviews of the numerous inconsistencies and difficulties in these accounts, see Tcherikover (1959) 275–281; Delcor (1968) 188–203; Kasher (1985) 132–135; Grabbe (1992) 266–267; Gruen (1997) 47–70. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 159 temple was similar to the Jerusalem temple3 but he writes in The Jewish War 7, 426 that it “was not like that in Jerusalem, but resembled a tower.”4 Onias III founded the temple in Egypt during the persecutions of Antiochus Epi- phanes according to The Jewish War (ca. 168–167bce), but 2Maccabees 4, 30–38 reports that Onias III was actually murdered in Daphne, a city near Antioch, around the year 170bce. Thus, according to 2Maccabees, Onias III died prior to The Jewish War’s date for the establishment of the Leontopo- lis temple and he never relocated to Egypt.5 Jewish Antiquities contends that Onias IV fled to Egypt when Alcimus breached the Oniad monopoly on the high-priesthood (ca. 162bce) and it can maintain this position because it also contends that Menelaus, who served as high priest some years before Alcimus (ca. 171bce), was Onias III’s brother and thus did not break the Onias family monopoly.However, 2Maccabees maintains that Menelaus was a brother of a certain Simeon of the tribe of Benjamin (or Bilgah) and hence not Onias III’s brother.6 In addition, Jewish Antiquities states that Menelaus was also called Onias and it is rather unlikely that two sons of Simeon would have both been named Onias. According to our earliest source, 2Maccabees, the high priesthood was removed from the Oniads some ten years before Alcimus was appointed high priest (when the high priesthood was conferred upon Menelaus), and so Onias’s flight to Egypt could not have been triggered by Alcimus’s (supposed) violation of a monopoly that had already been disrupted a decade earlier.7 In sum, each of Josephus’s accounts not only contradicts the other but also is inconsistent with our earliest source, 2Maccabees. Despite these numerous difficulties, most historians have tried to uphold one of Josephus’s two accounts. The majority of scholars endorse the Jewish Antiquities account arguing that since it is later, it discloses a corrected and improved version of Josephus’s earlier account presented in The Jewish War.8 Others argue that Josephus in Jewish Antiquities altered his earlier

3 Josephus, The Jewish War 1, 31; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 12, 388; 13, 72; 13, 285; 20, 236. 4 Cf. Hayward (1982) 429–443. 5 See Schürer, Vermes, Millar, Black and Goodman (1979–1987) vol. 3, pp. 149–150; Stern (5720) 1–16; Frey (1999) 188; cf. Taylor (1998) 302. 6 2Maccabees 4, 23–24. 7 See Schürer, Vermes, Millar, Black and Goodman (1979–1987) vol. 3, pp. 139 n. 30, 168–169. Josephus also reports that the temple stood for 343 years, a duration which locates the founding of the temple one hundred years prior to its earliest possible founding by Onias III. Scholars therefore usually assume that “two hundred and forty three” was mistakenly changed to “three hundred and forty three.” Cf. Hayward (1982) 436–437. 8 See, for example, Tcherikover (1959) 276–277; Schürer, Vermes, Millar, Black and Good- man (1979–1987) vol. 3, pp. 145–146. (Cf. the rather farfetched conclusions of Rainbow (1997) 160 chapter six account on the basis of erroneous information or faulty reasoning9 and therefore the earlier account in The Jewish War is superior.10 However, the number and severity of inconsistencies and errors in both accounts suggest that perhaps we are dealing with a Gordian knot that cannot be undone; and therefore we should seriously consider the conclusion of one historian who recently explored this topic in great depth: “The inconsistencies, inaccuracies, and wild improbabilities in Josephus’ two versions shake faith in any reconstruction. It does not help to adopt the tale in Antiquities as against that in Bellum Judaicum, or vice versa, since each is independently con- founded and muddled.”11 Insofar as the bare facts are concerned, it seems that the most we can say with a fair measure of certainty is that sometime in the mid-second century bce, a high priest named Onias founded a Jewish temple in Leontopolis. Josephus also reports that Onias’s temple was shut down during the first century Jewish revolt against Rome when Jewish revolutionaries who had fled Judaea tried to incite their brethren in Egypt against Rome.12 Since the temple stood and operated for over two hundred years, it is truly striking that the only ancient references to it appear in Josephus’s writings and rabbinic literature. No other sources from Palestine or the diaspora explicitly relate to the temple of Onias and this silence is often interpreted, correctly in my opinion, as a product of the temple’s relative insignificance. The temple was not erected in a central location like Alexandria or Memphis but in a backwater town and its geographical location in the periphery apparently matched its marginal role in the lives of Egyptian Jews.13 In light of its location in the periphery, Victor Tcherikover even imagined that the temple was established merely as a local shrine designed to serve the surrounding military colony of Leontopolis only.14 Daniel R. Schwartz has challenged this approach, however, arguing that Leontopolis was not nearly as remote as scholars have thought15 and if so, one might conclude that Onias’s

30–52.) On the possibility that the discussion of the Oniad temple was interpolated into the seventh book of TheJewishWar, see Cohen (1979) 87–90; Schwartz (1986) 382 (n. 34); Schwartz (1999) 39–40. 9 See Hirsch (1906) 47. See also Moore (1927) 364. 10 See, for example, Taylor (1998); Parente (1994) 69–98. 11 Gruen (1997) 57. See also Schürer, Vermes, Millar, Black and Goodman (1979–1987) vol. 3, p. 145 n. 33. 12 See Josephus, The Jewish War 7, 433–436. 13 See Tcherikover (1959) 277–278; Delcor (1968) 203; Yankelevitch (1993) 109–110; Wasser- stein (1993) 122–123; Gruen (1997) 70. 14 See Tcherikover (1959) 279–280. 15 See Schwartz (1997a) 7–11. Schwartz also argues that if Egyptian Jews had disapproved of simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 161 temple was more significant than previously imagined. Furthermore, the fact that the Romans shut down the temple might imply that they viewed the temple as a potential flashpoint for revolutionary activity and this Roman fear would reinforce the notion that the temple was not merely a local affair.16 Schwartz’s evidence for the importance of Leontopolis, however, is modest and Josephus never links the Leontopolis temple to revolutionary activity. Indeed, closing down the temple may have been prompted more by Flavian propaganda and hostility to the Jews and less by any actual threat posed by the Onias temple.17 Moreover, there are other reasons which make it very difficult to imagine that Onias’s temple could have ever gar- nered widespread support. The biblical call to limit the sacrificial cult to a single location, i.e. Jerusalem, undermined the legitimacy of all other sites.18 The admiration of the Jerusalem temple in Judaeo-Alexandrian literature and the importance of pilgrimages to the Jerusalem temple for the Jews of Egypt make it even more unlikely that great numbers of Egyptian Jews would have supported and patronized the temple in Leontopolis.19 Even if Onias’s temple was not terribly popular, Jews and gentiles alike viewed it as a Jewish place of worship. Most scholars accept Josephus’s interpretation and imagine that Onias intended to create a breakaway alternative to the Jerusalem temple20 while others argue that he sought to reinforce and abet the Jerusalem temple rather than supersede it with a schismatic competitor.21 Whatever the substance of Onias’s original intentions, Jose- phus states that Onias justified the erection of his temple with a prophecy of Isaiah,22 presumably referring to Isaiah 19, 18–19: “In that day, there shall be

Onias’s temple, we should find a critique of the temple in their literature (p. 22) but, as noted above, there is no explicit mention of the temple whatsoever in Jewish literature from Egypt. Schwartz’s argument from silence fails to persuade, in my opinion, because the absence of a critique can be easily explained by the fact that Onias’s temple was so insignificant that it did not even merit comment or, alternatively, the silence itself may be a sign of disapproval. As Martin Goodman has argued in another context, “the best way to deal with a potential problem is often simply to ignore it” (Goodman (1996) 509). 16 See Luria (5727) 80; Schwartz (1997a) 7. 17 See Goodman (1987) 237–238; Rives (2005) 153–154. 18 See Deuteronomy 12, 1–18; Joshua 22, 10–34; Philo, The Special Laws 1, 67; Josephus, Against Apion 2, 193; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 4, 200–201. See also Wasserstein (1993) 120. 19 See Hirsch (1906) 56–57; Tcherikover (1959) 277; Schürer, Vermes, Millar, Black and Goodman (1979–1987) vol. 3, pp. 146–147. 20 See, for example, Steckoll (1967) 55–69; Schwartz (1997a) 18 (n. 24); Schäfer (1998) 138, 140. 21 See Hirsch (1906) 40, 60, 77–78; Gruen (1997) 60–70. 22 See Josephus, The Jewish War 7, 432; id., Jewish Antiquities 13, 68. 162 chapter six several cities in the land of Egypt speaking the language of Canaan and swearing loyalty to the Lord of Hosts; one shall be called the city of the sun.23 In that day, there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt and a pillar to the Lord at its border.” The “altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt” would have been interpreted by Oniads as a prophetic reference to the Onias temple and “the city of the sun” (according to the reading in 1QIsa) to Heliopolis, i.e. “sun city.” Perhaps this justification won over some Jews who otherwise would have hesitated to patronize a temple outside Jerusalem but not the rabbis: they were not swayed by the Oniad interpretation of Isaiah and at the very least they viewed the Onias temple as an outlawed “bamah,” i.e. as a “high place” where offerings were illegally sacrificed to the Jewish God.24 אציאלןוינוחנתיבבהבירקהםאושדקמבהנבירקיהלועילעירה ; תיבבהבירקאש ןוינוחנ 25 אציןוינוחנתיבבהבירקהםאושדקמבהניבירקי ; רמואןועמש׳ר : הלועהזןיא . ריזנינירה — שדקמבחלגי , אציאלןוינוחנתיבבחליגםא ; תיבבחלגיןוינוחנתיבבחלגאש אציןוינוחנתיבבחליגםאושדקמה . רמואןועמש׳ר : ריזנהזןיא . תיבבושמיששםינהכה ינהכולעיאלךא׳רמאנשרחארבדלרמולךרוצןיאוםלשוריבשדקמבושמשיאלןוינוחנ ׳םהיחאךותבתוצמולכאםאיכםלשוריבי׳יחבזמלאתומב ( גכ׳בםיכלמ , ט —) םהירה םיבירקמאללבאםילכואוםיקלוחםימומילעבכ . (If he said,) “I pledge to offer a whole offering,” he must offer it in the temple; and if he offered it in the Temple of Onias he has not fulfilled his obligation. (If he said,) “I will offer it in the Temple of Onias,” he should offer it in the Temple, but if he offered it in the Temple of Onias he has fulfilled his obligation. R. Simeon says: Such is not accounted a whole offering. (If a man said,) “I will be a nazirite,” he must offer the Hair-offering in the temple; and if he offered it in the Temple of Onias he has not fulfilled his obligation. (If he said,) “I will offer the Hair-offering in the Temple of Onias,” he should offer it in the temple; but if he offered in the Temple of Onias he has fulfilled his obligation. R. Simeon says: Such a one is not accounted a nazirite. If priests have ministered in the Temple of Onias they may not minister in the temple in Jerusalem; needless to say (this of priests who ministered to) another matter (i.e. idolatry); for it is written: “The priests of the high places, however, did not ascend the altar of the Lord in Jerusalem, but they ate unleavened bread along with their kinsmen” (2Kings 23, 9); thus they were like them that have a

23 See 1QIsa ad loc. in favor of reading “city of the sun” in lieu of “city of destruction.” See also Gruen (1997) 68–69 and his references in nn. 100–101. 24 See mZevahim 14, 8–9. 25 “Nehonion” and “Honio” are Hebrew versions of Onias. As Tal Ilan notes, neither Honi “nor any of its variants are mentioned in the Hebrew bible, but they clearly belong to the This is particularly obvious with relation to . היננח and ןנחוי family of biblical names such as who is designated Ὀνίας by Josephus ( קידצהןועמש ) Honi no. 1, son of Simon (no. 4) the Just in PT (yYoma 6:3, 43d” (Ilan ןוינוחנ in Sirach and ןנחוי in BT (bMen 109b), but וינוח AJ 12:44) and) (2002) 378)). simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 163

blemish: they may share and they may eat (of the Holy Things), but they may not offer sacrifice.26 R. Simeon declares here that the bringing of offerings in the temple of Onias can never fulfill an oath obligation but his underlying rationale is not given. Had R. Simeon considered the temple idolatrous we would have expected to hear something along those lines, but his relatively mild tone belies the possibility that he views the Onias temple as idolatrous. Presumably, R. Simeon views it as an outlawed high place devoid of the requisite legal status for sacrificial worship of any kind. The tanna qamma (i.e. the anonymous sage whose position opens the mishnah) also views it as a high place but maintains that in certain circumstances offerings brought in the temple of Onias are valid fulfillments of oaths. Similarly, the concluding portion of the mishnah which relates to the status of priests who ministered in the temple of Onias also recognizes that the sacrificial service in the temple of Onias was not idolatrous. Thus, the mishnah distinguishes the temple of Onias from idolatry and views it as a high place, dedicated to God but illegal. While the worshippers in the temple of Onias presumably viewed their temple as a rival to Jerusalem, or at least as a worthy substitute for those who could not make the long trip to Jerusalem, the Mishnah viewed it as an outlawed high place albeit one in which vows could be fulfilled according to the tanna qamma.27

*** Although Josephus supplies multiple historical settings for Onias’s flight to Egypt and the erection of his temple there, he never directly links these activities to the death of Onias’s father. The rabbis in contrast have no doubts that Onias broke away from the Jerusalem temple when the succession to his father, whom they identify as Simeon the Righteous, drastically went awry and the rabbis explicitly underscore the significance of Simeon’s death as the backdrop for Onias’s secession. Like Josephus however, the rabbis do not present a single version of the splinter sanctuary’s origins. Instead the rabbis debate precisely how the transition of power in Jerusalem was disturbed and how this disturbance triggered Onias to found an alternative sanctuary in Egypt. This rabbinic debate appears with variations in both Talmuds but I shall argue that the Palestinian Talmud preserves the earlier and more original version of the debate. Shortly after citing a slew of traditions about

26 mMenahot 13, 10 (Danby’s translation slightly altered). 27 See Schwartz (1997a) 18 n. 24. 164 chapter six

Simeon the Righteous, Palestinian Talmud Yoma relates the following, purportedly tannaitic, story: ארבעים שנה שימש שמעון הצדיק את ישראל בכהונה גדולה ובשנה האחרונה אמר להן: בשנה זו אני מת. אמרו לו: למי נמנה אחריך? אמר להן: הרי נחוניון בני לפניכם. הלכו ומינו את נחוניון, וקינא בו שמעון אחיו והלך והלבישו אונקלה וחגרו צולצל. אמר להן: ראו מה נדר לאהובתו—אמר לה לכשאשמש בכהונה גדולה אלבש נקלה שליך ואחגור בצולצל שליך. בדקו את הדברים ולא מצאו אותו. אמרו: משם ברח להר המלך משם ברח לאכלסנדריאה ועמד ובנה שם מזבח וקרא עליו את הפסוק הזה ״ביום ההוא יהיה מזבח לי׳י בתוך ארץ מצרים״ (ישעיה יט, יט). והרי הדברים קל וחומר: ומה אם זה שברח מן השררה ראו היאך נחזר עליה בסוף, מי שהוא נכנס ויוצא על אחת כמה וכמה! תני זו דברי ר׳ מאיר. ר׳ יהודה אומר: לא כי אלא מינו את שמעון וקינא בו נחונייון אחיו והלך והלבישו נקלה וחגרו צולצל. אמר להן: ראו מה נדר לאהובתו כול׳ היך קדמייא. והרי הדברים קל וחומר: ומה אם מי שלא נכנס לשררה ראו היאך העשיא את ישראל לעבודה זרה, מי שהוא נכנס ויוצא על אחת כמה וכמה! Forty years Simeon the Righteous served Israel in the high priesthood and in the final year he said to them: During this year I shall die. They said to him: Whom shall we appoint after you? He said to them: Behold Onias my son is before you. They went and appointed Onias, and Simeon his brother was jealous of him. He (Simeon) went and put a gown on him (Onias) and girded him with a girdle. He said to them: See what he promised his beloved. He said to her when I serve in the high priesthood I’ll put on your gown and gird your girdle. They looked into the matter and did not find him. They said from there he fled to the Mountain of the King and from there he fled to Alexandria, and he stood and built there an altar, and regarding it read the passage “In that day there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt” (Isaiah 19, 19). Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one who fled power see how he coveted it in the end, one who is empowered and then removed from power all the more so (will covet power in the end)! It was learned (in a baraita): these are the words of R. Meir. R. Judah says: No, rather they appointed Simeon and Onias his brother was jealous of him. He (Onias) went and put a gown on him (Simeon) and girded him with a girdle. He said to them: See what he promised his beloved, and the rest (of the story unfolded) as (presented) previously. Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one who was not (even) empowered see how he incited Israel to idolatry, one who was empowered and then removed from power all the more so (will incite Israel to idolatry)!28 R. Meir’s rendition of the Oniad schism opens with the political backdrop for the founding of the temple of Onias. Simeon the Righteous served Israel for forty years, a typological number for a long and successful career that is employed elsewhere in reference to other esteemed figures in rabbinic culture such as Moses, Hillel, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and Rabbi

28 yYoma 6, 3 43c–d. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 165

Akiva.29 The grandeur associated with a forty year career implies that Sim- eon’s tenure is imagined here as a glorious and idyllic period, and his celebrated career offers a sharp contrast to the shameful events which followed his death.30 In his fortieth year as high priest, Simeon foresaw that he would not live out the year and so he informed his fellow priests, or perhaps the people of Israel more generally, of his suspicions. Planning for the future, the Jewish leadership asked Simeon whom they should appoint in his place upon his demise and he recommended to them his son Onias. At this stage in the story all is still well. An illustrious period is coming to a close and the requisite steps are being taken to ensure that when Simeon passes away, the high priesthood will be transferred to a designated and undisputed successor. Politely omitting an explicit reference to Simeon’s actual passing, the narrative indicates that Simeon’s wish was carried out after his death when Onias was appointed as his successor. At this point, however, Simeon the Righteous’s plan for a smooth leadership transition encounters an intractable obstacle in the form of overpowering envy. Onias’s brother Simeon is jealous of his brother’s new position presumably because he dreamed of becoming their father’s successor. Indeed, his jealousy is so overwhelming that he goes to great lengths to replace Onias as high priest. Pretending to assist his brother by playing the part of the temple official in charge of the priestly vestments,31 Simeon actually tricks Onias by dressing him in a gown and girdle instead of the priestly tunic and sash. Simeon thus frames his brother with a severe violation of temple protocol and makes matters even worse by incriminating Onias with a slanderous lie. Simeon incites his fellow priests against his brother by telling them that Onias chose to dress in women’s clothes rather than the proper priestly attire because he had promised his wife to wear her clothing the day he worshipped as high priest. Simeon’s conniving plan is successful and his fellow priests, who were probably irate over Onias’s behavior and alleged motive, set off to verify Simeon’s account. In order to appreciate why Simeon’s plot met was with such resounding success it is worth considering how Onias’s inappropriate attire would have

29 See Sifre Deuteronomy 357 (p. 429); Genesis Rabbah 100, 10 (p. 1295). See also Tamari (1972) 10. 30 Our story seems to echo the sense conveyed in the tannaitic traditions cited prior to our story that many things changed for the worse when Simeon the Righteous passed on. See tSotah 13, 7–8; bYoma 39a; and see also the remarks at the conclusion of this chapter. 31 Interestingly, the very mishnah which reveals that a specific priest was charged with preparing the priestly vestments also employs the word “zilzal,” “cymbal,” which is phoneti- cally very similar to “zilzul,” “girdle.” See mSheqalim 5, 1. 166 chapter six struck ancient priests and rabbis. From a biblical and halakhic perspective, all officiating priests had to be properly attired in priestly vestments when officiating in the sanctuary as Exodus 28, 43 explicitly legislates: “They shall be worn by Aaron and his sons when they enter the Tent of Meeting or when they approach the altar to officiate in the sanctuary, so that they do not incur punishment and die. It shall be a law for all time for him and for his offspring to come.”32 In a similar vein, the Bible calls upon officiating priests to cover their naked bodies33 and the short gown, the “ʾunqelah,” was apparently a rather revealing undergarment “in which it was unbecoming to appear in public.”34 Moreover, the girdle was not only an immodest garment, it was also a woman’s garment. Deuteronomy 22, 5 explicitly forbids cross-dressing and beyond this legal ramification of Onias’s feminine dress, the irreverence and immodesty it displayed would have exacerbated the affront in the eyes of the traditional religious leadership. Esther Rabbah goes so far as to refer to the girdle as a harlot’s attire, “She (Vashti) asked permission to wear at least as much as a girdle, like a harlot, but they would not allow her,”35 and an officiating high priest dressed up as a prostitute would have obviously infuriated the priestly establishment. In addition, hearing that the high priest intentionally donned his illegal, irreverent and insulting attire because of an impious promise to his wife, Onias’s fellow priests would have been livid with anger and gravely insulted by this apparent attempt to ridicule and disparage the temple service they so revered. In short, the legal violations Onias incurred with his feminine attire and the irreverence and impiety that would have been ascribed to him by his compatriots go a long way towards explaining why Simeon’s plot was so successful.36

