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2018 Occupying the Law in Ancient Judah: Military, Mimicry, Masculinity Amanda Furiasse
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COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES
OCCUPYING THE LAW IN ANCIENT JUDAH: MILITARY, MIMICRY, MASCULINITY
By
AMANDA FURIASSE
A Dissertation submitted to the Department of Religion in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
2018
Amanda Furiasse defended this dissertation on April 13, 2018. The members of the supervisory committee were:
Matthew Goff Professor Directing Dissertation
William Hanley University Representative
Adam Gaiser Committee Member
Nicole Kelley Committee Member
David Levenson Committee Member
The Graduate School has verified and approved the above-named committee members, and certifies that the dissertation has been approved in accordance with university requirements.
ii TABLE OF CONTENTS
Abstract ...... v
1. INTRODUCTION ...... 1
1.1 Research Question ...... 2 1.2 Thesis ...... 3 1.3 Contribution to Scholarship ...... 5 1.4 Chapter Outline ...... 8
2. SECTARIANISM AS MIMICRY OF MILITARY DISCIPLINE: A HISTORIOGRAPHY OF SECTARIANISM IN THE STUDY OF RELIGION ...... 13
2.1 Sociology of Sectarianism...... 15 2.1.1 Max Weber: The Church-Sect Typology ...... 15 2.1.2 Ernst Troeltsch: Antagonism in the Church/Sect Typology ...... 18 2.1.3 H. Richard Niebuhr: The Sect/Church as a Binary Continuum ...... 21 2.1.4 Bryan Wilson: Sectarianism and the Problem of Evil ...... 22 2.1.5 Rodney Stark and William Sims Bainbridge: The Tension Model ...... 24 2.2 The Sociology of Sectarianism’s Subjectivity Problem ...... 26 2.3 The Study of Sectarianism in Islamic Studies ...... 32 2.3.1 Gyanendra Pandey: Sectarianism as an Adjudication into Colonial Governance ....32 2.3.2 Ussama Makdisi: Sectarianism as a Sociohistorical Process ...... 35 2.3.3 Laura Robson: Sectarianism as a System of Colonial Governance ...... 38 2.4 The History of Sectarianism in Early Judaism ...... 43 2.5 The Historiography of Sectarianism in Biblical Studies...... 51 2.5.1 Sectarianism as Organizational Typology ...... 51 2.5.2 Sectarianism as Movement of Resistance ...... 62 2.5.3 Sectarianism as Identity Politics ...... 69 2.5.4 Sectarianism as Alternative Civic Ideology ...... 77 2.6 A New Approach to Sectarianism ...... 82 2.6.1 The Seleucid and Roman Legal Orders ...... 82 2.6.2 Armies as Enforcers and Disseminators of the Law ...... 95 2.6.3 Judah’s Economy of War ...... 102 2.6.4 The Dominant Discourse ...... 105 2.6.5 Sectarianism as Mimicry of Military Discipline ...... 111 2.7 Conclusion ...... 116
3. TRANSFORMING MEN INTO SOLDIERS: MASCULINITY AND PROFESSIONALIZATION IN HELLENISTIC AND ROMAN MILITARY MANUALS .....121
3.1 Genre, Theory, and Historical Contexts of the Military Manual ...... 122 3.2 Military Masculinity ...... 137 3.2.1 Regulations on Leadership ...... 137
iii 3.2.2 Regulations on Admission ...... 144 3.2.3 Regulations on Wealth ...... 155 3.2.4 Regulations on Marriage ...... 165 3.3 Conclusion ...... 174
4. MASCULINITY IN CRISIS: THE PROFESSIONALIZATION OF COVENANTAL MASCULINITY IN THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS ...... 179 4.1 The Construction of Masculinity in the Mosaic Covenant ...... 181 4.1.1 Masculine Status in the Covenant ...... 181 4.1.2 Regulations for Military Camps...... 190 4.1.3 Regulations for the Temple Cult ...... 199 4.2 Judah’s Crisis of Masculinity ...... 206 4.3 Recovering Covenantal Masculinity ...... 216 4.3.1 Regulations on Leadership ...... 216 4.3.2 Regulations on Admission ...... 225 4.3.3 Regulations on Wealth ...... 241 4.3.4 Regulations on Marriage ...... 259 4.4 Conclusion ...... 276
5. CONCLUSION: BECOMING MASTERS OF THEIR OWN STORY ...... 286
References ...... 294
Biographical Sketch ...... 309
iv ABSTRACT
This dissertation investigates how ancient Jewish communities restructured the Mosaic Law to redress the physical and emotional trauma that they endured under occupation. A systematic analysis of the Seleucid and Roman Empire’s governing strategies in ancient Judea reveals that military occupation was a system of colonial governance whereby military and judicial structures converged to monopolize regional politics. Judah’s indigenous legal culture played a decisive role in reproducing this monopoly of legislative and military power with Seleucid and Roman rulers representing themselves as protectors and patrons of the Mosaic Law. By representing themselves as benevolent protectors of the the Mosaic Law, they simultaneously reproduced the assumption that the Mosaic Law made Jewish men weak, effeminate, and unable to protect themselves. This discursive practice enabled Seleucid and Roman rulers to legitimate and justify their extraction of material resources from the region and exploitation of local labor.
However, analysis of the Dead Sea Scrolls suggests that Jewish communities developed a discursive practice of their own to counteract this dominant discourse. This discursive practice has often been identified by scholarship as sectarian in nature, since the texts urge the readers to separate from local institutions. I argue that this discursive practice represented mimicry of
Seleucid and Roman military discipline. Mimicry consisted of a strategic process of negotiation, contestation, and adaption to the defining features of professional military life and discipline.
These included the idea that professional soldiers must separate themselves from civilian institutions, specfically family, wealth, and marriage. By doing so, soldiers could embody the highest levels of integrity, competency, and virtue. The scrolls seem to parallel this practice by staking covenantal membership in a rigorous program of training that occurs outside of the context of home and family and closely regulates members’ relationships to civilian instiutions.
v This strategic process of restructuring the Mosaic Law reproduced a configuration of masculinity that shared apparent affinities to the masculine ideology that promulgated Seleucid and Roman hegemony. Jewish communities in effect transformed the Mosaic Law into a manual of masculine discipline and in the process represented themselves as more disciplined, skilled, and masculine than soldiers in occupying armies. By repudiating the assumption that the Mosaic
Law made Jewish men weak, effeminate, and unable to protect themselves from military subjugation, the scrolls’ authors undermined the central rationale that structured and legitimated the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ occupation of ancient Judea. I conclude that the scrolls, often read as the work of a Dead Sea sect, restructure the Mosaic Law to dismantle colonial governance and become masters of their own stories.
vi CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
Born and raised in Kashmir, the author Feroz Rather describes occupation as an inescapable spectacle of violence that structures every aspect of daily life. When the sun rises, he awakes to dogs barking “long, mournful barks,” alerting their owners of soldiers rapidly approaching the village. 1 At the breakfast table, his mother tells him that there is no breakfast, because she was not well and could not sleep. While walking to school, he witnesses soldiers encircle his brother’s shop in the neighborhood market. He watches as they smash the shelves of his shop and break all the glass jars filled with spice. Once at school, soldiers drag the headmaster out of his office and order everyone to assemble on the school yard. As students form into neat lines in the yard, soldiers lock eyes on his childhood sweetheart, Safina. He is powerless but can only watch as Safina falls under their gaze.
After school, he witnesses neighbors using water from the nearby river to clean up his brother’s blood from his shop floor. Upon reaching home, he can hear his mothers’ sobs. She sings an elegy for his brother and prays that soldiers did not kill her son.
Rather states to the reader that his brother did not die on that night, but in the days following the attack he crossed over to the mountains “to be the master of his own story.”
However, soldiers responded to his brother’s defiance with merciless violence. As Rather describes the scene of his brother’s brutal murder, “The soldiers barged into his house and took him out of his bed. Naked. They dragged him out to the backyard. I heard his shrieks grow into whimpers before silence overcame him. He was made to stand there for five hours. They beat
1 Feroz Rather, “The Last Candle,” The Caravan , December 1, 2011, 1-3. 1 him with their metallic belts until his flesh was red and blue. They broke his front teeth and plucked out all his finger nails. He was lying there for hours even after they left. A naked, shrunken, frozen him with a haggard, toothless face! The red of his blood spreading on the snow.”
Rather confirms that his brother’s shadow continued to speak to him after death.
Thousands of miles away from Kashmir in Fresno, California, Rather sees his brother once more
“feverishly working on his own story. His fingers bloody and his face still broken.” Death will not stop his brother in his quest “to be the master of his own story.”
1.1 Research Question
Rather’s poem describes with painstaking detail the difficulty of authoring one’s own story under military occupation. In the case of his brother, speaking the truth meant signing his death warrant. Although Rather describes a contemporary geopolitical situation, his description of occupation as a totalizing experience of physical and verbal violence is relevant and applicable for the study of the ancient Near East. Like Rather, ancient Jewish communities lived under the gaze of occupying soldiers. From the 3 rd century BCE to 2 nd century CE, ancient Judah could be described as an occupied environment. Occupation is here defined as a state of provisional control of a region by a foreign ruling agency.2 In situations of occupation, regions maintain some degree of local autonomy with local rulers installed into power and supported by foreign ruling agencies. Ancient Judah fits this definition with the region and its leaders
2 This definition is indebted to De Matos and Ward’s analyses of occupation’s definitive elements. See Christine De Matos and Rowena Ward, “Analyzing Gendered Occupation Power,” in Gender, Power, and Military Occupations: Asia Pacific and the Middle East since 1945 , ed. Christine de Matos and Rowena Ward (New York: Routledge, 2012), 2–4. 2 maintaining some degree of local autonomy through the continued support of Seleucid and
Roman rulers.3
However, Jewish communities did not remain silent in the face of military subjugation but found a way to author a collection of texts that scholars today refer to as the “Dead Sea
Scrolls.” 4 The scrolls are unique from other ancient Jewish texts in that they systematically revise stories about Moses and the laws that he issued from Mount Sinai. This dissertation investigates what these stories can tell us about the historical and political conditions that Jewish communities faced under occupation. The research question is as follows: How did ancient
Jewish communities restructure the Mosaic Law to redress the physical and emotional trauma that they endured under occupation?
1.2 Thesis
A systematic analysis of indigenous communities’ representations of the Seleucid and
Roman Empires in ancient Judah reveals that military occupation was imagined by Jewish communities as a totalizing system of colonial governance whereby military and judicial structures converged to monopolize regional politics. 5 Locals also imagine the Mosaic Law as
3 This complex period of history will be explored further in chapter two with specific attention devoted to the Hasmonean and Herodian leadership’s relationship to Seleucid and Roman hegemony. Among the major points explored include the Hasmonean and Herodian leadership’s need to appeal to Roman power in their persistent struggle for political sovereignty against Seleucid rulers and how this recurrent need reshaped regional politics. 4 The scrolls were generally produced while communities remained in a situation of occupation with the Hasmonean Dynasty entangled with Seleucid and Roman power. 5 The word “colonial” will be used to describe Seleucid and Roman systems of governance. Colonial here encompasses military, economic, political, and emotional mechanisms of subordinating a local population. This definition of colonialism is taken from the work of Sylvester Johnson who has defined colonialism as a distinctive form of political order that “structures occupation or foreign control of one people by another.” See Sylvester A. Johnson, African American Religions, 1500–2000: Colonialism, Democracy, and Freedom (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 2. De Matos and Ward confirm this insight and argue that 3 playing a decisive role in reproducing this monopoly of legislative and military power with
Seleucid and Roman rulers represented as protectors and patrons of Judah’s indigenous legal culture.6 I hypothesize that this representation of Seleucid and Roman rulers reproduced and reified the assumption that the Mosaic Law made Jewish men weak, effeminate, and unable to protect themselves from military subjugation. Furthermore, I argue that such representations of
Jewish masculinity legitimated and justified Seleucid and Roman rulers’ extraction of material resources from the region and exploitation of local labor.
However, analysis of the Dead Sea Scrolls suggests that locals developed a discursive practice of their own to counteract this dominant discourse. The Dead Sea Scrolls were generally produced during the Hasmonean period, a pivotal moment in Judah’s history in which local
Hasmonean leaders tried to retain some degree of political autonomy as Seleucid and Roman rulers vied for control over the territory. The scrolls are often identified by scholarship as sectarian in nature, since the scrolls urge their readers to separate from local institutions.
Rather than approach sectarianism as a discursive practice that seeks to create closed and isolated groups, I hypothesize that ancient Jewish sectarianism represented mimicry of Seleucid and Roman military discipline. Mimicry consisted of a strategic process of negotiation, contestation, and adaption to the defining features of professional military life and discipline.
These included the idea that professional soldiers must separate themselves from civilian
occupation is inherently part of the colonial project with colonial agencies willing to stay indefinitely within a territory to achieve their goals. See De Matos and Ward, “Analyzing Gendered Occupation Power,” 4. 6 The term “Mosaic Law” denotes Judah’s indigenous legal culture which includes the temple, its laws, ritual practices, and local stories about Moses and the founding patriarchs of this legal tradition. My data collection will primarily consist of Josephus’ accounts and Maccabees to understand how indigenous communities imagined the operation of colonial governance. The focus here is on understanding the perspective of locals. 4 institutions, specifically family, wealth, and marriage. By doing so, soldiers could embody the highest levels of integrity, competency, and virtue. The scrolls seem to parallel this practice by staking covenantal membership in a rigorous program of training that occurs outside of the context of home and family.
This strategic process of restructuring Judah’s indigenous legal culture reproduced a configuration of masculinity that shared apparent affinities to the masculine ideology that promulgated Seleucid and Roman hegemony. Locals in effect transformed the Mosaic Law into a manual of masculine discipline and in the process represented themselves as more disciplined, skilled, and masculine than soldiers in occupying armies. By repudiating the assumption that their commitment to local laws made them weak, effeminate, and unable to protect themselves from military subjugation, the scrolls’ authors undermined the central rationale that structured and legitimated the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ occupation of ancient Judah. The scrolls restructure the Mosaic Law to contest colonial governance, specifically by inverting the gendered hierarchies that represented Jewish men as dependent and subordinate to Seleucid and
Roman soldiers. I conclude that this creative discursive strategy allowed Jewish men to become masters of their own stories.
1.3 Contribution to Scholarship
The conclusion reached in this dissertation yields new insights for the study of ancient
Judaism and enhances scholarship’s understanding of the Seleucid and Roman occupation and its effects on ancient Jewish communities. Anathea Portier-Young, John Ma, Paul Kosmin, and
Richard Horsley’s recent analyses have demonstrated how the Seleucid and Roman Empires
5 structured power asymmetries and regional politics in ancient Judah.7 Moreover, John Collins,
Albert Baumgarten, Carol Newsom, and Yonder Gillihan have explained how these power asymmetries shaped the formulation and proliferation of themes and ideas in the Dead Sea
Scrolls. 8 Building upon this immense body of scholarship, this investigation offers a new lens for understanding the convergence of military and judicial power in the Seleucid and Roman administrations and how this convergence restructured locals’ understanding of the purpose and role of the Mosaic Law.
Second, this investigation contributes to scholarship’s understanding of the relationship between religion and colonial power. In the study of Islam, Gyanendra Pandey, Ussama Makdisi,
Laura Robson, Fanar Haddad, and Max Weiss have demonstrated that colonialism played a formative role in structuring sectarian conflicts and have approached sectarianism as a sociohistorical process that emerges from colonial governance. 9 Building upon this insight, this
7 John Ma, Antiochos III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002); Anathea E. Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2014); Paul J. Kosmin, The Land of the Elephant Kings: Space, Territory, and Ideology in the Seleucid Empire (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014); Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and the Politics of Roman Palestine (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2013). 8 This is not intended to serve as a full list of all the scholars who have studied ancient Jewish sectarianism. A full list and assessment of scholarship with be provided in chapter two. Yonder M. Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls: A Comparative Study of the Covenanters’ Sect and Contemporary Voluntary Associations in Political Context (Leiden: Brill, 2011); John Joseph Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community: The Sectarian Movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2009); Carol Ann Newsom, The Self As Symbolic Space: Constructing Identity and Community at Qumran (Leiden: Brill, 2004); Albert I. Baumgarten, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the Maccabean Era: An Interpretation (Leiden: Brill, 1997); John J. Collins, Scriptures and Sectarianism: Essays on the Dead Sea Scrolls (Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). 9 Gyanendra Pandey, The Construction of Communalism in Colonial North India (New Dehli: Oxford University Press, 1990); Ussama Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism: Community, History, and Violence in Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Lebanon (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000); Laura Robson, Colonialism and Christianity in Mandate Palestine (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011); Fanar Haddad, Sectarianism in Iraq: Antagonistic 6 dissertation explores how the Seleucid and Roman Empires created the historical and political conditions that sectarianism needed to form within ancient Judah society. In so doing, I approach sectarianism as a discursive strategy whereby communities could creatively undermine the institutional structures that reproduced colonial governance. To borrow a term first used by
James C. Scott, sectarianism represents a “hidden transcript” and a critique of the dominant discourse that some locals developed to feign deference to Seleucid and Roman administrators and repudiate local leaders, specifically Hasmonean and Herodian leaders, who remained entangled in the reproduction of Seleucid and Roman hegemony.10
The work of Jacques Lacan and Homi Bhabha plays a crucial role in my effort to understand how colonized communities can creatively rework power asymmetries to create new categories of knowledge. 11 In drawing upon their work, I seek to demonstrate how those on the margins must fight to be heard as the dominant discourse seeks to silence them. This dissertation builds upon the body of postcolonial literature and offers insight into the mechanisms by which colonized communities can go to war against colonial governance and win.
Finally, this dissertation offers new data about the relationship between gender and military occupation. Among the chief contributors to this scholarship includes the work of
Aitemad Muhanna, Susie Kilshaw, Christine De Matos, Rowena Ward, and Julie Peteet. 12 Their
Visions of Unity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014); Max Weiss, In the Shadow of Sectarianism (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2010). 10 James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990). 11 Jacques Lacan, “The Line and Light,” in The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho-Analysis: The Seminar of Jacques Lacan Book XI , trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1998); Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 2012). 12 Aitemad Muhanna, Agency and Gender in Gaza: Masculinity, Femininity and Family During the Second Intifada (London: Routledge, 2016); Susie Kilshaw, Impotent Warriors: Gulf War Syndrome, Vulnerability and Masculinity (New York: Berghahn Books, 2009); Julie Peteet, 7 work has collectively demonstrated that gender often plays a crucial role in structuring war and postwar environments. The primary emphasis of this scholarship is on understanding the processes by which military occupation can reshape the roles allocated for men and women within a certain society. This work contributes to this debate by demonstrating how the Seleucid and Roman Empire’s predominant gender ideology played a decisive role in refashioning ancient
Jewish communities’ understanding of the covenantal tradition and how Seleucid and Roman soldiers’ lifestyle and habits might have contributed to the formulation of early Judaism and
Christianity.
1.4 Chapter Outline
Chapter two, “Sectarianism as Mimicry of Military Discipline: A Historiography of
Sectarianism in the Study of Religion,” examines the historiography of sectarianism in the study of religion. Scholars have developed numerous scholarly models to explain the historical and political conditions that precipitate sectarianism. The purpose of this chapter is to analyze the strength and weaknesses of these models and propose a new model for reading the Dead Sea
Scrolls. Among these chief weaknesses includes scholarship’s inability to theorize human subjectivity with sociologists commonly assuming that sectarianism can be traced to a society’s innate attitudes and cultural values. This new model builds upon the insights of Gyanendra
Pandey, Ussama Makdisi, and Laura Robson who resolve this subjectivity problem and theorize sectarianism as a distinctive sociohistorical process that colonial governance structures and reproduces.
Gender in Crisis: Women and the Palestinian Resistance Movement (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010); Christine De Matos and Rowena Ward, “Analyzing Gendered Occupation Power,” in Gender, Power, and Military Occupations: Asia Pacific and the Middle East since 1945 , ed. Christine de Matos and Rowena Ward (New York: Routledge, 2012), 1–20. 8 Bringing this insight to the study of how Jewish communities imagine the Seleucid and
Roman occupation of ancient Judah, I hypothesize that the prevalence of military themes and tropes in the scrolls suggest that ancient Jewish sectarianism emerged from mimicry of military discipline and represents an effort to systematically dismantle the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ programs of legal reform. Sectarianism is here defined as a way of being in the world or culture that transcended the boundaries of any one group or sect within ancient Judean society. As a pervasive way of being, it represented a collection of practices that attempted to reorganize the physical and cultural space of ancient Judah in accordance with a distinctive understanding of
Moses and the regulations that he issued to Jewish communities. This understanding of Judah’s past represented God’s relationship to Israel as one that required Jewish men undergo a strenuous program of training and education that restrained and closely regulated their relationships to the institutions of family, wealth, and marriage. This rigorous program of training is represented as setting Jewish men apart from the undisciplined and untrained masses. The Jewish men underwent this training regime thus distinguished themselves from others through their disciplined and skilled understanding of the laws that Moses gave to Jewish communities.
I hypothesize that this culture emerged as a response to the legal reforms that the
Seleucid and Roman Empires instituted within ancient Judah. Ancient Judah underwent three different sets of legal reforms from the 3 rd century BCE to 2 nd century CE. The first includes a period characterized by direct Seleucid rule with Antiochus III represented as exerting his rule over Judah through the implementation of legal reforms and relocation of occupying forces in
Jerusalem. The Maccabean revolt in 167 BCE and rise of the local Hasmonean dynasty ushered in a second period of legal reform. This second period was in turn followed by the Roman
Empire’s siege of Jerusalem in 63 BCE with the Roman Empire reproducing their hegemony
9 over the territory through legal reforms. This complex and varied period of reform ushered in a system of legal pluralism whereby Judah’s indigenous legal culture was lauded and celebrated as the hallmark of Jewish communities’ political status, with Seleucid and Roman soldiers represented as the protectors and patronage of Judah’s indigenous legal culture. However, these reforms also simultaneously and contradictory promoted the assumption that Jewish communities needed such protection since their laws made them weak, effeminate, and unable to protect themselves from military subjugation. and that.
I argue that Jewish communities tried to reject this emasculating assumption about their tradition by demonstrating that their commitment to their tradition required that they undergo a training program like the one that professional Seleucid and Roman soldiers are represented as undertaking in military manuals. Sectarianism thus emerged as a strategic way that Jewish communities could co-opt the distinctive features of Seleucid and Roman military discipline into their tradition with Jewish communities doing so in an effort to reject the emasculating assumption that they were undisciplined, weak, and needed Seleucid and Roman soldiers to protect them.
Chapter three, “Transforming Men into Soldiers: Masculinity and Professionalization in
Hellenistic and Roman Military Manuals,” analyzes the distinctive characteristics of Seleucid and Roman military discipline to understand the disciplinary program that professional soldiers used to set themselves apart from civilian society and how Jewish communities co-opted this disciplinary program into their tradition. This chapter focuses on military manuals since they serve as the primary resource for understanding this process. While manuals offer an idealized portrait of military life, they provide a glimpse into the propaganda and ideologies that
10 reproduced colonial power. Among the chief features of this ideological program includes the idea of a rigid separation between civilian and military life.
Due to technological innovations in the 4 th century BCE, a soldier needed advanced and extensive training in the technologies of war. Manuals argue that a fundamental feature of these rigid training programs included the idea that soldiers must separate themselves from civilian institutions, specifically wealth, family, and marriage. I conclude that this separation between military and civilian life enabled Seleucid and Roman rulers to deploy soldiers against civilian populations and send them to the far reaches of their borders for an indefinite period.
Chapter four, “Masculinity in Crisis: The Professionalization of Covenantal Masculinity in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” analyzes how the Dead Sea Scrolls creatively co-opted the distinctive hallmark of professional military training programs. Among the primary texts analyzed in this chapter include the Damascus Document , Community Rule , War Scroll , and Rule of the
Congregation . Although there are substantial differences between each scroll, the primary purpose of this chapter is to analyze how these scrolls restructure stories about Moses and the laws that he issued to his community while in the wilderness as they prepared for a great military conquest of Canaan. I hypothesize that this restructuring process enabled the scrolls’ authors to restructure their tradition around a rigorous program of training and education that paralleled professional military training programs.
I argue that this restructuring process required the implementation of specific amendments to their tradition. Among these include the idea that membership in the covenant required that members closely regulate and restrain their desires for family, wealth, and marriage. This representation of covenantal membership reconfigured the role that these institutions once played in society. By reconfiguring the role that these institutions played in 11 their tradition, the authors of the scrolls effectively professionalized the covenant and transformed the legacy of Moses and the laws that he issued to Jewish communities into a mechanism for cultivating a configuration of masculinity that shared explicit parallels to the lifestyle and habits of Seleucid and Roman soldiers.
I define this process as a set of embodied and performed practices and hypothesize that these embodied practices allowed the scrolls’ authors to set themselves apart from those whom they understood as undisciplined and susceptible to military domination and repudiate the idea that their commitment to their tradition made them weak, effeminate, and in need of Roman and
Seleucid soldiers’ protection. While the scrolls’ authors institute barriers of separation with other
Jews, the purpose of these barriers is not necessarily to divide and separate themselves from fellow Jews. Rather the goal might be to contest the commonly held assumption that the Mosaic
Law made Jewish men weak and susceptible to military domination.
12 CHAPTER 2
SECTARIANISM AS MIMICRY OF MILITARY DISCIPLINE: A HISTORIOGRAPHY OF SECTARIANISM IN THE STUDY OF RELIGION
In the study of religion, scholars have debated the precipitating causes and conditions that
foster sectarian conflicts among religious communities. These debates have stimulated
numerous scholarly explanations. This chapter evaluates these scholarly models to offer a new
model of sectarianism that biblical scholars can use to analyze the political and historical
conditions that fostered sectarian conflicts among religious communities in ancient Judah.
There are four distinctive components to this analysis. First, this chapter outlines
popular scholarly explanations in the field of sociology and economics, including the
traditional Weberian typology of the church-sect. The second section demonstrates how these
models promote certain problematic notions of human agency and subjectivity. The primary
purpose of this section is to analyze critiques of this model by scholars in the fields of Middle
East historiography and Islamic studies. Among the first to challenge these sociological models
includes Gynandra Pandey, Ussama Makdisi, and Laura Robson who explain that sectarian
conflicts are a byproduct of colonization.
Bringing this insight to the study of early Judaism, the third portion of this chapter
explores four different models of sectarianism that are commonly used by biblical scholars to
explain the historical and political factors that conditioned sectarian conflicts between ancient
Jewish communities. Albert Baumgarten, John Collins, and Yonder Gillihan have explored
how sectarian conflicts emerged as a byproduct of the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ power
13 asymmetries with local governance and have concluded that sectarianism emerged as a mechanism for securing civic status from the local Hasmonean and Herodian governments.
The fourth and final section builds upon these existing models and argues that sectarianism represented a strategy of reform, regulation, and discipline, which strategically undermined the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ legal reforms in ancient Judah. I argue that these legal reforms are represented by Jewish communities as promoting the idea that Seleucid and
Roman soldiers were the ordained protectors of the Mosaic Law. I hypothesize that this representation of Seleucid and Roman soldiers as benevolent protectors promoted the assumption that the Mosaic Law made Jewish communities weak, lazy, and in desperate need of Seleucid and Roman soldiers’ protection. These reforms in turn provided a rationale for the extraction of material resources and local labor from the region with Jewish communities represented as compensating Seleucid and Roman armies for their protection and patronage.
As I explain below, the Dead Sea Scrolls suggest that Jewish communities strategically undermined these reforms through mimicry of military discipline. This strategic discursive practice enabled Jewish communities to represent themselves as more disciplined and masculine than professional soldiers. By representing themselves as more disciplined than occupying armies, they could reject the idea that the Mosaic Law made them lazy, weak, and effeminate. Sectarianism is here defined as a culture that transcended the boundaries of a particular sect and a collection of different and diverse practices whereby Jewish communities
aggressively restructured religious practice to demonstrate that their commitment to their
tradition made them skilled and disciplined administrators.