32 See also mZevahim 2, 1; tMenahot 1, 7; tKeritot 1, 5. 33 See Exodus 20, 22. 34 See Jastrow (1903), s.v. ʾunqelah (p. 30). See also bMoʿed Qatan 24a. 35 Esther Rabbah 3, 13 (p. 14). Translation of Maurice Simon (1939) ad loc. (p. 54), slightly modified. 36 Luria originally pointed out the numerous problems with Onias’s feminine attire. See Luria (5727) 69–73. In light of the legal violations and religious offenses incurred by Onias’s feminine attire, it is rather shocking that Onias was so easily duped by his brother. How could it be that Onias could not recognize a woman’s gown and girdle for what they were, and how could he possibly not distinguish them from the proper high priestly vestments? (For a similar question, see Tosefot on bMenahot 109b, s.v. honio.) Regardless of this apparent difficulty with the story, our narrative simply takes it for granted that Onias was ignorant and gullible, and no explanation is offered for his startling inexperience and naivete. As readers, we are expected to suspend our disbelief and simply accept that Onias was duped by his conniving brother. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 167

Although the priests tried to investigate the matter, they could not locate Onias. Once he came to understand the gravity of his unintended irreverent behavior, Onias was apparently terribly embarrassed and probably fearful of the consequences. So Onias fled Jerusalem and made his way to the Mountain of the King. Presumably, the Mountain of the King was not far enough from Jerusalem for comfort, so Onias continued fleeing southward to Alexandria in Egypt. In Alexandria, Onias was not only beyond the reach of the Jerusalem authorities, he was also free to found his own temple.37 In Alexandria, he created anew the high priesthood of which he had been deprived in Jerusalem and justified the erection of this Jewish temple on the basis of Isaiah 19, 19: “In that day there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt.”38 The naïve and innocent high priest, who had been insidiously duped by his brother, founded a Jewish sanctuary of his own in the land of Egypt. R. Meir’s story proper ends with the erection of Onias’s temple, but the narrative continues a bit longer and concludes with a moral derived from the story: “Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one who fled power see how he coveted it in the end, one who is empowered and then removed from power all the more so (will covet power)!” The term “fled” here recalls its appearance above where it was used twice in the description of Onias’s escape from Jerusalem to the Mountain of the King and Alexandria. Hence Onias is the one “who fled power” when he fled his position as high priest in Jerusalem (rather than defend himself), but then “coveted it in the end” when he established a temple in Alexandria where he could serve as high priest. From Onias’s behavior it is deduced that if one who flees power eventually comes to desire power, all the more so will a person accustomed to power desire to reclaim a position of authority and regain his former power if he should ever be removed from his position of authority. It bears noting that R. Meir’s positive depiction of Onias is in keeping with the moderately positive view of Onias’s temple ascribed to the tanna qamma cited above. Just as the tanna qamma concedes that the service in

37 Wasserstein (1993) 125–129 suggested that the rabbis confused Leontopolis with Alexan- dria because Alexandria was called Leontopolis in their times or they used Alexandria as a term for Egypt as a whole. Alternatively, perhaps the rabbis located the temple of Onias in Alexandria because Alexandria is the Egyptian city usually cited in their stories and legal discussions. 38 Technically speaking, the narrative states that Onias founded an altar and an altar is not necessarily a temple. However, the term “altar” was apparently employed because it appears in Isaiah 19, 19 but the narrative obviously comprises a foundation story for Onias’s temple or the “temple of Onias” in rabbinic parlance. Cf. Yankelevitch (1993) 111 n. 29. 168 chapter six

Onias’s Egyptian temple could fulfill an oath under certain conditions and was certainly not idolatrous, Onias’s behavior in R. Meir’s story in no way suggests that he would have founded an idolatrous sacrificial center. After all, Simeon was the conniving and duplicitous fiend, not innocent Onias, and an idolater would not have legitimated an idolatrous temple with a passage from Isaiah. Traditionally, the Mishnah’s tanna qamma is identified as R. Meir and in our case, the tanna qamma and R. Meir’s narrative certainly share a rather positive attitude towards the temple of Onias.39 R. Meir’s emotionally wrenching narrative was debated by R. Judah who offered a different version of the affair. According to R. Judah, Simeon the Righteous appointed Simeon his son as his successor rather than Onias and the story’s villain is Onias, not Simeon. Onias, R. Judah says, was jealous of Simeon’s appointment and so he dressed his brother in girdle and gown and then slandered him by spreading the false rumor that Simeon had promised his wife to wear her clothing when he officiated as high priest. The remain- der of R. Judah’s story, however, was omitted from the Palestinian Talmud and instead, it states: “and the rest (of the story unfolded) as (presented) previously.” These are the only Aramaic words in the entire (Hebrew) narrative and most probably were introduced by an editor or copyist who decided to save space by omitting the rest of R. Judah’s story.40 The interpolation of this editorial term and the correlated omission of text were apparently grounded on the assumption that the rest of R. Judah’s story was the same as the parallel section of R. Meir’s story (save, of course, for the reversal of names) and therefore there was no need to repeat it. However, it simply cannot be that the continuations of the two stories were precise parallels because if so, R. Judah’s version would have had Simeon found “the Temple of Onias” and not Onias. Moreover, if R. Judah actually had Simeon erect the temple in Alexandria, there would have been no substantive difference between the two narratives. In both cases, the villain would have deposed his innocent brother who would have then fled to Egypt and built a temple in exile there, and the sole difference would have been the reversal of names: R. Meir would have had Onias build the temple and R. Judah would have had Simeon.41 Therefore, it seems that the portion omitted in favor of the scribal term, “and the rest (of the story unfolded) as (presented) previously,”

39 Cf. Luria (5727) 68–69. 40 See Lieberman (5689) 12–13. 41 Moreover, if there was indeed no substantial argument here, then we would expect R. Judah and R. Meir to present identical a fortiori but in fact, R. Meir and R. Judah offer distinct a fortiori which apparently relate to different stories. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 169 must have included some vital plot shift which does not appear in R. Meir’s account. R. Judah’s story in the Babylonian Talmud actually includes just such a shift and since the Palestinian Talmud is abridged at this point, we are left with no choice but to consult the Babylonian Talmud. According to the Babylonian Talmud, when the priests investigated Onias’s claims about Simeon’s irreverent and insulting behavior, Simeon did not flee like R. Meir’s Onias but frankly disclosed how his brother had set him up. Once the priests learned the truth, they sought out Onias and fearing the consequences he would have to pay for his deception, Onias fled to Alexandria and built a temple there. Returning to the Palestinian Talmud, the narrative concludes with R. Judah’s moral: “Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one who was not (even) empowered see how he incited Israel to idolatry, one who was empowered and then removed from power all the more so (will he incite Israel to idolatry)!” In other words, if a person like Onias who had never even attained a position of authority incited Israel to idolatry by building a temple in Egypt, all the more so would one who was removed from long-accustomed authority be willing to incite Israel to idolatry in order to reclaim his authority. Before relating to the merits (or lack thereof) of R. Judah’s argument, let us return for a moment to the mishnah cited above. In addition to the tanna qamma’s moderately positive view of the temple of Onias, the mishnah also records the conflicting opinion of R. Simeon who claimed that offerings in the temple of Onias never fulfill an oath obligation. As noted above, R. Simeon’s underlying rationale is never made explicit but presumably he viewed the temple of Onias as an illicit high place unsuitable for any worship whatsoever. R. Judah probably would have agreed with R. Simeon that no offerings at the temple of Onias were valid but his reasoning would have been more extreme. For R. Judah, the temple of Onias was an idolatrous sanctuary and hence it could never serve as the site for any legitimate offering. Like R. Meir, R. Judah’s narrative concludes with an a fortiori argument based on the preceding story, but it seems to me that his a fortiori is far less smooth than R. Meir’s because it introduces the grave sin of inciting Jews to worship pagan gods. Whereas R. Meir’s argument, which claims that one who was removed from power will covet power more than one who fled power, has a good measure of plausible common sense, R. Judah’s parallel claim does not. The notion that one who was removed from power will be more impelled to incite Israel to idolatry than one who merely tasted the allure of power is, in truth, rather weak. Idolatry is a cardinal sin in the Jewish tradition and the fact that wicked Onias was willing to erect a 170 chapter six temple to idolatry by no means indicates that most people removed from power would do the same. Idolatry is so grave and exceptional a sin that it cannot convincingly serve as the basis of extrapolation in the sort of a fortiori R. Judah presents. Thus, R. Meir’s a fortiori stands strong while R. Judah’s falters and this faltering, I shall argue, is an unintended byproduct of changes R. Judah introduced into the narrative. Ben Zion Luria has argued that R. Meir and R. Judah’s narratives are the culmination of two parallel and ancient oral traditions.42 According to Luria’s theory, the similarities between the narratives testify to their mutual origins and their differences embody changes that were introduced into the story over time. The long course of the original story’s transmission made it vulnerable to changes and by tannaitic times, two versions of the story were told. Thus, for Luria, neither version enjoys chronological priority since each one represents an authentic independent oral tradition. In my opinion, however, the evidence suggests otherwise.43 The two versions are so similar that it is hard to imagine that they were produced by entirely independent literary trajectories and an analysis of the two key differences between the two versions suggests that R. Judah’s version reworked R. Meir’s more original version. The first difference revolves around the identities of the trickster and the dupe. For R. Judah, Onias is the trickster and Simeon the dupe but for R. Meir, Simeon is the trickster and Onias the dupe. R. Meir thus ascribes the foundation of an illicit high place to an innocent and well-meaning high priest who was also Simeon the Righteous’s rightful heir, while depicting Simeon the Righteous’s de facto heir as a duplicitous fiend. Understandably this startling portrayal of the good schismatic and the evil leader of the Jerusalem establishment may well have disturbed some sages in late antiquity. By contrast, R. Judah’s negative view of Onias and positive view of Simeon is far less surprising. R. Meir’s account, consequently, is the lectio difficilior, the more difficult reading, and most likely the more original of the two. R. Meir’s positive portrayal of Onias and negative portrayal of Simeon apparently disturbed R. Judah (or, the author of the narrative attributed to him), who consequently reversed the moral stature of the two characters in order to condemn the schismatic sanctuary and salvage the honor of the Jerusalem temple.

42 Luria (5727) 68. See also Brand (1939) 76–79. 43 Cf. Kalmin (2002) 42, who, on the basis of different considerations, reaches the same conclusion in his discussion of the Babylonian Talmud’s versions of the story. See also Moore (1927) 351 who notes that R. Meir’s version is the more “consistent of the two versions.” Cf. Tamari (1972) 12 who views R. Judah’s version as more original. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 171

The second major difference between the two versions is their assess- ments of the nature of the temple of Onias. In line with R. Meir’s portrayal of Onias as an innocent dupe, R. Meir’s Onias founds a temple to God which he justifies on the basis of Isaiah. According to R. Judah, however, Onias was a malicious trickster and having already tarnished Onias’s name in this manner, R. Judah blackens his name even further by asserting that Onias founded an idolatrous temple. This second key difference was generated by the very same agenda which prompted the first difference: R. Meir’s original narrative simply portrayed Onias too positively and Simeon too nega- tively for R. Judah. R. Judah therefore transformed Onias into the deceiver, Simeon into the dupe and Onias’s temple into an idolatrous sanctuary. In other words, I believe that the differences between the two versions are of an editorial nature and indicate that R. Judah’s version reworked R. Meir’s original version in order to defend the honor of the Jerusalem priesthood and defame the founder of the temple of Onias. If R. Judah’s narrative is indeed secondary and derivative as argued here, then we can understand why his a fortiori falters. R. Judah’s narrative was so closely modeled on R. Meir’s that even his a fortiori appears to be a variation on R. Meir’s. The second clause in R. Judah’s a fortiori is identical to R. Meir’s parallel clause and his first clause shares the literary format of R. Meir’s first clause while introducing only two alterations. Unlike R. Meir, R. Judah could not employ the word “fled” because Onias did not flee the high priesthood in his narrative and R. Judah inserted idolatry, as noted above, in order to further tarnish Onias’s name. In introducing idolatry, however, R. Judah inadvertently undermined his own argument because idolatry is simply too grave a sin to function in lieu of the will to power. In sum, the word for word similarities between the narratives suggest that they did not develop independently and their differences intimate that R. Judah sought to adapt R. Meir’s original narrative to suit his own agenda. In modifying R. Meir’s original narrative, however, R. Judah created a faltering a fortiori that fails to convince. From a historical perspective it bears stressing that R. Meir’s earlier narrative had no compunctions viewing a schismatic in a positive light. This is in keeping with a broader historical trend detected by scholars in which early sages polemicized against non-rabbinic groups but did not demonize them. Over time, the tone of rabbinic polemics often became more hostile and acerbic and R. Judah’s narrative is in keeping with this later development.44

44 See Sussmann (1989–1990) 50 n. 168; Kister (1998) 156 (n. 197); (cf. Kalmin (1994) 155– 172 chapter six

The story of the foundation of Onias’s temple facilitated the venting of rabbinic anxieties over schismatic threats and while R. Meir portrayed the schism’s founder as a guileless and pitiable stooge, R. Judah vilified him by transforming him into a power-hungry and idol-worshipping miscreant.

*** In light of the Palestinian Talmud’s two versions of the temple of Onias’s foundation story, let us consider the parallel versions in the Babylonian Talmud. When discussing Mishnah Menahot’s laws pertaining to the temple of Onias, the Babylonian Talmud cites two accounts of the founding of the schismatic temple in Egypt: דתניא: אותה שנה שמת שמעון הצדיק אמר להן: שנה זו הוא מת. אמרו לו: מנין אתה יודע? אמר להן: כל יום הכפורים היה מזומן לי זקן אחד לבוש לבנים ומתעטף לבנים נכנס עמי ויוצא עמי, שנה זו נזדמן לי זקן אחד לבוש שחורים ומתעטף שחורים נכנס עמי ולא יצא. לאחר הרגל חלה שבעת ימים ומת, נמנעו אחיו הכהנים מלברך בשם. ובשעת פטירתו אמר להם: חוניו בני ישמש תחתי, נתקנא בו שמעי אחיו שהיה גדול ממנו שתי שנים ומחצה, אמר לו: בא ואלמדך סדר עבודה. הלבישו באונקלי וחגרו בצילצול והעמידו אצל המזבח, אמר להם לאחיו הכהנים: ראו מה נדר זה לאהובתו וקיים: ביום שאשמש בכהונה גדולה אלבש באונקלי שליכי ואחגור בצילצול שליכי. בקשו אחיו הכהנים להרגו רץ מפניהם רצו אחריו והלך לאלכסנדריה של מצרים ובנה מזבח והעלה עולות לשם עבודה זרה. וכששמעו חכמים בדבר אמרו: ומה זה שלא ירד לה כך זה שיורד לה על אחת כמה וכמה! דברי ר׳ מאיר. אמר לו ר׳ יהודה: לא כך היה המעשה אלא לא קבל עליו חוניו שהיה שמעי אחיו גדול ממנו שתי שנים ומחצה ואף על פי כן נתקנא חוניו בשמעי ואמר לו: בא ואלמדך סדר עבודה. הלבישו באונקלי וחגרו בצלצול והעמידו אצל המזבח, אמר להן לאחיו הכהנים: ראו מה נדר וקיים לאהובתו: אותו היום שאשמש בכהונה גדולה אלבש באונקלי שליכי ואחגור בצלצול שליכי. בקשו אחיו הכהנים להרגו סח להם כל המאורע. בקשו להרג את חוניו ורץ מפניהם ורצו אחריו; רץ לבית המלך ורצו אחריו; כל הרואה אותו אומר: זה הוא זה הוא, והלך לאלכסנדריה של מצרים ובנה מזבח והעלה עליו לשם שנאמר ״והיה ביום ההוא יהיה מזבח ליי בתוך ארץ מצרים״ (ישעיה יט, יט). וכששמעו חכמים בדבר אמרו: זה שברח הימנה כך המבקש לירד לה על אחת כמה וכמה! For it was taught (in a baraita): In the year in which Simeon the Righteous died, he foretold them that he would die. They said to him: Whence do you know it? He said to them: Every Day of Atonement there met me an old man, dressed in white and wrapped in white, who entered with me (into the Holy of Holies) and left with me; but this year there met me an old man, dressed in black and wrapped in black, who entered with me but did not leave with me. After the Festival (of Tabernacles) he was ill for seven days and then died.

169). It bears noting that even hostile rabbinic texts usually do not compare with the intense vehemence of contemporary Christian heresiology.See Goodman (1996) 501–510; Stern (1994) 247; Tropper (2004) 231–233. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 173

Thereafter his brethren the priests forbore to pronounce the Name in the priestly benediction. In the hour of his departure (from life), he said to them: Onias my son shall assume the office (of high priest) after me. His brother Shimeʿi, who was two and a half years older than him, was jealous of him and said to him: Come and I will teach you the order of the Temple service. He thereupon put upon him a gown, girded him with a girdle, and placed him near the altar, and said to his brethren the priests: See what this man promised his beloved and has now fulfilled: “On the day in which I will assume the office of high priest I will put on your gown and gird myself with your girdle.” At this his brethren the priests sought to kill him (Onias). He ran from them, but they ran after him. He then went to Alexandria in Egypt, built an altar there, and offered thereon sacrifices in honor of idols. When the sages heard of this they said: If this is what happened (through the thirst for power) of one (i.e. Shimeʿi) who had never entered a powerful office, what would happen (through the thirst for power) of one who had once entered a powerful office (and been ousted from it)! This is the view of R. Meir. R. Judah said to him: That is not what happened, but rather Onias did not accept the office (of high priest) because Shimeʿi his brother was two and half years older than him. For all that Onias was jealous of his brother Shimeʿi and he said to him: Come and I will teach you the order of the Temple service. He (Onias) thereupon put on him a gown, girded him with a girdle, placed him near the altar, and said to his brethren the priests: See what this man promised his beloved and has not fulfilled: “On the day that I will assume the office of high priest I will put on your gown and gird myself with your girdle.” At this his brethren the priests sought to kill him, but he explained to them all that had occurred. They thereupon sought to kill Onias; he ran from them but they ran after him. He ran to the King’s palace, but they ran after him; and whoever saw him cried out: There he is, there he is. He thereupon went to Alexandria in Egypt, built an altar there, and offered thereon sacrifices in honor of God, for so it is written: “In that day, there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt and a pillar to the Lord at its border” (Isaiah 19, 19). When the sages heard of this they said: If this is what happened (through the thirst for power) of one (Onias) who had (at first) fled from power, what would happen (through the thirst for power) of one who seeks to enter an office of power!45 The Babylonian Talmud’s twin foundation stories for the temple of Onias are so similar to the Palestinian Talmud’s counterparts in respect to substance, plotline, details and vocabulary that there is obviously a close genetic connection, a close causal relationship, between the parallel presentations. A priori, there are three possible explanations for the relationship between the parallel texts. The Babylonian Talmud might have modified the versions

45 bMenahot 109b according to MS Munich 95 (with corrections based on other manuscripts). 174 chapter six found in the Palestinian Talmud; the Palestinian Talmud might have modified the versions found in the Babylonian Talmud, or both might have been the products of independent trajectories which stem from an earlier, shared literary kernel. I argue below that a close comparison reveals that the first of the three options offers the most plausible explanation for the nature of the relationship between the parallel texts. The Babylonian Talmud’s stories are more expansive and detailed than the Palestinian Talmud’s comparatively bare-bones exposition. Since the Babylonian Talmud’s expansions consist primarily of clarifications and embellishments, i.e. additions and adjust- ments of an editorial nature,46 one is well-justified in applying here the traditional text-critical principle, lectio brevior lectio potior—the shorter reading is the more probable one. Indeed, it seems highly unlikely that the Pales- tinian Talmud would have omitted all these details had it known them. In other words, a close comparison between the parallel stories reveals that the Palestinian Talmud was unfamiliar with the Babylonian Talmud’s formulations and that the Babylonian Talmud was dependent on an earlier rendition of the stories identical or highly similar to the versions found in our Palestinian Talmud.47 Since the Palestinian Talmud’s stories could have easily served as the Babylonian Talmud’s source, I see no reason to posit the existence of an unattested hypothetical source that gave rise independently to the accounts of both Talmuds.48 The Babylonian Talmud introduces the foundation stories of Onias with the technical term “detanya,” “for it was taught (in a baraita),” which signals that the subsequent narrative is purportedly of tannaitic origin. The attribution of the foundation stories to the tannaim R. Meir and R. Judah agrees with the implications of the introductory term “detanya” and it is certainly possible that the original rabbinic accounts of the founding of the temple of Onias were of tannaitic origin as claimed already in the Palestinian Talmud. Nonetheless, some of the expansions in the Babylonian Talmud discussed below disclose that the Baybylonian Talmud’s versions underwent post-tannaitic editorial revisions in Babylonia.

46 Luria notes that the Palestinian narratives are less clear ((5727) 67 n. 11), but that is because the Babylonian editor sought to clarify matters, not because he had access to a more informative parallel tradition. On Babylonian editorial techniques and comparisons between the two Talmuds, see Rubenstein (1999) 25–26, 255–267. (See also the first rule of thumb in the end of the Introduction above.) 47 More generally, on comparisons between the Babylonian and Palestinian Talmuds, see Friedman (1993) 119–164; Rosenthal (1999) 7–48. 48 See Chapter 2 n. 61. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 175

The first indication of editorial revisions is the interpolation of a tannaitic story, not found in the Palestinian parallels, shortly after the commencement of the Babylonian Talmud’s narrative. Like the Palestinian Talmud, the Babylonian Talmud also opens with Simeon’s prophetic announcement that he would not live out the year. However, whereas this announcement is immediately followed by R. Meir’s foundation story in the Palestinian Talmud, the Babylonian Talmud (in typical fashion) interpolates a well- documented tannaitic tradition which also relates to Simeon foretelling his death. Presumably, the Babylonian editor decided to interpolate this tradition because it sheds further light on Simeon’s unusual announcement,49 but the inserted tradition itself plays no role in the temple of Onias narrative. This interpolated tannaitic tradition appears in the Tosefta, the Palestinian Talmud, LeviticusRabbah and elsewhere in the BabylonianTalmud,50 and the Babylonian Talmud’s version is closest to the toseftan parallel:51 םהלרמאקידצהןועמשהבתמשהנש : תמינאוזהנשב . ולורמא : עדויהתאןיינמ ? רמא םהל : ימעאצויוימעסנכנםינבלהסכתמוםינבלשבולדחאןקזהיהםירופכהתומילכ , הנש אציאלוימעסנכנוז . לגרהרחאל ⟨ הלח ⟩ תמוםימיתעבש ⟨. תמשמ ⟩ וענמנקידצהןועמש םשבךרבלמויחא . In the year in which Simeon the Righteous died, he foretold them that he would die. They said to him: Whence do you know it? He said to them: Every Day of Atonement there met me an old man, dressed in white and wrapped in white, who entered with me (into the Holy of Holies) and left with me; but this year he entered with me but did not leave. After the Festival (of Tabernacles) he was ill for seven days and then died. After Simeon the Righteous died, his brethren the priests forbore to pronounce the Name in the priestly benediction.52

49 See Kalmin (2002) 41. 50 See tSotah 13, 8; yYoma 5, 1 42c; Leviticus Rabbah 21, 12 (p. 493); bYoma 39b. 51 Whereas the Palestinian Talmud and Leviticus Rabbah omit the conclusion of this tannaitic tradition, i.e. they omit Simeon’s seven day illness, his death after the festival of Tabernacles and the subsequent practice of the priests to cease pronouncing the holy name of God in the priestly benediction, the Tosefta and Babylonian Talmud include the conclusion in its entirety. In addition, the Babylonian Talmud employs the Tosefta’s opening clause, “In the year in which Simeon the Righteous died …,” rather than the clause, “Forty years Simeon the Righteous served Israel in the high priesthood,” which introduces both this tradition and the temple of Onias story in the Palestinian Talmud. 52 tSotah MS Vienna 13, 8. Günther Stemberger notes that MS Erfurt cites this tradition without Simeon the Righteous’s name and then concludes that “one could refer the passage to the priest from Sephhoris who was the subject of the preceding story” ((1998) 78) and not to Simeon the Righteous. In my opinion, however, the structure of the toseftan chapter indicates otherwise. This portion of the chapter deals first and foremost with Simeon the Righteous whereas the Sepphoris story was only brought as an aside to illustrate the comment about gluttonous priests made at the end of the previous halakhah. Upon the conclusion of the aside, the chapter presumably resumes with traditions about Simeon the Righteous. 176 chapter six

In this tradition, Simeon explains how he came to know that his death was approaching. Every year, when worshiping in the holy of holies on the Day of Atonement, Simeon saw a mysterious apparition which was apparently a reflection of Simeon himself. The apparition, dressed in white like a high priest on the Day of Atonement,53 would enter and exit the holy of holies with Simeon betokening that Simeon too would “exit” the upcoming year. Simeon, in other words, was granted a rare blessing. God saved him from the anxiety and fear of death which plagues most mortals by revealing to him at the start of every year whether he would live out the year. One year the apparition did not exit the holy of holies with him and Simeon immediately realized that his death was imminent. The only significant difference between the Babylonian Talmud’s version of this tradition and that of the Tosefta is the color of the specter’s clothing during its final appearance. The Babylonian Talmud apparently changed the color of its clothing from white to black in order to enlist the dark and deathlike imagery of the color black and thereby emphasize the point that the disappearance of the specter meant Simeon’s death. After digressing to relate how Simeon came to know of his imminent death, the Babylonian Talmud segues to R. Meir’s temple of Onias narrative: “In the hour of his departure (from life), he said to them: Onias my son shall assume the office (of high priest) after me.” R. Meir’s Babylonian narrative diverges here from its Palestinian counterpart in two important ways. First, the Babylonian Talmud alone constructs a last will and testament on Simeon’s deathbed for in the Palestinian Talmud Simeon commends Onias to his priestly brethren in the conversation that follows the announcement of his imminent death and not on his deathbed. Second, whereas Simeon’s reference to Onias in the Palestinian Talmud is nothing more than a recommendation, his reference in the Babylonian Talmud is nothing short of an actual appointment. In the Palestinian Talmud, the priests ask for Simeon’s recommendation and subsequently appoint the candidate he selects, but all along the power of appointment rests in their collective hands. In the Baby- lonian Talmud, however, the priests neither solicit a recommendation nor appoint the high priest. Instead, Simeon designates his successor in a last will and testament of his own initiative. The Babylonian Talmud abandons the Palestinian literary model here and pursues an entirely unanticipated direction.

53 See Leviticus 16, 4. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 177

In the next sentence, the Babylonian Talmud continues in this unexpected direction when it introduces further elements unmentioned in the Palestinian narrative. “His brother Shimeʿi, who was two and a half years older then he, was jealous of him and said to him: Come and I will teach you the order of the Temple service.” Simeon’s eldest son Shimeʿi (which is short for Simeon) feels jilted when he, the elder son and legitimate heir, is passed over in favor of his younger brother Onias. Seething with envy, Shimeʿi hatches a plan and successfully convinces Onias to allow him to initiate him into the order of the temple service, a manipulative maneuver which facilitates Shimeʿi’s dastardly scheme of dressing Onias in women’s attire. The introduction of the age factor into the Babylonian narrative, a factor entirely absent from the Palestinian parallel, enabled the Babylonian Talmud to clarify two issues which were not explicitly mentioned or developed in the Palestinian narrative. The first of these issues is the need for Simeon to explicitly designate Onias as his successor to the high priesthood. In R. Meir’s Palestinian narrative, the relative age of the brothers remains unstated probably because it is irrelevant: in a narrative wherein the high priesthood is conferred by a collectivity rather than via inheritance, seniority does not determine the obvious and legitimate successor. No brother enjoyed a natural advantage because of his age and hence their ages were not noted. However, since the BabylonianTalmud transformed the PalestinianTalmud’s collective appointment into an inheritance, the elder son was the obvious and natural heir. Reasoning in typical talmudic fashion, the Babylonian editor apparently surmised that the explicit designation of an heir would have only been necessary if Simeon had violated the natural order of inheritance when he chose Onias, and accordingly the editor concluded that Onias was the younger brother. The second issue involves the underlying cause for Shimeʿi’s jealousy. In R. Meir’s Palestinian narrative, Simeon’s jealousy needs no special explanation: sibling rivalry and the common lust for power provide sufficient impe- tus for Simeon’s wicked plan. R. Meir’s Babylonian narrative, however, introduces an additional factor: righteous indignation over a perceived injustice. In the Babylonian story, the jilted older brother bridles at his younger brother’s selection and aims to steal back what he feels that time honored primogeniture dictates as his birthright.54

54 In addition, while R. Meir’s Palestinian narrative offers no explicit explanation for Onias’s ignorance of temple procedures, perhaps R. Meir’s Babylonian narrative hints that 178 chapter six

In sum, in setting the stage for the dramatic climax, R. Meir’s Babylonian narrative introduces a number of elements which do not appear in the Palestinian parallel. The Babylonian narrative creates a deathbed last will and testament, envisions Simeon’s designation as an appointment (and not as a recommendation), and introduces the age factor which explains why the younger brother had to be designated as heir and why Shimeʿi was so intensely envious of his brother. These elements, I contend, did not develop in tannaitic times within a trajectory independent of the Palestinian version, but rather were part and parcel of a Babylonian reworking of our narrative. My contention here rests on the similarities between these elements and the Babylonian portrayal and interpretation of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament: תנו רבנן: בשעת פטירתו של רבי אמר: לבני אני צריך, נכנסו בניו אצלו … אמר להם: לחכמי ישראל אני צריך, נכנסו חכמי ישראל אצלו. אמר להן: אל תספדוני בעיירות, והושיבו ישיבה לאחר שלשים יום. שמעון בני חכם, גמליאל בני נשיא, חנינא בר חמא ישב בראש … ״שמעון בני חכם, גמליאל בני נשיא״ מאי קאמר? הכי קאמר: אף על פי ששמעון בני חכם גמליאל בני נשיא. אמר לוי: לא צריכא למימר! אמר ליה ר׳ שמעון בר׳: צריכא לך ולמטלעתך. מאי קא מקשיא ליה הא קרא קאמר ״ואת הממלכה נתן ליהורם כי הוא בכור״ (דברי הימים ב כא, ג)! ההוא ממלא מקום אבותיו ורבן גמליאל אינו ממלא מקום אבותיו. ור׳ מאי טעמא עבד הכי? נהי דאינו ממלא מקום אבותיו בחכמה, ביראת חטא ממלא מקום אבותיו הוה. ״חנינא בר חמא ישב בראש״ אף על פי כן לא קבל עליו ר׳ חנינא שהיה ר׳ אפס גדול הימנו שתי שנים ומחצה … Our rabbis taught: In the hour of the departure of Rabbi (Judah ha-Nasi from this life), he said, I require (the presence) of my sons. When his sons entered … He said to them: I require (the presence) of the sages of Israel, and the sages of Israel entered his presence. He said to them: Do not eulogize me in the towns but establish a session after thirty days. My son Simeon is wise, my son Gamaliel patriach, and Hanina b. Hama shall preside (at the college) … “My son Simeon is wise my son Gamaliel patriarch.” What did he mean (by emphasizing the wisdom of one son but appointing a different one as patriarch)? It is this that he meant: Although my son Simeon is wise, my son Gamaliel shall be patriarch. Said Levi: It was not necessary to state this (since Gamaliel was the elder and thus the obvious successor to the patriarchate). R. Simeon ben Rabbi replied: It was necessary for you and your lameness. What was his (R. Simeon ben Rabbi’s) difficulty (in understanding Levi’s objection)? Does not Scripture state: “But the kingdom gave he to Jehoram because he was the firstborn” (2Chronicles 21, 3) (and so why did R. Judah ha-Nasi have to specify that his eldest son would assume the patriarchate)?

Onias is unfamiliar with the temple service because he is young and inexperienced in priestly lore. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 179

That one (Jehoram) fulfilled the place of his ancestors, but Rabban Gamaliel did not fulfill the place of his ancestors (since his younger brother was wiser than him and more qualified for the position). Then why did Rabbi (Judah ha-Nasi) act in the manner he did (and appoint the less wise son)? Granted that he (Rabban Gamaliel) did not fulfill the place of his ancestors in wisdom, but he filled the place of his ancestors in fear of sin. “Hanina ben Hama shall preside at the college.” R. Hanina, however, did not accept (the office) because R. Afes was two and half years older than him …55 A close comparison between Babylonian Talmud Menahot’s presentation of Simeon the Righteous’s last will and testament and Babylonian Talmud Ketubot’s portrayal of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament reveals a striking set of similarities. First, both wills are introduced with the very same phrase “In the hour of his departure (from this life)” and hence both are deathbed wills.56 Second, R. Judah ha-Nasi appoints one of his sons as his successor to the patriarchate in his deathbed will just as Simeon appoints one of his sons as his successor to the high priesthood in his deathbed will. Third, both sugyot posit that primogeniture is the rule and therefore spec- ification of a son as heir in a last will and testament demands explanation: Babylonian Talmud Ketubot assumes that R. Judah ha-Nasi did not need to name his firstborn as his successor because the firstborn is the natural heir by default and Babylonian Talmud Menahot assumes that Onias was not Simeon’s eldest son otherwise Simeon would not have had to name Onias as his successor. Parenthetically, this comparison may also suggest that, in Babylonian eyes, Onias was selected by his father because he fulfilled the place of his ancestors in fear of sin just like Rabban Gamaliel, while Onias’s older brother Shimeʿi was passed over because he lacked fear of sin just like Simeon, the son of R. Judah ha-Nasi. Indeed, Shimeʿi’s moral deprav- ity and lack of fear of sin are clearly illustrated in the continuation of the story.57 Fourth, the two and half year age differential between R. Hanina and R. Afes is precisely the same age differential between Onias and Shimeʿi.58 In

55 bKetubot 103a–b according MS Munich 95 (with corrections based on other manuscripts). The translation is largely based on Slotki (1936). Cf. Cohen (1981) 63–63. (I have translated “hakham” as wise because that is how the Talmud interprets it in the discussion cited.) 56 On the Babylonian features of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament see Goodblatt (1984) 364–369. See also Saldarini (1978) 28–45. 57 The Babylonian version of Onias’s botched succession seems to be arguing that moral excellence should outweigh legal precedence in a succession, a position that was possibly a bone of contention in Jewish Babylonia. (See Rubenstein (2003) 80–99.) 58 It is a standard literary practice in the Babylonian Talmud to refer to two and half years as a small measure of time. See Rosenthal (1999) 27–28. 180 chapter six sum, the number and nature of the similarities between these two sugyot are simply too uncanny to be coincidental and they attest to a genetic connection between the sugyot, i.e. one sugya must have exerted a formative influence on the literary construction of the other.59 At first glance, however, it is not immediately evident which of the two sugyot is the source of inspiration and which the beneficiary. In my opinion, two considerations establish that Babylonian Talmud Ketubot preserves the earlier sugya and that it influenced the formation of Simeon the Righteous’s last will and testament in Babylonian Talmud Mena- hot rather than vice versa. First, an earlier version of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s deathbed will already appears in the Palestinian Talmud while the Pales- tinian Talmud includes no comparable description of a deathbed scene for Simeon the Righteous.60 Thus, the Palestinian Talmud’s deathbed scene for R. Judah ha-Nasi presumably was the source for the Babylonian Talmud’s parallel deathbed scene which, in turn, supplied the inspiration for transforming Simeon the Righteous’s recommendation in the Palestinian Talmud into a deathbed will in the Babylonian Talmud. Second, while all the shared elements between the two sugyot appear within R. Meir’s relatively terse narrative of the botched succession to Sim- eon the Righteous where they are assembled together in what is presented as a single baraita, the shared elements appear throughout various layers of the lengthy and extended talmudic discussion of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament. In general, it is far more likely that a series of literary elements spread over the course of the disparate segments of a lengthy sugya were conflated in a short narrative than that a group of elements in a brief story were subsequently spread out over the course of a lengthy sugya.61 Hence I propose that when our Babylonian editor reworked a Pales- tinian story about the transition of leadership upon the death of Simeon the Righteous, he refashioned the story in light of a similar story he knew, the deathbed last will and testament of R. Judah ha-Nasi.62 In other words, the

59 See Friedman (2004b) 59 who notes: “Original composition and creative transmission are native to the talmudic corpus from earliest times. One of the pervasive literary devices which we find is transfer of motifs from one context to another, and in its extreme form duplication and reapplication of a story from one hero to another ….” See also Friedman (2002b) 247–248, 267. 60 yKilayim 9, 4 32a–b; yKetubot 12, 3 34d–35a. See also Meir (1999) 300–337. 61 For two examples in which this reasoning was applied, see Friedman (2004b) 87–88; id. (2006) 411–412. 62 According to Richard Kalmin, “Dynastic succession and a father’s right to pick his own successor as high priest, to my knowledge attested nowhere else in rabbinic sources, set in simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 181

Babylonian editor projected features of the Babylonian Talmud’s depiction of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s death onto its account of Simeon the Righteous’s passing. In the next section of the story, which comprises the body of the narrative wherein Shimeʿi frames Onias and Onias flees, the Babylonian Talmud adheres almost word for word to the language of its Palestinian counterpart and the only differences are minor alterations designed to clarify, embellish or dramatize the story. Thus, for example, the Babylonian Talmud notes that after dressing up his brother Onias in women’s attire, Shimeʿi placed his brother near the altar where all could see him, a dramatic flourish absent in the Palestinian narrative. The Babylonian Talmud also explicitly identifies Shimeʿi’s interlocutors as his fellow priests, a point presupposed and left unstated in the Palestinian Talmud. The Babylonian Talmud states that the priests pursued Onias with the intention of putting him to death and whoever saw him fleeing cried out “There he is, there he is;”63 and both of these additions to the original Palestinian narrative are literary embellishments designed to heighten the dramatic tension in the story. In short, the substance and language of the body of the Babylonian narrative are closely modeled on the Palestinian parallel with only a few minor clarifications and embellishments. One slight change, however, was apparently based on a misunderstanding due to a lack of familiarity with Judaean geography. The Palestinian Talmud’s reference to the “Mountain of the King” which referred

motion the tragic events of the story” ((2002) 41). As a result, Kalmin concludes that our story is critical of Simeon’s violation of primogeniture. However, the Babylonian account and discussion of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament as well as other sources indicate that the rabbis were well aware of the tension between the firstborn’s natural prerogative to assume his father’s office and his qualifications for the post, i.e. whether “he fulfills the place of his ancestors” (see, for example, Sifra Tzav 7, 3, 3 (p. 31d–32a); Sifra Shemini 2, 1, 2 (p. 47a); tSheqalim 2,15; Leviticus Rabbah 20,11 (p. 469); bHorayot 11b; bKeritot 5b. See also Lieberman (1955–1988), vol. 4, pp. 694–695). Indeed, R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament in the BabylonianTalmud attests to both “dynastic succession” and the “father’s right to pick his own successor” albeit in reference to the patriarchate, and the Sifra attests to dynastic succession and the possibility of circumventing it with explicit reference to the high priesthood itself. Kalmin also argues that the “story also problematizes inherited authority as such, since even if Shimon the Righteous had picked as his successor Shimi, the older and more knowledgeable son, Shimi’s wickedness would have made him a very poor priest. Very likely (but by no means certainly) the story according to R. Meir emphasizes the problematic nature of inherited priestly status.” (ibid.). In my opinion, the story exploits well-known tensions involved in the transition of power from generation to generation but I do not find here any specific critique of inherited authority or priestly status as such. 63 This latter point is only preserved in R. Judah’s version of the story though it may have originally appeared in R. Meir’s version as well. 182 chapter six to a specific region in Judaea was transformed in the Babylonian narrative into the “palace of the king,”64 a phrase that is geographically amiss but perhaps intimates that Onias sought royal protection.65 Once Onias sets up his altar in Egypt, R. Meir’s Babylonian narrative significantly departs from its Palestinian counterpart and it is worth viewing their conclusions side by side.