14 2.1 The Sociology of Sectarianism
2.1.1 Max Weber: The Church-Sect Typology
A genealogy of sectarianism’s origins in the academic study of religion must begin with
Max Weber who was among the first scholars to pioneer the “church-sect” typology. As the phrase suggests, Weber believed that the sect emerged as the organizational counterpart to the church. Whereas the church was a “compulsory hierocratic religious organization,” the sect was a “voluntary association of religiously qualified persons”. 13 Since membership in the church was obligatory, members did not need to possess or work towards special ethical and/or theological qualities and characteristics, but the church’s clergy set themselves apart from the laity through an elaborate hierarchy that granted them an “office charisma” or special status. Granted with this special status, the clerical elite addressed and distributed salvation to all those enrolled under the institutional authority of the church. 14
With authority stratified and centralized, the division between the clergy and laity facilitated social stratification in society with certain members denied rights and privileges only granted to the privileged classes. 15 This experience of material and spiritual deprivation led many members of the non-privileged classes to abandon the church’s view of salvation with the belief
“that faithful work and the performance of obligations will find their reward and are ‘deserving’ of their just compensation.” 16 Put simply, the experience of deprivation disposed the non-
13 Max Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 54; idem, From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology (New York: Routledge, 2009), 324. 14 Weber, Economy and Society , 1164. 15 Weber, 877. 16 Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion (Boston: Beacon Press, 1993), 97. Weber specifically discussed urban artisans and small traders as examples of the non-privileged classes. He argued that peasants did not abide by this understanding of salvation. 15 privileged class to accept an ethic of compensation in which they could seek out rewards that the church denied them. In contrast to the non-privileged classes, members of the privileged classes never experienced deprivation and thus were merely interested in seeking to legitimate “their own life pattern and situation in the world.” 17
According to Weber, the need for an ‘ethic of compensation’ among the non-privileged classes motivated them to voluntarily break away from the church and form into sects. The sect’s voluntarism necessitated a process of moral formation whereby prospective members would undertake some process of qualification to join the sect. As Weber explains, “affiliation with the church is in principle, obligatory, and hence proves nothing with regard to the member’s qualities. A sect, however is a voluntary association of only those who, according to principle are religiously and morally qualified.” 18 The sect’s process of moral qualification allowed members to effectively set themselves apart from the church and create a separate form of social organization. 19 By shaping the conduct of members, sects could achieve this goal and create a
“rationalized, system of life,” or idealized way of living and being in the world. 20
Weber used the term “rational” to describe this system of conduct since members of the sect did not perform deeds to receive a promise of future redemption or miracle from the priesthood. Unlike a sect, the priesthood of the church retained the ultimate means for salvation, since they were the only ones who could perform the miracle of transubstantiation and “who held the key to eternal life.” 21 This meant that within the context of the church, the performance of
17 Ibid., 107. 18 Max Weber, From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology (Hove: Psychology Press, 1991), 306. 19 Weber, From Max Weber , 320. 20 Ibid., 320 21 Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and The “spirit” of Capitalism and Other Writings , trans. Peter Baehr and Gordon C. Wells (New York: Penguin, 2002), 117. 16 good works functioned as a “sort of insurance premium” that members could use to increase their chances for salvation. 22
Rejecting the power and status of the priesthood, members of the sect staked their hopes of salvation in the very performance of routinized behaviors:
“On the one hand, the idea that the individual, on the basis of the religious qualifications
bestowed upon him by God, decided on his salvation status exclusively on his own was
important. That is magical sacraments were devoid of utility for one’s salvation; only the
believer’s practical conduct matters: his behavior ‘proved and testified’ to his faith and
alone provided a sign that he stood on the road to salvation. On the other hand, this very
notion the individual could testify to his salvation through his rigorous behavior,
formulated the foundation for the social knitting together of the congregation.” 23
The sect’s distinctive way of living in the world thus served as the basis of the “Protestant work ethic” with members of a sect working and performing actions to secure their individual salvation. 24
Weber’s use of the term “church” serves as a clear indication that he developed his typology from the historiography of Christianity. However, Weber believed that the church-sect typology was not unique to Christian history, but he extended his typology to the history of early
22 Ibid., 116. 23 Stephen Kalberg, ed., Max Weber: Readings And Commentary On Modernity (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2008), 285–86. 24 Max Weber, Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Soziologie und Sozialpolitik (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1988), 442. 17 Judaism in ancient Judah and the history of Hindu and Muslim conflict in Northern India.25
Whether in Ancient Judah, Northern India, or Western Europe, Weber attempted to use his typology to explain the causes of sectarian conflict among religious communities in different historical and geopolitical settings.
In the end, his work functions on the assumption that the experience of material deprivation precipitated the formation of sectarian conflict. At some point, the disenfranchised turned against the elite. By turning against the elite, they spurred sectarian conflict and tensions within their respective religious traditions as the disenfranchised competed with the elite for power and status. Moreover, Weber represents sectarianism as emerging from local and internal factors within a respective society.
2.1.2 Ernst Troeltsch: Antagonism in the Church/Sect Typology
A contemporary to Weber, Ernst Troeltsch operated with many of the same assumptions that undergirded the Weberian typology. His methodological starting point was the categorization of human behavior into universal forms of social organization or “ideal-types”.
For Troeltsch, there were three basic ideal-types: church, sect, and mysticism.
He framed the sect as the organizational counterpart to both the church and mysticism.
Whereas the church was a more inclusive institution and mystical traditions were constituted by an inward realization of God centered on religious experience, he defined the sect as “a voluntary community whose members join it of their own free will. The very life of the sect, therefore,
25 Idem, The Religion of India : The Sociology of Hinduism and Buddhism , ed. Hans Gerth and Don Martindale (New York: The Free Press, 1967); Max Weber, Ancient Judaism (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2010). 18 depends upon actual service and co-operation.” 26 Moreover, the sect was “organized on an exclusive basis, founded upon the voluntary principle, and upon maturity in Christian experience, exercising powers of discipline and excommunication.” 27
Accepting the idea of an antithesis between the sect and church, his model was nearly analogous to Weber’s model. Troeltsch also believed that social stratification between the privileged and non-privileged classes propelled sect formation. When members believed that the ruling elite of the church was no longer serving the interests of all of its members, they broke away from the church and formed into sects:
The church both stabilizes and determines the social order; in so doing, however, she
becomes dependent upon the upper classes, and upon their development. The sects, on
the other hand, are connected with the lower classes, or at least with those elements in
society which are opposed to the state and to society; they work upward from below, and
not downwards from above. 28
The sect emerged as members of the lower class repudiated the ‘worldliness’ of the church. 29 Just as Weber argued that class conflict propelled sect formation, Troeltsch asserted that class conflict between the privileged and non-privileged classes drove sect formation.
Rejecting the institutional power of the church, members of the sect cultivated social bonds among each other through personal fellowship.30 The sect’s repudiation of the church’s
26 Ernst Troeltsch, The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches , trans. Olive Wyon (Westminster John Knox Press, 1992), 338. 27 Ibid., 720. 28 Ibid., 331. 29 Ibid., 996. 30 Ibid., 485. 19 institutional power turned members inward and cultivated an inner state of “ethical
Perfectionism”. 31 Whereas the church could “forego insistence on strict Christian perfection” and
“compromise with the existent structure of the world and society,” the sect needed to cultivate the “achievement and perfection of a Christian morality” to solidify social bonds between members. 32
Although the two thinkers had similar views, Troeltsch contested the Weberian idea that the sect provided a way to alleviate class tensions and resolve conflict. Rather than alleviate tensions, he argued that the sect only enhanced existing tensions, inciting hostility between members of the church and sect. As Troeltsch explains, “The sect separates individuals from the world by its conscious hostility to ‘worldliness’.”33
The shared effort among members of the sect to separate from the church represented a hostile repudiation of the ruling classes’ worldly values. Whereas Weber had argued that there was little to no hostility between members of the sect and those of the church, Troeltsch believed that sect members were inherently hostile and antagonistic to the church. 34
Troeltsch continued to promote many of the same assumptions as Weber. These include the idea that sectarianism emerges from internal factors within a certain society. Like Weber,
31 Ibid., 722. 32 Idem., Religion in History , trans. James Adams and Walter Bense (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 1997), 325. 33 Ibid., 743. 34 Weber argued that sects were predicated on some small degree of protest or antagonism to learned analysis and extra-religious political and intellectual cultural values. As Weber argues, “There is nothing against which the genuine and consistent sect protests more passionately than the esteem according to learned analysis of religious questions.” Weber presumed that antagonism to extra-religious political/intellectual values was a motivating factor behind sect formation. See Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the “Spirit” of Capitalism, 215. 20 Troeltsch argued that the social disenfranchisement of the underclasses precipitated sectarianism with the disenfranchised classes separating from the elite.
2.1.3 H. Richard Niebuhr: The Sect/Church as a Binary Continuum
H. Richard Niebuhr’s chief contribution to the study of sectarianism stemmed from his idea of a binary continuum between the church and sect with the two representing poles on a binary continuum. Whereas Weber and Troeltsch had rigidly defined certain organizations as either a sect or church, Niebuhr instead argued that religious organizations were constantly moving along the continuum between the church and sect. 35 As Niebuhr explains, “The children born to the voluntary members of the first generation begin to make the sect a church long before they have arrived at the years of discretion.” 36 While accepting Troeltsch’s church/sect typology, he believed that the sect could only embody the distinguishing characteristics of sectarian organization for a single generation. For Niebuhr, it was inevitable that overtime the members of the sect would increasingly accept and accommodate the secular order and thus increasingly start to resemble the church in organizational structure and practices.
Although Niebuhr complicated the Weberian typology, his work largely accepted the church-sect typology and continued to promote the idea that the sect was a universal and trans- historical social organization, predicated on the repudiation of the privileged classes’ power. For
Niehbuhr, there could be no doubt that the sect emerged from “religious revolts of the poor, of those who were without effective representation in church or state.” 37 Despite his criticisms of
35 H. Richard Niebuhr, The Social Sources of Denominationalism (Whitefish: Kessinger Publishing, 2004), 19-20. 36 Ibid., 19. 37 Ibid., 19. 21 Weber’s model, his critique left the Weberian typology firmly in place as he assumed that sectarianism resulted from internal developments within a society, specifically material deprivation of the lower classes.
2.1.4 Bryan Wilson: Sectarianism and the Problem of Evil
Weber, Troeltsch, and Niebuhr’s approaches had an indelible impact on the work of contemporary social theorists. Although contemporary social theorists responded to theoretical problems with Weber’s original approach and proposed changes to his approach, they continued to accept Weber’s basic theoretical assumptions. Among these assumptions included the idea that sectarianism can be traced back to internal factors within a culture.
For example, Bryan Wilson used Weber’s approach as the foundation for his own model.
Tracing sectarianism to internal developments, Wilson argued that disagreements about the mechanisms of salvation propelled sect formation. 38 However, he argued that the perceived threat of evil played a formative role in this process with members of the sect seeking “reassurance of the possibility of overcoming evil, in whatever way evil is theologically or culturally defined.” 39
He also believed that the sect represented a form of protest against the perceived ineffectiveness of local institutions. As Wilson argues, “sects adopt a posture of protest against the wider society … the very fact that the sect stands apart from the majority may be taken as an implicit rebuke of others.” 40 Believing that institutions could not fend off evil and deliver on the promise of salvation, individuals took it upon themselves to achieve salvation. For Wilson, this
38 Bryan R. Wilson, Magic and the Millennium: A Sociological Study of Religious Movements of Protest among Tribal and Third-World Peoples (New York: Harper & Row, 1973), 31. 39 Ibid., 46–48. Idem, The Social Dimensions of Sectarianism: Sects and New Religious Movements in Contemporary Society (New York: Clarendon Press, 1990), 206. 40 Ibid., 26. 22 meant that sect was itself a “self-distinguished protest movement” that formed in response to local institutions’ ineffectiveness to deliver on their promises. 41
Rejecting the idea that there was one ideal type of sect, he identified seven different ways that sects could respond to the problem of evil. The seven different responses include conversionist, revolutionist, introversionist, maniulationist, thaumaturgical, reformist, and utopian sects. Each response offered a program of moral rigor whereby members were compelled to alleviate the growing problem of evil in the world. As he explains, “Sects have a totalitarian, rather than segmental hold over their members: they dictate the member’s ideological orientation to secular society, or they rigorously specify the necessary standards of moral rectitude; or they compel member’s involvement in group activity.” 42 Wilson argued further that the response to evil necessitated a rigorous program of moral formation.
This program of moral rigor involved discipline, punishment for infractions, and ultimately expulsion from the community: “Not only does the sect discipline or expel the member who entertain the heretical opinions, or commits a moral misdemeanor, but it regards such defection as betrayal of the cause.” 43 The sect used this strict behavioral modification program to insulate the group against the threat of evil and build relations among members.
Wilson confirmed that the sect’s program of moral rigor put members in tension with the world at large. 44
41 Ibid., 12. 42 Bryan Wilson, “An Analysis of Sect Development,” American Sociological Review 24 (1959): 4. 43 Ibid. 44 Ibid., 11–19. 23 Although Wilson offered a slight modification of Weber’s original argument, he relied on some of the very same assumptions that undergirded the Weberian model. Among these included the idea that sectarianism emerged from the cultural values of certain societies. In Wilson’s case, he argued that a community’s concept of evil prompted people to break away from the dominant group and form into sects.
2.1.5 Rodney Stark and William Sims Bainbridge: The Tension Model
Just as Wilson accepted this basic premise, Rodney Stark and William Sims Bainbridge also attributed sect formation to a society’s innate attitudes and cultural values. Like Weber,
Stark and Bainbridge believed that members of the sect were rational-goal orientated actors who broke away from churches to pursue their self-determined interests. Using rational choice theory, they believed that religion itself arose “through social exchanges in which individuals seek rewards and attempt to avoid costs.” 45 Because there were only a limited number of rewards, people accepted compensators or explanations as reward with religion providing people with
“general compensators based on supernatural assumptions.” 46 For example, people may want the reward of freedom from death, but because such a reward is unavailable they will likely accept a compensator, belief in life after death. 47
When individuals suffer “relative deprivation” or the feeling that they have been deprived certain promised rewards, members will break away from the mainline parent body and form
45 William Sims Bainbridge, The Sociology of Religious Movements (East Sussex: Psychology Press, 1997), 404. 46 Rodney Stark and William Sims Bainbridge, A Theory of Religion (Pieterlen: P. Lang, 1987), 39. 47 Idem, The Future of Religion: Secularization, Revival, and Cult Formation (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 12. 24 into sects to pursue specific compensators that will substitute for these rewards. 48 Whereas churches or low tension religious institutions offer concrete rewards, sects or high tension religious institutions tend to offer more compensators and members in these groups tend to place more value on compensators. 49
Reinforcing Weber’s belief that the experience of deprivation propels sect formation,
Stark and Bainbridge defined the sect as a “deviant” religious organization that formed in response to a shared experience of deprivation among members. 50 They also continued to promote Troetlsch’s idea that the sect manifested a degree of tension or deviance with their mainstream sociocultural environments. 51 Niebuhr’s idea of a continuum between the church and sect also figures preeminently in their work. They argue that sects manifested different grades of tension with the world. Stark and Bainbridge also believed that no two sects manifested the same degrees of tension with their sociocultural environments and argued that scholars could measure these varying degrees of tensions along three separate measurements: difference, antagonism, and separation. 52
Stark and Bainbridge effectively brought together existing models to create a more comprehensive model that attempted to offer a sort of consensus for the field. Like Wilson, they continued to rely on the Weberian premise that sectarianism could be explained through analysis
48 Ibid., 142–49. “Relative” in the sense that individuals will judge their lack of rewards in relation to a perceived standard in the past or to what associates have. 49 Bainbridge, The Sociology of Religious Movements , 50–59. 50 Ibid., 19. 51 Stark and Bainbridge, The Future of Religion , 19–24. According to Stark and Bainbridge, cults and sects were both at the high-tension end of the continuum. 52 Ibid, 66. As Stark and Bainbridge describe, “Difference from the standards set by the majority or by powerful members of society, antagonism between the sect and society manifested in mutual rejection, and separation in social relations leading to relative encapsulation of the sect.” Cults and sects were both at the high-tension end of the continuum. 25 of internal factors within a society. In Stark and Bainbridge’s case, they believed that the experience of material deprivation propelled sectarianism as people attempted to remedy this social problem.
2.2 The Sociology of Sectarianism’s Subjectivity Problem
Although there are significant variations between each of these models, scholars tend to assume that joining a sect is the product of a free choice made on the part of the individual actor.
This shared assumption leads scholars to attribute the formation of sects to the innate cultural attitudes and beliefs of the actors themselves with the decision to separate from local institutions represented as an intrinsic human desire to resolve material and/or theological deficiencies.
However, this idea promotes the problematic assumption that human desire and decision- making are always intrinsic to the individual. Foucault argues that a person’s capacity to act emerges within the semantic and institutional web of power that makes certain ways of acting and relating to the world possible. 53 Put simply, the idea that people have the innate freedom to choose their actions for their own reasons, presupposes a form of agency in which human beings can escape the world in which they operate. A person comes to form their perception of who they are and how they are to act through social exchange or encounter with others. 54 Those exchanges are not value neutral; rather, every social relation in which an individual inhabits exists in a complex web of power that establishes hierarchal relations between individuals.
For example, a teacher-student relationship is not indifferent to power, but a teacher exerts a great deal of power in many areas of a student’s life. Relations of inequality constitute
53 Michel Foucault, Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972-1977 (New York: Pantheon Books, 1980), 98. 54 Ibid., 78–108. 26 the teacher-student relation. This does not mean human action is predetermined by the social relations in which individuals inhabit, but no one is able to make a choice completely free from the grip of power. In Foucault’s words, “There is no escaping from power, that it is always- already present.” 55 Furthermore, Foucault argues that individuals do not autonomously construct their identities, but rather their identities are written for them through social encounter with others.
Meaning, therefore, is bound up with human relations. Human beings come to find meaning and make sense of their world and role in it through the encounter and exchanges with others. If meaning is constituted via human relations, meaning is specific to the geopolitical location where those relations take place and can also change over time as historical events come to shape human relations in very specific ways. Meaning-making is thus shaped by the very same imbalances of power that constitute the human relations where the process of meaning-making is taking place.
Taking Foucault’s logic a step further, Talal Asad argues that even in the case of pain, it never emerges out of thin air, but it always constitutes itself through the social relations that one inhabits. 56 As Asad describes, “sufferers are also social persons (animals) and their suffering is partly constituted by the way they inhabit, or are constrained to inhabit, their relationships with
55 Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality: An Introduction (New York: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2012), 82. 56 Talal Asad, Formations of the Secular: Christianity, Islam, Modernity (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2003). 27 others.” 57 Humans are not voluntaristic autonomous subjects, but they experience pain through culturally variable relationships. 58
Asad goes on to explain how this key point complicates the popular idea that subordinated peoples can resist the very thing that has conditioned their perception of who they are and how they are to act. According to Asad, contemporary historians are often aware of the problems with western conceptions of human agency and the self, assuming that while no one can escape their culture, culture can never completely determine one’s behavior. 59 However, this assumption leads scholars into a paradox, that is, that people can free themselves from the control of their culture by submitting themselves to the control of their own desires which have been conditioned by the very thing that they wish to escape.
Foucault and Asad expose the problems underlying the Weberian assumption that sectarianism can be traced to a person’s innate cultural attitudes or beliefs. Human action and decision making is always constituted by the distinctive political and historical conditions in which it occurs. Clarifying this point, Saba Mahmood argues that this popular model of human agency “presupposes that there is a natural disjuncture between a person’s ‘true’ desire and those that are socially prescribed.” 60 Mahmood argues that in the case of the women’s Mosque movement in modern Egypt this distinction proves to be inadequate as the conditions for the emergence and realization of women’s subjectivities depended upon the enactment of certain prescribed forms of social behavior. Rather than act autonomously, women who participate in
57 Ibid. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid., 72. 60 Saba Mahmood, Politics of Piety: The Islamic Revival and the Feminist Subject (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011), 149. 28 the mosque movement challenge the existing patriarchal order through the enactment of prescribed norms of behavior that are culturally conditioned by the ideology of patriarchy.
Women realize their agency through the enactment of the very same customs and traditions that denied them subjectivity. 61 Human beings are not autonomous subjects who have an inborn desire and ability to realize their own personal interests against the constraints of tradition, but they must act within the given constraints of their tradition.
The popular assumption that people can escape the political and historical conditions in which their desires, identities, and actions are indebted was an Enlightenment ideal that supported the logic of secular-liberal governance. 62 The assumption that individuals are autonomous subjects with the free will to act in any capacity attributes responsibility for a deed to a single actor and thus forces a person to be solely accountable for one’s behavior. 63 Asad argues that this logic rendered “A world of apparent accidents is rendered into a world of essences.” 64 This episteme was crucially important for the development of modern law and democratic systems of government, because it allowed Enlightenment thinkers to pin all collective tendencies and aberrations of the law to the individual.
Ushering in a new kind of state and legal subject, Protestant theology made this concept of subjectivity possible with Protestantism’s emphasis on “the priority of belief as a state of mind rather than a constituting activity in the world.” 65 By constituting ideas and practices as a state of mind rather than the result of a collection of activities outside of the individual, Protestant
61 Ibid., 148. 62 Ibid., 35. 63 Asad, Formations of the Secular , 74. 64 Ibid., 74. 65 Talal Asad, Genealogies of Religion: Discipline and Reasons of Power in Christianity and Islam (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press University, 2009), 47. 29 theology was able to create a ‘self-constituted subject’ who was fully able to choose to believe or not to believe. Belief and desire was reduced to the personal privatized mind of the individual
Christian.
This dramatic shift in the conception of religion provided individuals with both the intellectual and political capacity to separate from local institutions as individuals were given the option to do so. Like any category of human thought, voluntarism was not an inborn thought or desire, but it was a category of thought that was contingent upon certain political, religious, and historical developments. Weber’s assumption that voluntarism was the hallmark of sect formation was itself a system of thought that only came into being with the Protestant reformation.
Even in the case of voluntary choice, it was a modality of thought that only came into being with the development of Protestant theology and Enlightenment political theory. The ability to voluntarily choose was not solely the product of human beings’ independent wills, but it is in fact the product of a historically and culturally constituted set of formative practices and injunctions that have determined the range of the possible in advance.
The problems with Weber’s assumptions about human agency are apparent in his analysis of sectarian conflicts between India’s Muslim and Hindu populations. In the case of Northern
India, Weber believed that Indian civilization was prone to sect formation largely because of
Hinduism’s exclusive nature. According to Weber,
“Hinduism is ‘exclusive’ in the sense that in no other way can the individual enter its
community…Hinduism does not wish to encompass mankind. No matter what his belief
30 or way of life, anyone not born a Hindu remains an outsider, a barbarian to whom the
sacred values of Hinduism are in principle denied.”66
Hinduism’s exclusive nature left the poor with little option but to convert to Islam and
Christianity, because these religions offered them the promise of some limited social mobility.
Affiliation and conversion to Islam thus offered the lower castes “the betterment of their social situation,” since ‘formal conversions to Hinduism did not officially exist.’ 67
However, Weber argued that Islam was also exclusive in nature and “succumbed in India to the engulfing tendency toward caste formation.” 68 According to Weber, Islam’s exclusive nature “could be linked to the typical status stratification of classical Islam” in which the “actual or alleged descendants of the prophet and certain families religious ranking close to his sib (the
Sayyid or Sherif) had privileged status.” 69 Rather than linking sectarianism to the distinctive sociopolitical context in which sectarian conflicts and tensions emerged, Weber paints Hinduism and Islam as innately sectarian with each religious tradition prone to stratification and rigid social divisions. Religious conflicts between India’s Muslim and Hindu communities is consequently reduced to the peculiar cultural values of groups within Indian society itself.
Whether in Hinduism or Christianity, his model functions on the assumption that all people have at their possession the desire and political capacity to separate from local institutions and form into their own distinct institutions if they believe that mainstream institutions are not
66 Max Weber, The Religion of India: The Sociology of Hinduism and Buddhism , trans. Hans Heinrich Gerth and Don Martindale (New York: Free Press, 1962), 6. Weber argued that the lower castes proved to be the exception since they recruited excommunicated members of upper castes into lower castes. 67 Weber, 6. 68 Weber, 20. 69 Weber, 20. 31 fairly distributing material resources. Following the model’s logic, all people act according to their own self-determined interests and will separate from local institutions if they believe that the institution is perpetuating asymmetrical relations between the privileged and non-privileged classes. This assumption in turn leads Weber to argue that sect formation is a rational response to religious exclusivism with members of mainstream institutions denied particular rights and advantages.
From Troeltsch to Stark and Bainbridge, scholars appropriated Weber’s problematic notion of human agency. Although each social theorist tried to amend the original model, no one challenged Weber’s assumption that people had the innate freedom to break away from mainstream institutions and form into sects. As a result, Wilson, Stark, and Bainbridge continued to assume that sectarianism could be traced back to a person innate cultural beliefs and values.
The flawed notion of subjectivity is problematic, because it hinders analysis of the unique historical conditions that make sectarian conflicts enunciable in the first place. People are not free to act in whatever way they desire, but they operate within the historically embedded discourses that allow certain modalities of action to become imaginable. This insight has been taken up in recent scholarship on sectarianism in the Middle East and South Asia.
2.3 The Study of Sectarianism in Islamic Studies
2.3.1 Gyanendra Pandey: Sectarianism as an Adjudication into Colonial Governance
Nearly half a century after the publication of Weber’s work, Gyanendra Pandey was among the first to challenge Weber’s assumptions. 70 According to Pandey, Weber’s belief that
70 Gyanendra Pandey, The Construction of Communalism in Colonial North India (New Delhi: Oxford University Press India, 1990). 32 Hindu and Muslim communities in Northern India were exclusive by nature was a colonial invention. As he explains,
“the all-India ‘Hindu community’ (and to a large extent, the all-India ‘Muslim
community’ too) was a colonial creation for, as I have argued, the social and economic
changes brought by colonialism, Indian efforts to defend the indigenous religions and
culture against western missionary attacks, the unifying drive of the colonial state which
was marked at the level of administrative structure and attempted political control …
tended to promote the idea of an all-India Hindu community and an all-India Muslim
community which were supposedly ranged against one another for much of the time.” 71
Rather than attribute the formation of sectarian conflicts between Hindu and Muslim communities to the cultural attitudes of the indigenous population, Pandey instead insists that the administrative regimes of colonial governments divided the local population by their religious affiliations, using the distinction between Islam and Hinduism as a means to rank and organize the population. Furthermore, the idea that Hindu and Muslim communities were innately prone to sectarian divisions was a scholarly invention that negated the processes by which the legal reforms instituted by the British Empire incited sectarian conflicts and tensions between religious communities in Northern India.
Following Pandey’s argument, the reorganization of the local population began with the
British Governor General Warren Hastings’ Regulating Act of 1773. 72 This colonial legal reform
71 Ibid., 199. 72 Sudipta Sen, “Subordination, Governance, and the Legislative State in Early Colonial India,” in Subaltern Citizens and Their Histories: Investigations from India and the USA , ed. Gyanendra Pandey (London: Routledge, 2009). 33 effectively created courts in Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay where British judges could administer the law. Section 27 of the Act also stated that religious texts should serve as the standard of law for local communities with the Quran serving as the standard of law for Muslims and the Vedas and Dharma Shastras for Hindus. The British justified this reform as a continuation of the policies of the previous Mughal administration. As the British legal expert Sir
George Rankin explained, “The Moghuls had administered Mahomedan law both civil and criminal: their administration, though exceedingly corrupt and inefficient, had the merit of leaving questions between Hindus to be decided according to their own Shastras.” 73
Although these legal reforms represented a radically new invention, British officials argued that these reforms were in fact rooted in the traditions of the past. This colonial discourse propagated the idea that religious divisions between Muslim and Hindu communities were “age- old and flowed from the essential character of the peoples of India; and it affects more or less the whole population.” 74 However, local religious affiliations had in fact never been used as the primary mechanism for seeking legal rights and representation in local society. Moreover, with local communities forced to use their religious affiliations as the means in which to adjudicate legal issue, religion quickly evolved into the primary marker of political status in society. 75 The eruption of sectarian conflicts and tensions between Hindu and Muslim communities in Northern
India was not as Weber had first claimed the projection of innate cultural divides. Rather sectarian conflicts emerged between religious communities as a response to the British Empires’ institution of colonial governance in Indian society.
73 Sir George Rankin, “Custom and the Muslim Law in British India,” Transactions of the Grotius Society 25 (1939), 95. 74 Pandey, The Construction of Communalism in Colonial North India , 23. 75 Ibid., 11. 34 2.3.2 Ussama Makdisi: Sectarianism as a Sociohistorical Process
A decade after Pandey’s groundbreaking work, Ussama Makdisi followed a similar line of argumentation in his analysis of sectarianism’s history in modern Lebanon. For Makdisi, the
Tanzimat was the key historical event that fostered sectarian conflicts and tensions in Lebanon.
Like the Regulating Act of 1773, the Tanzimat was a distinctive colonial program of reform that sought to “reform the administration and reorganize the Ottoman Empire to maintain its territorial integrity.” 76
Among the fundamental stipulations of the Tanzimat was the mandatory equal taxation of all subjects in the Ottoman Empire, regardless of religious affiliation. Ottoman officials wanted to declare, “The juridical equality of all subjects—hence the equality of Muslims with
Christians.”77 Under this new judicial system, Christian, Jewish, and Islamic law would prevail in separate courts with Christian, Jewish, and Muslim communities adjudicating legal issues on the basis of their religious affiliations. As Makdisi explains, this judicial reform was undertaken largely in part to satisfy European demands to protect the religious freedom of religious minorities in the Ottoman Empire. Of particular concern for European officials was the status of
Christian communities in the Ottoman administration with the Tanzimat guaranteeing that
Christian communities did not have to seek legal counsel from the Ottoman Empire’s state- sanctioned Sunni Hanafi courts. 78
76 Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism , 10. The Tanzimat was initiated with Sultan Abdulmecid’s proclamation of the Gulhane edict in 1839. 77 Ibid, 10. 78 Hanafi is one of the four schools of thought of jurisprudence within Sunni Islam. It was officially adopted by the Ottoman Empire in the 16 th century and remained the most influential legal school in the Empire. 35 Building upon Makdisi’s analysis, Max Weiss demonstrates that this process of judicial reforms culminated with the French Mandate. 79 The French Mandate recognized the Shia school of legal thought, known as the Jaʽfari madhhab , as an independent state-sanctioned court system for Shiʽa communities. Whereas Shiʽa communities had once been forced to adjudicate personal status issues, such as divorce and child custody disputes, in the state-sanctioned Sunni Hanafi courts, Shiʽa communities were now free to make claims on the state in their own separate state- sanctioned courts. 80
These legal reforms encouraged religious communities to understand themselves as legally and politically distinct entities. For example, Makdisi notes that in 1840, “the Maronite
Church explicitly stated that it was distinct from all other sects and desired to be treated ‘without being mixed with any other sect.’” 81 The Maronite Church also requested that the Sultan determine the political leadership of the region by religious affiliation and demanded that the political ruler of Mount Lebanon “only be a Maronite.” 82 Religion thus became the determining marker of political status with the regional political leadership now determined by religious affiliations.
Like India, this new way of organizing society was justified with appeals to the past with
European and Ottoman invoking “mythologized sectarian pasts” and imposing a new narrative that had never actually existed. These appeals to a mythologized sectarian past allowed
79 Max Weiss, In the Shadow of Sectarianism: Law, Shi’ism, and the Making of Modern Lebanon (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2010). 80 Ibid., 144. “The Jaʽfari court was an active force in the management of everyday life in Shiʽa Lebanon. Such legal house calls underwrote the emerging legal and religious infrastructure that structured the relationship between the Lebanese state and Shiʽa society.” 81 Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism , 61. 82 Ibid., 62. 36 indigenous elites who collaborated with administrators to represent “themselves as the guardians of tradition and social order and their rivals as the instigators of perennial perfidy.” 83
Furthermore, with the traditional markers of status now fixed by religion, elites engaged in a competition over who best embodied the ideals of their mythologized religious pasts in an effort to bolster their monopoly on politics and lay claim to what they understood to be their birthright.
Makdisi’s approach offers two important insights. First, he explains that sects are part of a larger culture that “permeated all facets of administration, law, education, and, finally, with the establishment of the Lebanese republic, the state.”84 Second, Makdisi argues, “Ottoman modernization and European colonial influence set the stage for the beginnings of what I have called the culture of sectarianism in the nineteenth century.” 85 Sectarianism then is a sociohistorical process through which religious identity became politically mobilized by colonial legal reforms, dividing and ranking the local population into clearly defined categories. 86
As religion became the hallmark of political status, rival elites reimagined their communities in sectarian terms in an effort to secure positions of political power and privilege.
This process ultimately satisfied demands for religious tolerance and freedom with European officials favoring Christian communities. Moreover, this idea of an innate separation between
Christian and Muslim communities in the Middle East fostered the colonial discourse of a
83 Ibid., 75. 84 Ibid., 163. 85 Ibid., 166. 86 Ussama Makdisi, “Pensée 4: Moving Beyond Orientalist Fantasy, Sectarian Polemic, and Nationalist Denial,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 40, no. 4 (2008): 559. “Sectarianism, as I understand it, refers to a process-not an object, not an event, and certainly not a primordial trait. It is a process through which a kind of religious identity is politicized, even secularized, as part of an obvious struggle for power.” 37 religious war or great theologically motivated clash between the Christian West and Islamic
Other. 87
2.3.3 Laura Robson: Sectarianism as a System of Colonial Governance
Bringing Makdisi’s insights to the study of Mandate Palestine’s history, Laura Robson argues that the sociopolitical situation in Palestine was analogous to Lebanon with British administrators legally enshrining “religious difference through the establishment of communal legislative and judicial structures.” 88 Like modern Lebanon, “the implementation of this policy, far from preserving unaltered precolonial legal and political structures, actually involved the imperial invention of ‘native’ tradition and the construction of ‘customary’ ethnic, cultural, and especially religious categorizations.” 89 The millet system provided colonial administrators with the tools to reconfigure the political landscape of Palestine. Under the millet system, legal rights were guaranteed to religious minorities with Ottoman officials giving legal autonomy to religious courts to adjudicate issues according to the litigant’s religious affiliation. 90
87 Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism , 2. “Ottoman and European discourses of reform that made religion the site of a colonial encounter between a self-styled ‘Christian’ West and what it saw as its perennial adversary, an ‘Islamic’ Ottoman Empire.” 88 Robson, Colonialism and Christianity in Mandate Palestine , 48. 89 Ibid., 48. 90 Ibid., 47. Robson acknowledges that within Ottoman historiography, historians dispute the history of the Ottoman millet system itself. For example, Benjamin Braude argues that the millet system was a relatively new 19 th century legal reform that Ottoman officials developed from their encounters with British and French jurisprudence. Ottoman officials wanted to portray the millet system as a return to an idealized past, claiming that the great Ottoman sultan, Mehmet II the Conqueror instituted the original system. According to Braude, prior to the 19th century the Ottomans possessed “no overall administrative system, structure, or set of institutions for dealing with non-Muslims” (74). See Benjamín Braude, “Foundation Myth of the Millet System,” in Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire: The Functioning of a Plural Society, ed. Bernard Lewis and Benjamín Braude (New York: Holmes & Meier Publishers, 1982), 69–88. 38 However, Robson argues that “during the early years of the British presence the mandate government decided not only to maintain the millet system but actually to extend its scope by redefining the Muslim community as a ‘millet’ and inventing various communal institutions that would function as the basic structures of Palestinian political participation.” 91 Put simply, the term “millet” is an Ottoman legal category given to an officially recognized religious community with a distinctive political status. This shift was codified in the Palestine Order-in-Council of
1922 which ruled that Muslim courts had full autonomy over Muslim communities when it came to personal status issues, such as marriage, divorce, child custody, and inheritance disputes.
Article 52 explicitly redefined the Muslim community as a millet: “Moslem Religious
Courts shall have exclusive jurisdiction in matters of personal status of Moslems in accordance with the provisions of the Law of Procedure of the Moslem Religious Courts of the 25th
October.” 92 Robson argues further that from 1920 to 1930, the courts served as the primary mechanism for instituting these legal changes. As she explains, “some legal changes were codified in the Palestine Order-in-Council of 1922; many others, as in India, were promulgated on an ad hoc basis through the judgments of courts.” 93
With local communities forced to adjudicate legal matters according to their certain religious affiliations, Robson argues that Muslim and non-Muslim communities increasingly came to separate from one another and divide themselves along religious lines. As she explains,
“The redefinition of Muslim community as Palestine’s largest millet defined Muslim law as separate from British civil law and divided the Muslim from the non-Muslim communities in
91 Robson, Colonialism and Christianity in Mandate Palestine , 44. 92 Palestine Order in Council, Article 52, Robert Harry Drayton, The Laws of Palestine: In Force on the 31st Day of December 1933 (London: Waterlow, 1934), 2581. 93 Robson, Colonialism and Christianity in Mandate Palestine , 54. 39 Palestine.” 94 The reinvention of the millet system effectively turned religion into a mechanism for securing particular legal rights and privileges from colonial governing bodies.
In addition to instituting separate legal systems, Assaf Likhovski argues that the British reform to the millet system instituted a radically new system of governance predicated upon religious difference. As Likhovski explains, “The three-pronged religion based classification system was evident, for example, in the fact that when the British contemplated the establishment of a partially elected legislative council in 1922, they envisioned the creation of separate electoral colleges-Muslim Christian, and Jewish.” 95 The British imagined that local communities would seek political representation based upon their religious affiliations.
Likhovski argues that “the British explained the use of this categorization scheme by reference to the personality-based jurisdiction of the religious courts.” 96 Thus, British officials used the very same logic to reform the local political system that they had used to reform the legal system with the two working in tandem with one another.
This reconfiguration of local systems of legal and political representation not only reified differences between Muslim and non-Muslim communities but also imbricated Arab autonomy with expressions of religious identity and “went some way toward circumscribing Palestinian
Arab autonomy by defining it as a communally organized, driven by textual religious tradition rather than Western legal modes.” 97 Because Arab communities were forced to use religious texts and customs to secure their particular legal and political privileges, their autonomy and
94 Ibid., 57. 95 See Assaf Likhovski, Law and Identity in Mandate Palestine (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 38. 96 Ibid., 38. 97 Robson, Colonialism and Christianity in Mandate Palestine , 57. 40 independence became bound up with the interpretation of local religious laws and customs. This in turn reinforced British administrators’ belief that ‘Palestinian Arabs were unready for the duties and responsibilities of Western-style secular citizenship and would therefore be better off under ‘a traditional system of communal administration and personal law governed by religious texts.’ 98
“This decision,” as Robson argues, “was supposed to appease the Palestinian Muslim community, whom the British feared for their supposed influence on the Muslim population of
Britain’s most valuable colony, India.” 99 Acutely aware of the fact that the political structures of their colonies were intimately linked, British administrators believed that their legal reform would appease Muslim leaders who demanded power and status. By appeasing Muslim leaders in Palestine, British officials believed that they would “placate international Muslim sentiment” and thereby defuse “potentially dangerous Muslim opposition that could threaten British holdings in India.” 100 According to Robson, this strategy proved effective with local religious leaders “armed with a specifically colonial understanding of the meaning of religious identity in
Palestinian society” and retaining the “means to enforce British views.” 101 Moreover, many local communities actively participated in the process and reinvented their religious communities in
“the hopes of taking a leading role in a communally organized political system.” 102
As Robson explains, this reconfiguration of the millet system had other justifications besides the prevention of local rebellions. Among these other justifications included the idea that
98 Ibid., 50. 99 Ibid., 57. 100 Ibid., 57. 101 Ibid., 9. 102 Robson, 2. 41 other religious minorities in the region would be given greater autonomy and ‘freedom from
Muslim domination.’ 103 In this way, British administrators were able to represent themselves as modernizing Palestine’s systems of governance by giving representation to communities that they believed had been marginalized and underrepresented under the Ottomans’ Muslim dominated rule.
For example, Sir Herbert Samuel who served as the first high commissioner was reported as saying that the capital of Palestine “has been notorious among the nations for the bitterness, and sometimes the violence, of its ecclesiastical disputes, creed contending against creed, and sect against sect…The present age is weary of such contention. So far as the Government of
Palestine can have influence over these matters, it has steadily discountenanced all such disputes, it has endeavored to reduce trifles to their true proportions: it has taken every opportunity to encourage union and harmonious co-operation.” 104 The Mandate government was thus positioned in British rhetoric as ‘a modern institution above the medieval fray of primitive religious squabbles.’ 105 While the Mandate government cultivated and reinforced sectarian tensions and conflicts, British administrators portrayed it as doing the exact reverse and bridging long standing religiously based divides that had historically denied representation to certain communities.
Robson’s work lends further support to Makdisi’s insights and demonstrates how sectarianism was produced through specific judicial reforms. Bringing together the complex and diverse histories of British-ruled colonies, she explains that emergence of sectarian conflicts
103 Robson, 53. 104 See Herbert Samuel, Report of the High Commissioner on the Administration of Palestine , 1920-1925, 50. 105 Robson, Colonialism and Christianity in Mandate Palestine , 54. 42 between religious communities in Mandate Palestine coincided “with a global colonial history, including South Asia and Africa, of the modern construction of supposedly ‘traditional’ categories of religion and ethnicity.” 106 This key insight challenges the Weberian assumption that sectarianism is a rational response to material deprivation and exclusion and instead demonstrates that sectarianism is in fact a process whereby religious affiliations gained administrative power as a result of judicial reforms enacted under the Ottoman, British, and
French administrations in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
2.4 The History of Sectarianism in Early Judaism
Islamic studies’ analyses of sectarianism offer important insights for the study of sectarianism’s history in early Judaism. Among these include that idea that sectarianism is a sociohistorical process conditioned by the systems of legal pluralism that colonial powers institute to govern their colonies. While Pandey, Makdisi, and Robson trace the origins of this sociohistorical process to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, nearly two thousand years before Ottoman and European officials invented sectarianism as a system of governance, local communities in ancient Judah were participating in a sociohistorical process that shared apparent affinities to the one that Ottoman and European officials used to govern Muslim communities.
Among these include the idea that Jewish communities started to separate and differentiate themselves from one another using their affiliations to and interpretations of their local ancestral laws in response to the Seleucid and Roman Empire’s occupation of the region and involvement in regional politics.
106 Ibid., 3. 43 There are substantial differences between the mechanisms by which the Seleucid and
Roman Empires managed their colonies and the mechanisms by which the Ottoman, British, and
French Empires managed their colonies. These differences include the idea of the Ottoman millet system which served as the central mechanism by which the British and French Empires used to divide and rank communities by their religious affiliations. The millet system is a distinctive feature of Ottoman, British, and French rule that was unique to the modern situation. Legal pluralism was thus structured by the concept of the millet system as it served as the central mechanisms by which the British and French Empires reproduced the idea of religious difference.
Although there are important differences between the mechanisms by which the Ottoman and European and Seleucid and Roman Empires managed their colonies, there is one major similarity between their governing strategies. Empires need to develop and implement systems of law to organize and manage their colonies. Since the boundaries of empire are porous and flexible, administrators must find a way to assimilate different competing groups into the empire to reproduce some notion of social cohesion. In the case of the Ottoman and European Empires, legal pluralism provided the most efficient way to manage their colonies and incorporate the people from their different colonies into their systems of governance. Legal pluralism was constituted by a multitiered system of law whereby colonial administrators recognized and supported what they believed to be indigenous systems of law.
As Pandey, Makdisi, and Robson demonstrate, Ottoman, British, and French administrators understood themselves as incorporating and drawing upon the religious laws and traditions of Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, and Christian communities in their colonies to create this system of legal pluralism. However, this system was in fact manufactured with colonial
44 administrators legitimating and naturalizing the idea that communities in their colonies ranked, divided, and organized themselves according to their religious affiliations. Furthermore, sectarianism developed in response as indigenous communities started to rigidly redefine themselves in accordance with their religious affiliations.
Like the Ottoman, British, and French Empires, the Seleucid and Roman Empires are represented as developing a legal system to manage their colonies. In the case of ancient Judah,
Josephus makes clear that Seleucid and Roman administrators recognized and supported the region’s local cult and its ancestral laws and thus operated with a multitiered system of law whereby indigenous communities in their colonies were encouraged to operate according to different sets of regulations than those that structured the daily lives of Seleucid and Roman officials.107 It was in response to this system of legal pluralism that Jewish communities started to separate and form into groups that coalesced around distinctive affiliations to and understandings of their ancestral laws.
Josephus’ histories provide a detailed description of this process. According to Josephus, the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes promoted distinctive and different understandings of the constitutive elements of their ancestral laws .108 In the case of the Sadducees, Josephus describes them as subscribing to the idea “that souls die with the bodies,” and “do not regard the observation of anything besides what the law enjoins them.” 109 The Sadducees maintained a conservative interpretation of the law, restricting authority to the written law interpreted literally
107 I will provide a detailed historical analysis of the system of legal pluralism and how it operated in antiquity in 2.6.1. 108 Josephus, A.J. 18.1.2-6. All translations of Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities from book 17-18 follow the translation in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities Books XVIII-XIX , trans. L. H. Feldman, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1965). 109 Josephus, A.J. 18.1.4. 45 and thus Josephus argues that they rejected the idea of life after death since this teaching is not included within the written law.
In contrast to the Sadducees, the Pharisees are described as interpreting and performing their covenant with God “according to their own direction.” 110 His description indicates that the
Pharisees left room for interpretations of the law or oral law and thus believed “believe that souls have an immortal vigor in them: and that under the earth there will be rewards, or punishments; according as they have lived virtuously or viciously in this life.” 111 The Pharisees maintained a distinctive interpretation of local religious laws that was markedly different from the Sadducees.
As in the case of the Pharisees and Sadducees, the Essenes also maintain a distinctive interpretation of the law teaching, “that all things are best ascribed to God.” 112 Rather than organize social relations around familial relations or wealth, Josephus argues that groups such as the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes were increasingly dividing and ranking each other by their distinctive affiliations with the law.
Josephus also makes clear that these competing religious affiliations increasingly denoted one’s social and political standing in society. The Pharisees, for example, are described as harboring the population’s political attestations. As Josephus explains, “On account of which doctrines they are able greatly to persuade the body of the people: and whatsoever they do about divine worship, prayers, and sacrifices, they perform them according to their direction.
110 Josephus, A.J. 18.1.3. 111 Josephus, A.J. 18.1.3. 112 Josephus, A.J. 18.1.5. 46 Insomuch, that the cities give great attestations to them, on account of their virtuous conduct, both in the actions of their lives.” 113
According to Josephus, the Pharisees were so powerful that “when they say anything against the King, or against the High Priest, they are presently believed.” 114 Even the Sadducees were forced to concede to the Pharisees’ power when they stepped into political positions: “For when they become magistrates; as they are unwillingly and by force sometimes obliged to be; they addict themselves to the notions of the Pharisees: because the multitude would not otherwise bear them.” 115 His description of the Pharisee’s power and status in society indicates that in his mind religious affiliations served as an important marker of political status in society.
Josephus might be giving an inaccurate representation of reality, but his account nevertheless indicates that within his own mind he believed that the Pharisees mobilized the covenant to garner political status. 116 His description of the Pharisees’ role in the reign of Salome
Alexandra also reinforces this point. He depicts Alexandra as making the calculated decision to
“put all things” into the power of the Pharisees, including “the affairs of the Kingdom.” 117
According to Josephus, this decision pacified the Pharisee’s anger against her husband
Alexander and consequently “made them bear good will and friendship to him.” 118 While
113 Josephus, A.J. 18.1.3. 114 Josephus, A.J . 13.10.5. 115 Josephus, A.J . 18.1.4. 116 On the problems with relying on Josephus’ narratives as historical data of historical events. As Johnson notes Josephus actively seeks to manipulate accounts of historical events to serve his own purposes. Sara Raup Johnson, Historical Fictions and Hellenistic Jewish Identity: Third Maccabees in Its Cultural Context (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005). 117 Josephus, A.J . 13.16.1. All translations of Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities from book 12-14 follow the translation in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities Books XII-XIV , trans. Ralph Marcus, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986). Alexandra makes this decision after her husband Alexander Jannaeus orders her to privilege the Pharisees on his deathbed. 118 Josephus, A.J. 13.16.1. 47 Alexandra might have been the regent, Josephus makes clear that “the Pharisees had the authority.” 119 This description of the Pharisees’ role in local politics indicates that Josephus believed that religious affiliations denoted political standing with local rulers depicted as using distinctive interpretations of local religious laws to make important political decisions and maneuver for political power. 120
In addition to Josephus’ testimony, the Dead Sea Scrolls also promote the shared assumption that distinctive affiliations with the Mosaic covenant could serve as the primary marker of status in society. Among the scrolls that participate in this distinctive historical process include the Damascus Document and Community Rule . Both texts imagine exclusive communities defined by renewed affiliations to abide by and practice the Mosaic covenant. For example, the Damascus Document ’s admission procedure emphasizes that membership into its exclusive community requires an expressed commitment to abide by this distinctive covenant with God:
“He stands in front of the examiner, lest he [appears si]mple when he examines him. But
wh[en] he has imposed upon himself to return to the law of Mos[es] with all his heart and
all his soul they will exact revenge [from him] if he should become unfaithful. All that
has been revealed of the law for the multitude of the camp — if h[e inadvertently fa]ils,
119 Josephus, A.J . 13.16.2. 120 Atkinson has discussed at length explicit historical inaccuracies in Josephus’ account of Salome. Kenneth Atkinson, Queen Salome: Jerusalem’s Warrior Monarch of the First Century B.C.E. (Jefferson: McFarland Publishers, 2012). 48 the examiner should teach him and give orders concerning him and he should learn for a
full year.” 121
The Damascus Document organizes its community around a distinctive affiliation with the
Mosaic covenant, arguing that members must take an oath “to return to the law of Moses with all his heart and all his soul.” Members are not required to swear fidelity to a specific leader. Rather members must only swear their fidelity to “the law for the multitude of the camp.” The covenant operates free of any association with a designated political dynasty, such as the Hasmonean and/or Herodian dynasty. One’s accumulated wealth and birth in a certain family line is rejected as a marker of status and mechanism by which recruits are recognized and categorized. 122
The Community Rule also stresses that a sworn oath to return to the Law of Moses determines one’s social standing in the community: “Whoever enters the council of the
Community enters the covenant of God in the presence of all who freely volunteer. He shall swear with a binding oath to revert to the Law of Moses, according to all that he commanded, with whole heart and whole soul.” 123 When each candidate enters the community, members cast a lot to assess the candidate’s value and worth: “And then, when he comes in to stand in front of the Many, they shall be questioned, all of them, concerning his affairs. And depending on the outcome of the lot in the council of the Many he shall be included or excluded.” 124 The scroll makes clear that this process of determining the candidate’s value and worth primarily involved
121 4QD a fr. 8 i 1-9; CD 15:5b–17. All translations of the Dead Sea Scrolls follow the translation in Florentino García Martínez and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition (Leiden: Brill, 1999). 122 While the text presupposes family life, the admission procedure does not make marriage a requisite component of entrance and rank into the community. Charlotte Hempel, The Qumran Rule Texts in Context: Collected Studies (Heidelberg: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 54–62. 123 1QS 5:7-9. 124 1QS 6:15-16 49 assessing a candidate’s commitment to the Mosaic covenant: “When he has completed a year within the Community, the Many will be questioned about his affairs, concerning his insight and his deeds in connection with the law.” 125 God’s covenant operates free of an established political dynasty in Jerusalem with status in the community determined solely by an assessment of a candidate’s commitment to God’s covenant with humanity.
Each text emphasizes that status must primarily be established through a distinctive affiliation with the Mosaic covenant. Neither the Damascus Document nor the Community Rule claim that birth within a particular line of descent or a specific region determines one’s status.
Rather they argue that status and membership in each respective community demands that members take a sworn oath to abide by the Law of Moses. This emphasis on the Mosaic covenant seems to privilege the Law above any other traditional markers of status, such as family, nobility, wealth, and/or marriage. 126
The scrolls’ effort to emphasize the importance of local affiliations to the Law parallels
Josephus’ representations of the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes with these distinctive Jewish groups using the Law of Moses as a mechanism to divide and organize themselves. In both cases, traditional markers of status, such as family and/or wealth, are no longer represented as the chief markers of status. 127 In both Josephus’ description and the scrolls’ self-descriptions of their communities, local affiliations to God’s established covenant to humanity serve as the hallmark of status with members ranked according to their ability to abide by the covenant. Moreover, the scrolls seem to actively deemphasize the role of marriage, family, and wealth in ranking and
125 1QS 6.18. 126 Chapter four will discuss this issue at length and offer a detailed analysis of admission procedures and membership practices. 127 This issue will be discussed further in chapter four. 50 categorizing one’s status and membership in the covenant. The covenant is in turn disassociated from the local Hasmonean state with the texts not making obedience to the local religious and political leadership a requisite component of membership.
The process by which local communities in Judah came to disassociate the Mosaic covenant with these markers of status seems to fit Makdisi and Robson’s definition of sectarianism’s constitutive elements. Allegiances to family, nobility, and wealth are not the constitutive elements of the Pharisees’ power. Rather they garner their power from their distinctive interpretation of the Law alone. As the Seleucid and Roman Empires tried to exert their legal hegemony in the region, local affiliations to the Mosaic covenant became politically mobilized as communities used their commitment to their ancestral laws to divide and rank each other. Understanding the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ role in this process requires further analysis of their exchange and impact on regional politics. In biblical studies scholarship, this insight has been the subject of increasing investigation with scholars developing different models to understand the historical and political circumstances that conditioned and defined this process.
2.5 The Historiography of Sectarianism in Biblical Studies
2.5.1 Sectarianism as Organizational Typology
Biblical scholarship’s responses can roughly be organized into four categories. These include sectarianism as organizational typology, resistance movement, identity politics, and alternative civic ideology. The first of these responses includes what scholars have termed the
Weberian “Church-sect” typology.
51 Max Weber was among the first to posit an explanation. 128 According to Weber, “the core motive” for this historical process “was found in a reaction against Hellenism to which the upper strata succumbed.” 129 After the local aristocracy succumbed to the influence of Hellenistic culture, a pious group of anti-Hellenistic reformers, called the Hasidim, emerged to expunge foreign influence from local society. The Hasidim would eventually become the Pharisees who
“gave the movement the form of an order, of a ‘brotherhood,’ chaburah , which one could join only by formally obligating one’s self to most rigid Levitical purity before three members.” 130
Moreover, sect religiosity did not technically emerge until the formation of Pharisaism in the 2 nd century BCE. 131
Weber argued that the distinguishing feature of the Pharisees was their shared commitment to voluntary separation from other Jews. In contrast to the Hasidim, the Pharisees not only separated from the Hellenes but also and more importantly chose to separate from other fellow Jews. He believed that the Pharisees achieved this separation by depreciating the charisma of the priest “in favor of personal religious qualification as proven through conduct.” 132 Forming in opposition to the power of the priestly elite, he argued that the Pharisees denigrated the power of the priesthood in Jerusalem by claiming to live up to the same holiness standards as the
128 Max Weber, Ancient Judaism , trans. Hans Heinrich Gerth and Don Martindale (London: Macmillan Publishing, 1952), 380-83: According to Weber, Ezra and Nehemiah’s insistence that membership required a voluntary commitment to prescribed ideals provided the initial undercurrents of the sect. However, he was hesitant to use the term “sect” to describe Ezra and Nehemiah’s representation of membership, because the texts were written by and for members of the religious elite. Because he believed that sect formation was constituted by a repudiation of the powers of the priestly elite, Weber came to the conclusion that Ezra and Nehemiah did not fully embody sect religiosity. 129 Ibid., 385. 130 Ibid., 386. 131 Ibid., 385-403. 132 Ibid., 386. 52 priests: “Since they lived in the same purity as the priests, its members claimed holiness equal to those who lived correctly and superior to that of incorrect priests.” 133 By superseding the power of the priesthood, the Pharisees solidified social bonds between one another through the routinization of daily ascetic practices. 134 The Pharisees’ effort to institute practices once reserved only for the priestly elite allowed members of this Jewish sect to separate from other fellow Jews and form a religious community that did not depend on priestly power.
Weber did not limit his analysis to Pharisaism but traced sectarian tendencies in other ancient Jewish groups. In the case of the Essenes, Weber argued that they were an offshoot of
Pharisaism and defined the group as “merely a radical Pharisaic sect”. 135 In addition to the
Essenes, Weber was also keenly aware of affinities between Pharisaism and early Christian groups. Acknowledging that the two shared many of the same beliefs and practices, such as their table fellowship rituals, Weber acknowledged that Christian beliefs and practices were indebted to Pharisiasm. He argued, “Paul learned the technique of propaganda and of establishing an indestructible community from the Pharisee.” 136 For Weber, early Christian beliefs and practices were indebted to the development of Pharisaism. However, while he argued that Christianity evolved from Pharisaism, he ultimately believed that Christianity was not an example of a sect, because Christians offered a more inclusive vision of community. 137
As in the case of sectarianism’s development among Hindu and Muslim communities in
Northern India, Weber argued that sects first emerged in reaction to elitist and exclusivist
133 Ibid., 386. 134 Ibid., 388–89. 135 Ibid., 406. 136 Ibid., 383 137 Ibid., 411. 53 tendencies within Judaism. In this case, the local aristocracy’s assimilation with Hellenism stirred unrest with Jewish sects emerging as a reaction to the local elite’s inability to fulfill their commitment to maintaining local religious laws and customs. As Weber explains, “The behavior of the aristocracy radically transformed the situation. In the face of the national and religious attainments of the pious, its attitude was vacillating and often scandalous, for it was both inclined and forced to political compromise.” 138 With the local aristocracy’s compromise, Pharisaism formed in resistance to the exclusivist tendencies of the priesthood, claiming holiness equal to the priests. Sectarianism is thus a rational response to the elitist and exclusivist tendencies within
Judaism itself as local communities reacted to the local aristocracy and priesthood’s compromise with Hellenism.
As a contemporary to Weber, Julius Wellhausen reinforced Weber’s original argument.
According to Wellhausen, sectarianism emerged with the Pharisees who opposed the exclusivist tendencies of the local aristocracy and priesthood.139 The Pharisees were themselves composed of scribes who “opposed the Hasmoneans.” 140 Wellhausen continued to promote the idea that sectarianism formed from the exclusivist tendencies of Judaism itself with the Pharisees opposing the growing influence of the Hasmonean dynasty.