R. Meir’s Palestinian conclusion: R. Meir’s Babylonian conclusion: From there he fled to Alexandria and he He went to Alexandria in Egypt, built an altar stood and built there an altar, there, and regarding it read the passage “In that day and offered thereon sacrifices in honor of there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the idols land of Egypt” (Isaiah 19, 19). Behold this matter is an a fortiori: When the sages heard of this they said:66 If one who fled power see how he coveted it If this is what happened (through the thirst in the end, for power) of one (i.e. Shimeʿi) who had never entered a powerful office, if one who is empowered and then removed what would happen (through the thirst for from power all the more so (will covet power power) of one who had once entered a pow- in the end)! erful office (and been ousted from it)!

The first major difference between these conclusions involves the nature of the temple Onias established in Egypt. According to R. Meir’s Palestinian version, Onias established a temple for the sake of heaven and indeed such a temple is appropriate for a well-intentioned and gullible high priest who was viciously deceived and underhandedly removed from his rightful office. In contrast, R. Meir’s Babylonian version has Onias set up an idolatrous temple but this ending is highly confounding for why would the innocent and well-intentioned Onias turn to idolatry? After all, Shimeʿi is the villain

64 The phrase “palace of the king” only appears in R. Judah’s version of the story but it was probably omitted accidentally from R. Meir’s version by a homeoteleuton, wherein the scribe’s eye jumped from the first “they ran after him,” to the second one and thereby skipped over the flight to the palace of the king. Since the parallel phrase appears in R. Meir’s parallel Palestinian version, it seems likely that this phrase was originally part of his story in the Babylonian Talmud as well. 65 The historical fact that there was no Jewish king at this point in time is of course irrelevant. 66 Whereas the Palestinian Talmud presents the moral of the story in the guise of an unattributed a fortiori, the Babylonian Talmud ascribes the moral of the story to rabbinic sages. Richard Kalmin has commented on this difference and argued convincingly that the phrase “When the sages heard of this” is a typical Babylonian addition (see Kalmin (2002) 17–53). Thus we find here further evidence of the Babylonian editing of our story. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 183 in R. Meir’s story not Onias and therefore it is shocking that R. Meir’s Babylonian version has Onias erect an idolatrous temple. The second major difference between R. Meir’s conclusions in the two Talmuds is the object of their respective a fortiori. R. Meir’s Palestinian a fortiori focuses on the brother who fled power, i.e. Onias, while R. Meir’s Babylonian a fortiori focuses on the brother who had never entered a powerful office, i.e. Shimeʿi. Since the plot revolves around Onias and relates the foundation of his schismatic temple, we expect the moral of the story to focus on Onias, as it does in R. Meir’s Palestinian version. Accordingly, the focus on Shimeʿi in R. Meir’s Babylonian a fortiori is both unexpected and inappropriate. In my opinion, the two noted differences point to the secondary nature of the Babylonian version. The demonization of Onias and the faltering a fortiori produce a contrived and unconvincing conclusion in R. Meir’s Baby- lonian version. In light of R. Judah’s Babylonian version, I suggest below that the floundering conclusion of R. Meir’s Babylonian version was unintentionally generated when the Babylonian editor reworked the original Palestinian temple of Onias narratives.

*** R. Judah’s Babylonian version diverges from its Palestinian counterpart from the very start. Whereas R. Judah’s Palestinian story simply states that when Simeon was appointed high priest Onias became jealous, the Babylonian version offers a more intricate account: “This is not what happened, but rather Onias did not accept the office (of high priest) because Shimeʿi his brother was two and half years older him. For all that Onias was jealous of his brother Shimeʿi and he said to him …” The age factor that was introduced already in R. Meir’s Babylonian version reappears here as a major element in R. Judah’s story: even though Onias was the official appointee, he refused to assume the high priesthood out of deference to his older brother. Moreover, the very text which inspired the changes in R. Meir’s Babylonian story apparently inspired the changes here as well for the sentence “Onias did not accept the office because Shimeʿi his brother was two and half years older than him” is practically identical to the sentence cited above from R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament: “R. Hanina, however, did not accept (the office) because R. Afes was two and half years older than him.” In other words, when clarifying why R. Judah disagreed with R. Meir, the Babylonian editor found inspiration in the story of R. Hanina and R. Afes. While R. Meir’s Babylonian account explains Shimeʿi’s jealousy as that of a jilted firstborn, R. Judah’s Babylonian account explains Onias’s jealousy as that of an initially 184 chapter six gracious younger brother who originally deferred to his older brother only to change his mind afterwards. Skipping now to R. Judah’s conclusion,67 let us consider how it departs from its Palestinian parallel.

R. Judah’s Palestinian conclusion: R. Judah’s Babylonian conclusion: and the rest (of the story unfolded) as (pre- He thereupon went to Alexandria in Egypt, sented) previously. built an altar there, and offered thereon sacrifices in honor of God, for so it is written: “In that day, there shall be an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt and a pillar to the Lord at its border” (Isaiah 19, 19). Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one When the sages heard of this they said: If who was not (even) empowered see how this is what happened (through the thirst for he incited Israel to idolatry, one who was power) of one (Onias) who had (at first) fled empowered and then removed from power from power, what would happen (through all the more so (will incite Israel to idolatry)! the thirst for power) of one who seeks to enter an office of power!

First, it is astonishing to discover that while R. Judah’s wicked Onias founds an idolatrous temple in the original Palestinian version, the Babylonian Talmud has him build a temple for the sake of heaven. Indeed, this finding is all the more striking in light of a comparison to R. Meir’s Babylonian version: R. Meir’s innocent Onias constructs an idolatrous temple yet R. Judah’s wicked Onias founds a temple to God!68 R. Judah’s grating and ill-fitting Babylonian conclusion strongly suggests that it, like R. Meir’s Babylonian conclusion, was poorly edited. Second, R. Judah’s Babylonian a fortiori holds an even greater surprise for us although at first glance, there is nothing surprising at all about it since it seems to make perfect sense: If humble Onias, who originally fled from power by deferring to his older brother, came to lust after power so much that he built a rival temple in Egypt, just think what would happen to a person, unlike Onias, who desired power from the very start and had never fled from it. Moreover, unlike R. Meir’s Babylonian a fortiori which falters because it focuses on Shimeʿi, R. Judah’s Babylonian afortiori properly

67 The body of R. Judah’s Babylonian narrative is very similar to the body of R. Meir’s version and includes many of the same clarifications and embellishments. In addition, it bears emphasizing that the crux of R. Judah’s narrative, which describes how the tables were turned and Onias’s plot was discovered, was preserved in its entirety in the Babylonian Talmud but is now missing from the Palestinian Talmud due to a scribal omission. 68 See Halevy (1975) 143 n. 3; Tschernowitz (1946) 229. Cf. Luria (5727) 80–81. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 185 focuses on Onias and truly reflects the plotline of the story. R. Judah’s logical and plausible Babylonian afortiori only confounds when we compare it to its Palestinian parallel. In R. Judah’s Palestinian a fortiori, there is no mention of Onias’s flight, the very crux of his Babylonian a fortiori, yet Onias’s flight serves as the crux of R. Meir’s Palestinian a fortiori! This shocking find, I believe, points to the immediate cause for the failings of the Babylonian reworking of R. Meir’s and R. Judah’s conclusions: the Babylonian editor switched the original conclusions, ascribing R. Meir’s Palestinian conclusion to R. Judah and R. Judah’s Palestinian conclusion to R. Meir.

R. Meir’s Palestinian conclusion: R. Judah’s Babylonian conclusion: From there he fled to Alexandria, and he He thereupon went to Alexandria in Egypt, stood and built there an altar, and regarding built an altar there, and offered thereon sac- it read the passage “In that day there shall be rifices in honor of God, for so it is written: “In an altar to the Lord inside the land of Egypt” that day, there shall be an altar to the Lord (Isaiah 19, 19). inside the land of Egypt and a pillar to the Lord at its border” (Isaiah 19, 19). Behold this matter is an a fortiori: If one who When the sages heard of this they said: If fled power see how he coveted it in the end, this is what happened (through the thirst for one who is empowered and then removed power) of one (Onias) who had (at first) fled from power all the more so (will covet power from power, what would happen (through in the end)! the thirst for power) of one who seeks to enter an office of power! R. Judah’s Palestinian conclusion: R. Meir’s Babylonian conclusion: and the rest (of the story unfolded) as (pre- He then went to Alexandria in Egypt, built an sented) previously. Behold this matter is an altar there, and offered thereon sacrifices in a fortiori: If one who was not (even) empow- honor of idols. When the sages heard of this ered see how he incited Israel to idolatry, one they said: If this is what happened (through who was empowered and then removed from the thirst for power) of one (i.e. Shimeʿi) who power all the more so (will incite Israel to had never entered a powerful office, what idolatry)! would happen (through the thirst for power) of one who had once entered a powerful office (and been ousted from it)!

The juxtaposition of these sources brings to light the true relationship between the original Palestinian conclusions and their Babylonian counterparts. R. Judah’s Babylonian conclusion—which underscores the propriety of Onias’s temple, cites Isaiah for support and features Onias’s flight in the protasis of its a fortiori—was apparently modeled on R. Meir’s Palestinian conclusion which shares all these features. R. Meir’s Babylonian conclusion—which condemns Onias’s temple as idolatrous and focuses the protasis of its a fortiori’s on one who was never empowered—was apparently modeled on R. Judah’s Palestinian conclusion which shares these features. 186 chapter six

Switching the conclusions, however, came at a heavy price: R. Judah’s wicked Onias now surprisingly founds a temple to the Jewish God; R. Meir’s innocent Onias now erects an idolatrous temple; and in relocating R. Judah’s Palestinian a fortiori to R. Meir’s Babylonian narrative in which Onias is appointed high priest, R. Meir’s Babylonian conclusion was forced to transfer the focus of it’s a fortiori from Onias to Shimeʿi. I have proposed that the Babylonian editor of the twin Onias narratives switched the conclusions of the original narratives but why would he do so? It appears that the underlying cause for the swapped conclusions is the influence of the Babylonian sugya about R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament. In clarifying and embellishing the Palestinian accounts of the founding of the temple of Onias, the Babylonian editor refashioned these accounts in light of the Babylonian Talmud’s discussion of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament and the initial changes he introduced in imitation of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s sugya prompted yet further changes down the line. Thus, while the description of Onias’s flight from power was originally part of R. Meir’s Palestinian afortiori, it fit better into R. Judah’s narrative once the BabylonianTalmud had R. Judah’s Onias turn down or “flee” his appointment and offer his office to his older brother. In transferring R. Meir’s original a fortiori, which highlighted Onias’s flight, to R. Judah’s Babylonian conclusion, another feature of R. Meir’s original conclusion was (inappropriately) relocated as well, i.e. the propriety of Onias’s temple. Additionally, transferring R. Meir’s Palestinian a fortiori to R. Judah entailed transferring in turn R. Judah’s Palestinian a fortiori to R. Meir (and then replacing Onias with Shimeʿi as the object of the a fortiori). In my opinion, these transfers were designed to adjust each narrative’s conclusion to the editorial changes that had been introduced into their plotlines in the wake of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament but they also unintentionally created severe literary difficulties69 which effectively undermine the internal logic of the Babylo- nian stories.

*** As just discussed, the Babylonian Talmud’s portrayal and analysis of R. Judah ha-Nasi’s last will and testament served, in my opinion, as an influential source of inspiration for the Babylonian reworking of the temple of Onias narratives found in the Palestinian Talmud. However, the fact that the Baby- lonian Talmud’s temple of Onias narratives are more developed and elab-

69 Another difficulty created by the insertion of the age factor is that R. Judah’s Shimeʿi is the elder son yet also the one unpracticed in the ways of the temple. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 187 orate than the parallel Palestinian narratives does not indicate that the Palestinian parallels are authentic historical memories. Rather, just like the Babylonian narratives, the earlier Palestinian parallels were also produced by a rich literary matrix. Josephus’s writings are the most obvious backdrop for the Palestinian temple of Onias narratives for they are the only extant sources from Second Temple times which explicitly report that Onias founded a temple in Egypt during the Second Temple period. The rabbinic Onias, like Josephus’s Onias, erected his temple out of selfish and unflattering motives and in accordance with The Jewish War but not Jewish Antiquities, Onias’s father in rabbinic literature was a high priest named Simeon. In addition, R. Meir imagines, just like Josephus, that Onias legitimated his temple with a passage from Isaiah. The rabbis may not have had direct access to Josephus’s writings, but if not Josephus or some devolution of his account or source material, a similar tradition was apparently at their disposal.70 Josephus has no record of Simeon’s prophetic announcement regarding his death and, indeed, this element of our story, as Raphael Yankelevitch noted,71 was apparently derived from an earlier rabbinic tradition and not from Josephus. The tannaitic tradition cited above wherein Simeon articulates his prophetic announcement and then explains the source of his fore- knowledge apparently inspired the formulation of the introduction to the temple of Onias story. Indeed, a comparison between the two openings as presented in the Palestinian Talmud reveals that they are identical:

Simeon and the Apparition Temple of Onias Tradition Forty years Simeon the Righteous served Israel Forty years Simeon the Righteous served Israel in the High priesthood and in the final year he in the high priesthood and in the final year he saidtothem:“DuringthisyearIshalldie.”They saidtothem:“DuringthisyearIshalldie.”They said to him: “Whence do you know it?”72 said to him: “Whom shall we appoint after you?”

The identical formulations of these two passages indicate that one is the copy of the other and there are good grounds for supposing that the story which explains the prophetic announcement is the original and the Onias

70 See Gruen (1997) 50–51. 71 See Yankelevitch (1985) 139. 72 yYoma 5, 1 42c. In addition, perhaps the word “nimneh” from the beginning of the Onias tradition, “le-mi nimneh ʾaharekha?” (“Whom shall we appoint after you?”), was triggered by the word “nimneʿu” from the concluding phrase of the prophetic announcement tradition, “nimneʿu ʾehav mi-levarekh ba-shem” (“his brethren forbore to pronounce the Name in the priestly benediction”). 188 chapter six tradition the copy. The prophetic announcement most likely appeared first in a text which focused on the announcement itself and sought to explain it; only once the tradition of the announcement already existed would it have been borrowed to serve as the backdrop for the temple of Onias tradition. In addition, while the rabbinic temple of Onias tradition is not recorded in any tannaitic composition, Simeon’s prophetic announcement (and the story of the mysterious apparition) already appears in Tosefta Sotah 13, 8 and possibly antedates the rabbinic Onias tradition. Another element from the rabbinic narratives absent from Josephus’s temple of Onias account is sibling rivalry but conflicts amongst siblings of the high priestly family are a recurring theme in the history of the period. For example, Josephus reports that Jaddua’s uncle Jesus quarreled over the high priesthood with Jaddua’s father Joiada, provoking Joiada so much that Joiada murdered his brother;73 and closer to home, 2Maccabees reports how Jason supplanted his brother Onias in the high priesthood and then implemented his plan to Hellenize Jerusalem.74 Jason, of course, is not Onias’s brother’s name in the rabbinic narratives but scholars have offered the tantalizing suggestion that the rabbis telescoped the conflict between Jason and Onias with another conflict, that of Simeon the Benjamite and Onias,75 and in this manner one may explain why Onias’s brother (and Simeon the Righteous’s son) is named Simeon in the rabbinic tradition.76 Another conflict between siblings of the high priestly family, of course, is the conflict between Jaddua and Manasseh which was discussed in great detail in Chapter 5. That conflict resonates strongly in our story since, as Shaye Cohen pointed out, the two narratives share a strikingly similar structure. “According to both Josephus and the rabbis a schismatic temple was founded as a result of a feud between two brothers who shared the high priesthood. At issue was the liaison of one of the brothers with a woman. Upon being ousted from Jerusalem, the brother founded a temple for the service either of the God of Israel or of some other deity. In Josephus the temple is that of Samaria; in rabbinic tradition it is that of Heliopolis.”77 There is no need, of course, to argue that only one story of sibling rivalry in the Second Temple priesthood influenced our rabbinic narrative and I suspect that elements from different stories, such as Onias’s removal from office, Manasseh’s love for Nikaso and the

73 See Brand (1939) 81. 74 See Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 11, 297–301; 2Maccabees 4, 7–22. 75 See 2Maccabees 3, 4–4, 6. 76 See Yavetz (5723), Appendix 4, p. 16; Finkelstein (1972) 74–75. 77 See Cohen (1986) 10; Kalmin (2002) pp. 43–44. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 189 foundation of the schismatic Samaritan temple, may have set the backdrop for the formation of the rabbinic temple of Onias tradition. One central feature of the rabbinic Onias tradition as yet unaccounted for is the deception via female dress that plays such an important role in the devilish plot to oust the high priest. Cross-dressing itself is attested in ritual settings in the ancient Greek world and thus, for example, Plutarch poses and answers the following question: “Why is it that among the Coans the priest of Heracles at Antimacheia dons a woman’s garb and fastens upon his head a woman’s head-dress before he begins the sacrifice?”78 More generally, cross-dressing on stage was a marked feature of Greek theater that certainly would have been known to the rabbis. In light of the roles of cross-dressing in Greek culture and religion, it is possible that the cross-dressing in our story not only generated anxiety by its attempt to confuse or efface the gender divide, but also represented in rabbinic eyes the incursion of pagan norms into the temple precincts.79 In any event, the deceptive use of clothing here is still rather surprising and I would like to introduce one final source which perhaps may shed light on this particular feature of our narrative. If we were to search for another story in which two brothers compete over an inheritance; one resorts to a deceptive ploy to win it for himself; a woman is implicated in the deception; and the deception involves donning someone else’s clothing; the biblical story of Jacob and Esau immediately comes to mind.80 In order to steal Isaac’s blessing intended for his brother Esau, Jacob, at the behest of his mother, dresses in Esau’s clothing so as to fool his blind father Isaac into thinking he was Esau and thus to have Isaac grant him the blessing due his brother. Obviously there are many differences between the temple of Onias narratives and this biblical account such as the nature of the relationship of the female character to the male protagonists and the gender of the owner (or alleged owner) of the clothing. Nonetheless, the plotlines are suggestively similar and the fact that both plots hinge on an unusual deceptive ploy

78 Plutarch, Moralia 304C–E. See Lucian, The Syrian Goddess 27; 51. See also Tchernowitz (1946) 229 n. 8; Miller (1999) 223–253. 79 In addition, 2Maccabees 4, 11–12 reports that Onias’s brother, Jason, “broke down the lawful manners of life, and introduced new customs forbidden by the law. He took delight in establishing a gymnasium right under the citadel itself, and induced the finest of the young men to wear the petasus hat.” Perhaps the introduction of women’s attire into the temple precincts involves a similar view of clothing as the symbolic representation of Hellenistic culture. 80 See Genesis 27. 190 chapter six which involves dressing up raises the possibility that the rabbinic Onias tradition found inspiration in this biblical story.In short, Second Temple and rabbinic texts apparently supplied the names of the characters and much of the framework for the story; halakhah and the Hellenistic context imbued cross-dressing with cultural force; and the biblical story of Jacob and Esau may have helped inspire the core event that generated the dramatic tension of the narrative.

*** The temple of Onias narratives in both Talmuds depict a succession gone wrong, an abortive transition of leadership from one generation to the next. Simeon the Righteous took pains to recommend or appoint his designated successor but his plans were to no avail. The moment of transition became a moment of conflict and this conflict led to a divisive rift in temple life. The failure to ensure a smooth changeover from one generation to the next is not simply the underlying cause for the founding of the temple of Onias, it is a recurring theme in rabbinic literature which appears in stories about the foundation of other non-rabbinic groups as well.81 A short survey of a few such stories teaches that the anxiety over the moment of transition from one generation to the next was not merely the idiosyncratic fear of a solitary editor or two, but rather a formative component in the rabbinic conceptualization of schisms and heresies. Our first example of a foundation story for a non-rabbinic group is the rabbinic account of the creation of the Sadducees and Boethusians. Accord- ing to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, these non-rabbinic Jewish groups split off from mainstream (rabbinic) Judaism just a generation or two after the tenure Antigonus of Sokho, Simeon the Righteous’s intellectual heir according to Avot. קידצהןועמשמלבקוכוסשיאסונגיטנא , רמואהיהאוה : תאןישמשמהםידבעכויהתלא סרפלבקלתנמלעברה , סרפלבקלאלשתנמלעברהתאןישמשמהםידבעכויהאלא , םכילעםימשארומיהיו , אבהםלועבוהזהםלועבםתישעולאכרכשםהילעולבקתםתאו . םהידימלתלונשהזהרבדהתאועמששןויכוסותיבוקודצולויהםידימלת׳ב . ןהידימלתו ושוריפורמאאלוןבריפמרבדורמא . ןהלורמא : ןתמםיתמהתייחתשםיעדויםתייהוליא ןכןירמואויהאובלדיתעלםיקידצלשןרכש ! תוחפשמיתשםהמואציוןהלושריפווכלה םיסותיבוםיקודצ , סותייבםשלםיסותייבוקודצםשלםיקודצ .