With the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls in the 1950s, scholarship cemented the
Weberian typology. Offering a modified version of Weber’s argument, Eleazar Sukenik and
André Dupont-Sommer developed the “Essene hypothesis.” In 1948, Sukenik cemented the supposed link between the Essene sect and the texts discovered at Qumran and hypothesized that
138 Ibid., 386. 139 Julius Wellhausen, The Arab Kingdom and Its Fall: Das Arabische Reich und Sein Sturz , trans. Margaret Graham Weir (Beirut: Khayats, 1963), 60–68. 140 Ibid., 63. 54 the manuscripts “belonged originally to the sect of the Essenes, for as is known from different literary sources, the place of settlement of this sectarian group was on the western side of the
Dead Sea, in the vicinity of En Gedi.” 141 The Isaiah Scroll , Community Rule , and Pesher
Habakkuk played a crucial role in his analysis. Sukenik argued that the Community Rule clearly offered “a kind of book of regulations for the conduct of members of a brotherhood or sect.” 142
Building upon Sukenik’s initial work, Dupont-Sommer confirmed the idea that the scrolls belonged to the Essene sect.” 143 Among the key texts that Dupont-Sommer used to support his hypothesis were the Pesher Habakkuk , Hodayot, War Scroll , Community Rule , and Damascus
Document .144 He believed that the manuscripts’ call, “to belong to the Covenant of the
Community, to enter this new society, which is, as it were, the True Israel, the Israel of God, superimposed on and substituted for the older Israel,” was the distinguishing characteristic of a sect with the scrolls mandating that members undertake “a personal resolution and undertaking.” 145 According to Dupont-Sommer, this call formed in opposition to the local aristocracy who led a persecution against the community’s central teacher figure and leader. He hypothesize that this teacher “probably died during the persecution directed against the sect by a
Hasmonean High Priest.” 146
Just as Weber had argued that sectarianism formed in reaction to the exclusivist tendencies of the local aristocracy, Dupont-Sommer continued to argue that sectarianism
141 E. L. Sukenik, Megilloth Genuzoth I. (Jerusalem: Bialik, 1948), 16. 142 Idem, The Dead Sea scrolls of the Hebrew University (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1955), 29. 143 André Dupont-Sommer, The Jewish Sect of Qumran and the Essenes: New Studies on the Dead Sea Scrolls (London: Macmillan, 1955), 152-65. Dupont-Sommer rejected Roland de Vaux’s suggestion that a Pharisaic group composed the scrolls. 144 Ibid., 62. 145 Ibid., 67. 146 Ibid., 18. 55 emerged in reaction to exclusivist tendencies within Judaism, specifically during Jonathan’s reign in the first third of the first century BCE with the emergence of the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes. 147 Like Weber, Dupont-Sommer believed the “secular policy of the Hasmonean rulers” was the cause of this conflict with the Hasmoneans accommodating Hellenistic culture. 148
Whereas the Pharisees and Sadducees eventually accepted Hasmonean rule, the Essenes “could feel only violent repulsion.” 149
Dupont-Sommer also reinforced Weber’s original connection between Christianity and sectarianism, positing a direct connection between the sect responsible for the scrolls and
Christianity. Describing Christianity as “a quasi-Essene neo-formation,” he hypothesized “the new texts show that the primitive Christian church was rooted in the Jewish Essene sect to a degree none would have suspected.” 150 Noting the similarities between depictions of Jesus in the
New Testament and the Teacher of Righteousness, he suggested that Jesus was “an astonishing reincarnation of the Teacher of Righteousness.” 151 For Dupont-Sommer, the Teacher of
Righteousness’ uncanny resemblance to Jesus was no coincidence, but it confirmed that the scrolls were an antecedent to the New Testament texts. 152
Sukenik and Dupont-Sommer argue that the scrolls’ systematic effort to privilege the
Mosaic covenant as the marker of status represented the formation of separatist groups who actively sought to resist the local aristocracy. Both the scrolls and New Testament figure
147 Ibid., 71. 148 Ibid., 72. 149 Ibid., 72. 150 Ibid., 18. 151 Ibid., 99. 152 Chapter five will elaborate on the connection between sectarianism and the origins of the New Testament. 56 preeminently in their arguments since they find evidence of these separatist impulses in the texts.
Their arguments continue to reinforce many of the same Weberian assumptions. Like Weber, they trace sectarianism to innate cultural tendencies within local Judean society itself, pointing to local feuds between the local aristocracy and common people.
In the wake of Dupont-Sommer’s work, Geza Vermes, Józef Tadeusz Milik, and Frank
Moore Cross continued to popularize the idea that the scrolls’ effort to privilege the Mosaic covenant represented separatist tendencies among the local population. 153 Later adaptations of the hypothesis held that after the Hasmonean dynasty broke with tradition and appointed their own high priest to lead the temple cult, a dissident group of Essenes departed from Jerusalem, under the leadership of the “Teacher of Righteousness”, in protest and formed their own separatist community at Qumran. In addition to solidifying the link between the scrolls and Essenes, scholars were increasingly aware of discrepancies and internal contradictions between the
Qumran texts. Geza Vermes for example argued that internal contradictions between the
Community Rule and Damascus Document indicated that the texts reflected various stages of the group’s development. 154 Like Weber, these popular modern theories continued to promote the assumption that the authors of the scrolls represented the work of a separatist group who chose to break away from the local aristocracy.
In 1988, Florentino García Martínez and Adam S. van der Woude offered a modified version of this hypothesis. Their hypothesis was advanced under the designation of the
153 Józef Tadeusz Milik, Ten Years of Discovery in the Wilderness of Judaea , trans. J. Strugnell (London: SCM Press, 2nd ed., 1963), 80–98; Frank Moore Cross, The Ancient Library of Qumran (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 3rd ed., 1994), 54–87; Geza Vermes, The Dead Sea Scrolls (London: Collins World, 1977), 116–62. 154 Vermes, The Dead Sea Scrolls , 128. 57 “Groningen hypothesis.” 155 Whereas Cross emphasized that the scrolls were the product of a single community that was constituted by their apocalyptic and pre-Essene character, they hypothesized that the Qumran group split from a larger parent movement. 156 With the apocalyptic themes attributed to this larger parent movement, the scrolls’ halakhic emphasis was attributed to the Qumran dissidents. The cause of the split between the two is attributed to the Qumran dissidents’ halakhic emphasis with the smaller Qumran dissidents more orientated toward halakhic practice. 157
Gabriele Boccaccini continued to build upon this hypothesis. 158 Boccaccini’s central contribution to the hypothesis stems from his description of the larger parent movement from which the Qumran dissidents split. Boccaccini uses the term “Enochic Judaism” to describe the larger parent movement, because he believes that the Enoch literature was the principle contribution of the larger parent movement. At some point in the movement’s development,
Enoch Judaism became Essenism. 159
155 Florentino Garcia Martinez and Adam van der Woude, “A Groningen Hypothesis of Qumran Origins and Early History,” RevQ 14 (1990): 521–41. 156 Ibid., 522–23. 157 Florentino Garcia Martinez, “The Origins of the Essene Movement and the Qumran Sect,” in The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls , ed. J. Trebolle Barrera and Florentino Garcia Martinez (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 88–91. 158 Gabriele Boccaccini, Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the Ways Between Qumran and Enochic Judaism (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1998)., 192. He confirms the Groningen hypothesis, arguing that Qumran and Essenism must be treated as two distinct phenomena. 159 This model has been routinely criticized. See especially John J. Collins, “Enoch, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the Essenes: Groups and Movements in Judaism in the Early Second Century B.C.E,” in Enoch and Qumran Origins: New Light on a Forgotten Connection , ed. Gabriele Boccaccini (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005), 349-50; idem, “‘Enochic Judaism’ and the Sect of the Dead Sea Scrolls” in The Early Enoch Literature , ed. Gabriele Boccaccini and John J. Collins (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 283-99. 58 In addition to the Groningen hypothesis, Shaye Cohen developed a modified version of the Essene hypothesis with his 1985 monograph From the Maccabees to the Mishnah . According to Cohen, the Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, Fourth Philosophy, Sicarii, and Zealots were all examples of sects as they emerged during the “heyday of Jewish sectarianism which was from the middle of the second century BCE to the destruction of the temple.” 160 Assuming that the hallmark of the sect is voluntary choice, Cohen argues that each of these ancient Jewish groups were voluntary associations that people chose to join. 161 Although he does not cite Weber, he refers indirectly to his typology by putting the sect into binary opposition with the church and arguing that the central difference between the two is voluntary choice.
According to Cohen, sect formation began in the 2 nd century BCE with the overt corruption of the high priesthood and its usurpation by Jonathan the Hasmonean accentuated tensions and anxieties about the status and legitimacy of temple worship and provided the initial spark that fostered the formation of sects. 162 As he explains, “Through various propaganda, the
Maccabees sought to legitimate themselves and the temple they had regained, but many Jews were not convinced. Those who were least convinced formed sects.” 163
By heightening existing tensions over temple worship, the Hasmonean dynasty’s takeover of the temple made Jews feel increasingly alienated. These feelings of alienation are what ultimately inspired Jews to separate from local institutions and form their own systems of religious representation: “No matter what form the separation takes, it is generally caused by a
160 Shaye J. D. Cohen, From the Maccabees to the Mishnah (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1985), 138. 161 Ibid., 126 162 Ibid., 159. 163 Ibid., 159. 59 sense of alienation from the rest of the community, especially from the community’s central institutions.” 164
Cohen’s argument revolves around his reading of the Qumran texts. Assuming that the
Essenes were responsible for the scrolls, Cohen finds evidence of sectarian identity in the
Community Rule , Damascus Document , and Temple Scroll .165 He argues that the Scrolls preserve evidence that local religious laws and customs were a source of conflict and division, particularly laws related to the ‘governing of marriage, purity, Sabbath, festivals, and calendar. 166 Of particular attention is the calendar. The calendar played a key role in differentiating members of the sect from other Jews. Among the central difference was competing views over the calendar with members of the Qumran sect rejecting the traditional lunar calendar in favor of a solar calendar. 167 Cohen explains further that while the texts attack local religious laws, it is ultimately the Hasmonean dynasty’s inability to stabilize the region, rather than feuds over the high priesthood or local laws that was the real motivating cause of sect formation. 168
From Qumran, Cohen traces this widespread sense of alienation to the New Testament, arguing that New Testament texts contain evidence of ancient Jewish sects’ influence and status in society. In the case of the New Testament, Cohen argues that sects’ emphasis on the importance of piety and knowledge influenced the degree to which authors of the New
Testament understood Jewish tradition. 169 Although the New Testament bears the marks of this
164 Ibid., 121. 165 Ibid., 146–47. Cohen notes that these texts seem to align with Josephus and Philo’s depictions of the practices and beliefs of the Essenes. 166 Ibid., 147. 167 Ibid., 146–47. 168 Ibid., 147. 169 Ibid., 142–43. 60 influence, he ultimately believed that the producers of its texts did not fit the distinguishing characteristics of a sect. He argues that with the destruction of the Temple, sectarianism disappeared as Jewish life remained firmly under the control of the Romans. 170
In much the same way as Weber, Wellhausen, and Dupont-Sommer argued that sects were in opposition with the Hasmonean dynasty and temple cult, Cohen continues to argue that sects emerged in response to developments within Judaism itself. Despite subtle differences between each model, they all are heavily dependent on the Weberian church-sect typology and as a result reinforce Weberian assumptions. These include the idea that sectarianism can be traced back to internal impulses within Judaism itself. Although Wellhausen and Weber proposed their models before the discovery of the Qumran texts, this discovery only further reinforced Weber’s original argument with scholars continuing to argue that the ideas and practices in the scrolls were the result of problems within local society.
In sum, the Essene model largely accepts the Weberian typology and in so doing accepts certain theoretical assumptions that undergirded Weber’s model. The chief assumption includes the idea that locals increasingly used their religious affiliations to break away from local religious and political institutions to pursue their material and/or spiritual interests. This model generally holds that Hellenism’s pervasive influence on local religious and political institutions spurred antagonism and distrust with local authority with many perceiving the Hasmoneans as usurping religious and political power. While scholars acknowledge the influence of foreign power on local politics, they argue that foreign power was only an irritant.
170 Shaye J. D. Cohen, The Significance of Yavneh and Other Essays in Jewish Hellenism (Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 44–70. 61 This assumption is largely the result of the model’s reliance on certain preconceived notions of human agency and subjectivity. Local communities are represented as having the inborn freedom to transform religious affiliations into the primary marker of political status, breaking away from political institutions and leadership. Assuming that locals have the inborn ability to transform the meaning and purpose of religious laws and customs, scholars tend to assume that sectarianism can be traced to the innate cultural attitudes and beliefs of Judean society itself.
2.5.2 Sectarianism as Movement of Resistance
A decade after Cohen’s monograph, a new trend started to emerge within scholarship.
This trend promoted the idea that the scrolls were the product of a local resistance movement.
The idea of resistance rose to prominence in scholarship as biblical scholars increasingly started to draw upon the insights of postcolonial studies. 171 This discipline fostered new hermeneutical tools that biblical scholars appropriated and used to make sense of the history of ancient Judaism and Christianity. Among the major tools that they appropriated from postcolonial studies was the concept of resistance with scholars using this distinctive notion of resistance to make sense of sectarianism’s determining causes and effects. While previous studies had foregrounded resistance, these past models focused upon the local aristocracy. Shifting the focus to empire, these new scholarly approaches sought to explain the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ influence on the political and historical situation.
171 Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Random House, 1979); Homi Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994). In 1979, the release of Edward Said’s Orientalism inspired a whole field of research around colonialism and its effects on local populations. In the late 80s and early 90s, Homi Bhabha picked up where Said had left off and published substantive works on the impact of colonialism on local populations. 62 Albert Baumgarten’s 1997 monograph, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the
Maccabean Era: An Interpretation , is emblematic of this approach.172 Building upon the Essene hypothesis, Baumgarten also pinpoints the political policies of the Hasmoneans as the primary determinant behind sectarianism. According to Baumgarten, there were a number of contributing factors. These included urbanization and increased literacy. However, the most influential and powerful factor involved widespread “disappointment at the attitude of the new dynasty.” 173
After the success of the Maccabean revolt against the Seleucid Empire in the second century
BCE and the installment of the Hasmonean dynasty in Jerusalem, there was renewed hope among many locals that the new dynasty would purge foreign influence from the region, raising
“hopes for a re-imposition of boundaries between Jews and non-Jews.” 174 Indebted to Bryan
Wilson’s definition of sectarianism, Baumgarten stresses the role of boundary marking in sect formation emphasizing “the voluntary nature of sectarianism,” “as well as the role of boundary marking as creating a new variety of outsider.” 175
Unable to fulfill the promise of these imposed boundaries, the Hasmoneans were forced to accommodate foreign rule, making concessions and entering into treaties with Ptolemaic,
Seleucid, and Roman rulers. As Baumgarten explains:
“With the victory of the Maccabees extreme Hellenism was discredited…but the
disappointment at the blessings of victory became a curse were a different matter. They
would have been a great concern to the Jerusalem elites, who were most directly involved
172 Albert I. Baumgarten, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the Maccabean Era: An Interpretation (Leiden: Brill, 1997). 173 Ibid., 112. 174 Ibid., 86. 175 Ibid., 7. 63 in the realization of these blessings … this situation, I propose, provoked some of the
Jerusalem elites to turn inwards, separating themselves off from a society which they felt
had gone astray, and thus leading to the flourishing of Jewish sects.” 176
Widespread disappointment in the promise of political independence proved to be the decisive trauma that triggered the local population’s turn toward religious affiliations with sectarianism serving as a means of protest to the Hasmonean dynasty’s accommodation of foreign power.
Baumgarten defines sectarianism as a local protest movement with sects forming as
“voluntary associations of protest which utilize boundary marking mechanisms to resist the power of local institutions.” 177 Following Baumgarten’s argument, local Jewish communities emphasized the importance and status of the Mosaic covenant, because they wanted to implement “stricter regulations on food, dress, marriage, commerce, and worship.” 178 The
Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, and Fourth Philosophy imposed this stricter set of regulations on members. While the priesthood also imposed strict regulations, the regulations of sects were different from the priesthood in that they were voluntary by nature. As Baumgarten describes,
“ancient Jewish sectarians were therefore different in two senses. First, unlike priests … they chose their way of life. Next they turned the means of marking separation normally applied against non-Jews against those otherwise regarded as fellow Jews.” 179
Implementing rules once reserved for priests, sects voluntarily enacted and embodied the priesthood’s daily living arrangements. The voluntary imposition of these restrictions provided
176 Ibid., 113. 177 Ibid., 7. 178 Baumgarten, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the Maccabean Era , 1997, 91. 179 Ibid., 9. 64 “a way of protesting against those (their fellow) Jews, and/or against Jewish society at large.” 180
Connecting the Qumran texts to the Essenes and other Jewish sects, Baumgarten argues that the scrolls evidence how the extent of this protest movement. By protesting the power and status of local institutions, locals were able to resolve their disillusionment and dissatisfaction with the
Hasmonean dynasty’s inability to fulfill the promises of political independence. By emphasizing the power and status of the Mosaic covenant, Jewish communities could impose stricter boundary markers between Jews and non-Jews and fulfill the promise of political independence.
Building upon Baumgarten’s work, Eyal Regev argues that there was a fundamental disjuncture between ancient Jewish sects and Greco-Roman voluntary associations. 181 Greco-
Roman associations could take on a variety of different forms, from schools of philosophy to military organizations, and/or trade guilds. In his own work, Regev uses the category of voluntary association as a source of comparison to the category of sect. Comparing the Essenes and communities depicted in the Damascus Document and Community Rule , to Hellenistic voluntary associations, he argues that while the two share much in common, including their voluntary membership models, Jewish groups were much more antagonistic and hostile toward local institutions than their Hellenistic counterparts. As Regev explains, “Most voluntary associations did not protest against the outside society and were therefore less occupied in drawing social boundaries (such as in relation to food) that separated these associations from mainstream society.” 182 Whereas Hellenistic associations were more in line with mainstream
180 Ibid., 9. 181 Eyal Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran: A Cross-Cultural Perspective (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007). 182 Ibid., 14. 65 institutions, the Essenes and communities described in the scrolls remained deeply hostile to local institutions.
While he is keenly aware of possible similarities between ideas described in the scrolls and those in Roman and Hellenistic social organizations, he rejects the idea that cultural exposure to Greek and Roman associations was the underlying cause behind the formation of groups like the Essenes and Yaḥad , but instead argues for what he calls the “sectarian paradigm.” 183 Unlike Greco-Roman associations, the scrolls’ emphasis on the Mosaic covenant reflects in his view the formation of a protest movement with the authors of the scrolls protesting local political developments.
According to Regev, this protest movement formed in response to the political turmoil that followed after the Maccabean revolt. As he explains, “This period of Hellenistic reform,
Seleucid decrees against Jewish religion, and the beginning of Hasmonean independence was an appropriate background for interest ins such charismatic propensity, due to the need for order, and the desire for prophets to rearrange the world and promise a new or even faultless world, through change or transformation.” 184 This tumultuous political period in turn fostered
“ideological constructs of antagonism, separation, and difference” with these constructs manifesting themselves as “self-distinguished protest movements.” 185 The scrolls thus formed in
“resistance to the surrounding society through material culture.” 186
183 Ibid., 15. 184 Ibid., 91. 185 Ibid., 41. 186 Ibid., 245. 66 Like Baumgarten, Regev continues to reassert the assumption that the scrolls’ emphasis on the Mosaic covenant reflects the formation of a resistance movement. Sectarianism represents a movement of protest that emerged in response to political turmoil in ancient Judah.
Furthermore, he demonstrates that the scrolls’ effort to reassert the status and importance of the
Mosaic covenant was a category of knowledge that was fundamentally different from Hellenistic and Roman systems of thought.
Similarly, Richard Horsley argues that the scrolls are the product of a resistance movement. As he explains, “ancient Jewish sects originated as movements of resistance to imperial rule or played a significant role in such resistance.” 187 According to Horsley, the
Pharisees, Essenes, and authors of the scrolls which he identifies as an off-shoot of the Essenes, all formed in response to the Hasmonean dynasty’s reversion to imperial rule. Like Baumgarten and Regev, Horsley identifies the Hasmonean dynasty’s accommodation of foreign rule as the motivating force behind the emergence of these resistance movements.
After the Maccabean revolt, Horsley argues that the Hasmonean dynasty reverted to the very same imperial policies and practices as Seleucid rulers before them. A number of the scribes and priests adamantly withdrew from society in opposition to the “Hasmonean’s expansionist practices and their assimilation of Hellenistic imperial, political rule.” 188 These circles of scribes and priests would eventually go on to separate themselves from the religious and political
187 Horsley, “Renewal Movements and Resistance to Empire in Ancient Judaism”, 72; idem, Religion and Empire: People, Power, and the Life of the Spirit (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 81. 188 Ibid., 185-187. 67 establishment in Jerusalem, forming their own systems of religio-political representation in an effort to resist their local government’s accommodation of foreign rule.
Horsley traces the evolution of these sectarian movements from the Hasmonean dynasty to the Herodian dynasty, arguing that these recurrent sectarian movements would play a crucial role in the emergence of popular messianic movements during the Roman period. 189 According to Horsley, the intrusion of Roman power in the region only intensified ongoing tensions and anxieties over the local government’s reversion to imperial rule. By stoking the flames of existing tensions, many of these popular messianic movements were far more violent and long lasting than previous scribal-priestly led resistance movements during the Hasmonean period.
Despite the fact that Horsley, Baumgarten, and Regev use slightly different theoretical models, they arrive at similar conclusions. The concept of resistance plays a formative role in their definition of sectarianism. Their central contribution to the field stems from their effort to foreground the role of the Seleucid and Roman Empires in shaping local politics with both the
Hasmonean and Herodian dynasties dependent upon them. This insight builds upon previous scholarship, demonstrating that local disputes over the management of the Temple cult might have arisen in response to the Hasmonean dynasty’s reversion to imperial rule. In each case,
Horsley, Baumgarten, and Regev argue that the scrolls are the product of a resistance movement.
This movement rose in protest to imperialism, with the scrolls’ authors emphasizing the status of the Mosaic covenant in an effort to resist the imperial policies and practices of the local leadership and fulfill the promise of political independence.
189 Chapter five will discuss this point further. 68 Although this model slightly differs from Weber’s original typology, their shared idea that the scrolls increasingly used the Mosaic covenant to separate themselves from other locals in an effort to resist local rule reinforces many of the same implicit assumptions of previous models. In particular, the resistance model continues to assume that sectarianism was a local category of knowledge that was separate and distinct from Seleucid and Roman categories of thought/power. Regev stresses this point and argues that the scrolls represented an entirely distinct and new category of local knowledge.
The resistance model builds upon the Weberian typology by drawing attention to the formative role that the Seleucid and Roman Empires played in the formation of sectarianism.
Whereas Weber promoted the idea that sectarianism was a product of social and economic inequities, the resistance model argues that sectarianism was a response to Seleucid and Roman imperialism with the local aristocracy forced to concede to imperial practices. Moreover, this model foregrounds the interplay between local and foreign rule, showing how this distinctive political dynamic conditioned sectarianism’s proliferation in the region.
2.5.3 Sectarianism as Identity Politics
Continuing to advance the connection between imperial politics and sectarianism, the identity politics model approaches sectarianism as a product of a distinctive and dynamic notion of what constitutes personal and collective identity. Within this model, the Seleucid and Roman
Empires play a formative role with scholars acknowledging their role in shaping and influencing the Hasmonean dynasty’s effort to accord the Mosaic covenant a pivotal role in local politics.
However, this model is different from the resistance model in that scholars who use this approach do not assume that communities are acting in an effort to resist imperialism. Rather the
69 identity model argues that the goal of such behavior is to creative a distinctive identity by which communities could compete for civic status.
Carol Newsom’s work fits within this scholarly category of analysis. Newsom frames sectarianism as a distinctive rhetorical move that distinguishes texts, such as the scrolls, from other Jewish texts. As she explains, the scrolls are sectarianism because “they speak specifically of the unique structures of the community and the history of its separation from a larger community, and/or that develop its distinctive tenants in a self-consciously polemical fashion.” 190
The scrolls are “sectually explicit” since they describe themselves in a self-conscious polemical fashion. Newsom’s definition places the emphasis on what the scrolls’ reframing of the Mosaic covenant did and how this reconfiguration of the covenant’s status reshaped Jewish communities’ sense of who they were and their place in the world.
This reframing was polemical in that it served “the function of separating the sectarian from his previous community and uniting him to the Qumran community by remaking his language and providing him with a newly formed world.” 191 Newsom effectively describes sectarianism as a counter-discourse that acts to set people apart from one another. While this idea reaffirms Baumgarten and Horsley’s idea of sectarianism acting as a marker of separation,
Newsom does not define this act of separation as a movement of protest.
In the case of the Community Rule and Hodayot , Newsom explains that these scrolls manifest various rhetorical moves that seek to cultivate a sense of estrangement from other Jews
190 Carol Newsom, “‘Sectually Explicit’ Literature from Qumran,” in The Hebrew Bible and Its Interpreters , ed. William Henry Propp, Baruch Halpern, and David Noel Freedman (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 172–73. 191 Newsom, The Self As Symbolic Space , 20. 70 and local institutions. This sense of estrangement is dependent upon the use of a “language of the self as nothingness.” 192 According to Newsom, the Hodayot achieves this intended goal by situating the self as in radical opposition with the being of God. Contradiction conditions this notion of self as the subject seeks God while being simultaneously at odds with God. This binary opposition is in turn projected outward at the world. The speaker is consequently in opposition with his world with the speaker imagining the world as a cosmic conflict. 193
In the case of the Community Rule , Newsom argues that this sense of estrangement was bound up around “a communal orientation” with membership in the Yaḥad providing members with the ability to elevate to God’s being. 194 Through the aid and knowledge provided by the community, the Community Rule stresses that the self can be lifted up. Contrasting this representation against other Jewish texts produced during the period such as Ben Sira, Newsom notes that the Community Rule and Hodayot ’s effort to constitute the self and world by binary oppositions as distinctively sectarian in outlook.
Newsom’s analysis of the scrolls effectively demonstrates that the scrolls’ effort to accord the covenant such a pivotal place sought to cultivate a distinctive sense of belonging. This sense of belonging is constituted by a deep sense of conflict in which the self remains in stark opposition to the world. The scrolls’ authors coalesce around this sense of self and relation to the world. Following Newsom’s argument, sectarianism enables the scrolls’ authors to create a unique sense of belonging.
192 Ibid., 220. 193 Ibid., 232–53. 194 Ibid., 272. 71 Building upon Newsom’s work, Jutta Jokiranta addresses why there is a diversity of viewpoints in the scrolls. According to Jokiranta, scholars are unable to address this issue, because while social theories of sectarianism have “been very popular among biblical scholars,” they are “problematically used.” 195 In Jokiranta’s view, Stark and Bainbridge’s work should direct “one to understand groups on a continuum with a varying degree of sectarianism or tension.” 196
Sectarianism is thus defined as a continuum since individual members will “differ in their identification with the group,” holding different and often conflicting views and opinions. 197 The scrolls manifest the many different and conflicting identities of their authors. Because no two members will subscribe to the exact same view, the scrolls will always exist along this continuum. As Jokiranta explains, “the identities of the members are on a continuum. The personal identity and the social identity are in interplay.” 198
She also emphasizes that sectarianism is always context-dependent. A sect is only a sect to the degree in which it deviates from the dominant culture of society. 199 Moreover, every religious group, whether considered a sect or part of the mainstream society, is always defined in
“in relation to other groups of people and to societal change.” 200
This concept of sectarianism has a practical application for determining the diversity of ideas in the scrolls. Jokiranta complicates the established scholarly consensus that the Damascus
195 Jutta Jokiranta, Social Identity and Sectarianism in the Qumran Movement (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 25. 196 Ibid., 40. 197 Ibid., 48. 198 Ibid., 51–76. 199 Ibid., 50. 200 Ibid., 40. 72 Document is less sectarian than the Community Rule . Building upon Stark and Bainbridge’s model, she argues that the Damascus Document cannot be said to manifest a lower state of tension with the external society than the Community Rule , because when examined in their different political and historical contexts neither text manifests a greater or lesser degree of tension with society since each text was written in a different context. 201 Each text may manifest different levels of difference, separation, and antagonism, but when understanding that each text had a different context, it is difficult to determine if one was in fact more or less in tension with their society.
Jokiranta’s work effectively demonstrates that the scrolls manifest different and perhaps contradictory ideas, because they reflect the diverse and multifaceted views and identities of their authors. Just as Newsom had stressed that the scrolls are representative of the identities of their authors, Jokiranta assumes that “understanding that the Qumran movement was sectarian in nature goes hand in hand with exploring the identity phenomenon within it.” 202 Identity is not a static phenomenon but is diverse, dynamic, and always changing. In the case of sectarian identity, tension and struggle play a formative role with Jokiranta using the words “tension” and
“sectarianism” interchangeably.
Bringing together Newsom and Jokiranta’s insights, John Collins explains how certain historical and political forces initiated and set into motion this distinctive process of identity formation. According to Collins, the scrolls manifest a “separatist self-consciousness” or certain way of thinking about their local tradition. 203 While not all texts within the Qumran collection
201 Ibid., 63. 202 Ibid., 3. 203 Collins, Scriptures and Sectarianism , 166. 73 maintain the same positions on certain issues, Collins explains that each scroll sets out a clear reason for separation from local institutions.
In the case of 4QMMT , Collins argues that halakhic rather than inborn differences between Jews are the reason for separation. As Collins explains, “The separation of the author’s community was not based on ontological considerations, but on different interpretations, and the authority of different interpreters.” 204 Even in the case of 4QInstruction , he argues that this scroll maintains a separatist consciousness since it is addressed to the elect and enlightened rather than to all of humanity. 205
According to Collins, the Damascus Document, Community Rule, 4QMMT , and the pesharim are examples of scrolls that bear the “unambiguous indicators” of sectarian consciousness since each of these texts argues for some degree of separation from local institutions. Each text argues for a community or yaḥad that operates with its own rituals of admission and expulsion as well as its own separate history and leadership structures. The chief focus for Collins is on the way each text turns the Mosaic covenant inward, transforming what were once emblems of collective unity against non-Jews into sources of intra-communal conflict and division. Collins argues that other scrolls, such as Jubilees and the Temple Scroll , exhibit signs of this sectarian consciousness. In each case, Collins explains how the scrolls emphasize the Mosaic covenant’s status in an attempt to create a separatist community that “establishes and reinforces the identity of the community, and interpret prophecy as referring to the community’s own separate history.” 206
204 Ibid., 170. 205 Ibid, 245. 206 Ibid., 66–67. 74 Collins also wants to move away from the idea that the scrolls imply any implicit relation to the “Qumran community” or site itself. Drawing specific attention to the Community Rule and
Damascus Document , he believes these two texts undoubtedly seem to be describing the features of a historical community, but that community may not be reflected at the Qumran site. While he does not link the scrolls to the Essenes or Qumran site, he acknowledges potential affinities between the yaḥad and historical depictions of the Essenes. 207
For Collins, the chief idea is that the scrolls were most likely part of a much larger and wider movement that extended well beyond the Qumran site. In his 2014 monograph, he expands upon this point, arguing that the term Yaḥad , “does not refer to a single settlement such as the one at Qumran but is an umbrella term for a network of smaller groups of ten or more members.” 208 Moreover, Collins examines the scrolls as but one facet in a much larger and more dynamic movement that involved a number of different texts and groups.
When it comes to Collins’ hypothesis about the historical conditions that precipitated sectarianism, Jokiranta’s work serves as the starting point of his hypothesis. 209 Aware of the plurality of ideas in the scrolls, he recognizes that the political and historical environment that conditioned this historical process rewarded a plurality and diversity of viewpoints. According to
Collins, the legal reforms enacted during the Hasmonean period set this process into motion. He finds evidence of reform in the dramatic reconfiguration of the Torah’s status with the Torah
207 John Joseph Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community: The Sectarian Movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2010), 10. Although aware of key differences between historical depictions of the Essenes and the findings in the Scrolls, he ultimately confirms that in his judgment, “the reasons for identifying this sect as Essene are still cogent.” 208 Collins, Scriptures and Sectarianism , 165. 209 Ibid., 66–67. 75 imagined as an object of adoration. It was not until the Hasmonean period that the Torah emerged as a contested site of group identity. 210
This shift in thinking about the Torah’s status is attributed to the Hasmoneans’ effort to combat Antiochus’ attempts to displace the Torah as the ancestral law of the region with the
Hasmoneans according “the Law a pivotal place in forming Judean national identity, and thereby created the context in which halakhic discussion and controversy flourished.” 211 In reaction to
Antiochus’ policies and treatment of the Torah, the Hasmoneans understood that the Torah could serve as a national symbol of their power and status, thinking that doing so would foster unity among natives and legitimate their rule over the territory.
Although the Hasmoneans had hoped that according such a significant role to Torah would solidify their rule over the region and cement social bonds between members, it did the reverse and only enhanced ‘bitter divisions.’ 212 The Hasmonean dynasty’s attempts to enhance the status of the Torah backfired with the Torah suddenly emerging as a site of division. In the end, the Torah’s enhanced status undermined their rule and authority, eroding their power over the territory.
In addition to the Hasmoneans’ reforms, Collins argues that a complex number of different economic, social, and political factors aided in sectarianism’s proliferation. Citing the work of Albert Baumgarten, he argues that historical developments, such as literacy and urbanization, might have also contributed to the Torah’s changing status in society. 213 Together,
210 Ibid., 34. 211 Ibid., 34. 212 Ibid., 34–35. 213 Ibid., 105. 76 these complex political and social factors contributed to the breakdown of a centralized political leadership structure with locals using the Torah to compete for power and status.
Building upon the insights of the resistance model, the identity politics model demonstrates that the Maccabean crisis and Hasmonean dynasty’s reforms created the requisite political and historical conditions for sectarianism to take root in society. In this model, sectarianism is defined as a distinctive identity that enabled locals to maneuver for civic status.
This identity was constituted by an inward turn in which locals turned the covenant against other locals to compete for status. The Hasmoneans’ effort to transform the covenant into a symbol of national identity effectively transformed the covenant into a political battlefield. Among the model’s chief insights includes the connection between the Mosaic covenant and systems of civic status in ancient Judah.
2.5.4 Sectarianism as Alternative Civic Ideology
Building upon the insights of the identity politics and resistance models, Yonder
Gillihan’s work approaches sectarianism as a civic ideology. According to Gillihan, sectarianism was a fundamental component of the Hasmonean dynasty’s attempt to build a functioning state.
Like Collins, Gillihan pinpoints the reforms enacted by the Hasmonean dynasty as the determining factor behind sectarianism’s formation.
In Gillihan’s work, the Hasmoneans’ reforms of the Mosaic covenant function as a mechanism of state building. 214 Defining the state in Weberian terms, Gillihan imagines the
Hasmonean state as a rationally constructed system of governance in which the social institutions
214 Yonder M. Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls: A Comparative Study of the Covenanters’ Sect and Contemporary Voluntary Associations in Political Context (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 67. 77 of power were centralized and formalized as well as diffused across society. 215 According to
Gillihan, civic organizations were the chief mechanism by which the Hasmoneans could both centralize and diffuse their authority. Civic organizations are “rationally constituted social groups which reproduced the rational habits of the state’s institutional powers.” 216 Unlike erotic relationships or neighborly relations, the role of civic organizations was to ensure the reproduce and legitimate the civic ideologies of the state.
Gillihan goes on to explain that these organizations serve two primary purposes: “First, it facilitates cultural reproduction by propagating habits of thought and socialization that lead to consistent forms of social activity and organization; second by explicitly presenting its organization, laws, and legitimating ideology, the state opens itself to analysis, assimilation, and in principle, critique.” 217 The reproduction of the state power is simultaneously and rather contradictory bound up with its critique since “a group may adapt and improve upon state structure by reproducing the state structures with deliberate and conspicuous variation.” 218
His chief insight is that when the state opens itself up to systematic articulation and reproduction, it also opens itself up to criticism from within. 219 Some civic organizations will reproduce state power through critique of it, fostering an “alternative civic ideology.” 220 These types of civic organizations will model “their organization after that of the state, with conspicuous modifications that reflect dissatisfaction with the status quo.” 221 According to
215 Ibid., 70. 216 Ibid., 69–70. 217 Ibid., 72. 218 Ibid., 72. 219 Ibid., 76. This point presents itself as a critique to Weber and Marx’s political philosophy concerning the reproduction of state power. 220 Ibid., 73. 221 Ibid., 79–80. 78 Gillihan, they are different from revolutionary movements in that they will admit some legitimacy for the ruling powers. 222
He describes the scrolls as an example of alternative civic ideology with the texts simultaneously refusing the authority of the Hasmonean state while also seeking to assimilate the organizational pattern of the Hasmonean state by making specific modifications to it. The
Damascus Document and Community Rule for example aim “to describe a state in its totality from a particular moralistic perspective.” 223 The themes of “adherence to the Torah, participation in the covenant, human flourishing as inheritance of the covenant” are all interwoven with the general themes typical of state civic ideology, specifically “theology, nature, history, justice, and human flourishing,” to produce a civic ideology that seeks to modify and improve upon the
Hasmonean state. 224
Gillihan uses the scrolls’ introduction of a new solar calendar as an example of alternative civic ideology. 225 With the deviation from the standardized lunar calendar to the 364- day solar calendar, the scrolls can successfully “accuse the authorities, and outsiders in general, of failing to understand and deviating from the natural order.” 226 While they may reject the standardized lunar calendar, by continuing to recognize the importance of the calendar system for worship they nonetheless still have accepted the basic premise that the natural order has the force of law and that deviation from it poses a significant threat to human flourishing. They are
222 Ibid., 80. 223 Ibid., 155. 224 Ibid., 79. 225 Ibid., 137. 226 Ibid., 136. 79 thus reproducing the basic premises of the civic ideologies of the state while making specific and tangible improvements upon it.
He also finds evidence of an alternative civic ideology in the Damascus Document ’s regulations on wealth. According to Gillihan, the goal of these regulations was to restrict members’ relationships with the state. By restricting members’ relations, these regulations “did not complement the authority of the state, but undermined it to a degree, at least insofar as they asserted their comprehensive legal authority over and against.” 227 The text’s effort to regulate the wealth of members offers the authors an opportunity to construct an alternative society that supplants the power and authority of the Hasmonean state.
Following Gillihan’s argument, the scrolls’ effort to reproduce state power can explain why the scrolls and ancient Jewish groups, such as the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes, share obvious similarities with Greco-Roman associations. Among these include their shared concern to actively keep the Mosaic covenant at any cost. Complicating Regev’s attempt to set the scrolls apart from Greco-Roman associations, Gillihan argues that the scrolls, Pharisees, Essenes,
Sadducees, and Greco-Roman organizations are all examples of civic organizations.
This insight explains why certain scrolls, such as the Damascus Document and
Community Rule undertake common state-building exercises, such as oath-taking procedures.
The state administered oaths of office to “any candidate elected or appointed to hold public office” with candidates promising to “conduct himself lawfully and with absolute justice.” 228
Civic organizations replicated this process. In particular, military organization required recruits
227 Ibid., 400. 228 Ibid., 377. 80 to take “a military oath affirming loyalty to the gods, the emperor, commanding officers, and the laws of the camp.” 229 By replicating this oath taking procedure, civic organizations could diffuse state power.
While the Damascus Document and Community Rule require members to take oaths,
Gillihan argues that these oath-taking procedures differ from those in civic organizations in that they require “members submit all individual passions and ideas about what is right to sectarian authority.” 230 In start construct to military organizations or schools of philosophy, the oath taking procedures in the Damascus Document and Community Rule seek to replace the state altogether.
This can explain the apparent differences between the two.
Gillihan’s argument also resolves the problem of presupposing “knowledge of and contact between different voluntary associations as the primary way in which associations acquired similar features.” 231 Rather than appeal to the idea of influence, the alternative civic ideology model demonstrates that the Hasmonean state “followed the pattern of provinces and city-states throughout the Hellenistic world.” 232 The Judean state thus functioned in much the same way as any Greek state with the Judean state functioning as a rationally constituted social system that propagated habits of thought and socialization through the cultivation of a common civic ideology. As he explains, “The Hasmonean state and Hellenistic city-states were both rationally constituted systems of governing in which the social institutions of power were centralized and formalized as well as diffused across society.” 233
229 Ibid., 379. 230 Ibid., 396. 231 Ibid., 66. 232 Ibid., 203. 233 Ibid., 79. 81 The central historical development that made this shift to rationally constituted systems of human organization possible was the advent of urbanization. Citing Baumgarten’s work,
Gillihan argues, “The advent of the Hellenistic and Roman empires seems to have made participation in urban life more accessible for more subjects.” 234 The Hasmonean dynasty would in turn encourage locals to form civic organizations that could mediate access to privileges that were formerly unavailable to local populations.
Gillihan’s work builds upon the insights of previous models. His chief contribution to the field stems from his analysis of the political conditions that cultivated sectarianism.
Understanding sectarianism as a strategy of governance, he contests the idea that the scrolls and ancient Jewish groups, like the Pharisees and Essenes, were somehow different from Greco-
Roman associations or represented an entirely new social phenomenon that was diametrically opposed to their Hellenistic predecessors. As he explains, the scrolls were not necessarily interested in protesting local institutions but were instead interested in securing civic status and privileges that the Hasmonean state had made available to them. Membership in groups like the
Pharisees offered locals an opportunity to acquiesce state power. In the end, sectarianism was a state apparatus that diffused state power across society with the Mosaic covenant functioning as a mechanism of civic society’s institutional apparatuses.
2.6 A New Approach to Sectarianism
2.6.1 The Seleucid and Roman Legal Orders
Advancing Collins and Gillihan’s insight, Josephus makes clear that the Hasmonean dynasty was not a fully independent state but was dependent upon and shaped by the Seleucid
234 Ibid., 56. 82 and Roman Empires who vied for control over the territory. According to 1 Macc 14:16-40,
Rome’s alliance with the Hasmoneans enabled them to overthrow the Seleucid Empire with
Judas and Jonathan establishing a firm and lasting alliance with Rome. Simon maintained this alliance by sending tributes, such as a large gold shield. Josephus confirms this point and argues that Simon actively maintained an alliance with Rome. 235 Moreover, Hasmonean rulers were also forced to appease Seleucid rulers well after the Maccabean revolt. For example, Jonathan was forced to make land concessions to Demetrius II and promised troops from his own army to
Demetrius in exchange for the removal of the Seleucid garrison in Jerusalem. 236
The Hasmonean dynasty was not politically autonomous, but they were forced to appease
Seleucid and Roman rulers to retain their rule over Judah. The Hasmonean dynasty’s effort to solidify and codify their authority over the territory was conditioned by this interplay between foreign and local rule . As I will explain below, their decision to use the Mosaic covenant as a symbol of national identity was possibly a response to the complex and at times contradictory legal reforms enacted by the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ judicial and military apparatuses.
Josephus offers a window into the Seleucid and Roman Empire’s administrative regimes.
While each regime is represented as enacting different sets of reforms, in both cases Seleucid and
Roman rulers are described by Josephus as instituting a system of legal pluralism. In the case of ancient Judah, Seleucid and Roman officials recognize Judah’s local cult and its ancestral laws in their multitiered and complex systems of law.
The point here is not to read Josephus’ account for historical accuracy. Rather his accounts contain evidence of how locals represented foreign rule. In the case of his
235 Josephus, A.J. 14.145-48. 236 1 Macc 11:20-43; Josephus, A.J. 4.9-5 83 representation of Antiochus III’s decree concerning cultic practice in Jerusalem, this decree should be taken as evidence of how Josephus and other locals from the region understood and imagined colonial governance. As Chris Seeman and Adam Kolman Marshak explain, “If
Antiochus did promulgate such a decree, its stipulations were clearly governed by Jewish conceptualities, rather than conventional Hellenistic notions of Temple inviolability.” 237 Writing for his Roman patrons, his account provides a representation of colonial governance from the perspective of a native who is no doubt trying to appease his patrons. Put differently, Josephus provides testimony of the ways in which Roman leaders wanted natives to imagine and represent their rule and history in the region.
Following Josephus’ representation of colonial governance, Judah’s history was marked by three distinctive historical periods of legal reform. The first involves Antiochus III’s entrance into Jerusalem and implementation of a system of reforms. These reforms present Seleucid rulers as having a calculated interest in the maintenance and regulation of Judah’s indigenous legal culture. In particular, Antiochus III is described by Josephus as actively protecting the region’s local ancestral laws in a decree. 238 As he explains, “He also published a decree through all his kingdom in honor of the Temple, which contained what follows: It shall be lawful for no
237 Chris Seeman and Adam Kolman Marshak, “Jewish History from Alexander to Hadrian,” in Early Judaism: A Comprehensive Overview , ed. John J. Collins and Daniel C. Harlow (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2012). 238 There is an ongoing debate in scholarship as to whether Josephus’ reference to ancestral laws is synonym with the Law of Moses. While Tcherikover confirms this identification, he explains, “There is no doubt that the concept of ‘ancestral laws,’ where it concerns the Jews is much broader than the law of Moses, and includes, not only the elements of Jewish religion, but the maintenance of political institutions, the form of the regime, the methods of social organization, and the like.” See Victor Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews (Ada: Baker Publishing Group, 1999), 83; Portier-Young has further complicated this point and argued that “not all Jews would have agreed on the content and limits of authoritative tradition.” Portier- Young, Apocalypse Against Empire, 73. 84 foreigner to come within the limits of the Temple round about; which thing is forbidden also to the Jews, unless to those who, according to their own custom, have purified themselves.” 239 In this decree, Antiochus III argues that the functions of the Temple must be restored and protected.
This protection involves forbidding foreigners from entering the sacred space of the Temple.
In addition to forbidding foreigners from entering the physical space of the Temple,
Antiochus is also described as enhancing the power of the priesthood, mandating that anyone who transgressed the local priesthood had to “pay to the priests three thousand drachmae of silver.” 240 Antiochus does not just recognize the power of the priesthood but argues that the local population had to pay a standard fee to the priests if they defied their rule.
According to Josephus, Antiochus also argues that Jewish communities’ commitment to their ancestral laws gave them certain legal rights and advantages from the Seleucid administration. As Antiochus states in his decree,
“We have determined, on account of their piety towards God, to bestow on them, as a
pension, for their sacrifices of animals that are fit for sacrifice, for wine, and oil, and
frankincense, the value of twenty thousand pieces of silver, and [six] sacred artabrae of
fine flour, with one thousand four hundred and sixty medimni of wheat, and three
hundred and seventy-five medimni of salt.” 241
Josephus presents the Seleucid administration as allotting financial advantages to locals on the basis of their local commitment to their ancestral laws. Seleucid administrators did not just
239 Josephus, A.J . 12.145. 240 Josephus, A.J. 12.145. 241 Josephus, A.J . 12.133-146. 85 recognize the ancestral laws of Jewish communities but transformed them into a mechanism of securing certain financial privileges from the Seleucid administration.
Josephus reinforces this point in his claim that Antiochus argued that the priests, the scribes, and sacred singers were “discharged from poll-money and the crown tax and other taxes also.” 242 Affiliation with the temple cult and its laws are represented as a mechanism for securing tax exemptions from the Seleucid legal order. In Josephus’ mind, Seleucid administrators treated
Jewish communities’ affiliations with their ancestral laws as an important marker of political status. Moreover, he describes that Seleucid rulers understood themselves as granting these concessions in accordance with “the laws of their own country” and working with local rulers to implement these reforms. 243 As Portier-Young explains, Josephus represents local leaders as
“agents of the empire” and “authorizing the power of the empire.” 244
His description of the Seleucid Empire’s decrees aligns with historical descriptions of similar decrees depicted in other literary texts. Among these decrees includes Seleucus IV’s mandate to his military commanders to protect local cult sites and indigenous communities’ local cultic laws and customs. For example, 2 Maccabees presents Seleucus IV as issuing a decree to his generals to protect cult sites. Seleucus orders his administrators to “defray from his own
242 Josephus, A.J. 12.142. 243 Josephus, A.J. 12.142. 244 Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire , 73. Seth Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 200 B.C.E. to 640 C.E. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001), 58. Schwartz also explains that “The Temple and the Torah were thus not only the main mediators between Israel and its God, but also among the prime (though not the only repositories of power in Hellenistic and Roman Jewish Palestine, nodal points, like the temples of Egypt and the city oligarchies of Ionia and Caria, in imperial and native royal control of the native population of the country).” 86 revenues all the expenses necessary for the liturgy of sacrifice.” 245 Seleucid rulers are represented as using their own personal revenue to finance and protect local cult sites and their laws..
2 Maccabees’ description supports the Seleucid Empire’s own administrative records.
With a correspondence issued to his political legate, Heliodoros, Seleucus is also depicted as ordering his administrators to actively preserve local sanctuaries: “From the outset we have made it our concern to ensure that the sanctuaries founded in the other satrapies receive the traditional honors with the care befitting them. But since the affairs in Koilē Syria and Phoinikē stand in need of appointing someone to take care of these (i.e. sanctuaries).” 246 Seleucus’ active effort to scold Seleucid officials for their failure to protect local sanctuaries indicates that Seleucid rulers wanted locals to believe that the maintenance and regulations of locals’ affiliations with their cult spaces was a fundamental duty of the Seleucid administration. Moreover, this dossier demonstrates that Seleucid officials probably appointed satrapies to supervise and regulate affairs and ritual activities within these sanctuaries.
Jewish communities represent Seleucid rulers as instituting a system of legal pluralism.
In this system, local populations garnered certain financial and political advantages using their affiliations to their local ancestral laws. Put simply, Jewish communities understood Seleucid rulers as the official custodians of Judah’s indigenous legal culture.
This insight reinforces Paul Kosmin’s insights about the governing strategies of the
Seleucid Empire. As Paul Kosmin explains, “Seleucid imperial space was no horizonless expanse: as we have seen, an explicit and formal recognition of equal peer kingdoms
245 2 Macc 3:3. 246 Hannah Cotton and Michael Wörrle, “Seleukos IV to Heliodoros: A New Dossier of Royal Correspondence from Israel,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 159 (2007): 192–94. 87 distinguished the Seleucid kingdom from its “universalist” predecessors, Alexandrian,
Achaemenid, and Neo- Assyrian.” 247 Unlike their imperial predecessors, Seleucid rulers actively sought to create an “economy of exchange” with local leaders, lifting up the local leadership and allowing them to maintain their local systems of law and positions of power. 248
Building upon Kosmin’s insight, this process of recognizing peer kingdoms required a certain degree of legal pluralism whereby Seleucid rulers recognized local cult sites as the identifying hallmark of local power structures. In the case of ancient Judah, Maccabees and
Josephus demonstrate that locals understood Seleucid rulers as treating affiliations with their ancestral laws as the primary marker of status. Jewish communities believed that they were guaranteed certain freedoms and rights, such as tax exemptions, according to their affiliations with their indigenous legal culture. The administrative policies of the Seleucid Empire effectively treated ancestral laws as the symbol of national identity and the primary means by which communities in ancient Judah could procure political advantages, such as a pensions and tax exemptions from the Seleucid administration. 249
While Josephus’ representation of the Pharisees is shaped by his own personal views of the group, his description of the Pharisees nonetheless preserves evidence that he believed it was fully possible for communities to use their ancestral laws to seek political representation from
247 Paul J. Kosmin, The Land of the Elephant Kings (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014), 123. 248 Ibid., 34. 249 Numerous scholars have debated Josephus’ views and understanding of the Pharisees and how it impacted his representation of the Pharisees. Among these include Steve Mason, Flavius Josephus on the Pharisees: A Composition-Critical Study (Leiden: Brill, 2001); Joan E. Taylor, The Essenes, the Scrolls, and the Dead Sea (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015); Nicholas Thomas Wright, The Resurrection of the Son of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003); Louis H. Feldman, Josephus and Modern Scholarship (1937–1980) (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1984). 88 Seleucid rulers. For example, Demetrius is represented as recognizing the Pharisees’ political status and treating them as legitimate political actors. 250 Bestowed with their distinctive status according to their affiliations to their ancestral laws, the Pharisees are treated as respected political authorities by Seleucid rulers. According to Josephus, Demetrius not only recognizes the Pharisees’ as legitimate political authorities but acts according to their political demands and wages war against Alexander Jannaeus. 251 This description of events reinforces the idea that
Josephus promoted the assumption that Seleucid rulers recognized affiliations with the Mosaic
Law as an important marker of one’s political standing in society. 252
Based on Josephus’ histories and Maccabees, it is possible to surmise that natives believed that they could politically mobilize their affiliations with the Temple and its laws to seek distinctive legal advantages from the Seleucid Empire’s administration. These advantages included tax exemptions and the ability to garner Seleucid ruler’s political affections. Moreover,
250 Sandra Gambetti, “Response to Atkinson,” in The Seleucid and Hasmonean Periods and the Apocalyptic Worldview , ed. Lester L. Grabbe, Gabriele Boccaccini, and Jason M. Zurawski (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2016), 66. As Gambetti cautions, Josephus provides the only available narrative of this supposed encounter. There is no historical evidence that validates his claim. The point here is not whether the event occurred. Rather Josephus’ testimony is used as evidence of how natives imagined the Mosaic Law’s role and purpose in the Seleucid and Roman administration. 251 Josephus, B.J. 1.4. 4; A.J. 13.372-74. All translations of Josephus’ The Jewish War Books I- VII follow the translation in Josephus, The Jewish War Books I-VII , trans. Henry St. J. Thackeray LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1927). 252 DOUBLE CHECK—I think it is the Nahum Pesher, not Josephus that uses the “seekers” phrase in relation to this episode Josephus does not use the term “Pharisees” to refer to this group but uses the phrase “seekers after smooth things” to refer to this group. Some scholars have argued that this phrase indicates that Josephus is referring to the Pharisees. Others contest this claim and argue that this group should not be identified with the Pharisees. For an analysis of this scholarly debate see James C. VanderKam, “The Pharisees and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Quest of the Historical Pharisees , ed. Jacob Neusner and Bruce Chilton (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2007), 228-230; David Levenson and Thomas Martin, “Akairos or Eukairos? The Nickname of the Seleucid King Demetrius III in the Transmission of the Texts of Josephus’ War and Antiquities,” JSJ 40 (2009): 307-41. 89 Josephus makes clear that the local religious and political leadership was entangled with this administrative system with the priesthood reifying and legitimating Seleucid hegemony. As
Portier-Young astutely observes, locals are portrayed in Josephus’ histories as actively seeking political advantages from Seleucid rulers according to their affiliations to their ancestral laws. 253
Building upon Collins’ argument, the Hasmonean dynasty’s emergence ushered in a second period of reform whereby they continued to treat local ancestral laws as the hallmark of national identity. This reform did not represent a radical departure from the Seleucid Empire’s reforms. Rather the decision by Hasmonean rulers to treat the Mosaic Law as the identifying core of national identity represented the culmination and fulfillment of the Seleucid administration’s policy of legal pluralism.
After the Hasmonean dynasty’s fall, the entrance of Roman legions into Jerusalem signaled a third period of legal reform. According to Josephus, Roman rulers operated with a similar administrative logic to that of Seleucid rulers. This logic is expressed most clearly in
Josephus’ description of Augustus’ legal reforms of the region. Following Josephus’ description of events, Augustus granted distinctive rights and privileges to communities in ancient Judah living under Roman rule. 254 Among these included a legal mandate to protect the temple and its laws: “Jews may follow their own customs in accordance with the law of their fathers…and that
253 Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire , 73–74. 254 Tessa Rajak, “Josephus in the Diaspora,” in Flavius Josephus and Flavian Rome , ed. Jonathan Edmondson, Steve Mason, and James Rives (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 90–92. As Tessa Rajak explains, the decrees and edicts which Josephus cites in Antiquities are not drawing on versions displayed in Rome but rather are probably drawing on local sources of these documents. Rajak also explains that Josephus is writing during a historical period in which the physical Temple was a thing of the past and the rights and protections supposedly guaranteed to Jews had not been honored by the Roman administration. It is thus important to read Josephus as using this scene to appeal to his Roman patrons for rights and protections that he portrays as a fundamental component of their governing strategies. 90 their sacred money be not touched, but be sent to Jerusalem, and that it be committed to the care of the receivers at Jerusalem; and that they be not obliged to go before any judge on the Sabbath day, nor on the day of the preparation to it.” 255
Augustus and his army is depicted as the protector of the Mosaic covenant. In addition to protecting the covenant, he is represented as bestowing certain legal rights and privileges to communities according to their affiliations to the covenant, including the right to collect taxes and an exemption from appearing in court on the day of the Sabbath. This legal reform enabled locals to leverage their affiliations with the covenant to attain special privileges and rights from the Roman administration. As the protector and benefactor of the Mosaic Law, Augustus was responsible for its maintenance and reproduction.
Like Antiochus III’s reforms, Josephus argues that the Roman Empire’s administrative regime instituted some sort of policy of legal pluralism for their colonies. In the case of ancient
Judah, Josephus portrays Roman rulers as protecting the temple cult and its laws. Confirming this point, Paul du Plessis argues, “Roman authorities were content to allow a form of legal pluralism to exist whereby local courts were left to apply local laws.” 256 According to du Plessis,
Josephus’ depiction of Augustus’ reforms seems to fit within other depictions of Roman administration with Roman rulers actively asserting a certain degree of legal pluralism in provincial territories. For example, in the case of Egypt, du Plessis explains that the edict of
Antoninus indicates that Roman law operated within Egypt’s existing and sophisticated
255 Josephus, A.J. 16.162-166. 256 Paul du Plessis, Studying Roman Law (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 34. 91 indigenous legal culture. 257 Like Seleucid rulers before them, Roman rulers attempted to institute a policy of legal pluralism in their colonies.
Josephus also reports that under the Roman administration the Herodian dynasty operated in much the same way as Hasmonean rulers. Herod granted the Pharisees and Essenes special tax exemptions. As he describes, “He endeavored also to persuade Pollio the Pharisee, and Satneas, and the greatest part of their scholars, to take the oath; but these would neither submit so to do, nor were they punished together with the rest, out of the reverence he bore to Pollio. The Essenes also, as we call a sect of ours, were excused from this imposition.” 258 Abiding by the very same administrative policy as Augustus’ reforms, the Herodian dynasty used affiliations with the Law as a mechanism for dispersing special political rights and privileges to communities. 259 Just as the Hasmonean dynasty had leveraged the Law as a marker of status, Herodian rulers encouraged locals to use their affiliations with the Mosaic Law as a means to procure political rights, such as tax exemptions.