81 These stories are also treated together, though somewhat differently, by Cohen (1980) 4–5. In addition, Cohen’s focus on the similarities between rabbinic and early Christian heresiology should be balanced out with an assessment of the differences. See Tropper (2004) 208–240. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 191

Antigonus of Sokho received from Simeon the Righteous. He used to say: Be not as slaves who serve the master with the intent of receiving compensation; but be as slaves who serve the master without the intent of receiving compensation; and let the fear of Heaven be upon you; and you will receive a reward, both in this world and in the world to come, as if you had done (it yourself ). He had two disciples, Saddok and Boethus, and when they heard this saying, they taught it to their disciples. And their disciples82 quoted the statement of their master but they did not offer its interpretation. They said to them: if you had known that the resurrection of the dead is the reward of the just in the age to come would you have spoken in this manner? They went and withdrew and two families developed from them: the Sadducees and the Boethusians, the Sadducees named after Saddok and the Boethusians named after Boethus.83 In this story, Antigonus’s disciples Saddok and Boethus transmit their master’s teaching but they, or possibly their disciples, exclude what is regarded as its proper explanation, printed above in italics. The teaching on its own may be taken to imply that there is no afterlife and only the appended corrective clarifies that Antigonus believed in an afterlife wherein the righteous are rewarded. Since Antigonus’s teaching was transmitted without its explanation, future disciples incorrectly deduced that there is no afterlife and so they withdrew from mainstream Judaism and created two family-based sects: the Sadducees and Boethusians. In a slightly different (and apparently later) version of this story, the Sadducees and Boethusians are viewed in a more hostile light and the erring disciples are ascribed a more active and rebellious role in the formulation of their heresy.84 In any event, two major sects are founded in this story because of a breakdown in the proper intergenerational transmission of a master’s teaching. Just as the temple of Onias was built because of a botched transition of leadership from generation to generation, so too the Sadducees and Boethusians were founded because of the imperfect transmission of Torah lore from generation to generation. Our second example of a foundation story for a non-rabbinic group is the Babylonian Talmud’s portrayal of the birth of Christianity, an event

82 These disciples refer either to the aforementioned disciples or to the disciples of the disciples. The latter possibility is in line with the parallel (and probably later) version found in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A 5 (pp. 25–26). 83 Avot de-Rabbi Nathan B 10 (pp. 25–26; translation of Saldarini (1975) with slight changes.) See also Kister (1998) 155. (It bears noting that the plotline of this story was apparently inspired, in part, by the saying ascribed to Avtalyon in Avot 1, 11, wherein the phrase “evil waters” refers to heresy: “Sages, be cautious in your words, lest you incur the penalty of exile, and be exiled to a place of evil waters, and the disciples who come after you may drink and die, and thus the name of heaven be profaned.”) 84 Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A 5 (pp. 25–26). See also Kister (1998) 155–156. 192 chapter six said to have taken place during the lifetime of Joshua ben Perahyah, two generations after Antigonus of Sokho according to Avot. תנו רבנן: לעולם תהא שמאל דוחה וימין מקרבת לא כאלישע שדחפו לגחזי בשתי ידיו ולא כיהושע בן פרחיה שדחפו לישו הנוצרי בשתי ידיו … יהושע בן פרחיה מאי היא? כדהוה קא קטיל ינאי מלכא לרבנן, שמעון בן שטח אטמינהו אחתיה, יהושע בן פרחיה אזל ערק לאלכסנדריא של מצרים; כי הוה שלמא שלח ליה שמעון בן שטח: מני ירושלים עיר הקודש לך אלכסנדריא של מצרים, אחותי, בעלי שרוי בתוכך ואני יושבת שוממה! אמר: שמע מינה הוה ליה שלמא. כי אתא אקלע לההוה אושפיזא קם קמייהו ביקרא שפיר, עבדי ליה יקרא טובא; יתיב וקא משתבח כמה נאה אכסניא זו. אמר ליה רבי עיניה טרוטות! אמר ליה: רשע בכך אתה עוסק? אפיק ארבע מאה שפורי ושמתיה. כל יומא אתא לקמיה ולא קבליה. יומא חד הוה קרי קרית שמע אתא לקמיה הוה בדעתיה לקבוליה אחוי ליה בידיה, סבר מדחא דחי ליה. אזל זקף לבינתא פלחא. אמר ליה: חזור בך! אמר ליה: כך מקובלני ממך כל החוטא ומחטיא את הרבים אין מספיקין בידו לעשות תשובה. דאמר מר: ישו הנוצרי כישף והסית והדיח והחטיא את ישראל. Our rabbis have taught: Always let the left hand thrust away and the right hand draw near. Not like Elisha who thrust Gehazi away with both his hands and not like Joshua ben Perahyah who thrust Jesus the Nazarene away with both hands … How was it with Joshua ben Perahyah? When King Yannai put the rabbis to death, Simeon ben Shatah was hidden by his sister, whilst Joshua ben Perahyah fled to Alexandria in Egypt. When there was peace, Simeon ben Shatah sent (this message to him): “From me, Jerusalem, the Holy city, to you Alexandria in Egypt. O my sister, my husband dwells in your midst and I abide desolate.” (Joshua) said: It may be inferred from here that there is peace. When he came back, he stayed over in a certain inn where he stood before them with great respect and they paid him great respect. He sat and praised the hostess (or inn): How beautiful is this hostess (or inn)! He (Jesus) said to him: My master, her eyes are bleary! He replied to him: Wicked person! Is it with such thoughts that you occupy yourself? He sent forth four hundred horns and excommunicated him. Every day (Jesus) came before him, but (Joshua) refused to receive him. One day while (Joshua) was reciting the Shema, he came before him. His intention was to receive and he made a sign to him with his hand, but (Jesus) thought he was repelling him. So he went and set up a brick and worshipped it. (Joshua) said to him: Repent; but he answered him: Thus have I received from you that whoever sinned and caused others to sin is deprived of the power of doing penitence. A master has said: Jesus the Nazarene practiced magic and led Israel astray.85 The origin of the Christian heresy according to the Babylonian Talmud is located in a failed intergenerational relationship between teacher and

85 bSotah 47a (Vilna edition with corrections on basis of manuscripts. Translation by Cohen (1936). See also bSanhedrin 107b). (See also Schäfer (2007) 34–40; Tropper (2011) 89– 110.) simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 193 disciple. Joshua ben Perahyah, the Talmud relates, was far too harsh in his response to his wayward disciple’s lewd comment, and his obstinacy and stern rigidness is to blame for Jesus’s eventual apostasy and the birth of Christianity. The Talmud could have described the origins of Christianity in a wide variety of ways but it chose to view Christianity as the product of a wayward rabbinic disciple. The Talmud focuses its blame almost exclusively on Joshua thereby illustrating how teachers can be responsible for a failed succession and the break-off of a schism or heresy. Thus, the intergenerational relationship between teacher and disciple risks failure on both ends of the relationship: a master’s failings as a teacher may distance his disciples from the Torah just as a disciple’s intellectual or moral failings may lead him to misinterpret or misconstrue the teachings conveyed to him. Skipping from Joshua ben Perahayah to Hillel and Shammai, the final Pair in Avot’s succession list, we encounter another short story about a marred intergenerational relationship, albeit in the context of an internal division and not in reference to a schism or heresy. ושעוללהויאמשודמעודבלבהכימסהלעאלאלארשיבתקולחמהתיהאלהנושארב ׳דןתוא ; וברוןכרוצלכןהיברתאושמישאלוללהתיבידימלתויאמשתיבידימלתוברשמ תותכיתשלוקלחנולארשיבתוקולחמה , ןירהטמוליאוןיאמטמוליא ; הדיתעהניאדועו דודןבאובישדעהמוקמלרוזחל . At first there were no disputes in Israel save for that regarding the laying on hands. Shammai and Hillel stood and made them into four. When the disciples of the House of Shammai and the disciples of the House of Hil- lel became numerous and did not sufficiently serve their masters, disputes became numerous in Israel and they divided into two sects, these declaring unclean and these declaring clean. And (Torah) will not return to its place until the son of David shall arrive.86 In this case, the disciples of the Houses of Hillel and Shammai do not properly attend to their masters and as a result, disputes multiply and the Torah world becomes divided into two groups, the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai. Like the heretical views of the Sadduccees, Boethusians and Christians discussed above, disputes are viewed here in a negative light, as an unfortunate deviation and divagation from the original course of Torah transmission. The three stories just surveyed, like the rabbinic Onias narratives, all locate the origins of a schism, heresy or internal rift in an intergenerational

86 yHagigah 2, 2 77d (In translating I consulted Neusner’s translation (1986)). See also tHagigah 2, 9; tSotah 14, 9; tSanhedrin 7, 1; ySanhedrin 1,4 19c; bSotah 47b; bSanhedrin 88b. 194 chapter six breakdown. In all four cases the proper transmission of Torah lore or the succession of legitimate authority is disrupted during the transition between generations and a break-off group (or in one case, an internal division) is produced as a result. One might have imagined that this is a natural and intuitive way for a group to describe the creation of other competing groups, but if we expand the purview and consider origin stories articulated by other ancient Jewish groups, we find very different sorts of stories. Unlike the rabbis who identified themselves as mainstream and competing groups as breakaway heretics or schismatics, some ancient Jewish groups, such as the Qumran sectarians, portrayed themselves as a breakaway group.87 Moreover, other ancient Jewish groups did not attribute the errors of their competitors to an intergenerational breakdown, but rather to other factors such as the sudden emergence of a group of lawless upstarts or tricksters, or the false teachings of a lying and misleading leader.88 In light of the variety of possibilities present in comparable ancient Jewish texts, two striking features of the rabbinic origin stories call for an explanation: their portrayal of non- rabbinic traditions as misguided deviations from the rabbinic mainstream and the recurring role of the intergenerational breakdown as the underlying cause for schisms and heresies. Shaye Cohen noted the first of these two features, i.e. the rabbinic portrayal of heresy as “a corrupt offshoot from the one, holy, and true tradition,”89 and he offered the following explanation for this phenomenon. Avot’s succession list, which encapsulates the rabbis’ view of their own origins, maintains that the rabbis are the official and designated transmitters of Torah lore,90 so anyone who teaches contrary to rabbinic interpretation is accordingly perceived as a corruptor of official, mainstream and norma- tive Jewish teachings. Cohen’s explanation convincingly links the rabbinic presentation of heresies as offshoots with Avot’s succession list, and I sub- mit that Avot’s succession list may also explain the other striking feature of rabbinic origin stories as well, i.e. the recurring theme of intergenerational

87 See, for example, 4QMMT (4Q 397 14–21, 7–11) (Qimron and Strugnell (1994) 58–59). 88 See, for example, 1Maccabees 1, 11–14; CD-A 1, 1–14; Josephus, The Jewish War 2, 118, 259–263; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 20, 97–99, 167–172, 188; Acts 5, 36–37. (Early church fathers, such as Irenaues, Tertullian and Eusebius, offer many additional scenarios to explain the origins of heresies.) 89 Cohen (1980) 8. Cohen simplifies matters too much, however, by claiming that the rabbis blame heresies on the ignorance of disciples. As noted above, some rabbinic texts, such as Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A 5, attribute more spiteful intentions to the schismatics and other texts, such as the Joshua ben Perahyah account, find more fault with the master than with his disciple. 90 For an elegant description of this ideology see Stern (1996) 32. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 195 breakdown. Since Avot presents Jewish history as the transmission of Torah from master to disciple, the rabbis explained that other groups were established when their founders deviated from this list, when wayward disciples of the Avot masters went astray. The Sadducees and Boethusians distorted the teaching of Antigonus of Sokho; Joshua ben Perahyah caused Jesus to abandon his discipleship; and Hillel and Shammai’s teachings were mis- understood by their careless students. Avot, in other words, describes the mechanism that assured the continuous preservation of Torah, the master- disciple relationship, and heresies and schisms were consequently adduced to breakdowns in this mechanism. A second factor underlying the recurring use of the intergenerational breakdown theme, I suspect, is the oral medium of rabbinic culture. The rabbis were intimately familiar with the numerous sorts of mishaps and misunderstandings that plague any attempt to preserve an oral tradition over generations and the misadventures which appear in some rabbinic origin stories seem to reflect anxiety over the risks entailed by the oral transmission of Torah. Hence, in addition to the ideological role of the master- disciple relationship in rabbinic self-conception, the firsthand experience of oral transmission may well have contributed to the recurring appearance of the intergenerational breakdown theme in rabbinic origin stories of schisms and heresies. At first glance, the story of the temple of Onias is not an appropriate candidate for the intergenerational breakdown theme since the story is about priests and temples, not rabbis and Torah lore. A priest is a priest because he was born one and therefore the priestly succession is quite unlike the transmission of oral traditions at the core of rabbinic culture. Nonetheless, the rabbis projected their worldview onto the past and chose to present Onias’s temple as the product of an intergenerational breakdown. Just when the office of the high priest was being transferred from one generation to the next, the process of succession broke down: one of Simeon the Righteous’s sons had moral shortcomings while the other had not even learned the basics of the temple service and could not distinguish between female attire and the garments of the high priest. The plotline of the rabbinic temple of Onias narratives turns on Simeon’s sons’ poor education and thereby emerges as a distinctly rabbinized plot.

*** By way of concluding, let us compare Simeon the Righteous’s role in the temple of Onias narratives to his role in the list of statements that precede the temple of Onias narratives in the Palestinian Talmud. 196 chapter six

כל ימים שהיה שמעון הצדיק קיים לא היה מגיע למחצית ההר עד שנעשה איברין איברין; משמת שמעון הצדיק היה בורח למדבר והסרקיין אוכלין אותו. כל ימים שהיה שמעון הצדיק קיים היה גורל שלשם עולה בימין; משמת שמעון הצדיק פעמים בימין פעמים בשמאל. כל ימים שהיה שמעון הצדיק קיים היה נר מערבי דולק; משמת שמעון הצדיק פעמים כבה פעמים דלק. כל ימים שהיה שמעון הצדיק קיים היה לשון שלזהורית מלבין; משמת שמעון הצדיק פעמים מלבין פעמים מאדים. כל ימים שהיה שמעון הצדיק קיים היה אור המערכה מתגבר ועולה, משהיו נותנין שני גיזירי עצים בשחרית לא היו נותנין כל היום; משמת שמעון הצדיק תשש כוחה שלמערכה ולא היו נמנעין להיות נותנין עצים כל היום. כל ימים שהיה שמעון הצדיק קיים היתה ברכה משולחת בשתי הלחם ובלחם הפנים, והיה נופל לכל אחד ואחד עד כזית, ויש מהן שהיו אוכלין ושביעין ויש מהן שהיו אוכלין ומותירין; משמת שמעון הצדיק ניטלה ברכה משתי הלחם ומלחם הפנים, והיה נופל לכל אחד ואחד מהן עד כאפון, הצנועים היו מושכין את ידיהם, והגרגרנים היו פושטין את ידיהן. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive it (i.e. the scapegoat sent into the wilderness on the Day of Atonement) would not make it to the middle of the mountain before it came apart limb by limb; once Simeon the Righteous died it would flee to the wilderness and desert-dwellers would eat it. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive the lot “For the Lord” would always come up in the right hand; once Simeon the Righteous died sometimes it came up in the right sometimes in the left. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive the westernmost light (on the temple’s candelabra) was always lit; once Simeon the Righteous died sometimes it was extinguished and sometimes lit. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive the crimson-colored strap (tied to the bullock’s horns) would become white (on the Day of Atonement signaling that the people of Israel’s sins were forgiven); once Simeon the Righteous died sometimes it would become white and sometimes it would become red. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive the fire of the pile of wood (on the altar) burned strong and rose up, so that when they placed two logs in the morning they would not have to place additional logs all day long; once Simeon the Righteous died the fire of the pile weakened and they could not do without bringing wood throughout the day. All the days Simeon the Righteous was alive a blessing was bestowed on the two breads and the shewbread, so that every (priest) would receive an olive-size portion, and some would eat and become satiated and others would eat and (even) leave over; once Simeon the Righteous died the blessing was removed from the two breads and the shewbread, and every (priest) would receive a bean-sized portion, the modest would withdraw their hands, while the voracious would extend their hands.91 Towards the end of Chapter 2, I cited a part of the toseftan parallel to this text and suggested that like Simeon the Righteous’s placement at the very end of Ben Sira’s Praise of the Fathers and his role as a remnant of the Great Assembly, this tradition also views Simeon the Righteous as a watershed figure and the last leader of a glorious era. Indeed, the full tradition as

91 yYoma 6, 3 43c. Cf tKippurim 13, 7; bYoma 39a. simeon the righteous and the temple of onias 197 presented here strengthens the impression that Simeon’s death sealed a golden age. Simeon is portrayed here as a holy and almost magical or angelic figure whose presence miraculously influenced six different aspects of the temple service. Upon his death, these miracles ceased and temple life passed from the supernatural sphere of the extraordinary into the natural world of the ordinary. Thus, for example, the two breads and shewbread which miraculously had satiated all the priests during Simeon’s lifetime no longer satiated them all after his death. In addition, the absence of this miracle made room for the manifestation of human qualities, both good and bad: modest priests would abstain from the bread in order to ensure that others would receive a share while greedy and voracious priests only thought of themselves and always made sure to get their portion. The temple of Onias tradition which immediately follows this depiction of Simeon the Righteous follows it in spirit as well. Upon Simeon’s death, a miraculous golden age came to a close and even the high priesthood became subject to base human desires. Simeon thus represents for the rabbis a glorious age in Jewish history when the temple functioned ideally and miraculously, when the men of the Great Assembly restored the Torah to its rightful place and when the Jews overcame their threatening Samaritan neighbors and destroyed the temple in Samaria. In describing how Simeon’s death led to the erection of yet another schismatic temple by one of his very own sons, the rabbis emphasized that the miraculous gave way to the mundane when Simeon the Righteous passed from the world.

chapter seven

SIMEON THE RIGHTEOUS IN SECOND TEMPLE CHRONOLOGY

The rabbinic legend of Alexander the Great explored in Chapter 5 dates Simeon the Righteous to the time of Alexander’s conquest of Palestine, a conquest which took place in the year 332bce. In contrast, the accounts of the founding of the temple of Onias discussed in Chapter 6 relate to events that occurred during Antiochus Epiphanes’s rule (175–164bce) and therefore seem to date Simeon to the early second century bce. Since Antiochus Epiphanes was born roughly a century after Alexander the Great’s death, it would appear that rabbinic literature locates Simeon the Righteous in two periods over a century apart. In light of such seemingly incompatible evidence, my goal in this chapter is to explore the different datings for Simeon the Righteous in rabbinic literature. Towards this end, I expand the purview and review all of Simeon’s appearances in rabbinic literature in search of chronological inconsistencies. A priori there is no reason to presuppose that a consistent chronology was maintained by the numerous authors and editors of rabbinic literature since the rabbis after all were not historians. However, I shall argue that an actual examination of the evidence reveals that all of the rabbinic dates for Simeon the Righteous dovetail seamlessly save one. Chronological inconsistencies between these traditions, such as the apparent contradiction noted above, only emerge when we introduce historical data of which the rabbinic sages were unaware (or perhaps elected to ignore), but from an internal rabbinic perspective the rabbinic dating of Simeon the Righ- teous is largely consistent. Only a solitary rabbinic tradition, the story of Simeon the Righteous and Caligula, violates this chronological consistency and I shall maintain that the author who integrated Simeon into an already extant tradition about Caligula was unaware or untroubled by the chronological inconsistency entailed by his innovation.