Josephus imagines Roman administrators as operating in much the same way as Seleucid
Rulers and exhibiting a keen interest in the maintenance and protection of the region’s ancestral laws. As Rome’s client rulers, the Herodian dynasty aided by Rome’s legal reforms, assigned legal rights and privileges to communities according to their distinctive interpretations of those
257 Ibid. 258 Josephus, A.J. 15.371. The term “sect” refers simply a group and not the sociological meaning of the word sect. 259 There is no historical evidence that Herod extended such privileges to the Essenes. Moreover, Daniel Schwartz has examined this passage and determined that it is most likely taken from the writings of Nicolaus of Damascus. Daniel R. Schwartz, “Josephus and Nicolaus On the Pharisees,” JSJ 14 (1983): 157–71. 92 laws. The Mosaic Law in turn emerged as a mechanism for securing civic status and rights in
Judean society.
While not all rulers are presented as benevolent as Antiochus III, Seleucus IV, and
Augustus, even colonial rulers like Antiochus IV operated with the assumption that they alone were responsible for the covenant’s maintenance and reproduction. Thus, when the authors of
Maccabees describe Antiochus IV as imposing legal reforms to the temple cult and even taking money from the temple cult, he is acting in a manner consistent with overarching Seleucid norms.260
Despite differences between the three different historical periods of reform, Seleucid,
Hasmonean, Roman, and Herodian rulers operated in accordance with legal pluralism. While the
Hasmoneans and Herodians might have operated in a way that seemed independent of Seleucid and Roman systems of laws, they seemed to assume that the local cult and its ancestral laws were the hallmark of Jewish communities’ political status. In doing so, they treated distinctive affiliations with ancestral laws as a mechanism for dividing and ranking individuals and communities with ancestral laws becoming the primary means by which people could secure political rights and representation, including tax exemptions. Furthermore, Josephus and the authors of Maccabees demonstrate that Jewish communities believed that Seleucid and Roman rulers and their armies were the sole protectors and patrons of the Mosaic Law, assuring its continued reproduction in society.
This multitiered system of law bears explicit parallels to the multitiered systems of law that the Ottoman, British, and French instituted within their own colonies. For example, the
260 1 Macc 1, 3-7; Josephus, B.J 1.31-35; A.J. 12.237-64. 93 British in Mandate Palestine reduced communities to their religious affiliations and understood themselves to be honoring and protecting the region’s legal tradition. However, as Laura Robson explains, they were instituting a radically new system of law into their colony and in the process undermining the authority of the region’s leadership and transforming religion into the sole mechanism by which communities could secure legal rights and advantages.
Like British rulers, Seleucid and Roman rulers are represented by Jewish authors as instituting a system of legal pluralism and in the process reducing communities in ancient Judah to their affiliations with their ancestral laws. In so doing, Seleucid and Roman officials undermined the authority of the region’s political leaders and transformed these laws into the sole means by which communities could procure political privileges and representation from the
Seleucid and Roman administration. Josephus makes clear that groups like the Pharisees,
Sadducees, and Essenes did not garner political representation from their accumulated wealth or birth in certain families, but their affiliations with their ancestral laws served as a marker of their political status and standing in society.
With family and wealth displaced as markers of status, the region’s cult and its laws became a source of division in society as people used them to vie for power. Furthermore, as legal pluralism undermined the region’s leadership who garnered their status from their birth in certain families and accumulated wealth, Seleucid and Roman armies are represented as the chief protectors and patrons of Jewish communities’ cult and its laws. This transformation in the region transformed Judah into a colony of the Seleucid and Roman Empires whereby Seleucid and Roman armies presented themselves as mediating Israel’s relationship to God.
94 2.6.2 Armies as Enforcers and Disseminators of the Law
In the Seleucid and Roman Empires, the military served as the primary mechanism of the law’s dissemination in their colonies. A fundamental component of each empire’s legal order involved the active presence of their professional armies in occupied regions. The implementation of their legal reforms coincided with the intrusion and presence of Seleucid and
Roman soldiers in Jerusalem as professional soldiers served as the literal embodiments of the laws that they sought to enforce.
The Seleucid and Roman Empires’ military infrastructures were distinctive in that they built and maintained immense armies filled with professional soldiers who resided and settled in colonized territories. In the case of ancient Judah, the Seleucid and Roman Empires built and maintained garrisons. The garrison itself required professional soldiers who could control indigenous populations, ensure that tribute and taxes were paid, and if need be put down revolts. 261 Soldiers in garrisons were not amateurs called upon on a temporary basis, but the soldiers in Greek and Roman armies were life-long professionals who would never leave the colonized territories in which they operated. With the dispersion and settlement of professional soldiers on the borders of their rapidly expanding empires, Seleucid and Roman officials operated in a perpetual state of war, using their armies as to promulgate state power.
As Anathea Portier-Young explains, Seleucid soldiers were the primary means in which communities in Judah encountered the law with Seleucid rulers having to rely on indigenous communities to feed, house, and care for their soldiers. In the case of ancient Judah, Portier-
261 Sara E. Phang, Iain Spence, Douglas Kelly, and Peter Londey, Conflict in Ancient Greece and Rome: The Definitive Political, Social, and Military Encyclopedia [3 Volumes]: The Definitive Political, Social, and Military Encyclopedia (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2016), 286. 95 Young argues that soldiers lived among locals, sharing meals with locals and sleeping under the roofs of local homes. 262 The social expectation that indigenous communities were responsible for the protection and care of soldiers led to what Portier-Young describes as a “displacement” whereby local families were displaced “from their homes and ancestral lands,” with local inhabitants enslaved and forced to drain their food supply for the benefit of Seleucid armies. 263
Daily and direct contact with soldiers was a distinctive historical circumstance that conditioned local inhabitants’ understanding of the Seleucid legal order.
Paul Kosmin confirms that in the Seleucid Empire the army played a crucial role in cementing Seleucid rulers’ hegemony over colonized territories. In the case of ancient Judah,
Kosmin notes that Antiochus III’s legal reforms coincided with the entrance of his royal entourage in Judah.264 The entourage itself included the king and his army. In these grand entourages, the king’s reception served as an important transaction whereby the local communities were expected to supply the king’s army with supplies. In exchange for supplying occupying armies with the requisite food and equipment, the king in turn bestowed privileges and rights to the community.
For example, Antiochus III is described by Josephus as praising communities in Judah for supplying his soldiers and elephants with provisions upon his entrance into Jerusalem. 265
Decades after Antiochus III’s arrival, Maccabees depicts Antiochus IV being welcomed into the city in a similar manner. 266 Even after the Maccabean revolt, Josephus describes the high priest
262 Anathea E. Portier-Young, Apocalypse against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2014), 64. 263 Ibid. 264 Kosmin, The Land of the Elephant Kings , 2014, 150–54. 265 Josephus, A.J. 12.138. 266 2 Macc 4:22. 96 Hyrcanus as zealously welcoming Antiochus VII into Jerusalem and eager to supply his army with the requisite material goods. 267 Jewish communities imagined soldiers and Seleucid military institutions as fundamental components of Seleucid hegemony.
After Jewish leaders supplied Antiochus III with the requisite supplies, he is represented as bestowing his legal reforms on the region. With these reforms, Antiochus III became the protector and patron of the Temple, praising the city’s population for their sacredness. As John
Ma explains, this royal parade staged a discursive formulation whereby the “the royal claim to benevolence and protection” informed the relationship between ruler and subject. 268 In other words, Antiochus would not burn Jerusalem and kill its inhabitants if they did what he asked and generously supplied his soldiers with the necessary supplies. 269
Although this procession was marked with joy and celebration, John Ma argues that underneath this discursive formulation was an atmosphere of terror as fears of violence, destruction, and depredation punctuated the relationship between ruler and subject. 270 The presence of the king’s immense army and their procession into the city was a warning of the fate that awaited Jewish communities if they failed to supply the king with what he required.
Furthermore, the army did not leave upon their admission into the city, but 1 Maccabees makes clear that Seleucid armies routinely traveled in and out of the region, conditioning the authors’ understanding of the landscape. 271 The presence of the Seleucid garrison in the Akra of
267 Josephus, A.J. 13.250. 268 John Ma, Antiochos III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 111. 269 Here, referencing the eventual Maccabean revolt with Antiochus IV deploying an army to Jerusalem to crush the local rebellion through brutal violence. 270 Ibid. 271 As Kosmin explains, “The numerous Seleucid royal journeys in 1 Maccabees are all, in fact, reducible to a triple typology: military campaigns and withdrawals between Syria and Judah; 97 Jerusalem served as a daily reminder of the consequences of defying the Seleucid Empire’s legal order.
The inauguration of the Seleucid Empire’s seemingly benevolent policy of legal pluralism required a public ribbon cutting ceremony, as represented in Maccabees and Josephus’ portrayal of Seleucid ruler’s grand entrances into Jerusalem. However, this joyous event was carefully orchestrated by a menacing army equipped with the ability to burn Jerusalem to the ground if the indigenous population refused to supply the king’s army with their insatiable material needs. Josephus and the authors of Maccabees make clear that the military was imagined as a fundamental component of the Seleucid Empire’s legal order, conditioning the population’s understanding of and encounter with the law. As a fundamental mechanism of the legal order, the movement of Seleucid armies etched the law onto the region’s geopolitical and cultural landscape.
Josephus and Philo make clear that they imagined the Roman Empire’s legal order as functioning in a similar manner with the military conditioning the indigenous populations’ understanding of the law. As in the case of the Seleucid Empire’s conquest of the region, the procession of Pompey the Great’s legion into Jerusalem in 63 BCE brought with it a renewed campaign to protect and renew the Mosaic covenant. Upon Octavian’s defeat of Antony and renaming by the Senate, Augustus reconfirmed Herod as king of Judah. With Herod’s confirmation, Augustus then financed a great building campaign for the Temple in Jerusalem.
expeditions from Syria into the Upper Satrapies; and arrivals by ship on the Syrian littoral. See Kosmin, The Land of the Elephant Kings , 112. 98 Philo describes Augustus as financing the Temple directly from his private purse. 272
Josephus confirms this depiction of Augustus’ financial patronage of the Temple and depicts his wife, Livia, as offering golden vessels and precious gifts for the Temple.273 Philo and Josephus indicate that locals attempted to represent Roman leaders as benevolent patrons of Judah’s indigenous legal culture. Moreover, just a few years before the Temple’s reconstruction, Herod had constructed a fortress in Jerusalem to house Roman troops, called the Antonia Fortress. 274
This building campaign thus coincided with and occurred shortly after Herod built a place to lodge Roman soldiers in Jerusalem.
The Roman military was contiguous with the Roman legal order as the military and senate worked seamlessly together to protect and enhance the power and status of the covenant.
Perhaps nowhere was this more obvious than on the gates of the Temple itself. As he enhanced the temple cult’s status, Herod decided to crown the symbol of Roman military might, the
Roman eagle, on top of the gates of the Temple.275 The Roman eagle’s installment on the gates of the Temple served as a visible witness of the covenant’s entanglement with the Roman
Empire’s military and legal institutions.
Like Antiochus III’s reforms, Augustus’ reforms were the subject of celebration, but behind that public celebration was an atmosphere of violence and terror. With the construction and installment of a Roman garrison within Jerusalem, Hannah Cotton estimates that at some point between 10,000 to 20,000 legionaries and approximately 10,000 auxiliaries were stationed
272 Philo, Leg. 157, 309-19. 273 Josephus, B.J . 5.562-3. 274 Josephus, A.J. 15.292. The idea that Herod named the fortress, Antonia, suggests that the fortress was constructed at some point before Antony’s defeat at the battle of Actium (31 BCE). 275 Josephus, A.J . 17.149-163; B.J. 1.648-654. 99 in Jerusalem and the surrounding area. 276 Serving as the living embodiments of Augustus’ commitment to the covenant, Roman soldiers, as portrayed by Josephus, guarded Jews inside the temple court and even safeguarded the vestments of the high priest in their fortress. 277 As Jews entered the temple court, Josephus argues that soldiers served as the mediator of the covenant to
Jewish communities.
With the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ legal administrations invested in the temple cult’s continued reproduction, locals represent the military as serving as the primary means of adjudicating these newly made available rights and privileges. Furthermore, the idea that the military mediated the law to Jewish communities means that the military conditioned communities’ understanding of the constitutive elements of both colonial law and the covenant itself. The movement to reform the meaning and purpose of the Mosaic Law was itself conditioned not only by legal reforms codified in texts but also and more importantly by the military, which served as the visible mediator of God’s relationship to Israel.
The scrolls indicate that military institutions played a fundamental role in shaping their understanding of the Mosaic Law. As Yonder Gillian explains, in the case of the Damascus
Document and Community Rule , there are numerous parallels between their self-described organizations and Seleucid and Roman military organizations. In the case of their admission procedures, Gillihan identifies over twelve parallels between the scrolls and Roman armies.
276 Hannah Cotton, “The Impact of the Roman Army in the Province of Judaea/Syria Palaestina,” in The Impact of the Roman Army (200 BC-AD 476): Economic, Social, Political, Religious, and Cultural Aspects: Proceedings of the Sixth Workshop of the International Network Impact of Empire (Roman Empire, 200 B.C.-A.D. 476), Capri, March 29-April 2, 2005 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 393–408. 277 Josephus, A.J. 18.94. 100 These include the use of an oath taking procedure, registration, and physical and moral scrutiny. 278
In addition to these parallels, the authors of the Damascus Document and Community
Rule frequently employ military motifs, ideas, and terminology when describing their distinctive organizational structures. For example, the Community Rule and Damascus Document use the
to muster” when describing members’ admission into their communities. 279“ פקד military term
The Rule of the Congregation employs many of the same terms, describing members as mustering themselves. 280 Among the most obvious examples of the pervasive use of military terminology, as discussed in Chapter four, includes the Damascus Document ’s self-description
camp.” 281“ המחנה as a military camp, referring to itself as a
The War Scroll engages in a similar pattern of behavior, self-describing the elect
military camp.” 282 However, the War Scroll takes these parallels even“ מחנה community as a further and actively copies the organizational features of a Roman legion. Undertaking a comparative analysis of the War Scroll and Greek and Roman military manuals, Russell Gmirkin concludes that descriptions of Roman armies in military manuals and the War Scroll “show remarkable agreement.” 283 The apparent parallels between the War Scroll ’s organization and depictions of Roman legions in military manuals indicates that the authors were actively trying to
278 Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 381. This point is explored further in chapter four. 279 4QD b 9 v 6-7; CD 13:22-14:9; 1QS 6.13-14. 280 1QSa 1.21-22. 281 4QD a 8 i 4. 282 1QM 3.4; 4.9; 7.1-7; 14.2. 283 Russell Gmirkin, “The War Scroll and Roman Weaponry Reconsidered,” Dead Sea Discoveries 3, no. 2 (1996): 96. 101 adapt ideas and practices commonly associated with soldiers in military personnel in Seleucid and Roman armies.
Like the War Scroll , the Damascus Document , Community Rule , and Rule of the
Congregation actively employ military terms and motifs, as discussed in Chapter four. The presence of these military themes and motifs is a crucial component of their restructuring process as this military terminology structures their representations of the Mosaic covenant’s meaning and status for their communities. The authors are not just privileging and emphasizing the covenant’s status, but they are doing so while self-describing themselves as military-like organizations that “muster” members into action. At the root of the scrolls’ efforts to restructure the covenant is an explicit shift to reorganize and prepare their communities for a military encounter.
2.6.3 Judah’s Economy of War
The scrolls do no merely adapt and copy military terms and organizational features into their representations, but they creatively negotiate, contest, and entangle military ethics with covenantal language and themes. This creative exegetical acrobatic suggests that there is a distinctive power dynamic conditioning the authors of the scrolls’ actions. Put differently,
Seleucid and Roman soldiers are not protecting and enhancing the status of the covenant to merely help and aid Jewish communities in their struggle for political independence. As Ma and
Portier-Young explain, the threat of violence structured Antiochus and Augustus’ seemingly joyous patronage and public ribbon cutting ceremonies in Jerusalem.
102 Josephus makes this point abundantly clear, arguing that communities “suffered many hardships and their land was ruined.” 284 Similarly, Martin Hengel claims that Seleucid and
Roman armies tried to “make the Semitic peasants who worked their lots of lands into their slaves.” 285 As Roman soldiers guarded worshipers in the Temple and the high priest’s vestments, they systematically enslaved locals, forcing them to meet their growing demands and needs.
According to Hengel, this transactional relationship between local communities and foreign armies consisted of an “asymmetrical distribution of resources and power.” 286 Building upon this observation, Ma argues that these administrative apparatuses represented “structures of control” that were used “to carry out the extraction of surplus from the local communities.” 287
Put simply, locals make clear that this transactional relation was part of an economy or system of labor that extracted resources and wealth from the region. With local communities forced to accommodate and sustain the needs of foreign armies, indigenous communities were forced to serve the material needs of occupying armies. In this totalizing system, indigenous communities were forced to lease out their lands, pay taxes, and provide for the immense material needs of soldiers, as Seleucid and Roman officials extracted the local surplus. 288 In exchange, Seleucid and Roman armies promised not to rape and pillage the local population.
This was not a hypothetical scenario, but Josephus and the authors of Maccabees make clear that
284 Josephus, A.J. 12.129 285 Martin Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism: Studies in Their Encounter in Palestine During the Early Hellenistic Period (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974), 1. 286 Jon Berquist, “Postcolonialism and Imperial Motives for Canonization,” Semeia 75 (1996): 16–17. 287 John Ma, “Kings,” in Companion to the Hellenistic World , ed. Andrew Erskine (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003), 183. 288 Ibid., 183. 103 Seleucid and Roman armies were destructive and brutalized Jerusalem’s indigenous populations for their refusal to participate in this local economy.
For example, Antiochus IV and his soldiers are said to have exacted a heavy price on communities who resisted Seleucid rule. According to Josephus, this price involved the murder an estimated forty thousand and sold another forty thousand into slavery with young and old violently slaughtered: “He ordered his soldiers to cut down without mercy those whom they met and to slay those who took refuge in their houses. There was a massacre of young and old, a killing of women and children, a slaughter of young women and infants.” 289 While Josephus is not necessarily providing an accurate representation of events, he nonetheless imagines that the colonial legal order was itself maintained through violence. The threat of violence and terror loomed large on Jewish communities’ consciousness as they remained astutely aware of the consequences of rejecting their role and status in this exploitative system.
In Josephus’ mind, Rome followed a similar protocol. He presents Roman armies as violently subjugating the local population in their siege of Jerusalem, indiscriminately slaughtering the population: “They ran every one through whom they met with, and obstructed the very lanes with their dead bodies, and made the whole city run down with blood, to such a degree indeed that the fire of many of the houses was quenched with these men's blood.” 290
Burning the city to the ground, Roman soldiers were then granted land rights over the surrounding agricultural lands.
289 2 Macc 12-14. 290 Josephus, BJ. 6.8.5. 104 Josephus’ representation of colonial governance indicates that locals believed that the military served as colonial governance’s primary support pillar. His representations of Seleucid and Roman power as resting in their military might align with other common representations of
Seleucid and Roman hegemony. Seleucid and Roman rulers maintained equipped and well- trained armies, moving them into local territories. These armies exacted a heavy material and emotional price with indigenous communities forced to accommodate their needs. Put simply,
Seleucid and Roman rulers could not sustain the immense needs of their armies without the material assistance of local laborers.
2.6.4 The Dominant Discourse
In addition to the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ administrative practices and representations of those practices, the Mosaic Law was reworked and represented in distinctive ways within Greek and Latin literature. This literature contains ideas about the social assumptions that shaped foreign rulers’ understanding of and interactions with Judah’s indigenous legal culture. With some of this literature dated to historical periods before the emergence of the Seleucid Empire, these representations indicate that dismissive attitudes about the Mosaic Law were widely prevalent in the ancient Mediterranean. The point of this section is to analyze these dismissive attitudes and how they might have helped form and give concreate expression to representations of Seleucid and Roman rulers’ administrative policies.
Among the chief ideas prevalent in this literature includes the idea that the covenant made communities lazy, passive, and in need of their military protection and aid. Sophocles for example argues that circumcision, as the chief marker of the covenant, emasculated Jewish
105 men. 291 For Sophocles, the act of circumcision essentially reversed gender roles with women taking on the role of protectors and providers: “For there the men sit weaving in the house, but the wives go forth to win the daily bread. And in your case, my daughters, those to whom these labors belonged keep the house at home like maidens, while you two, in their place, bear your poor father’s labors.” 292 Sophocles describes the marker of the covenant as making men incapable of fulfilling their gendered roles in society with women forced to protect and provide for themselves. This representation of the Mosaic Law renders Jewish men as lazy and incompetent as they take on the roles and responsibilities of women.
In some cases, circumcision was described as an act of barbarism that robbed men of their status in society. For example, the Greek geographer Strabo described circumcision as a mutilation of the male genitals, arguing that Jewish males “have their sexual glands mutilated and the women are excised in the Jewish fashion.” 293 Strabo represents circumcision as a deformity of the masculine body and uses it as a marker of Jewish men’s separation from Greek men.
Roman authors also popularized the notion that the covenant connoted Jewish men’s inferior status. Juvenal argued that circumcision made Jewish men fearful and superstitious, refusing to follow and abide by Roman law: “They get themselves circumcised and look down to
Roman law, preferring instead to learn and fear the Jewish commandments.” 294 Juvenal situates
291 Shaye J. D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 42–50. Cohen explains that it is not until the 1 st century CE that circumcision served as a marker of Jewishness in the minds of Roman authors. As he explains, Greeks associated the practice with indigenous populations in the East, including the Colchians, Egyptians, and Ethiopians. 292 Sophocles, Oed. Col. 339-344 (Lloyd-Jones). 293 Strabo, Geogr . 16.4.9 (Jones). 294 Juvenal, Sat . 15.103-104 (Braund) 106 the covenant in diametric opposition with Roman law. Similarly, Tacitus describes the covenant as making Jewish men despise their very own country: “Circumcision was adopted by them as a mark of difference from other men. Those who come over to their religion adopt the practice, and have this lesson first instilled into them, to despise all gods, to disown their country.” 295 Like
Juvenal, Tacitus depicts the covenant as a marker of Jewish men’s inferior status. 296
Plutarch takes these derogatory representations a step further and describes the covenant as immobilizing and making Jewish men incapable of mounting any successful military defense against Roman armies. According to Plutarch, while Roman armies successfully and easily invaded Jerusalem, Jewish men were too busy honoring the covenant to mount a defense:
“Because it was the Sabbath day, sat in their places immovable, while the enemy were planting ladders against the walls and capturing the defenses, and they did not get up, but remained there, fast bound in the toils of superstition.” 297 Similarly, Cicero claims that the covenant made Jewish communities “superstitious and subject to calamity.” 298 Cicero stresses that the Roman military humiliated and reduced Jewish men “to a state of subjugation.” 299
There was a dominant discourse informing and shaping the institution of the Seleucid and
Roman Empire’s transactional system of labor. On the one hand, Seleucid and Roman officials want natives to celebrate and promote the Mosaic Law as the primary marker of status and distinctive hallmark of local identity. On the other, they denigrated the covenant, treating it as a marker of Jewish communities’ inferior and subordinate status. This discursive formation might
295 Tacitus, Hist. 5.5. 296 Tacitus, Hist. 5.5. 297 Plutarch, Mor . 169C (Babbitt). 298 Cicero, Flac . 67-68 (Hodge). 299 Cicero, Flac . 69. 107 have justified and legitimated their material demands on the region. Rather than represent themselves as tyrants, Seleucid and Roman rulers could instead have wanted natives to think of them as benevolent protectors and patrons. Moreover, this dominant discourse reproduced certain assumptions about Jewish masculinity as Greek and Roman authors depicted Judah’s indigenous legal culture as making Jewish men lazy, effeminate, and in need of occupying armies’ protection and patronage.
This gendered understanding of the covenant reflects and fits within Greek and Roman representations of the Near East. Greek and Roman literature imagined conquest as a gendered experience with effeminacy and emasculation associated with the experience of military subjugation. The Greek author Aischylos for example imagines conquered communities of the land of Asia as “piteously bowed to her knees.” 300 Aischylos describes Persian soldiers as weak and effeminate, lamenting their ill fate and sufferings, “shedding many a tear.” 301 The text depicts conquered communities and their leaders as made passive, weak, and emasculated by their military defeat.
Xenophon takes this comparison even further and argues that Greek soldiers believed fighting indigenous communities in Asia was akin to fighting women since indigenous fighting forces were fat and lazy in stark contrast to Greek soldiers: “He (Agesilaus) gave instructions that the barbarians captured in raids should be exposed naked. So when the soldiers saw them white because they never stripped and fat and lazy through constant riding in carriages, they thought that the war would be exactly like fighting with women.” 302 Within Greek literature,
300 Aischylos, Persians 929-31 (Sommerstein). 301 Aischylos, Persians 944-45. 302 Xenophon, Ages. 1.28. 108 indigenous communities are represented as the antithesis of Greek soldiers’ superior lifestyle and habits with subjugated communities situated in diametric opposition to Greek soldiers.
Roman literature also promotes a similar representation of the world and uses gendered language to the describe the condition of subjugated communities with military domination synonymous with sexual domination and subjugation. For example, Silius Italicus depicts the
Roman commander Marcellus as describing subjugated Greek soldiers as effeminate and lazy:
“Go now, mow down the warless flock, cut them down with the sword…They stand there, a middling glory for those who conquer them: idle youth, taught to endure a soft contest in the shade in the lazy pursuit of wrestling, and rejoicing to gleam with olive oil.” 303 Encouraging his soldiers to mow down Greek soldiers like a flock of aimless sheep, Marcellus depicts conquered men as lazy and effeminate, bathing in the shade and rubbing themselves with olive oil. Just as
Greek literature represented subjugated people as effeminate in their taste for luxury, Roman literature depicted subjugated people in similar terms.
In stark contrast to subjugated communities, Plutarch argues that Roman soldiers were impenetrable to military domination. He uses the popular tale of a young officer named
Trebonius to exemplify the superiority of Roman soldiers. In Plutarch’s representation of the
Roman army, the general Marius is depicted as rewarding and congratulating Trebonius for killing his superior officer after he attempted to penetrate him sexually: “In his second consulship, Lusius, his sister's son offered unchaste force to Trebonius, a soldier, who slew him; when many pleaded against him, he did not deny but confessed he killed the officer, and told the reason why. Hereupon Marius called for a crown, the reward of extraordinary valor, and put it
303 Silius Italicus, Punica 14.134-8 (Duff). 109 upon Trebonius' head.” 304 Plutarch uses this narrative as a representation of Roman soldiers’ impenetrability.
In her analysis of Roman literature’s representation of military conquest, Eva Cantarella concludes that effeminacy and sexual passivity were closely associated with defeat and military subordination. As she explains,
“This attitude was above all the product of the Roman idea or cult of virility. A man
should be a dominator, not only in war but also in bed, where he was expected to subject
both women and men to his sexual will. But that subjugation did not include free Roman
man, nor free Roman boys: a future Roman citizen should never experience subjection to
another man’s domination.” 305
Building upon Cantarella’s insight, Jonathan Walters argues that Greek and Roman authors depicted their soldiers as “impenetrable penetrators” who invaded and penetrated physical bodies and geopolitical spaces. 306 Similarly, Julia Assante argues that the story of Marius’s act of defense was celebrated and publicly lauded by Roman authors, because it upheld the imperial ideal of the soldier as “the emblem of normative manliness.” 307
These examples demonstrate that there was a general expectation that subjugated communities were lazy, passive, effeminate, and incapable of mounting any military defense to
304 Plutarch, Mor . 202b-c (Babbit). 305 Eva Cantarella, Bisexuality in the Ancient World , trans. Cormac Cuilleanain (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), xi. 306 Jonathan Walters, “Invading the Roman Body: Manliness and Impenetrability in Roman Thought,” in Roman Sexualities , ed. Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 29–46. 307 Julia Assante, “Men Looking at Men: The Homoerotics of Power in the State Arts of Assyria,” in Being a Man: Negotiating Ancient Constructs of Masculinity , ed. Ilona Zsolnay (London: Routledge, 2016), 52. 110 protect themselves. In stark contrast to subjugated communities, Greek and Roman soldiers were idealized as disciplined, intelligent, and impenetrable to domination. This understanding of military subjugation seems to inform Greek and Roman authors’ assumptions about Jewish masculinity. As a marker of Jewish communities’ status, Judah’s indigenous legal culture is represented as making Jewish men lazy and incompetent in the face of military domination. This discursive formation effectively reduces Jewish communities to a subjugated and inferior status.
In so doing, this dominant discourse legitimates the Seleucid and Roman Empire’s military domination of the region.
2.6.5 Sectarianism as Mimicry of Military Discipline
Locals were not helpless in the face of the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ military domination. Although communities had to abide by Antiochus and Augustus’ desires, they could do so while simultaneously undermining and rejecting the commonly held assumption that
Jewish men were lazy, irrational, and effeminate. By undermining this commonly held assumption, locals could subvert the dominant discourse and dismantle the Seleucid and Roman
Empires’ mechanisms of control and domination.
The Dead Sea Scrolls, as discussed in chapter four, provide tangible evidence that locals did just that and creatively tried to discursively subvert these mechanisms of domination. Among the key pieces of evidence includes the prevalence of ideas and practices commonly associated with the lifestyle and habits of soldiers. The ubiquitous presence of military themes and tropes in the Qumran texts provides important clues about the process in which the authors went about subverting the dominant discourse. Put simply, their repeated references to military customs suggest that occupying armies and military institutions are the object of their attack. With this
111 active incorporation of military themes and organization, some of the scrolls appear to be adapting foreign military ideals into the covenantal tradition.
This insight builds upon previous models of sectarianism. In particular, this newly proposed model of sectarianism advances the idea that the covenant underwent a fundamental transition after the Maccabean Revolt as the Hasmonean dynasty made the Mosaic covenant the primary marker of local identity. The covenant was no doubt a marker of identity that gave
Jewish communities the ability to compete for civic status. As Gillihan explains, the scrolls’ reconfiguration of covenantal language puts forward distinctive ideas about what constitutes civic status in society.
However, the process whereby the Law became the hallmark of civic status was also conditioned and shaped by the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ administrative regimes. As
Baumgarten proposes, the Hasmonean dynasty’s inability to capitalize on the promises of independence and subordination to foreign rule was an important historical condition that reshaped power relations. Furthermore, Portier-Young’s astute observation about relations between foreign and local leaders demonstrates that this power asymmetry was transactional in nature with Jewish communities expected to provide and care for the immense material needs of occupying armies. In return for their indentured servitude, Seleucid and Roman leaders depicted themselves as guardians and protectors of the covenant.
This system of labor was not entirely benevolent in nature. While celebrated publicly with ribbon cutting ceremonies and immense building projects, beneath these public celebrations was the very real threat of totalizing physical and verbal violence. If Jewish communities refused to provide for the immense and growing material needs of Seleucid and Roman armies, soldiers
112 abiding within the walls of the local garrison could annihilate and burn the city to the ground.
This atmosphere of terror conditioned local communities’ understanding of the covenant as
Seleucid and Roman rulers reduced Jewish communities to the covenant and promoted the bigoted assumption that the covenant made Jewish communities inferior and fit to be conquered.
Local Jewish communities therefore had to find an ingenious way to both abide by the covenant and follow Seleucid and Roman systems of governance while simultaneously undermining the bigoted assumptions that conditioned those very reforms.
This process can best be described and understood through Homi Bhabha’s concept of mimicry. The term “mimicry” refers to the process of hybridization in which subjugated communities strategically contest, adapt, and rework colonial categories of thought into their local tradition. Rather than produce “the noisy command of colonialist authority or the silent repression of native traditions,” mimicry enables subjugated communities to reproduce systems of knowledge that resist and contest colonialist authority. 308
While subjugated communities must participate in colonial discourse, they can creatively take colonial categories and rework their meanings to challenge and reverse the power asymmetries that condition their subjugated status. As Bhabha explains, “the chief objective of colonial discourse is to construe the colonized as a population of degenerate types in order to justify conquest and to establish systems of administration and instruction.” 309 Subjugated communities can strategically undermine this chief objective by demonstrating that they are in fact morally and culturally superior.
308 Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 2012), 160. 309 Ibid., 101. 113 The ingenuity of mimicry is that it enables communities to conceal and camouflage their strategic resistance. As Jacques Lacan asserts, “The effect of mimicry is camouflage...it is not a question of harmonizing with the background, but against a mottled background, of becoming mottled, exactly like the technique of camouflage practiced in human warfare.” 310 Building upon
Lacan’s point, Bhabha argues that this strategic resistance “comes from the prodigious and strategic production of conflictual, fantastic, discriminatory 'identity effects' in the play of a power that is elusive because it hides no essence.”311 Thus, by creatively reworking colonial categories of knowledge, subjugated communities can seemingly look like they are reproducing colonial discourse while simultaneously undermining and challenging the very systems of knowledge that condition that very discursive formation.
In the case of ancient Judah, Jewish communities could actively rework stories of Moses and the laws that he issued from Mount Sinai to contest the commonly held colonialist assumption that the covenant made them innately inferior. By doing so, they could reject the idea that Jewish men were diametrically opposed to the superior lifestyle and habits of Seleucid and
Roman soldiers. This strategic repudiation of the dominant discourse allowed Jewish communities to reject their role and status in the Seleucid and Roman Empire’s system of labor that redistributed wealth and material resources to occupying armies and those who assisted them. 312
310 Jacques Lacan, “The Line and Light,” in The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho- Analysis: The Seminar of Jacques Lacan Book XI , trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1998), 99. 311 Bhabha, The Location of Culture ,128. 312 Among the examples include the Oniads and Tobiads who were bestowed with certain financial privileges from Ptolemaic and Seleucid rulers, including tax collection (Josephus, A.J. 12.158-222). 114 The presence of military language and tropes in the scrolls suggests that they achieved this ingenious innovation by creatively integrating, adapting, and reworking ideas and practices commonly associated with military ethics into representations of the Jewish tradition. This negotiation of local and foreign categories represented the Mosaic Law as promoting the personal and corporate standards of behavior expected of professional soldiers. This process allowed communities to reject the covenant’s associations with effeminacy, laziness, and military subjugation. Moreover, representing the covenant as a system of military discipline transforms it into a mechanism of reform, regulation, and discipline. By transforming the covenant into a marker of self-discipline, they could represent themselves as disciplined, rational, and rigorous.
This reconfiguration of the Mosaic Law’s status challenged the idea that Jewish communities needed protection and patronage. Repudiating Seleucid and Roman hegemony carried with it certain political consequences with the entire labor system dependent upon the assumption that Jewish communities were lazy and in need of the patronage and protection of occupying armies. By reversing this logic, Jewish communities undermined the labor system’s very discursive logic and could portray Roman and Seleucid soldiers as lazy, incompetent, and dependent upon indigenous communities’ labor, land, and resources.
Ancient Jewish sectarianism also manifested itself within a certain narrative framework.
As Adam Gaiser explains, sectarianism is built and framed within a narrative structure. I suggest that sectarianism emerged through a complex process of adoption and manipulation of narratives
115 about Moses and the laws that he issued from Mount Sinai. 313 Narrative identity thus played a crucial role in sectarianism’s formulation and proliferation in ancient Jewish literature with locals manipulating narratives about Moses to refashion their sense of belonging and identity.
My proposed model of sectarianism resolves problems with the Weberian assumption that people, particularly in a situation of occupation, have the freedom to choose any action. The idea that locals are working within the conditions that structure their life worlds demonstrates how communities could use Seleucid and Roman mechanisms of control against their occupiers.
While locals were not free to choose any action, they could creatively develop strategies for dismantling the system of labor imposed on them by occupying armies.
2.7 Conclusion
This new model of sectarianism approaches it as a product of the Seleucid and Roman
Empires’ exploitative labor systems. Jewish communities make clear that these systems were codified and enforced by occupying soldiers who served as the living embodiments and enforcers of Seleucid and Roman law. On the one hand, Seleucid and Roman officials wanted to represent themselves as the protectors and patrons of Judah’s indigenous legal culture. On the other, they promoted the assumption that the Mosaic Law was a marker of Jewish communities’ subjugated status. The idea that Roman and Seleucid rulers were protectors of the Law reproduced certain assumptions about Jewish masculinity. Jewish communities represent this discursive practice as serving as the central rationale for occupying armies’ presence in the
313 Adam Gaiser, “A Narrative Identity Approach to Islamic Sectarianism,” in Sectarianization: Mapping the New Politics of the Middle East , ed. Nader Hashemi and Danny Postel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 61–75. 116 region as Seleucid and Roman soldiers are represented by Jewish authors as providing much needed protection and patronage to the Temple and its laws.
Rather than merely abide by this exploitative system of labor, the scrolls suggest that
Jewish communities invented an ingenious discursive strategy to undermine and destroy colonial governance. The prevalence of military tropes and themes in the scrolls indicates that they did so by mimicking the personal and corporate standards of behavior expected of professional soldiers in Roman and Seleucid armies. Bridging the covenantal tradition with ideas and practices held in high regard by professional soldiers effectively dismantled the system of exploitative labor. Put simply, sectarianism represents the sociohistorical process in which Jewish communities reformed, regulated, and disciplined themselves to redress their experience of military domination and marginalization.
This definition of sectarianism is indebted to the previous models of sectarianism. In particular, Collins and Gillihan’s argument regarding the Hasmonean dynasty’s efforts to transform the covenant into a marker of national identity offers crucial insight into the historical process by which Jewish communities started to reform and rethink the covenant’s role and status in society. Baumgarten and Horsley’s work also forefronts the dynamic between foreign and local rule, demonstrating how Seleucid and Roman officials fundamentally reconfigured regional politics. Bringing together these insights, this new model of sectarianism investigates how this dynamic between foreign and local governance conditioned the Hasmonean and
Herodian dynasty’s strategic efforts to privilege and treat the Mosaic Law as a mechanism for securing political rights and privileges.
117 Approaching sectarianism as a sociohistorical process resolves the Weberian subjectivity problem. As Pandey, Makdisi, and Robson explain, sectarian conflicts and tensions do not evolve from the innate cultural attitudes and beliefs of a certain religious tradition. Rather they are a process conditioned by certain political and historical developments. Bringing this insight to the study of antiquity, colonial governance and law played a formative role in sectarianism’s proliferation in ancient Judah as communities sought to undermine and challenge these reforms and the discourse that sustained and legitimated them.
While empires might have created the conditions for sectarianism to flourish from the 2 nd century BCE to 1 st century CE, it did not necessarily flourish as a result of internalizing the administrative procedures of the Seleucid and Roman Empires. The process of reforming and disciplining themselves provided Jewish communities with the opportunity to reject their associations with effeminacy. With the repudiation of this common stereotype, Jewish men could undermine the dominant discourse and represent themselves as more powerful, rational, and masculine than professional soldiers in Roman and Seleucid armies. Furthermore, they could represent their society as one that was innately fit for a military lifestyle and habits. This strategy of mimicry effectively disarmed occupying armies and exposed the inequity of current systems of governance and labor.
This new definition of sectarianism demonstrates that military violence and domination were entangled with the construction of Judah’s indigenous legal culture. The policy of legal pluralism institutionalized the Mosaic Law by making it a mechanism for securing political representation from Seleucid and Roman administration. However, in so doing, this colonial policy provided the discursive registry that Jewish communities would need to reform their
118 existing traditions. Rather than reject or mindlessly internalize these practices, they creatively reworked them.
I hypothesize that they could do so by restructuring God’s relationship to Israel as one that required Jewish men undergo a strenuous program of training that restrained and closely regulated their relationships to the institutions of family, wealth, and marriage. Jewish communities developed this distinctive notion of what constituted their ancestral laws through a complex process of negotiation, contestation, and adaption to widely held ideals about professional Seleucid and Roman soldiers. This rigorous program of training presented itself as one that required social differentiation with communities appearing as if they were setting themselves apart from one another through their distinctive affiliations with their cult and its ancestral laws. However, this process of social differentiation served as a sort of camouflage whereby Jewish communities could present themselves as simultaneously abiding by the policy of legal pluralism while systematically undermining the assumption that Seleucid and Roman soldiers were the protectors of Judah’s indigenous legal culture and that Jewish communities needed such protection since their laws made them weak, effeminate, and unable to protect themselves from military subjugation.Gaining a better understanding of the mechanisms whereby Jewish communities were able to mimic the distinctive characteristics of the Roman and Seleucid Empires’ military regimes requires a critical analysis of Hellenistic and Roman military manuals which serves as our central resource for understanding commonly held views about the lifestyle and habits of soldiers. . Thus, to engage this point more fully, the next chapter analyzes the historical, linguistic, sociological, and organizational features of Hellenistic and
Roman military manuals. This analysis of Hellenistic and Roman military manuals provides a
119 mechanism for understanding the processes by which Jewish communities appropriated the organizational features and habits of professional soldiers.
120 CHAPTER 3
TRANSFORMING MEN INTO SOLDIERS: MASCULINITY AND PROFESSIONALIZATION IN HELLENISTIC AND ROMAN MILITARY MANUALS
The previous chapter explored how the dominant discourse organized frameworks of thought, public policy, and society at large within the Seleucid and Roman Empires. Hellenistic and Roman military manuals testify to the pervasive effects of this dominant paradigm on representations and expectations concerning military institutions. Put differently, manuals testify to the fact that military conquest demands the formation and proliferation of an elite class of warriors who can successfully defeat any enemy combatant at home and abroad. Manuals set about the task of creating these elite warriors, transforming ordinary civilian men into the most well-trained, disciplined, and skilled soldiers in the entire world. Moreover, this process demanded the creation and enactment of a disciplinary regime that could successfully transform men into these elite warriors.
This chapter explores this complex process of transformation, analyzing the process by which ancient writers believed that they could transform ordinary civilian men into disciplined and skilled warriors. Among the key insights of this analysis includes the idea that Greek and
Roman military manuals provide some of the earliest examples of professionalization in antiquity. This chapter demonstrates that the distinguishing hallmark of professionalization in antiquity was the development and institution of four distinctive regulations that delineated a soldier’s status from that of a civilian man. These regulations were constituted by a system of social separation whereby military recruits were separated from traditional social institutions, such as family, wealth, and marriage. The conclusion reached in this chapter demonstrates that
121 this process of professionalization enabled soldiers to cultivate a distinctive state of emotional detachment with civilian populations. Furthermore, I hypothesize in this chapter that this distinctive way of being in the world shares explicit affinities with what scholars have identified as examples of ancient Jewish sectarianism. Among these parallels include the pervasive presence of regulations in the Dead Sea Scrolls that encourage Jewish communities to survey and closely regulate their relationships to wealth, family, and marriage with the desire for children, family, and wealth identified as a threat to Israel’s relationship with God. Like Hellenistic and
Roman military manuals, the scrolls institute rigid programs of training that regulate members’ desire for civilian institutions.
In analyzing the components of this disciplinary program, this chapter offers a detailed analysis of how Roman and Seleucid occupying armies in Judah provided the discursive registry that ancient Jewish communities would need to restructure the Mosaic Law around rigid programs of education and training that share explicit parallels to professional military discipline. Furthermore, this analysis demonstrates how the insights gained from the study of
Islamic sectarianism yields new insights for the study of ancient Jewish sectarianism. The primary insight explored here includes the process by which sectarianism emerged from mimicry of military discipline and as a response to colonial governance.
3.1.Genre, Theory, and Historical Contexts of the Military Manual
Specific historical developments and technological innovations precipitated the formation of military manuals. Among the many historical and technological developments includes the idea of professionalization. Professionalization is here defined as the process whereby enlisting in the army became a life-long professional career that required advanced training. This
122 historical development was particularly important for the expansion of empires, because it allowed imperial rulers to sustain long and costly military campaigns in distant lands.
The Assyrians were among the first to professionalize military life. Saggs argues that a section in the Annals of Esarhaddon in which the Assyrian king Esarhaddon claims that a rebellious governor “did not send his emissary to me, nor enquire after my well-being. I heard of his evil deeds within Nineveh and was angry … I ordered my officials and the governors of adjacent territory against him, and he…heard of the coming of my forces and fled” reveals important details about the military. 314 In this case, it indicates that there must have been permanent standing armies in existence if a king could call upon local army units with governors responsible for maintaining these local units and ready to call up soldiers at a moment’s notice. 315 It can be inferred that the king and local governors did not have to take the time to draw recruits from local populations but could immediately deploy a professional and permanent standing army. This would also allow Assyrian rulers to conduct military campaigns without disrupting yearly crop production.
While Assyria and other empires developed and experimented with the idea of a professional standing army, technological developments in siege-craft warfare during the
Peloponnesian war advanced the idea of a professional standing army in certain ways. In particular, machinery and military technologies necessitated the existence of highly skilled and trained soldiers who understood the particularities and complexity of siege equipment. J. E.
Lendon explains that archaeological excavations at the city Paphos in present day Cyprus
314 Annals of Esarhaddon , i 55-70. Translations follow the translation in The Prisms of Esarhaddon and Sennacherib , trans. R. Campbell Thompson (London: British Museum, 1931). 315 H.W.F. Saggs, “Assyrian Warfare in the Sargonid Period,” Iraq 25, no. 2 (1963): 246. 123 indicates that Persians knew how to build and use rams, ladders, and siege towers. 316 Greek historians explain that Greek city-states mastered innovations in siege-craft around the fifth century BCE as they battled one another.
For example, Thucydides reports that the Athenians were able to master the art of storming cities with the Lacedaemonians seeking out the aide of Athenians in their siege of
Ithome:
“The Lacedaemonians meanwhile finding the war against the rebels in Ithome likely to
last, invoked the aid of their allies, and especially of the Athenians, who came in some
force under the command of Cimon. The reason for this pressing summons lay in their
reputed skill in siege operations; a long siege had taught the Lacedaemonians their own
deficiency in this art, else they would have taken the place by assault.” 317
Thucydides explains that the mastery of these technological innovations enabled Greek rulers to subjugate the entire citizenry of a city with the enslavement of Naxos in 466 by the Athenians providing the first instance of this key military development: “After this Naxos left the confederacy, and a war ensued, and she had to return after a siege; this was the first instance of the engagement being broken by the subjugation of an allied city, a precedent which was followed by that of the rest in the order which circumstances prescribed.” 318
316 J. E. Lendon, Soldiers & Ghosts: A History of Battle in Classical Antiquity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006), 160. He suggests that Persians inherited this technological traditions from the Assyrians. 317 Thucydides, 1.102.2. All translations of Thucydides’ Peloponnesian War follow the translation in Thucydides: The Peloponnesian War , trans. Martin Hammond (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). 318 Thucydides, 1.98.4. 124 With the ability to subjugate commercial centers and previously impenetrable fortresses, this strategic development in military combat required detailed logistics, generalship, tactics, strategies, and financial expenditures. According to Thucydides, siege-craft had effectively displaced the role of local, untrained citizen-soldiers in favor of financial capital as military commanders needed capital to recruit, train, and sustain permanent skilled soldiers. As he explains, “Capital, it must be remembered, maintains a war … farmers are a class of men that are always more ready to serve in person than in purse. Confident that the former will survive the dangers, they are by no means so sure that the latter will not be prematurely exhausted, especially if the war last longer than they expect.” 319 Confirming this point, Xenophon describes the army as a strategic machine filled with “troopers, horsemen, light-armed, archers, slingers disposed in serried ranks and following their officers in orderly fashion.” 320
Amateurism among the citizenry became an obstacle in the development of siege-craft.
Resolving this obstacle necessitated expenditures in human labor, time, and wealth with military commanders devoting vast sums of wealth and time to training and educating soldiers. Greek historians argue that Philip of Macedon was among those who benefited from this transformation in military combat as he actively recruited the most experienced and skilled engineers, military commanders, and soldiers. According to Demosthenes, Philip’s success could be attributed to the discipline and skill of his soldiers and commanders: “On the other hand you hear of Philip marching unchecked, not because he leads a phalanx of heavy infantry, but because he is
319 Thucydides, 1.141.5. 320 Xenophon, Oec . 8.6. All translations of Xenophon’s Memorabilla and Oeconomicus follow the translation in Xenophon, Memorabilla and Oeconomicus , trans. E.C. Marchant (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1965). 125 accompanied by skirmishers, cavalry, archers, mercenaries, and similar troops.” 321 Demosthenes’ description demonstrates that Philip invested heavily in new technology and siege techniques with his army units filled with skilled cavalry, archers, and mercenaries.
Historians make clear that Philip could recruit and maintain highly skilled soldiers through the implementation of a rigorous and exhaustive training program. Polyaenus, a 2 nd century Macedonian author well-known for his publication of military manuals, describes
Philip’s training program as so exhaustive that he expected soldiers to be able to march continuously for more than thirty four miles while also carrying their equipment: “Philip accustomed the Macedonians to constant exercise, before they went to war: so that he would frequently make them march three hundred stades, carrying with them their helmets, shields, greaves, and spears.” 322 Juxtaposing Philip’s army to the Athenian army, Polyaenus explains that other armies “were impetuous and inexperienced” when compared to soldiers in Philip’s army. 323
Demosthenes argues that Philip needed vast sums of wealth to finance this training program: “They had their weapons constantly in their hands. Then he was well provided with money: he did whatever he chose, without giving notice by publishing decrees, or deliberating in public, without fear of prosecution by informers or indictment for illegal measures.” 324 With the requisite financial resources to keep soldiers permanently at war, Philip was able to maintain this rigid and elaborate program of discipline.
321 Demosthenes, Philip 9.49. All translations of Demosthenes’ works follow the translation in Demosthenes , trans. C.A. Vince and J.H. Vince (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1926). 322 Polyaenus, Stra. 4.2.10. All translations of Polyaenus’ Stratagems follow the translation in Polyaenus , Stratagems of War , trans. by Peter Krentz and Everett L. Wheeler (Chicago: Ares, 1994). 323 Polyaenus. Stra . 4.2.7. 324 Demosthenes, Philip 18.235. 126 The elaborate and complex training program did not just include exhaustive physical labor but also involved complex systems of social surveillance and controls. Among these controls included imposed constraints on sexual behavior and interactions with women and civilians. Greek historians describe Philip as particularly known for his prohibition against women. According to Athenaesus, Philip was among the first military commanders to travel without women: “And Philip the Macedonian did not take any women with him to his wars, as
Darius did, whose power was subverted by Alexander.” 325 While Darius brought with him “three hundred and fifty concubines in all his wars,” Philip instead traveled without women and only used sex as a tool to solidify military alliances. 326 Athenaesus’ depiction of Philip idealizes the notion of celibacy amongst soldiers on military campaigns. 327 In stark contrast to the strict and disciplined regimen of Greek soldiers, Persian commanders and soldiers are depicted as freely engaging in sex acts while on military campaigns
Philip’s army is depicted as embodying a distinctive concept of military discipline that was fundamentally different from the Persian army. Polyaenus emphasizes this point in his description of Philip’s treatment of two of his top general who were unable to follow his strict disciplinary regime. According to Polyaenus, when two of his generals brought a woman into the military camps, Philip not only banished them from the army but from his entire kingdom:
“Aeropus and Damasippus had taken from the stews a singing woman, and introduced her into the camp, he (Philip) banished both of them (from) the kingdom.” 328
325 Athenaeus, Deipn . 557b. All translations of Athenaeus’ The Deipnosophists follow the translation in The Deipnosophists , trans. Charles Burton Gulick LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980). 326 Athenaeus, Deipn . 557b. 327 This issue will be explored further below. 328 Polyaenus, Stra. 4.2.3. 127 According to Arrian, Alexander followed many of the same practices as his father before him and instituted a strict program of discipline for his soldiers. Upon inheriting his father’s position, Alexander is said to have followed a similar policy at the start of his campaign to Asia and mandated that married soldiers be sent back to Macedon. Among the key components of this program involved the absence of women while on military campaigns. 329
Philip and Alexander are commonly represented as exemplars of military discipline with both Greek and Roman historians arguing that the best military commanders were distinguished by their efforts to develop and institute rigid and complex programs of discipline for their soldiers. Historians also indicate that these programs of discipline involved the implementation of social controls that shaped and regulated soldiers’ behavior and interactions with women and civilians. In the case of Athenaesus, he specifically references the fact that Philip broke with existing military traditions and instituted social controls, such as a prohibition against women in military camps, that strictly regulated soldiers and commanders’ behavior.
The development and use of siege-craft technologies created a need for these complex disciplinary regimes with military commanders in dire need of highly skilled soldiers with the requisite training to understand the complex logistics of battlefield technologies. Confirming this point, Sara Phang hypothesizes that the growing use of siege-craft technologies created the need for rigorous programs of physical and social discipline as soldiers now needed “greater technical expertise and accelerated the professionalization of military personnel.” 330 Philip’s rigorous
329 Arrian, Anab. 1.24.1. All translations of Arrian’s Anabasis follow the translation in Arrian , Anabasis of Alexander , trans. P.A. Brunt LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1976). 330 Sara Elise Phang, Roman Military Service: Ideologies of Discipline in the Late Republic and Early Principate (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 23. 128 programs of discipline allowed him to fill his army with highly skilled professional soldiers that gained the difficult and challenging technical expertise necessary to overtake fortified cities.
Although the concept of a professional army was not new, the fourth century ushered in complex and dynamic disciplinary regimes that trained soldiers in sophisticated technologies. Put simply, by the fourth century, being a soldier required advanced training and specialization. In the end, complex programs of social and physical discipline accelerated the process of professionalization in the military as specialization, logistics, and generalship supplanted the importance and role of individualized physical combat.
With the professionalization of the Greek military, army officers needed manuals and guidebooks that explored and codified these organizational strategies and practices. Military manuals provided the ideal mechanism for the development and distribution of these new strategies and technologies. Some of the best-known examples include Xenophon’s Calvary
Commander and On Horsemanship , Aeneas Tacticus’ Siegecraft , Polybius’ Histories ,331
Demetrius of Phalerum’s Stratagems , Posidonius’ Tactics , Athenaeus’ On Machines ,
Asclepiodotus’ Tactics , Arrian’s Tactics , and Aelian’s Manual of Hellenistic Military Tactics,
Onasander’s The General , Frontinus’ Stratagems , Xenophon’s The Calvary Commander ,
Polyaenus’ Stratagems , and Flavius Vegetius Renatus’ Epitome of Roman Military Science .
Written sometime during the fourth century BCE to fourth century CE, each manual presents a basic how-to-guide on the proper way to prepare soldiers for battle and conduct
331 Specifically Book 6. 129 military campaigns. 332 Manuals are much different from official military regulations in that they do not represent an official military record. Rather they present an idealized portrait of military life and organization. These idealized representations of military discipline are not depicting a reality that ever existed, but they are promoting certain conceptions about what the military should be. In practice, things might have operated differently within military organizations.
However, manuals offer a window into common ideals about military life and discipline that circulated among ancient communities.
Xenophon and Aeneas Tacticus’ manuals present some of the earliest examples of this newly emerging literary genre. Whereas Thucydides used the Peloponnesian War as a mechanism to teach certain lessons about warfare, Xenophon and Aeneas Tacticus offer step-by- step guides to professionalization and specialization in military organization and technologies.
Their work indicates that by the fourth century the genre was widely known and well established in literary circles.
As a distinct type of writing, manuals are similar to philosophical treatises in that they offer moral arguments about the best course of action and way of living in military camps. These analogies might be the result of manuals’ dependency on philosophical sources, such as Plato and Dionysodorus. Aelian for example argues that Plato’s work influenced his own understanding of military science:
“That the science here discussed excels all others in utility, any one may judge; even
from what Plato says in his book de legibus ; that the Cretan legislator prescribed laws to
332 Conor Whately, “The Genre and Purpose of Military Manuals in Late Antiquity,” in Shifting Genres in Late Antiquity , ed. Hugh Elton and Geoffrey Greatrex (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd., 2015), 249–62. 130 men, on the supposition that they were ever prepared for hostilities; for that by nature all
cities waged a concealed and unavowed war against each other; and if this be the case,
what science can be deemed superior to that of Tactics.” 333
Citing Plato, Aelian indicates that his own work was indebted to Greek philosophy. Like Aelian,
Xenophon argues that Greek philosophers often advised political leaders on military science with the philosopher Dionysodorus coming to Athens to teach military science to political leaders:
“He once heard that Dionysodorus had arrived at Athens, and gave out that he was going to teach generalship.” 334
Xenophon and Aelian indicate that their theoretical conceptions of humanity’s nature and purpose shaped their own understanding of military science and suggest that military manuals was influenced by and even developed out of the philosophical treatise. Confirming this point,
Phang argues that military manuals were greatly influenced by sophists, because “the sophists were the first to teach tactics and weaponry drills, and although critics accused them of rhetorical and abstract teaching methods, their educational ideals promoted the acquisition and propagation of specialized knowledge.” 335 As Phang explains, military manuals were intended to serve as a mechanism for the specialization and advancement in much the same way as philosophical treatises were intended to provide advanced training to men.
333 Aelian, Tac. iii. All translations of Aelian’s Tactics follow the translation in The Tactics of Aelian, trans. Viscount Dillon (London: Cox and Baylis, 1814). 334 Xenophon. Mem . 3.1.1. 335 Sara E. Phang, Iain Spence, and Douglas Kelly, Conflict in Ancient Greece and Rome: The Definitive Political, Social, and Military Encyclopedia: The Definitive Political, Social, and Military Encyclopedia (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2016), 561. 131 Robert Gaebel explains that manuals achieved this end by determining general principles that could steer human behavior in battle. According to Gaebel, military professionalization was not achieved through “slavish imitation of borrowed tactics” but “the foundation lay in general principles, which in turn found expression in tactics that were based on contemporary fighting styles and technology.” 336 Conceptual levels of military thinking followed that of philosophical treatises with authors debating the merits of certain principles of behavior and thinking.