*** In order to set the stage for our discussion of the dating of Simeon the Righ- teous in rabbinic literature, let us first review his dating in Second Temple literature: in Josephus’s writings and in Ben Sira. At first glance, the Second Temple evidence seems straightforward and unequivocal. Josephus’s Jewish 200 chapter seven

Antiquities is the only Second Temple source to actually mention Simeon the Righteous (ὁ δίκαιος) by name, more precisely by cognomen, and Jewish Antiquities dates Simeon the Righteous to the early third century bce: τελευτήσαντος Ὀνίου τοῦ ἀρχιερέως ὁ παῖς αὐτοῦ Σίμων γίγνεται διάδοχος, ὁ καὶ δί- καιος ἐπικληθεὶς διά τε τὸ πρὸς τὸν θεὸν εὐσεβὲς καὶ τὸ πρὸς τοὺς ὁμοφύλους εὔνουν. ἀποθανόντος δὲ τούτου καὶ νήπιον υἱὸν καταλιπόντος τὸν κληθέντα Ὀνίαν, ὁ ἀδελ- φὸς αὐτοῦ Ἐλεάζαρος, περὶ οὗ τὸν λόγον ποιούμεθα, τὴν ἀρχιερωσύνην παρέλαβεν. On the death of the high priest Onias, he was succeeded by his son Simeon, who was surnamed the Righteous because of both his piety toward God and his benevolence to his countrymen. But as he, when he died, left an infant son named Onias, his brother Eleazar, of whom we are now writing, took over the high priesthood.1 According to Josephus, the very Jaddua who had met Alexander the Great was succeeded by his son Onias I who, in turn, was succeeded by his son, Simeon I, or Simeon the Righteous. Thus, our only explicit Second Temple evidence dates Simeon the Righteous to the early third century bce. Paren- thetically, it bears noting that Simeon’s cognomen (and office) in rabbinic literature may have ultimately been derived from a Jewish Antiquities-like tradition akin to the quotation cited above. Despite Josephus’s explicit testimony, scholars have questioned the accu- racy of his identification of Simeon the Righteous because Josephus seems to have been lacking authentic and accurate evidence for Jewish history between Nehemiah and the Hasmonean era. His primary material for this period, which comprises the murder of Jaddua’s uncle Jesus, the legend of Jaddua and Alexander the Great, the Letter of Aristeas and the Tobiad romance, “is palpable fiction, even where the actors are real person as in the case of the Tobiads.”2 Some have contended that Josephus’s high priestly genealogies form an exception to this rule but in fact “they are locked into the romantic narratives which Josephus incorporated bodily, and in view of his well-known methods of authorship, there is no reason to suppose that he revised them from authentic lists of high priests even if he had any.”3 Indeed, Josephus’s list of high priests from Jaddua to Hasmonean times has a number of puzzling and difficult features. Jaddua, as noted in Chap- ter 5, lived about a hundred years before his appearance alongside Alexan- der the Great in Jewish Antiquities. Simeon I was succeeded by his brother

1 Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 12, 43–44 (pp. 24–25) with Marcus’s translation, slightly modified. 2 Moore (1927) 361. See also Derenbourgh (1867) 47. 3 Ibid., 363. simeon the righteous in second temple chronology 201

Eleazar because his son Onias II was an infant at the time of his death but there is no historical precedent for such a succession in biblical writings.4 In his turn, Eleazar was succeeded by his uncle Manasseh5 and it is highly pecu- liar that Onias II was preceded not only by his uncle Eleazar “but also by his uncle’s uncle.”6 Furthemore, an uncanny parallel to Onias II’s succession appears just a few generations later when Onias IV is also preceded by his uncle due to his tender age7 and, as noted in Chapter 6, Josephus’s rendering of Simeon II’s children, two of which he claims were named Onias, is hopelessly confused.8 In short, since Josephus’s presentation of the period between Nehemiah and the Hasmonean era including his list of high priests is highly suspect, numerous scholars have questioned his identification of Simeon I with Simeon the Righteous.9 Simeon II, according to Josephus, was the grandson of Simeon I, son of Onias II and father of Onias III, Jason and Onias-Menelaus. Other than Simeon’s place in the high priestly genealogy and the assertion that Simeon II maintained a pro-Seleucid stance, Josephus has precious little to say about him.10 In contrast, Simeon II is the climactic figure in Ben Sira’s

4 A high priest by the name of Eleazar plays a central role in the Letter of Aristeas but the Letter itself bears no mention of Eleazar’s relationship to Simeon I. In light of Josephus’s decision to integrate the Letter of Aristeas into his historical narrative, it seems quite possible that he constructed the familial connection between Eleazar and Simeon I so as to explain how the Eleazar of the Letter of Aristeas came to be high priest. Cf. VanderKam (2004) 157– 167. 5 Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 12, 157. 6 Marcus in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (1933–1965) vol. 7, p. 733. 7 Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 12, 237. See Moore (1927) 364. 8 See Moore (1927) 363. 9 See n. 14 below. 10 See Josephus, JewishWar 7, 420–425; id., JewishAntiquities 12, 224–241; id. JewishAntiqui- ties 19, 297–298. Simeon II also appears in 3Maccabees 2, 1: “Then the High Priest Simeon bent his knees before the Temple, calmly stretched his hands forth, and pronounced the following prayer” (Hadas’s translation, slightly modified). Though most scholars seem to consider this extended passage an original part of 3Maccabees (Kahana (1937) 241; Emmet (1939) 164; Hadas (1953) 38; Anderson (1985) 518 (n. 2a); Hacham (2002) 69 n. 22; VanderKam (2004) 184 n. 196; Clayton-Croy (2006) 51; Amitay (2007) 236), it seems that Robert Hanhart and Anna Passoni Dell-Acqua were correct to conclude that it is actually an interpolation. The passage only appears in the less reliable Lucianic Recension and in the Syriac tradition which is known for its additions (see Hanhart (1960) 17, 44; Johnson (2004) xiv n. 8). The existence of an entirely different (and much shorter) rendering of the passage (which does not mention Simeon) indicates that later scribes sought to ease the transition between chapters one and two; one scribal tradition linked the chapters with a short transitional phrase while the other tradition inserted a long passage (which also introduced Simeon (see Passoni Dell’Acqua (2000) 636 n. 2)). Simeon is not mentioned again in 3Maccabees and, in truth, the passage is not missed when it is not included. Presumably, Simeon was inserted in order to 202 chapter seven

Praise of the Fathers where he is the subject of practically an entire chapter.11

גדול אחיו ותפארת עמו שמעון בן יוחנן הכהן. אשר בדורו נפקד הבית ובימיו חזק היכל. אשר בדורו נכרה מקוה אשיח בם בהמונו. אשר בימיו נבנה קיר פנות מעון בהיכל מלך. הדואג לעמו מחתף ומחזק עירו מצר. מה נהדר בהשגיחו מאהל ובצאתו מבית הפרכת. ככוכב אור מבין עבים וכירח מלא בימי מועד. וכשמש משרקת אל היכל המלך וכקשת נראתה בענן. כנץ בענפי בימי מועד וכשושן על יבלי מים. כפרח לבנון בימי קיץ וכאש לבונה על המנחה. ככלי זהב בבית אציל הנאחז על אבני חפץ. כזית רענן מלא גרגר וכעץ שמן מרוה ענף. בעטותו בגדי כבוד והתלבשו בגדי תפארת. בעלותו על מזבח הוד ויהדר עזרת מקדש. בקבלו נתחים מיד אחיו והוא נצב על מערכות. סביב לו עטרת בנים כשתילי ארזים בלבנון. ויקיפוהו כערבי נחל כל בני אהרן בכבודם. ואשי י׳י בידם נגד כל קהל ישראל. עד כלותו לשרת מזבח ולסדר מערכות עליון. אז יריעו בני אהרן הכהנים בחצוצרות מקשה. ויריעו וישמיעו קול אדיר להזכיר לפני עליון. כל בשר יחדו נמהרו ויפלו על פניהם ארצה. להשתחות לפני עליון לפני קדוש ישראל. ויתן השיר קולו ועל המון העריכו נרו. וירנו כל עם הארץ בתפלה לפני רחום. עד כלותו לשרת מזבח ומשפטיו הגיע אליו. אז ירד ונשא ידיו על כל קהל ישראל. וברכת י׳י בשפתיו ובשם י׳י יתפאר. וישנו לנפל שנית מברכי אל מפניו. עתה ברכו נא את י׳י אלהי ישראל המפליא לעשות בארץ. המגדל אדם מרחם ויעשהו כרצונו. יתן לכם חכמת לבב ויהי בשלום ביניכם. יאמן עם שמעון חסדו ויקם לו ברית פינחס. אשר לא יכרת לו ולזרעו כימי שמים.12

attribute chapter two’s prayer to an early historical figure (Passoni Dell’Acqua (2000) 636 n. 2) or because it was hard to imagine that the masses mentioned at the end of chapter one could articulate as one such a long and intricate impromptu prayer (cf. Hacham (2002) 69 n. 22). 11 Most scholars believe that Simeon the high priest in Ben Sira is Simeon II, a contemporary of the author, but some disagree. For the dissenting view see Englander (1925) 148; VanderKam (2000) 236–238. 12 Ben Sira 50, 1–36. simeon the righteous in second temple chronology 203

Great one of his brethren, and glory of his people, Was Simeon, son of Yohanan, the priest; In whose generation the house was inspected; And in whose days the temple was fortified. In whose generation a cistern was dug; A pit like the sea in its abundance. In whose days a wall was built; A bulwark of refuge in the temple of the King. Who took thought for his people against the spoiler; And fortified his city against the besieger. How glorious was he when he looked forth from the tent; And when he went out from the house of the veil! As the morning star from amid thick clouds; And as the full moon in the days of the solemn feast. And as the sun dawning upon the temple of the King; And as rainbow seen in the cloud. As budding branch in the days of the solemn feast; And as the lotus by the watercourses. As a flower of Lebanon in the days of summer; And as fire of incense upon the meal-offering: As a golden vessel according to the proposed pattern That is set with pleasant stones. As a green olive full of berries; And as a wild olive tree with branches full of sap. When he put on robes of honor; And clothed himself with robes of beauty. When he ascended the altar of majesty; And made glorious the precinct of the sanctuary. When he received the pieces out of the hand of his brethren; While himself standing by the altar fires: Round him a crown of sons, Like cedar plants in Lebanon. And they compassed him like willows of the brook; All the sons of Aaron in their glory: With the fire-offerings of the Lord in their hand, Before all the congregation of Israel. Until he finished serving the altar, And arranging the fires of the Most High. Then sounded the sons of Aaron, the priests, With trumpets of turnery. And they sounded, and made their glorious voice heard; To bring remembrance before the Most High. All flesh together hasted, And fell down upon their faces to the earth: To worship before the Most High Before the Holy One of Israel. And the choir uttered its voice; 204 chapter seven

And over the multitude they made sweet melody. And all the people of the land chanted, In prayer before the Merciful. Until he finished serving the altar; And had brought its customary offering unto it. Then he came down, and lifted up his hands Over all the congregation of Israel. And the blessing of the Lord was on his lips; And in the name of the Lord he gloried. And they bowed down a second time The blessed of God, before him. Now bless ye the Lord, the God of Israel, Which doeth wonderously in the land. That bringeth up man from the womb; And maketh him according to his will. May he give you wisdom of heart; And may there be peace among you. May his mercy stand fast with Simeon; And may he confirm to him the covenant of Phinehas; Which shall not be broken for him and for his descendants, As long as the days of the heavens endure.13 Although Ben Sira never explicitly identifies Simeon II as Simeon the Righ- teous, his glorious description of Simeon II has led many scholars to conclude that Josephus confused the two Simeons and that, in reality, Simeon II was Simeon the Righteous.14

*** In light of the evidence from Second Temple times, let us examine the different ways in which the rabbis integrated Simeon the Righteous into the chronology of the Second Temple period via a comprehensive review of Simeon’s appearances in rabbinic literature. One group of five rabbinic traditions vaguely locates Simeon the Righ- teous sometime within the Second Temple period. In the story of Simeon the

13 Translation by Schechter and Taylor (1899) 47–49 with some changes in light of Mulder (2003) 259–261. 14 See Moore (1927); Mulder (2003) 345–354; cf. VanderKam (2000) 224–240. For extensive references, see Tamari (1972) 4–7; Amitay (2007) 236–237 n. 4; Ben Shalom (2008) 77 n. 20. Some (Löw (1889) 399–449; Honig (1961) 44–49) have identified Simeon the Righteous as Simeon the Hasmonean and Amitay ((2007) 236–237, 243 249) argues that Simeon the Has- monean’s tenure may well have influenced the rabbinic depiction of Simeon the Righteous. However, there are no solid grounds for identifying Simeon the Hasmonean with Simeon the Righteous and I am not familiar with any rabbinic source which indicates that the sages derived inspiration from Simeon the Hasmonean’s tenure when depicting Simeon the Righ- teous. simeon the righteous in second temple chronology 205

Righteous and the narcissistic nazirite, Simeon the Righteous is portrayed as an officiating priest during Second Temple times, but the story offers no clues for narrowing down when he might have lived during the Second Tem- ple period.15 Similarly, the traditions which describe how Simeon predicted his own demise16 and prolonged his stay in the Holy of Holies do not specify when precisely these events were thought to have occurred.17 The tannaitic tradition which describes how certain miraculous features of the temple service ceased upon Simeon’s death views Simeon as the last leader of a glorious era but does not indicate when this era concluded.18 In addition, the following source links Simeon to an event (recorded in Megillat Taʿanit) from sometime during the Second Temple period, but once again a specific date is not mentioned. ארטימתיחנוארטימלעומצהיבםירשעב — לארשיליבשבאלאםידרויםימשגהןיאש רמאנש ״ םימשהתאבוטהורצואתאךל׳ייחתפי ״ ( חכםירבד , בי .) ןועמשימיבהיההזו קידצה ; םהלרמאו : הכבישדעהסנרפינבלןתתלאותיבןבלרמאוונבלעסעכשךלמללשמ ינפלןנחתיו . On the twentieth of Adar they fasted for rain and rain fell—for rain falls only for Israel, as it is said: “The Lord will open for you His bounteous store, the heavens, to provide rain for your land in season and to bless all your undertakings” (Deuteronomy 28, 12). And this event took place in the days of Simeon the Righteous. He said to them (the people): “(The situation may be compared to) a parable of a king who was angry at his son and said to his servant: ‘Do not give my son a slice of bread until he cries and begs before me.’”19

15 See Sifre Numbers 22 (pp. 59–60); tNezirut 4, 7; yNedarim 1, 1 36d; yNazir 1, 7 51c; bNedarim 9b; bNazir 4b. This story and others presuppose a temple setting without explicitly specifying a Second Temple setting. In theory, one might imagine that perhaps a First Temple setting is presupposed but since Scripture lists the high priests of First Temple times without including a Simeon the Righteous, the rabbis would have understood these stories as having taken place in a Second Temple context. 16 tSotah MS Vienna 13, 8. Cf. yYoma 5, 1 42c; Leviticus Rabbah 21, 12 (p. 493); bYoma 39b, Semahot,Baraitotme-evelrabbati 4, 3. See also the short discussion on this source in Chapter 6 above. 17 yYoma 5, 1 42c. The parallel versions of the story in tKippurim 2, 3 and bYoma 53b, which do not identify the high priest as Simeon the Righteous, indicate that the identification was not part of the original version of the story. Presumably, the gloss interpolated into the Palestinian Talmud was prompted by a desire to identify the high priest who prayed on behalf of the sanctuary and the rabbinic tales about Simeon the Righteous made him the obvious candidate. See the end of Chapter 5 above. 18 yYoma 6, 3 43c. Cf tKippurim 13, 7; bYoma 39a. See also the discussion at the end of Chapter 6. 19 MegillatTaʿanit according to scholion MS Oxford on the twentieth of Adar (pp. 123–128). For speculations that the story may have originally been told about Samuel ha-Katan or Simeon ben Shatah see Noam’s analysis in Megillat Taʿanit (2003) 310 and Amitay (2007) 247. 206 chapter seven

In short, these five sources all assume that Simeon the Righteous lived sometime during the Second Temple period but offer no clues for a more precise dating: A second group of rabbinic traditions narrows down the span of time during which Simeon the Righteous could have lived by indicating that he lived sometime before Yohanan Hyrcanus, a Hasmonean leader of the late second century bce. This group consists of a tannaitic tradition preserved in the Mishnah and a list of Second Temple high priests cited in the Babylonian Talmud. The tannaitic tradition consists of a list of individuals, arranged in chronological order, who prepared the ashes of a red heifer: ומי עשאן? הראשונה עשה משה, השניה עשה עזרא, וחמש מעזרא והלך דברי רבי מאיר; וחכמים אומרים: שבע מעזרא והלך. ומי עשאן? שמעון הצדיק ויוחנן כהן גדול עשו שתים שתים, אליועיניי בן הקייף וחנמאל המצרי וישמעאל בן פיאבי עשו אחת אחת.20 And who prepared them (i.e. the ashes of the red heifers)? Moses prepared the first, Ezra prepared the second, and (there were) five more from Ezra on—these are the words of Rabbi Meir. And the sages said: Seven from Ezra on. And who prepared them? Simeon the Righteous and Yohanan the high priest prepared two apiece, and Eliehoaenai ben Hakkof and Hanamel the Egyptian and Ishmael ben Piabi prepared one apiece. In this tannaitic list, Simeon the Righteous appears after Ezra but before Yohanan the High Priest, i.e. Yohanan Hyrcanus. Like the tannaitic list, the Babylonian Talmud’s list of high priests is also arranged chronologically and Simeon the Righteous precedes Yohanan Hyrcanus in it as well: אמר רבה בר בר חנה אמר רבי יוחנן: מאי דכתיב ״יראת ה׳ תוסיף ימים ושנות רשעים תקצרנה״ (משלי י, כז), ״יראת ה׳ תוסיף ימים״—זה מקדש ראשון, שעמד ארבע מאות ועשר שנים ולא שמשו בו אלא שמונה עשר כהנים גדולים, ״ושנות רשעים תקצרנה״—זה מקדש שני, שעמד ארבע מאות ועשרים שנה, ושמשו בו יותר משלש מאות כהנים. צא מהם ארבעים שנה ששמש שמעון הצדיק, ושמונים ששמש יוחנן כהן גדול, עשר ששמש ישמעאל בן פאבי, ואמרי לה אחת עשרה ששמש רבי אלעזר בן חרסום—מכאן ואילך צא וחשוב: כל אחד ואחד לא הוציא שנתו. Rabbah bar Bar Hannah said in the name of R. Yohanan: What is the meaning of the passage, “The fear of the Lord prolongs life, while the years of the wicked will be shortened” (Proverbs 10, 27)? “The fear of the Lord prolongs life” refers to the first Sanctuary, which remained standing for four hundred and ten years and in which there served only eighteen priests. “While the years of the wicked will be shortened” refers to the second Sanctuary, which abided for four hundred and twenty years and at which more than three hundred (high) priests served. Take off therefrom the forty years which Simeon the

20 mParah 3, 5. See also ySheqalim 4, 2 48a. simeon the righteous in second temple chronology 207

Righteous served, eighty years which Yohanan the high priest served, ten which Ishmael ben Piabi served, or, as some say, the eleven years of Rabbi Eleazar ben Harsum. Count (the number of high priests) from then on and you will find that none of them completed his year (in office).21 In a similar vein, two traditions suggest that Simeon the Righteous preceded the Hasmonean dynasty. The text from the Babylonian Talmud discussed at the beginning of Chapter 5 lists Simeon the Righteous before Matityahu and the Hasmoneans thereby intimating that he preceded them.22 Similarly, the continuation of Avot’s chain of transmission after the appearance of Simeon the Righteous, if read in light of other rabbinic sources, also indicates that Simeon the Righteous lived right before the Hasmoneans. Avot locates Simeon the Righteous two generations before Yose ben Yoezer and Genesis Rabbah seems to assign Yose ben Yoezer to the very beginning of the Hasmonean era.23 Similarly, Avot situates Simeon the Righteous four generations before Simeon ben Shatah and numerous rabbinic sources date Simeon ben Shatah to the time of Yannai and Shlomzion.24 In short, our survey till this point has gradually focused in on a narrower timeframe. We began with vague references to the Second Temple period, proceeded to sources which locate Simeon before Yohanan Hyrcanus and concluded with sources which suggest that Simeon preceded the Hasmonean dynasty. The rabbinic accounts of the founding of the temple of Onias do not shed light on the position of the temple’s founding within Second Temple chronology, but, as discussed above in Chapter 6, Josephus reveals that the temple was founded in the time of Antiochus Epiphanes or shortly thereafter, just about the time the Hasmoneans rose to power. The rabbis never explicitly confirm Josephus’s dating for the founding of the temple of Onias but his dating dovetails nicely with the presupposition in most of the sources surveyed above that Simeon the Righteous served as high priest shortly before the emergence of the Hasmoneans.

21 bYoma 9a. The earliest parallel to this tradition appears in Sifre Numbers 131 (p. 56), but this tannaitic text does not cite any high priest by name. Palestinian amoraic parallels (yYoma 1, 1, 38c; Leviticus Rabbah 21, 9 (pp. 487–489)) insert Simeon the Righteous as well as the duration of his reign, but only the relatively late parallel in the Babylonian Talmud introduces a list of high priests along with the duration of their reigns. 22 See bMegillah 11a. 23 See Genesis Rabbah 65, 22 (pp. 740–744). See also Moore (1927) 355–356; Marcus in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (1933–1965) vol. 7, p. 735. 24 See, for example, Sifra Behuqotai 17, 6, 2 (110d); yBerakhot 7, 2, 11b; yNazir 5, 4 54b; bBerakhot 48a; bSotah 47a; bSanhedrin 19a. See also Moore (1927) 355. 208 chapter seven

In short, none of the rabbinic sources surveyed till now are incompatible with one another and the majority of them lead to the very same conclusion: Simeon the Righteous served as high priest shortly before the Has- moneans rose to power. Second Temple sources reveal that the Simeon who lived shortly before the Hasmoneans was Simeon II and, indeed, some of the rabbinic traditions cited above are apparently indebted to our Second Temple sources on Simeon II. The notion that Simeon the Righteous was a watershed figure and the last great leader of a glorious era was apparently inspired by Simeon II’s placement at the end of Ben Sira’s Praise of the Fathers and the idea that Simeon the Righteous’s son established a temple in Egypt was dependent on Josephus’s narrative of its founding or on a “Josephus-like”25 tradition. The only datum in the rabbinic traditions which points to Simeon I is the cognomen “the Righteous.” If Josephus erred in assigning this cognomen to Simeon I, then we would be able to conclude that the Simeon the Righteous of rabbinic literature is a rabbinic depiction of Simeon II. However, since no extant Second Temple source refers to Simeon II as Simeon the Righteous, perhaps the most we can say is that the rabbis conflated traditions on the two Simeons, drawing Simeon’s cognomen from a Jewish Antiquities-like source about Simeon I and deriving his dating, relationship to the founder of the temple of Onias and role as a watershed figure from sources about Simeon II.26

*** In contrast to the historical agreement amongst the rabbinic traditions surveyed above, two other rabbinic traditions seem to presuppose an earlier date for Simeon the Righteous. The rabbinic legend of Simeon and Alexan- der, discussed in Chapter 5, places Simeon on the border between the Persian and Hellenistic periods in the mid-fourth century bce and Avot’s description of Simeon as a remnant of the Great Assembly, discussed in Chapter 2, seems to argue for an even earlier date. At first glance these two traditions themselves seem incompatible with one another but, as we saw in Chapter 2, they actually dovetail perfectly when viewed from an internal rabbinic perspective. That is to say that since the rabbis collapsed Persian rule during Second Temple times to a mere thirty four years, Avot’s chain of transmission actually locates Simeon on the border between the Persian and Hellenistic periods just like the legend of Simeon and Alexander. In Avot, Simeon is a remnant of the Great Assembly, an institution which flourished

25 See Kalmin (2005) 218 n. 41, 235–236. 26 Cf. Amitay (2007) 249; Ben Shalom (2008) 77. simeon the righteous in second temple chronology 209 during early Second Temple times under Persian rule, while his successor, Antigonus of Sokho, bears a Greek name in tune with the cultural environment of the Hellenistic period. Thus, Avot’s chain of transmission and the legend of Simeon and Alexander actually agree that Simeon flourished in the early Hellenistic period. However, this date is still much earlier than the date presupposed in the rabbinic traditions surveyed above. Nonetheless I believe that the apparent contradiction between Simeon’s early dating to Alexander’s time and his late dating to just before the Has- monean period falls away once we adopt an internal rabbinic perspective. As far as the rabbis were concerned, there is no contradiction between the belief that Simeon the Righteous lived in the time of Alexander the Great and the belief that his son founded the temple of Onias shortly before the rise of the Hasmoneans. We detect a historical contradiction between these two beliefs only because we know from non-rabbinic sources that Alexan- der conquered Palestine in 332bce and from Josephus that the temple of Onias was built over a century and a half later, shortly before the Hasmonean period. However, rabbinic literature reveals no awareness of this historical chronology and the rabbis could have easily imagined that Simeon the Righ- teous was a contemporary of Alexander the Great and lived shortly before the rise of the Hasmoneans. In sum, though different rabbinic texts date Simeon to the early Second Temple period, to the time of Alexander and to just before the Hasmonean era, all of these dates are fully compatible from an internal rabbinic perspective.

*** One rabbinic tradition, however, is most certainly incompatible with the view that Simeon bridged the Persian and Hellenistic periods and preceded the Hasmoneans by a bit because it dates Simeon the Righteous to Roman times. A concise version of this tradition appears in the Tosefta (with parallels in both Talmuds) and a more expansive version appears in the scholion of Megillat Taʿanit to the twenty second of Shevat according to MS Oxford: םישדקהשדקתיבמרבדעמשקידצהןועמש : האתיאלהאנסרמאידאתדיבעתליטב אלכיהל ; ויתורזגולטבוסגלקסגגרהנו ; עמשימראןושלבו .27 Simeon the Righteous heard a voice from heaven issue forth from the Holy of Holies: Annulled is the decree which the enemy intended to bring into the temple. And Gaius Caligula was slain and his decrees annulled; and he heard it (i.e. the revelation) in Aramaic.28

27 tSotah MS Vienna 13, 6. Cf. ySotah 9, 12 24d; bSotah 33a. 28 Translation is that of Cohen (1936), slightly revised. 210 chapter seven

גחהברעםלשורילהעומשהאבולכיהבםלצדימעהלורזגסוקסולקימיבש . ןועמשםהלרמא קידצה : החמשבםכידעומושע , םתעמששהמלכמרבדןיא . םלואהלאבוטםויןיאיצומ ורמאו : הזהתיבבודובכןכששימ , ונלהשעיךכרודורודלכבוניתובאלםיסנהשעשםשכ הזהןמזבםיסנ … לקןועמשעמשו : אלכיהלהאתיהלהאנסרמאדאתדיבעתליטב , ליטקיא ויתוריזגולטבוסגלקסק . In the days of Gaius Caligula they decreed to erect an idol in the temple and word reached Jerusalem on the eve of the festival of Sukkot. Simeon the Righteous said to the people: Fulfill the festival with joy for naught will come out of what you have heard. On the night following the festival he entered the hall of the temple and said: He whose honor dwells in this house, just as he performed miracles for our fathers in every generation, so too will he perform miracles in this time … And Simeon heard a voice: “The decree which the enemy intended to bring into the temple is annulled.” Gaius Caligula was killed and his decrees annulled.29 In the Simeon and Caligula tradition, the Roman emperor Gaius Caligula threatens to erect an idol in the temple, Simeon Righteous hears a heavenly voice which informs him that the emperor’s order will not be executed and then the emperor is murdered and his decree annulled just as foretold.30 Gaius Caligula died in the year 41ce, so if Simeon the Righteous lived prior to the Hasmonean period as assumed in most of the sources surveyed above, he would certainly have died long before the emergence of the Roman empire, let alone the reign of Caligula. Moreover, in rabbinic literature itself Seder ʿOlam Rabbah lists eight Greek kings with Alexander the Great first and Gaius Caligula last, so even according to Seder ʿOlam Rab- bah it is impossible that Simeon was a contemporary of both Alexander and Caligula.31 In a word, the dating of Simeon the Righteous in this tradition is incompatible with the dating of Simeon the Righteous in many of the rabbinic traditions surveyed above. Due to this chronological disparity, scholars have suggested that the Sim- eon the Righteous of the Simeon and Caligula tradition is an entirely different Simeon, a Simeon who lived in the first century ce.32 In theory, the

29 Scholion to Megillat Taʿanit according to MS Oxford with additions based on the hybrid version of the scholion and omissions (as well as some translated phrases) inspired by Kister’s reconstruction of the original story. See Megillat Taʿanit (2003) 288–289; Kister (2006) 457. 30 Different accounts of this story appear in Philo, On the Embassy to Gaius 186–348; Josephus, The Jewish War 2, 184–203; id., Jewish Antiquities 18, 257–309; Tacitus, Histories 5, 9. See also Noam in Megillat Taʿanit (2003) 283–288. 31 See Seder ʿOlam Rabbah 30 (p. 144). 32 See Herzfeld (1863) vol. 2, 377–378; Derenbourg (1867) 207 n. 1; Yavetz (5723) 92 n. 3; Ochser (1905) 352; Lichtenstein (1931–1932) 300; Winter (1956) 129–132; Lieberman (1955– 1988) vol. 8, p. 739; Tamari (1972) 18. Scholars have also viewed the fact that both the Tosefta simeon the righteous in second temple chronology 211 rabbis could have conflated a later Simeon with Simeon the Righteous and if we had evidence that a first century Simeon foretold Caligula’s demise, this argument would be very convincing. However, since no such evidence exists, it seems rash to speculate that the Simeon and Caligula tradition was inspired by an entirely hypothetical and unattested source. Rather, as Zvi Tamari has argued, the rabbinic Caligula tradition originally had nothing to do with Simeon the Righteous and a later author integrated Simeon into the tradition when he reworked it.33 The core of the Caligula tradition appears already in the earliest extant rabbinic composition, Megillat Taʿanit, but Simeon is not mentioned there: דפסמלאלדאלכיהלהאתיהלרמאדהאנסדאתדיבעתליטבהיבןיתרתוםירשעב .34 On the twenty second thereof (Shevat) the decree which the enemy intended to bring into the temple was annulled; it is forbidden to eulogize. In addition, though Simeon appears in the scholion to Megillat Taʿanit according to MS Oxford, he does not appear in the scholion according to MS Parma. Thus, it seems that Megillat Taʿanit and the scholion according to MS Parma reflect an early stage of the rabbinic account of the Caligula story which did not include Simeon and the tradition of Simeon and Caligula in the Tosefta and MS Oxford reflects a later stage in which Simeon was integrated into the story. Since Simeon did not appear in the original tradition, there is no reason to suppose that the story was inspired by a similar tradition about a later first century Simeon. Why Simeon the Righteous was later introduced into the Caligula story is not immediately apparent. In my opinion, it is quite likely that the rabbinic legend of Simeon and Alexander antedated the introduction of Simeon into the Caligula tradition and served as the inspiration for this editorial insertion.35 The rabbinic Alexander legend most probably inspired the notion that the miraculous rescue of the temple from the hostile intervention of a foreign leader should be linked to Simeon the Righteous.36

and the Babylonian Talmud (but not the Palestinian Talmud) bring the tradition of Simeon’s revelation immediately after a similar tradition about Yohanan Hyrcanus as further evidence that the Simeon under discussion lived after Yohanan Hyrcanus. 33 Tamari (1972) 17–18. 34 Megillat Taʿanit to the twenty second of Shevat (p. 112). 35 Alternatively, perhaps the rabbinic account of Yohanan the high priest’s revelation, which is juxtaposed in the Tosefta to Simeon’s revelation, inspired the idea of constructing a comparable revelation for Simeon the Righteous, the other great high priest of early Temple times. See tSotah 13, 5. 36 Interestingly, Jaddua’s revelation which is absent from the rabbinic version of the 212 chapter seven

Regardless of what prompted our author to transform the Caligula tradition into the Simeon and Caligula tradition, the fact of the matter is that he did so despite the chronological difficulty involved. Perhaps he was unfamiliar with Seder ʿOlam Rabbah’s dating of Caligula37 or perhaps it simply did not trouble him. Indeed, the literary and rhetorical advantages of introducing Simeon the Righteous into the Caligula tradition were probably deemed far more significant than the creation of a chronological impossibility. If rabbinic literature had preserved more traditions about Simeon the Righteous, perhaps we would find among them additional stories in which Simeon flourished long after the Hellenistic period. However, as our evidence currently stands, the Simeon and Caligula tradition is the solitary rabbinic tradition which explicitly locates Simeon hundreds of years after the early Hellenistic period. The truly unexpected finding of this chapter is that save for the Simeon and Caligula tradition, Simeon’s datings in all other rabbinic sources are entirely consistent and compatible from an internal rabbinic perspective. This finding does not indicate that the rabbinic traditions as a whole are reliable sources for historical chronology since, as shown above, Simeon’s datings are incompatible from a true historical perspective. Rather the finding reveals that in developing their traditions about Simeon the Righteous the rabbis did not project Simeon into just any period but rather adhered, for the most part, to a definite albeit inaccurate Second Temple chronology. Moreover, the problematic chronology of the Simeon and Caligula tradition highlights a theme that has run throughout this book: the rabbinic traditions about Simeon are not ornamented historical reports on the one hand nor imaginative creations devised entirely from scratch on the other; rather they are streamlined literary mosaics whose components were culled from the vast literary and cultural matrix which encircled the rabbinic sages.

Alexander legend finds a close counterpart in Simeon’s revelation in the Caligula tradition. In addition, Noam has demonstrated that the Simeon and Alexander legend heavily influenced the Caligula tradition according to MS Parma so perhaps it influenced the MS Oxford version as well. See Megillat Taʿanit (2003) 289–290. 37 The editor of chapter thirteen of Tosefta Sotah, however, was most probably familiar with Seder ʿOlam Rabbah since, as Chaim Milikowsky has shown, chapter twelve of Tosefta Sotah was dependent on Seder ʿOlam Rabbah. See Milikowsky (1979–1980). CONCLUSION

In previous chapters, all the extant rabbinic traditions about Simeon the Righteous were discussed but some were explored at greater length than others. The more developed and intricate traditions, those which could sustain an extensive in-depth analysis, were investigated at length while the less developed and simpler traditions received a shorter treatment. In exploring these traditions, I sought to interpret them as they would have been viewed in ancient times and, when the sources permitted, I attempted to reveal the literary and cultural matrix which contributed to their formation. All along the way, I highlighted the various faces of Simeon’s legendary literary persona while seeking to trace how this legendary figure from Second Temple history was reinvented by the rabbis. By way of concluding, I would like to reorient the discussion by exploring a few ways in which the above studies shed light on two entwined features of rabbinic culture: rabbinic representations (or the rabbinic invention or reinvention) of Second Temple history1 and rabbinic acculturation and accommodation under Roman (and Persian) rule. The first feature involves the creative process wherein episodes in Second Temple history were imaginatively formed or reworked in line with the contemporary rabbinic concerns, while the second denotes rabbinic responses to the ambient gentile culture and overarching imperial rule. In surveying some of the book’s contributions to our understanding of the rabbinic construction of Second Temple history, let us begin with the chain of transmission. Prior to the formation of Avot, specific chains of transmission already had appeared in tannaitic literature and they conceptualized Second Temple times as the period of the Pairs. Avot, as argued above, built on these earlier chains in various ways and most importantly for our purposes, it filled in the gap between the age of classical prophecy and the age of the Pairs with the Great Assembly, Simeon the Righteous and Antigonus of Sokho. Inspired by Mishnah Yadayim 4, 3’s elders and the assemblies of Nehemiah 8–10, Avot’s author invented the Great Assembly of early Sec- ond Temple times. However, unlike the assemblies in Nehemiah, the Great

1 Cf. Gafni (2007). 214 conclusion

Assembly was not imagined as a short series of ad hoc assemblies but rather as an enduring institution that reconstituted the Jewish people at the beginning of the Second Temple period. Indeed, this image of the Great Assembly was apparently modeled on the tannaitic image of a later reconstituting body, the beit midrash at Yavneh. Simeon the Righteous’s integration into Avot’s chain of transmission is nothing short of the rabbinization of a Second Temple high priest. Pre- sumably, the glowing praise Ben Sira showered on Simeon the High Priest established Simeon the Righteous’s reputation in rabbinic eyes and induced Avot’s author to include him in the chain of transmission. Moreover, the wisdom saying attributed to him in Avot reflects a sincere attempt to invent a saying appropriate for a rabbinic audience but also befitting of a Second Temple high priest. More specifically, the structure of Simeon’s saying was modeled on that of a later rabbinic leader named Simeon whose wisdom saying closes Simeon’s chapter in Avot while the contents of his saying were derived from the blessings the high priest recited over the Torah on the Day of Atonement according to the Mishnah. The early source which most influenced rabbinic representations of Simeon the Righteous is Ben Sira’s praise of Simeon the High Priest. Ben Sira elevated Simeon to almost mythical heights and in Ben Sira’s wake, various rabbinic traditions further developed Simeon’s otherworldly and practically superhuman qualities. In addition, Simeon’s location at the very end of Ben Sira’s Praise of the Fathers apparently undergirds the rabbinic notion that Simeon was a watershed figure in early Second Temple Jewish history. As a watershed figure, Simeon bridged the Persian and Hellenistic periods and linked the era of the Great Assembly to that of the Pairs. In a similar vein, the miracles that were wrought in the temple precincts ceased right after his lifetime and an outlawed Jewish temple was founded in Egypt only in the wake of his death. The founding of the temple of Onias in Egypt is a particularly illuminating illustration of the rabbinic reinvention of Second Temple history for two reasons. First, the foundation story seems to apply a rabbinic model for concep- tualizing the origins of heresies, schisms and internal rifts. Since the rabbis envisioned authentic Torah traversing the generations via the rabbinic chain of transmission, groups such as the Sadducees and Christians were perceived as anomalous offshoots of the chain of transmission; since the chain of transmission reflects the highly fraught teacher-disciple oral medium, the rabbis apparently developed the notion that religious rifts were the result of intergenerational breakdowns between teachers and disciples. One might have thought that this model would not have been applied to the rabbinic conclusion 215 story of the temple of Onias since the story deals with priests and not rabbis, with fathers and sons and not teachers and disciples. Nonetheless, the story retrojects the rabbinic model of intergenerational breakdown and locates the founding of the temple in a botched succession that was generated by the fact that Onias’s sons had not acquired the requisite moral qualities or priestly lore for a high priest. Second, the rabbinic story of the temple of Onias shows how the rabbis transformed some shards of information inherited from Second Temple times into an entirely new narrative which was subsequently altered and developed in both Talmuds in light of various literary influences and ideological considerations. The changing faces of this foundation story clearly illustrate how the rabbis freely refashioned earlier literary materials. In view of the free hand the rabbis employed in reworking inherited traditions from Second Temple times and inventing new traditions of their own, it is striking that save for the tradition about Simeon and Caligula, all the other rabbinic traditions about Simeon are chronologically compatible from an internal rabbinic perspective. This finding may indicate that later authors and editors hesitated, for the most part, to violate the rabbinic chronology they inherited from earlier texts. Before turning to the question of how the rabbis negotiated the surrounding gentile culture and overarching imperial regime, it bears stressing the importance of the rabbinic evidence for Roman history (and, similarly, the Babylonian Talmud for Persian history). Most of the conquered peoples living in the Roman empire did not compose literary works that were transmitted to the modern era so rabbinic literature offers us a rare window into the internal world of one community of Roman provincials. Insofar as rabbinic acculturation is concerned, one recurring theme of this book is the rabbinic synthesis of Jewish and Graeco-Roman literary and cultural materials. The story of Simeon and the nazirite interweaves the biblical figure of Absalom with Narcissus of Greek mythology while rein- terpreting biblical naziriteship in line with notions of ascetic self-control widespread in the Graeco-Roman world. Avot’s chain of transmission was inspired by a host of earlier Jewish texts but also by the Hellenistic successions genre. The rabbinic story of Simeon and Alexander participates in the widespread practice of constructing fictional Alexander romances while recasting the Jewish legend as a new Esther story and as the basis for a Sec- ond Temple Jewish holiday. The story of Simeon and Caligula enlists a fortu- itous event in Roman history (from the Jewish perspective) in the creation of a Jewish prophecy. These syntheses or hybrid creations are all products of what Ivan Marcus has called inward acculturation, a process wherein Jews 216 conclusion selectively adopted gentile ideas or practices which they reinterpreted and adapted to their own social and cultural needs.2 Inward acculturation, of course, is double-edged. On the one hand, it attests to a certain measure of interaction and accommodation with gentile culture yet on the other hand, it bolsters Jewish identity and encourages cultural resistance against the majority culture. The Alexander narrative in both Jewish Antiquities and rabbinic literature underscores the inherent tension between these two edges of inward acculturation: the story legitimates Alexander’s rule but also insists that he favored the Jews. In other words, since God sanctions an imperial regime’s rule, it should deal favorably with God’s people, the Jews. Consequently, when an emperor like Caligula threatened to violate the sanctity of the temple, he overstepped his authority in rabbinic eyes and deserved to die. A prominent theme shared by the rabbinic reinvention of Second Temple history and the rabbinic response to the ambient gentile culture is the rabbinization of the non-rabbinic. The rabbis selected and transformed cultural memes and literary materials of Jewish and gentile origins by interpreting them anew and by enmeshing them in an overarching rabbinic framework. Thus, in forming traditions about Simeon the Righteous, the rabbis reinvented the past as they negotiated the challenges of the present.

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Absalom, 103–108, 110, 215 Esther, 14, 113–114, 116, 151–154, 156, 215 Acculturation, 213, 215–216 Ezra, 19–20, 35, 60, 62–63, 67, 206 Achilles, 88, 144 adventus, 131, 133, 150–151 Fast, 19, 109, 111, 150, 205 Ahasuerus, 151–152 Foundation story, 18, 153, 156n, 167n38, Alcimus, 158–159 172–175, 190–191, 214–215 Alexander the Great, 14–16, 115–156, 199–200, 208–212, 215–216 Gamaliel the Elder, 28n10, 36–39 Alexandria, 16–18, 130, 160, 161, 164, 167–169, Gaza, 118, 122–123, 128, 134, 144, 151 173, 182, 184–185, 192 gemilut hasadim, 11–12, 23, 69–79 Anadiplosis, 77n24 Great Assembly, 1n, 11–12, 23–67, 78, 113, 136, Antigonus of Sokho, 27–29, 56n93, 64–65, 154, 196–197, 208, 213–214 190–192, 195, 209, 213 Antiochus Epiphanes, 158–159, 199, 207 Hair covering, 96 Antipatris, 15, 137–138, 141–143, 146–148 halaqah, 1 Aretalogy, 131n48 Haman, 14, 113, 151–152 Asceticism, 13, 85–88, 90, 92–93, 109–111, 215 Hannukah, 153–154 ʿavodah, 11–12, 23, 69–79 Helena of Adiabene, 88 Heliopolis, 158, 162, 188 Babemesis (Betis), 118, 144, 151, 155 Hercules (Heracles), 131, 189 Beauty, 103–104, 108 Herillus, 96 Biography , 3–7 Hillel, 27–28, 164, 193, 195 Boethusians, 190–191, 193, 195 Intermarriage, 117, 127 Caligula, 20–21, 199, 209–212, 215–216 Chain of transmission, 4, 11–12, 24, 26–67, 77, Jaddua, 14, 117–136, 140–142, 148–149, 156, 186, 79, 136, 141, 194–195, 207–209, 213–215 188, 200, 211n36 Chiasm, 99, 146 Jerusalem, 1–2, 14–16, 20–21, 27–28, 38, Chaldeans, 14, 113, 119–120, 128–129, 149, 52, 71, 81, 103, 106n70, 117–122, 124, 126, 150–151 128, 130–132, 134, 136–138, 140, 142–143, Christianity, 172n, 190n, 191–193, 214 145–147, 149–150, 153–154, 156n105, Cross-dressing, 166, 189–190 158–159, 161–163, 167, 170–171, 188, 192, 210 David, 35, 102, 104–105, 108, 193 Jesus, 2, 192–193, 195 Darius, 117–120, 124, 127n34, 134 Joshua, 11, 24, 26–28, 34, 39–40, 56, 64 Delphi, 131 Joshua ben Perahyah, 28, 192–193, 195 Desire , 95n38 Judah ha-Nasi, 14–15, 106–107, 113–114, Dium, 119–120, 130, 131n47, 133–134, 138n73 178–181, 183, 186

Elders, 11, 24, 26–28, 32, 34, 36–37, 39–40, King parable, 19, 205 50–51, 54, 56–65, 213 Eleazar ben Azariah, 50–56 Leontopolis, 158–161, 167n37 Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, 27–28, 43, 50–57 Elijah, 35, 40–47 Maimonides, 35, 42n59, 52n82 Envelope (inclusio), 74, 78, 100 Manasseh, 117, 124, 127, 134, 188 Epiphany, 131, 149 Matityahu, 14, 113, 114n4, 207 242 index of subjects

Menelaus, 159, 188, 201 Sanballat, 117–118, 121–127, 133–134, Mordecai, 14, 113–114, 152–153 141n78 Seder Tannaim ve-Amoraim, 35, 39n52 Natural law, 32n30 Sefer Tagin, 40n53 Narcissus, 100–101, 104, 107–108, 110, 215 Shammai, 27–28, 193, 195 Nazirite, 13–14, 81–111, 162, 205, 215 Sherira Gaon, 46nn64–65 Nebuchadnezzar, 132 Sibling rivalry, 177, 188–190 Nikaso, 117, 127, 134, 188 Simeon bar Yohai, 1n Simeon ben Gamaliel, 73–74, 76, 78, 214 Onias, 16–18, 121, 157–201, 207–209, 214–215 Solipsism, 97 ʿolam, 72–73 Southerner, 88, 93–95, 102 Oral transmission, 5, 8, 25, 32–33, 43n61, 45, Spercheius, 88 72, 128n37, 170, 195, 214 St. Simeon , 1–2 Succession list, 63, 156, 193–195, 215 Pairs, 27–28, 36–37, 39–40, 44–45, 48, 56, 62, 64–65, 213–214 Traditions of the fathers/elders, 30–33 Parmenion, 119–120, 128–139, 131n47, 133, 150 Troy, 88 Pharisees, 31–33, 36n41 Tyre, 117–118, 122–123, 131, 134 Pillars of the world, 70 Prayer, 14–16, 60–61, 71, 75–78, 96, 138, 144, Vows, 13–14, 81, 84–93, 95–96, 98–99, 146, 155, 201n10, 204, 205n17 106–107, 109–110, 163 Primogeniture, 177–181 Prophets, 11, 24, 26–29, 34–37, 39–40, 44–45, Yavneh, 50, 52, 54–55, 58, 64n, 156, 214 48, 51, 54, 56–62, 64–65 Yohanan ben Zakkai, 27–28, 38, 40–44, Ptolemy Philometor, 158 48–49, 50–52, 54, 56, 62, 156, 164 Purim, 152–154 Yohanan the High Priest (Hyrcanus), 14, 19–20, 113, 150, 164, 206–207, 211n32, Qumran, 59, 79n, 194 211n35

Sadducees, 59, 190–191, 193, 195, 214 Zeno, 96 Samaritans, 15, 116n10, 117–155, 189, 197 INDEX OF SOURCES

Hebrew Bible 28, 12 19, 205 34, 9 59 Genesis Joshua 27 189n80 8, 30–35 60n103 37, 5–10 133 22, 10–34 161n18 41, 1–7 133 23, 1–24 60n103 Exodus 23, 31 60n103 15, 1 105 24, 31 57n, 59 20, 22 166 Judges 28, 43 166 2, 7 57n, 59n98 29, 7 81n1 8, 16 145 Leviticus 9, 45 146 10, 8–11 81n1 1Samuel 16, 1–17 81n1 16, 7 102n60 16, 1–34 75 16, 10–12 102–104 16, 4 176n 2Samuel 19, 9–10 36n43 14, 23 106n70 21, 5 81n1 14, 25–26 103–105 21, 6 81n3 14, 26 106 21, 10 81n1 14, 33 106n70 21, 11 81n1 15, 7 106 21, 12 81n1 15, 7–9 106n70 23, 26–43 75 15, 8 106 24, 10–11 46 15, 10–12 106n68 26, 44 113 16, 21–22 106n68 26, 46 30 18, 9 105 Numbers 18, 9–15 104–105 6, 1–2 84 18, 14 105 6, 1–21 81n2 18, 15 105 6, 2 13–14, 82–84, 88–89, 2Kings 99, 107, 109 23, 9 162–163 6, 8 81n3 Isaiah 6, 8–12 85 19, 18–19 161–162 6, 9 90 19, 19 16–18, 167, 171–173, 6, 9–12 94n35 182, 184–186 6, 10–12 85n9 Malachi 6, 11 86, 92, 110–111 3, 8 50–51 6, 18 96n42 3, 23 41–42 19, 11–12 94n35 3, 24 41–42 29, 7–11 75 Psalms Deuteronomy 25, 14 50, 52, 55–56 12, 1–8 161 79, 4 70 12, 2–14 134 Proverbs 14, 1 81n1 10, 27 20, 206 21, 12–13 109 22, 17 27 22, 5 166 244 index of sources

Song of Songs Dead Sea Scrolls 5, 10–16 102–104 Ecclesiastes CD-A 1, 1–14 194n88 12, 12 25 1QIsa 162 Esther 4Q 397 14–21, 7–11 194 3, 8–11 151 3, 9 151 7, 2–7 151 New Testament 9, 1 152 9, 20–23 152 Matthew Daniel 15, 2 31n27 2 132–133 Mark 2, 46 132 7, 3 31n27 4 132 Luke Ezra 2, 25–35 2 4, 12–16 134n57 Acts 6, 9–10 144n84 5, 36–37 194n88 9–10 134n58 1Corinthians Nehemiah 11, 2–16 96n43 8–10 58, 60–63, 213–214 Galatians 8, 17 60 1, 14 31n27 8, 18 60 9, 13 61 9, 14 61 New Testament Apocrypha 9, 26 61 9, 30 61 Protoevangelium Iacobi 9, 32–35 61–62 24, 4 2n3 12, 10–11 127 12, 22 127, 140 13 134n58 Ancient Authors 13, 28 126–128, 130 2Chronicles Aristotle 21, 3 178 Poetics 10 135 11 135n62 Apocrypha 16 135n62 Arrian 1Maccabees Anabasis 1, 11–14 194n88 2, 54, 4 118n 2Maccabees Conon 3 131n48 26 F 1, 24 101n56 3, 4–4, 6 188 Curtius 4, 11–12 189n79 History 4, 23–24 159 4, 6, 7 118n 3Maccabees 4, 6, 29 144 2, 1 201n10 4, 7, 25–28 132n51 Ben Sira 4, 8, 9–11 127 35, 1–4 70n4 Diodorus Siculus 37, 14 71 Library of History 44–50 65–66 17, 16, 3–4 131n47 49, 14–19 66n113 17, 51, 1–4 132n51 50, 1–35 76n22, 202–204, 214 17, 93, 4 131n51 index of sources 245

Diogenes Laertius 7, 420–432 158 Lives of Eminent Philosopers 7, 432 161 9, 116 63n108 7, 433–436 160 7, 166 96 Justin Homer Epitome Iliad 11, 11, 7–13 132n51 23, 140–151 88 Justinian Josephus Digest Against Apion 1.2.2.48–53 63n108 2, 193 161n18 Livy Jewish Antiquities Ab Urbe Condita 4, 200–201 161n18 9, 17–19 115 10, 195–215 132n54 Lucian 11, 302 117 The Syrian Goddess 11, 302–303 117, 122 27, 51 189n78 11, 304–347 116–136 Ovid 11, 326–339 118–122, 148–156, 216 Metamorphoses 12, 43–44 200 3, 340–510 100–101 12, 44 162n25 Oxyrhynchus Papyri (on Narcissus) 12, 157 201n5 4711 101n56 12, 224–241 201n10 Pausanias 12, 237 201n7 Description of Greece 12, 237–241 158 9, 31, 7–8 101n56 12, 387–388 158 Philo 12, 388 159 On the Embassy to Gaius 13, 62–73 158 186–348 210n30 13, 68 161 The Special Laws 13, 72 159 1, 67 161n18 13, 254–256 150n95 Pliny 13, 255–256 139n Natural History 13, 281 150n95 12, 54, 117 126n 13, 285 159 Plutarch 13, 285–287 158 Alexander 13, 297 31n27 14, 6–8 131n51 13, 408 31n27 16, 2–4 131n47 15, 42–49 156n 29, 7–9 131n47 18, 257–309 210n30 Moralia 19, 297–298 201n10 304C–E 189 20, 97–99 194n88 326A–C 115n6 20, 235–237 158 754A 96n44 20, 236 159 Pyrrhus Jewish War 19, 1–2 115n6 1, 31 159 Pseudo-Callisthenes 1, 31–33 158 Vita Alexandri 1, 63 139n 76–78 116 2, 118 194n88 Tacitus 2, 184–203 210n30 Histories 2, 259–263 194n88 5, 9 210n30 2, 313–314 88 Theodore of Mopsuestia 3, 399–408 156n Commentary on Psalms 7, 420–425 201n10 54 157n 246 index of sources

Rabbinic Literature Zevahim 2, 1 166 n32 Mishnah 14, 8–9 162n24 Berakhot Menahot 1, 1 25n5 13, 10 162–163, 167–169 Peah Temurah 2, 5–6 36–40, 48–49 7, 4 96n42 2, 6 56, 62 Kelim Maʿaser Sheni 5, 1 54n86 5, 9 58n95 Parah Shabbat 3, 5 19–20, 67n116, 206 16, 8 58n95 Yadayim Sheqalim 3, 5 50, 54n85, 55 5, 1 165n31 4, 3 37n45, 43–45, 48–58, Yoma 62–64, 213 7, 1 74–79 Rosh Hashanah Tosefta 4, 1 156n Bikkurim Taʿanit 2, 16 95n37 3, 6 58n95 Sheqalim Nedarim 2, 15 181n62 1, 1 91n29, 92–93 3, 27 38n48 Nazir Kippurim 2, 5–6 95n41 1, 13 39n49 3, 6 88 2, 3 205n17 5, 5–7 88 2, 13 16n6, 155 6, 6 94n36 13, 7 13n, 196n, 205n18 6, 7 96n42 Hagigah 6, 8 95n42 2, 9 38n48, 193n Sotah Nedarim 1, 7–8 105 1, 1 91n29, 92–93 7, 7 75 Nezirut 7, 8 31 4 86 Sanhedrin 4, 7 14n3, 67n116, 82–83, 11, 2 38n48 205n15 Eduyyot Sotah 8, 7 37n45, 40–49, 56 3, 16 105n66, 106n71 Avot 7, 11–12 31n26 1, 1 11–12, 24–67, 77n24 7, 12 40n53 1, 2 2, 23, 27, 33, 59n101, 7, 13 12 64–66, 69–79, 13, 3 26n8 214 13, 5 211n35 1, 1–1, 2 24–67, 213–214 13, 6 21n, 209–212 1, 1–2, 8 27–29 13, 6–8 67n116 1, 3 64, 209 13, 7 67 1, 11 191n83 13, 7–8 165n30 1, 16–2, 7 28n10 13, 8 18–19, 175–176, 188, 205n16 1, 18 73–74, 214 14, 9 193n 2, 11 95n39 Sanhedrin 3–4 28n13 5, 5 95n37 4, 21 95n39 7, 1 38n48, 193n 7, 6 83 index of sources 247

Eduyyot Sotah 1, 1 40n54 1, 8 17b 105n66 2, 1 54n86 9, 12 24d 21n, 209n27 3, 4 44–47 7, 7 22a 75n21, 77n25 Horayot Ketubot 2, 5 103n61 12, 3 34d–35a 180n60 Zevahim Nedarim 6, 13 39n49 1, 1 36d 14n3, 82n4, 85–87, Menahot 91–93, 97–98, 102, 1, 7 166n32 205n15 Keritot Nazir 1, 5 166n32 1, 7 51c 14n3, 82n4, 91–93, Parah 97–98, 102, 205n15 3, 8 156n 5, 4 54b 207n24 Yadayim Sanhedrin 2, 15 55 1, 4 19c 193n 2, 16 44–45, 48–49, 58n95, Horayot 62 3, 7 48b 103n61

Palestinian Talmud Babylonian Talmud

Berakhot Berakhot 4, 1 7a 71n7 4b 25n5 5, 1 9a 137n70 5a 40n53 7, 2 11b 207n24 19a 54n86 Peah 48a 207n24 2, 6 17a 40n53 Shabbat Kilayim 21a 154 9, 4 32a–b 180n60 21b 114n2 Pesahim Yoma 5, 3 32a 93n34 9a 20, 206–207 Yoma 39a 13n, 165n30, 196n, 1, 1 38c 20n12, 207n21 205n18 5, 1 42c 15–16, 19n9, 155, 39b 19n9, 156n, 175nn50– 175n50, 187, 205nn16– 51, 205n16 17 53b 16n6, 155, 205n17 6, 3 43c 12–13, 156n, 205n18 69a 15, 137–156, 208–209, 6, 3 43c–d 16–17, 164–197, 216 214–215 70a 75n21 6, 3 43d 162n25 Taʿanit 7, 1 44b 75n21, 77n25 2a 71n7 Sheqalim Megillah 4, 2 48a 20n11, 206n 11a 15n4, 113–115, 207n22 Taʿanit 13a 114n4 2, 1 65a 26n8 19b 40n53 Megillah Moʿed Qatan 3, 5 74b 70–71 24a 166n34 Hagigah Ketubot 1, 8 76d 40n53 72a 96n43 2, 2 77d 193 103a–b 178–181, 183, 186 248 index of sources

Nedarim Sifre Numbers 9b–10a 14n3, 82n4, 85–88, 11 96n43 91–93, 98, 102, 110–111, 22 13–14, 67n116, 82–111, 205n15 205n15, 215 Nazir 28 94n36 4b 14n3, 82n4, 91–93, 131 20n12, 207n21 205n15 Sifre Deuteronomy Sotah 1 33n33 10a–b 105n66 16 24 33a 21n, 209n27 41 71n7 47a 192–193, 207n24 212 109n78 47b 193n 351 30–31 49b 114n2 357 165n29 Gittin Genesis Rabbah 56a–b 156n 62, 22 207 58a 103n61 100, 10 165n29 Baba Mesia Leviticus Rabbah 59b 54n86 5, 5 156n Sanhedrin 13, 5 137n70 19a 207n24 20, 11 181n62 88b 193n 21, 9 20n12, 207n21 107b 192n 21, 12 19n9, 175nn50–51, Avodah Zarah 205n16 9a 29n14, 114n2 Numbers Rabbah Horayot 10 14n3, 82n4 11b 181n62 Lamentations Rabbah Menahot 4, 2 103n61 109b 17–18, 162n25, 166n36, 1, 5 156n 169, 172–197, 214–215 Esther Rabbah Keritot Petihta 4, 114n4 5b 181n62 3, 13 166 Tamid Pesikta de-Rav Kahana 27b 16n5, 137 4 20n11 9 137n70 Pesikta Rabbati Midrashim 14 137n70 Midrash Aggadah Mekhilta 26, 44 114n4 Pisha 6 25, 33n33 Midrash Mishle Shirata 2 105–107 15 156n Bahodesh 11 156n Midrash on Parashat Bemidbar Mekhilta de-Rashbi Genizah Studies in Memory of Doctor 15, 1 105n66, 106n71 Solomon Schechter, pp. 92–93 20, 16 26n8 137n70 23, 25 71n7 Midrash Panim Aherim Sifra A, A 114n4 Tzav 7, 3, 3 181n62 Midrash Tanhuma Shemini 2, 1, 2 181n62 Huqat 27 137n70 Behar 1, 1, 1 31n26 Midrash Tannaim Behuqotai 7, 6, 12 30–31 1, 16 33n33 Behuqotai 2, 8, 10 114n4 Midrash Tehilim Behuqotai 17, 6, 2 207n24 18, 11 137n70 index of sources 249

Avot de-Rabbi Nathan 22 Shevat 20–21, 209–212, 215 A 1 30n18, 34n35 20 Adar 19, 205 A 2 25n5 Pirke de-Rabbi Eliezer A 4 70–71, 156n 16 71 A 5 191n82, 191n84, Seder Eliahu Rabbah 194n88 24 41n56 B 1 30n18, 34–35 Seder ʿOlam Rabbah B 3 25n5 30 26n8, 27, 210 212 B 5 70–71 31 29n14 B 6 156n Semahot, Baraitot me-evel rabbati B 10 190–191 4, 3 205n16 Megillat Taʿanit 21 Kislev 137 25 Kislev 154n102