Xenophon emphasizes this point in his work The Calvary Commander, arguing for the necessity of commanders “to hit on the right thing at the right moment, to think in the present situation, and to carry out what is expedient in view of it.” 337
These early trends in Greek military manuals continued during the Roman period. For example, Onasander’s The General , which is dated to the first century CE, is written like a philosophical treatise with Onasander self-defining his manual as an attempt to determine the distinguishing precepts of wisdom: “For this reason, if what I have composed would seem to have been already devised by many others, even then I should be pleased, because I have not only compiled precepts of generalship, but have also endeavored to get at the art of the general and the wisdom that inheres in the precepts.” 338 Moreover, Onasander argues that he was trained in the art of writing philosophical treatises and composed military manuals alongside his other works.
336 Robert E. Gaebel, Cavalry Operations in the Ancient Greek World (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2004), 307. 337 Xenophon, Cav. 9.1. 338 Onasander, Gen. Prooemium.3. All translations of Onasander’s The General follow the translation in Aeneas Tacticus, Asclepiodotus, Onasander, trans. Illinois Greek Club LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986). 132 Similarly, Frontinus’ Stratagems and Polyaenus’ Stratagems argue that they are analyzing great military generals and infamous military campaigns to determine the principle causes of a general’s successes in battle. Polyaenus for example argues that Philip was a great general, because he was able to use humor and buffoonery to ease soldiers’ demands. For example, Polyaenus argues that when he was unable to pay his soldiers, he jumped into a pool
“amusing himself in the water, till the soldiers were tired out with the neglect he paid to their remonstrance, and went away.” 339 Polyaenus uses this historical example as evidence that humor and a good rapport with soldiers were essential characteristics of a good military commander.
Written in the fourth century CE, Flavius Vegetius Renatus’ Epitome of Roman Military
Science exhibits these same themes and is constituted by a compilation of material from older sources with Vegetius trying to recover information about military science from the distant past.
As Brian Campbell explains, Vegetius’ attempt to collect the military practices of the past represents an attempt to reject Diocletian and Constantine’s changes in military life and discipline. 340 Vegetius confirms this point in the preface to book one: “My design in this treatise is to exhibit in some order the peculiar customs and usages of the ancients in the choice and discipline of their new levies.” 341 Although written centuries after the historical period in question, his work is relevant for this discussion, because Vegetius consciously tries to collect and preserve military practices and strategies from earlier periods in Rome’s history.
339 Polyaenus, Stra. 4.2.6. 340 Brian Campbell, “Teach Yourself How to Be a General,” The Journal of Roman Studies 77 (1987): 17. 341 Vegetius, Mil. Preface. All translations of Vegetius’ Epitome of Military Science follow translations in Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science , trans. N.P. Milner (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1986). 133 The importance of preserving and collecting military practices of the past is a common theme in military manuals. Like Vegetius, Onasander confirms that his manual looks back to the past in an effort to compile the best practices of the past: “I consider it necessary to say in advance, about the military principles collected in this book, that they have all been derived from experience of actual deeds, and, in fact, of exploits performed by those men from whom has been derived the whole primacy of the Romans, in race and valor, down to the present time.” 342 For
Onasander, the best military manual is one which attempts to collect, analyze, and build upon the best practices of the past.
In the case of Polybius, his manual looks back to the past in an attempt to demonstrate that the Roman military was the successor to the great Greek armies of the past. In the case of the
Roman legion, Polybius argues that it succeeded the military effectiveness of the Greek phalanx:
“So it is easy to see that, as I said at the beginning, nothing can withstand the charge of
the phalanx as long as it preserves its characteristic formation and for what then is the
reason of the Roman success, and what is it that defeats the purpose of those who use the
phalanx? It is because in war the time and place of action is uncertain and the phalanx has
only one time and one place in which it can perform its peculiar service.” 343
Polybius demonstrates that there was some interaction and exchange between Greek and Roman military traditions with Roman authors defining the effectiveness of Roman military tactics in
342 Onasander , Gen. Proemium.7. 343 Polybius. Hist. 18.30-31. All translations of Polybius’ Histories follow the translation in Polybius , The Histories, Volume V: Books 16-27 , trans. W.R. Patton, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2012). 134 relationship to ancient Greek military tactics with the Roman military represented as the inheritor of the Greek military tradition.
The idealization of ancient Greek military customs is a common theme in Roman military manuals. For example, Frontinus argues that Philip’s strenuous and exhausting disciplinary regimens for his soldiers enabled his army to destroy armies, such as the Athenians: “Philip purposely prolonged the engagement, mindful that his own soldiers were seasoned by long experience, while the Athenians were ardent but untrained, and impetuous only in the charge.
Then, as the Athenians began to grow weary, Philip attacked more furiously and cut them down.” 344 Writing in the first century CE, Frontinus recounts the practices of ancient Greek military leaders and armies to represent Philip and Alexander as examples to which Roman military commanders should aspire to emulate.
Following this pattern, Aelian’s manual attempts to compile a list of the best practices and organizational strategies of Greek armies. Writing in the second century CE, Aelian dedicates his manual to the Roman emperor Trajan in hopes that the emperor will learn from the best practices of ancient Greek armies. While he admits that he “felt some apprehension at the thoughts of writing on this branch of the military art, as practiced by the Greeks, which some might deem obsolete, in consequence of the alterations which your countrymen have confessedly made in it.”345 Aelian admits that Frontinus’ effort to collect the practices of Greek armies
344 Frontinus, Stra . 2.1.9. All translations of Frontinus’ Stratagems Aqueducts of Rome follow the translations in Frontinus’ Stratagems Aqueducts of Rome , trans. Charles E. Bennett and Mary B. McElwain, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1925). 345 Aelian, Tac. lii. 135 inspired him to take up this project since “Frontinus would not have studied the Grecian tactics so closely, if he conceived them to be so much inferior to those adopted by the Romans.” 346
With Roman military manuals indebted to the practices and traditions of their predecessors, Roman authors legitimate and authorize their own manuals with the claim that they are preserving the best practices and organizational strategies of ancient Greek armies. Despite some basic literary and historical differences between Greek and Roman manuals, they are all chiefly concerned with establishing a generalized set of best practices and attempt to represent a past ideal to which armies and commanders should aspire to. Rather than depict the actual operations of an army in practice, manuals attempt to construct different conceptions of what a military community could and should be.
The chief ideal which the authors structure their manuals around includes a certain configuration of masculinity. As Phang explains, the entire purpose of a military community was to “inculcate a masculine habitus into soldiers, both through sexual propriety and the avoidance of effeminacy, and to a greater degree through a general disposition of the body and mind.” 347
Put simply, military manuals sought to create communities that inculcated recruits into an elite configuration of masculinity that promoted certain behaviors.
This configuration of masculinity cultivated a disciplined disposition of the body and mind through the practice of sexual propriety and even abstinence as well as the avoidance of anything that denoted effeminacy. Manuals indicate that militaries cultivated and reproduced these behaviors by restricting soldiers’ access to three distinctive civilian institutions. These
346 Aelian, Tac. lii. 347 Phang, Roman Military Service , 8. 136 include family, wealth, and marriage with specific regulations. These regulations are loosely grouped under four umbrella categories: leadership, admission, wealth, and marriage. In the section below, these four regulations will be explored in detail.
3.2 Military Masculinity
3.2.1 Regulations on Leadership
Manuals promote the idea of a hierarchical organizational structure for military institutions. While Greek and Roman writers differ as to whether the Greek phalanx or Roman legion represents the ideal system of battlefield organizations, manuals tend to assume that every army must operate according to a hierarchical chain of command in which commanding officers scrutinize and examine every recruit and his exchanges and interactions with those within and outside of the camps. Absolute control and a strong system of social surveillance are the constitutive elements of military leadership.
For example, Vegetius argues that officers were the chief structuring agent of the Roman legion’s hierarchical chain of command. The tribune was situated at the helm of the legion and was appointed by a council. 348 Vegetius claims that the tribune’s appointment could be traced back to the very foundation of Rome itself: “The tribunes are so called from their command over the soldiers, who were at first levied by Romulus out of the different tribes.” 349 Polybius argues that it was the chief responsibility of the tribunes to “collect the newly-enrolled soldiers” with the military unit dependent upon their close scrutiny of the selection process. 350
Beneath the tribune were a collection of officers appointed for specific duties in the camps. These include the eagle-bearers who were responsible for carrying and protecting the
348 Vegetius, Mil. 2.5. 349 Vegetius, Mil. 2.5. 350 Polybius, Hist . 6.21.1-2. 137 Roman standard in battle and the Draconarii commonly called the ensign-bearers who were responsible for carrying the ensigns. 351 Among the most prominent officers included the camp prefect who was responsible for the selection, surveillance, and education of soldiers. The camp prefect is described as mandated with the responsibility for caring for all of soldiers’ needs and expenses: “His authority extended over the sick, and the physicians who had the care of them; and he regulated the expenses.” 352 The camp prefect is depicted as caring for the financial and emotional needs of soldiers with the prefect’s authority extended over every soldier in the camp.
Like the Roman legion, the Greek phalanx is arranged according to a distinctive chain of command. Asclepiodotus offers a detailed description of it:
“Two battalions are called a regiment, and its commander a colonel, and two regiments a
brigade, and its commander a brigadier-general, and two brigades were formerly called a
wing and a complement, and its leader a complement-commander, but later it was called
a division, and its leader a division-commander; two divisions, consequently, are even yet
called a corps, as well as a half-wing, and its commander, formerly a general, is now a
corps-commander; when the corps or half-wing is doubled it is a double-corps and wing,
and its commander a wing-commander; and, finally, the union of the two wings is called
the phalanx, under the command of the general.” 353
The phalanx is arranged according to a hierarchical divide between officers and soldiers. Every category of organization that composes the phalanx is marked by the position of a specific set of officers. As in the case of the Roman legion, Aelian confirms that their chief duty was to select,
351 Vegetius, Mil. 2.5. 352 Vegetius, Mil. 2.5. 353 Asclepiodotus, Tac . 2.10. 138 scrutinize, and train soldiers: “It is first the duty of a commander, to make a selection of men out of the general levy, and to appoint each to his proper place.” 354
Whether in Roman or Greek armies, a system of ranked orders structures military life and discipline with the divide between officers and soldiers delineated by an officer’s command of military organization and battlefield skills. Onasander argues that the determining marker of status for military officers was their “good reputation.” 355 He goes on to argue that a military officer must embody a perfect balance of physical vigor and intelligence:
The ideal lies between the two, for physical vigor is found in the man who has not yet
grown old, and discretion in the man who is not too young. Those who value physical
strength without discretion, or discretion without physical strength, have failed to
accomplish anything. For a weak mind can contribute no valuable ideas, nor can strength
unsupported bring to completion any activity.” 356
Officers are judged and evaluated according to their physical and intellectual abilities. In addition to their physical and intellectual abilities, officers must have great personalities and be well liked since as Onasander confirms, “No one voluntarily submits to a leader or an officer who is an inferior man to himself.” 357
Xenophon offers a similar representation of the distinguishing characteristics of an officer. However, unlike Onasander, Xenophon argues that wealth is an important factor in evaluating men fit to be cavalry commanders: “As for the men, you must obviously raise them as
354 Aelian, Tac. 3. 355 Onasander, Gen . 1.17. 356 Onasander, Gen. 1.10. 357 Onasander, Gen . 1.17. 139 required by the law, from among those who are most highly qualified by wealth and bodily vigor, either by obtaining an order of the court or by the use of persuasion.” 358 Xenophon argues that commanders for cavalry units should be chosen on the basis of their physical bodily characteristics and wealth. Moreover, he claims that a council of elected officials can force men to become cavalry commanders by court order or through the use of persuasion, getting men to voluntarily agree to become leaders.
Xenophon routinely stresses the importance of this council of elected judges, arguing that this council of judges must assist military leaders in their decisions and activities: “For ensuring efficiency in all these matters the cavalry commander, as a matter of course, is the principal authority. But, at the same time, the state thinks it difficult for the cavalry commander to carry out all these duties single-handed; therefore, it also elects colonels of regiments to assist him; and it has charged the council with the duty of taking a share in the management of the cavalry.” 359 This council of democratically appointed judges is the chief mechanism for structuring the military’s chain of command, appointing commanders and colonels to assist commanders.
In Onasander’s depiction of the Roman legion, he argues that Roman generals should follow a similar procedure and work in conjunction with an advisory council: “The general should either choose a staff to participate in all his councils and share in his decisions, men who will accompany the army especially for this purpose, or summon as members of his council a selected group of the most respected commanders.” 360 This representation of military leadership
358 Xenophon , Cav . 1.9. 359 Xenophon, Cav. 1.7-8. 360 Onasander, Gen. 3.1. 140 emphasizes the importance of a system of democratic decision-making process in which military leaders are assisted by a council of judges who help commanders make important decisions.
Livy also emphasizes the importance of a democratically orientated leadership structure.
In his description of Lucius Marcius’ military career, he argues that Marcius always encouraged and gave his soldiers the right to democratically elect him into military office:
“But so transcendent was the Roman knight (Lucius Marcius) in authority and honor
among the troops, that when, after fortifying a camp on this side of the Iberus, it had been
resolved that a general of the two armies should be elected in an assembly of the soldiers,
relieving each other in the guard of the rampart, and in keeping the outposts until
everyone had given his vote, they unanimously conferred the supreme command upon
Lucius Marcius.” 361
This depiction of military life and discipline indicates that a chief characteristic of great military leaders was their commitment to democratically orientated decision-making with officers represented as allowing their own soldiers to evaluate their careers. In the case of Lucius
Marcius, Livy makes clear that his commitment to democracy was an indication of his “mind and genius.” 362
The idea that a lifelong commitment to military discipline was the chief indicator of a great military officer’s status is a common theme in military manuals with authors repeatedly emphasizing the importance of strict training regimens in the lives of soldiers. As Claude Nicolet
361 Livy, 25.37.5-6. All translations of Livy’s History of Rome follow translations in Livy: History of Rome Vol. VI: Books 23-25 , trans. Frank Gardner Moore LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,1940) 362 Livy, 25.37.3. 141 explains, the idea that great soldiers voluntarily decided to undergo intense periods of physical training acted to “exalt the soldier’s devotion and courage.” 363 With military personnel voluntarily undertaking their tasks and choosing their leadership systems, manuals represent the relationship shared between officers and soldiers as one constituted by “natural love” and “trust.”
According to Onasander, soldiers must love and trust their commanders so that they will be quick to obey their commands in the midst of a difficult battle: “For if men have a spontaneous and natural love for their general, they are quick to obey his commands, they do not distrust him, and they cooperate with him in case of danger.” 364
Vegetius offers a similar representation of the relationship shared between Roman military officers and soldiers in the camps, arguing “it is the duty of every officer of the legion, of the tribunes, and even of the commander-in-chief himself, to take care that the sick soldiers are supplied with proper diet and diligently attended by the physicians.” 365 Entrusted with the responsibility of caring for soldiers’ basic needs, manuals depict officers as acting in much the same way as a father cares for his children with officers dedicating themselves to the well-being and care of their soldiers.
Onasander for example compares the role of a military officer to that of a physician: “For the physicians with their medicines care only for the wounded, whereas the eloquent general not only heartens the disabled but also sets the well on their feet again.” 366 He takes this comparison a step further and argues that officers must operate in much the same way as a father. In his
363 Claude Nicolet, The World of the Citizen in Republican Rome (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 106. 364 Onasander, Gen. 1.11. 365 Vegetius, Mil. 3.2. 366 Onasander, Gen . 1.13. 142 words, the ideal officer is one who is “a powerful and keen incentive to a father, capable of arousing his heart against the foe.” 367
These regulations on leadership render military officers into father-like figures who are responsible for training, educating, and scrutinizing soldiers. Moreover, this representation is constituted by a certain displacement of civilian marks of masculine status. Manuals idealize the fact that family, nobility, and wealth play little to no role in the selection of military leadership.
Even Xenophon argues that wealth alone cannot determine a cavalry commander’s status but emphasizes that a man’s physical and intellectual capacities must be at the forefront of the selection process.
In addition to rejecting wealth and family as markers of status, manuals also emphasize the democratically orientated nature of leadership structures. While the military is constituted by a hierarchical arrangement of power, soldiers are represented as voluntarily submitting to this system of rank. This representation of the leadership structure emphasizes that voluntarism is the hallmark of military life.
These regulations ultimately usher in a distinctive concept of what constitutes male leadership. In crafting this representation of male authority, they depict family, marriage, and wealth as irrelevant and even compromising a man’s commitment to his responsibilities and relationships to his fellow soldiers. Manuals emphasize that a man’s commitment to integrity, virtue, and discipline are the only markers of an officer’s status and authority in the camps.
367 Onasander. Gen. 1.12. 143 3.2.2 Regulations on Admission
The second distinctive set of regulations encompasses the procedures by which soldiers are admitted into the military. While each manual offers a different representation of the ideal admission procedure, each representation attempts to institute a fixed separation between recruits and their relational commitments to civilian institutions. Moreover, manuals achieve this goal through a step-by-step process of hierarchical observation, normalizing judgment, and examination.
This process of examination would begin with a recruit’s self-examination. A letter from a soldier named Aurelius Archelaus to a tribune named Julius Domitius indicates that a recruit’s official application of interest might involve letters of recommendation with friends testifying on behalf of a recruit: “I have already on previous occasion recommended my friend Theon to you, and now too, sir, I beg you to hold your eyes on him as if he were me, for he is just the sort of man you like. He left his family and his property and business and followed me, and in every way has kept me free from worry, and so I beg you to grant him access to you.” 368 As this example demonstrates, Archelaus testifies on behalf of Theon imploring the military tribune to admit Theon into his army unit.
Confirming the crucial importance of recommendations in the enlistment process,
Vegetius argues that recruits must be able to subject themselves to self-scrutiny and demonstrate that they are “unexceptionable in their manners.” 369 He argues that recommendations are an important process of determining the worth of candidates since “such sentiments as may be
368 P. Oxy. I.32. For text and translation See George Ronald Watson, The Roman Soldier (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1969), 38, 167 n. 74. 369 Vegetius, Mil. 1.6. 144 expected in these men will make good soldiers. A sense of honor, by preventing them from behaving ill, will make them victorious.” 370 Recommendations were an important component of an admission procedure that offered commanders the assurance that recruits will not behave badly and disobey orders from commanding officers.
When evaluating recruits, Vegetius claims that armies used certain criteria to evaluate the worth of recruits. First, the legal status of the applicant needed to be verified. According to
Vegetius, this legal verification included assessing the recruit’s physical attributes: “Those employed to superintend new levies should be particularly careful in examining the features of their faces, their eyes, and the make of their limbs.” 371 Each recruit underwent a physical examination whereby a recruit’s body, size, and age was evaluated by commanding officers.
Emphasizing the importance of scrutinizing a recruit’s age, Aelian argues that successful generals should not permit “any to serve who were too young to bear the fatigues of war, nor whose age rendered them weak and needy.” 372 Vegetius also emphasizes that commanding officers needed to determine that the recruit was at the age of puberty since “the proper time for enlisting youth into the army is at their entrance into the age of puberty.” 373
Manuals argue that this physical examination of the recruit’s body was a crucial component of the admission process since it assured that recruits had the requisite skills and abilities to successfully complete the military’s intense training routines. Aelian emphasizes that
Hadrian always made sure that “his soldiers” were “in such perfect exercise as if war was
370 Vegetius, Mil. 1.6. 371 Vegetius, Mil. 1.6. 372 Aelian, Ep. 4. All Translations of Aelian’s Epistle follow the translation in The Tactics of Aelian , trans. Viscount Dillon (London: Cox and Baylis, 1814). 373 Vegetius, Mil. 1.3. 145 immediately expected.” 374 Vegetius claims that officers must carefully examine the bodies of soldiers to determine “whether he has the sufficient activity and strength necessary to fulfill the military way of life.” 375
Xenophon emphasizes that even horses selected for military purposes needed to be carefully examined before admission into the military and stressed that any horse which resists exercise should be rejected immediately: “Again, it would be well to give notice that horses found kicking at exercise will be rejected. For it is impossible even to keep such animals in line; in a charge against an enemy they are bound to lag behind, and the consequence is, that through the bad behavior of his horse, the man himself becomes useless.” 376 According to Xenophon, even horses needed to demonstrate that they had the requisite physical ability to successfully complete the military’s intense training program.
Along with this physical scrutiny of a recruit’s bodily attributes, manuals stress that commanding officers needed to scrutinize the regional and socioeconomic backgrounds of recruits. Vegetius warns the reader to remember that that “it is certain that every country produces both brave men and cowards” and advises that the best recruits are peasants from the country who are most suited to the hard physical labor that the military requires: “No one, I imagine, can doubt that the peasants are the most fit to carry arms for they from their infancy have been exposed to all kinds of weather and have been brought up to the hardest labor.” 377
374 Aelian, Ep. 4. 375 Vegetius, Mil. 1.7. 376 Xenophon, Cav. 1.15. 377 Vegetius, Mil . 1.2. 146 Accustomed to hard labor and content with little, poor people from the country were deemed the most ideal candidates.
Rejecting wealthy urban settings as an appropriate source for recruits, Vegetius argues that recruits raised in wealthy and urban settings were unfit for military service, because they were exposed to “pleasures and luxuries that enervated their moral standards.” 378 Whereas poverty may have served as a marker of one’s inferior status in civilian society, Vegetius argues that in the military poverty made one a more valiant fighting force. Reinforcing this point, he concludes his passage on admission procedures by arguing “it is certain that the less a man is acquainted with the sweets of life, the less reason he has to be afraid of death.” 379
Similarly, Onasander confirms that no recruit should be judged and ranked according to his wealth. Rather than determine a person’s worth according to his noble family or wealth, he argues that recruits should be evaluated and judged on the basis of their ability to be “temperate, self-restrained, vigilant, frugal, hardened to labor, and alert, free from avarice.” 380 Onasander argues that recruits should be evaluated solely on the basis of their capacity for hard work and discipline.
This repudiation of traditional markers of status, like wealth, in the examination process is further reinforced in manuals’ castigation of certain trades. In Onasander’s case, he claims that a military commander should prohibit anyone who has worked in a trade that deals in money, such as a usurer, trader, or merchant, from joining the military, because “these men must have petty minds excited over gain and worried about the means of getting money, they have acquired
378 Vegetius, Mil. 1.2. 379 Vegetius, Mil. 1.2. 380 Onasander, Gen. 1.1. 147 absolutely none of the noble habits of a general.” 381 While merchants and traders were not members of the upper class, Onasander’s reference to usury entangles the patrician class in his castigation of particular trades. Since the patrician class engaged in usurer and offered the lower classes an opportunity to take loans, his repudiation of usurer seems to allude to the behavior of
Rome’s upper classes. Thus, in his castigation of usury, Onasander might also be rejecting the idea that sons from wealthy families should enter the military.
Whereas Onasander castigates trades that deal in money, Vegetius argues that men who work in trades in which women participate are unfit to serve in the military. As he explains, “In choosing recruits regard should be given to their trade. Fishermen, fowlers, confectioners, weavers, and in general all whose professions more properly belong to women should, in my opinion, by no means be admitted into the service.”382 Because fishermen worked alongside women, Vegetius argues that fishery and other trades like it produced men that were unfit for military service.
Rejecting these trades, he argues that trades in which men kill and slaughter animals and make and build objects are the most suitable for military service: “On the contrary, smiths, carpenters, butchers, and huntsmen are the most proper to be taken into it.” 383 With carpentry and butchery involving few if any women, Vegetius explains that these male dominated trades produce men who are fit for military service.
After undergoing this process of physical and moral scrutiny, recruits would then be asked to take the military oath. The oath required an affirmation of the recruit’s loyalty to his
381 Onasander, Gen. 1.19. 382 Vegetius, Mil. 1.6. 383 Vegetius, Mil. 1.6. 148 commanding officers and the regulations of the military camp. Dionysius depicts the military oath taken by Roman soldiers as requiring soldiers to “swear that they would follow the consuls in any wars to which they should be called and would neither desert the standards nor do anything else contrary to law, and since he had assumed the consular power.” 384 Livy argues that up until the year 216 BCE, Roman soldiers exchanged “a voluntary pledge among themselves, the cavalrymen in their decuries and the infantry in their centuries that they would not abandon their ranks for flight or fear.” 385 This voluntary agreement was replaced by a legally binding oath
(sacramentum ) which would be administered by tribunes. 386
Similarly, Vegetius argues that along with the oath, soldiers would receive a military mark on their hands and enroll their names in the roll of their assigned legion. 387 He claims that this written record of soldiers’ registration was kept “with greater exactness than the regulations of provisions or other civil matters in the registers of the police.” 388
In the case of Greek armies, Aelian argues that military oaths emphasized the importance of obeying the laws of the camp. As he explains, oaths required recruits to swear that “they
(soldiers) will not steal anything from the camp: and even if they find anything that they will bring it to the tribunes.” 389 Polybius claims that Ptolemaic armies followed a similar pattern,
384 Dionysius, Hal . 10.18.2; 21.43; See also Servius, Ad Aen. 8.6.14; Isidore, Etym. 9.3.53. 385 Livy, 22.38.1-5 All translations of Livy’s History of Rome from book 22 follow the translation in Livy: The History of Rome, Volume V: Books 21-22 , trans. Viscount Dillon (London: Cox and Baylis, 1814). 386 Vegetius, Mil . 2.4. Vegetius offers a similar representation of the oath. 387 Vegetius, Mil . 2.5: “The military mark, which is indelible, is first imprinted on the hands of the new levies, and as their names are inserted in the roll of the legions they take the usual oath, called the military oath.” 388 Vegetius, Mil. 2.12. 389 Aelian, Tac . 3. 149 requiring soldiers to swear an oath upon the ascension of a new ruler. 390 The Seleucids also required soldiers to take an oath to both the King and the Greek pantheon of god.
For example, a decree of Smyrna on the treaty with the inhabitants of Magnesia near
Mount Sipylus claims that the armies of Magnesia were required to take an oath of fidelity to both King Seleucus and the pantheon of gods: “The settlers at Magnesia, the cavalry, and the infantry in the city and the soldiers in the camp and the others who are entered in the citizen body shall swear the following oath: ‘I swear by Zeus, the Earth, the Sun, Ares, Athena Areia, the Tauropolos, the Sipylene Mother, Apollo at Panda, all the other gods and goddesses, and the
Fortune (Tyche) of King Seleucus (II).” 391 In Seleucid armies, the military oaths signaled the union of political and religious power, and soldiers were required to swear an oath every time a new leader took the throne.
Despite subtle differences between each oath taking procedure, Greek and Roman manuals generally require recruits to take an oath of fidelity to their commanding officers. Upon taking this oath, soldiers agreed to abide by the rules of the camp and the orders of commanding officers. Xenophon emphasizes this point and claims that upon the oath, officers must ensure that recruits remain obedient and carry out their commands: “You must contrive to make the men obedient: otherwise neither good horses nor a firm seat nor fine armor are of any use.” 392 This
390 Polybius, Hist. 15.25a.1: “The latter, after depositing the urns in the royal vaults, ordered the public mourning to cease, and as a first step granted two months' pay to the troops, feeling sure of taking the edge off their hatred by appealing to the soldiers' spirit of avarice, and in the next place imposed on them the oath they were accustomed to take on the proclamation of a new king.” 391 Staatsverträge 492. This translation follows the translation in Historical Sources in Translations: The Hellenistic Period , trans. R.S. Bagnall and P. Derow (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). 392 Xenophon, Cav. 1.7. 150 commitment carried with it certain legal implications. If a soldier deserted, stole, or disobeyed an order, manuals make clear that the punishment must be swift and severe. As Vegetius explains, punishments must be severe since mistakes and misconduct in war have fatal consequences:
“Misconduct in the common affairs of life may be retrieved, but that it is quite otherwise in war, where errors are fatal and without remedy, and are followed by immediate punishment.” 393
However, recruits were not necessarily expected to remain completely loyal and faithful within the first year of service. Manuals typically argue that recruits must enter a one-year probationary period upon taking the oath of service. Vegetius claims that it is for this reason that soldiers should wait a year before officially entering service: “He must first be tried if fit for service; whether he has sufficient activity and strength; if he has capacity to learn his duty; and whether he has the proper degree of military courage. For many, though promising enough in appearance, are found very unfit upon trial.” 394 If the recruit lapsed on his commitment within this first year, allowances were made. Rather than ban the recruit or physically punish him, typically recruits within this first probationary period were given the opportunity to reaffirm their commitment and undergo further training. 395
Within this probationary period, recruits would undergo rigorous physical and moral training. Initial training consisted of teaching soldiers how to march continuously for distances up to twenty miles. 396 As explained briefly above, Polyaenus argues that Philip made his recruits march continuously for over 34 miles and is what ultimately allowed him to easily defeat the
393 Vegetius, Mil. 1.12. 394 Vegetius, Mil. 1.7. 395 Vegetius, Mil. 1.7. 396 Vegetius, Mil. 1.8: “They should march with the common military step twenty miles in five summer-hours, and with the full step, which is quicker, twenty-four miles in the same number of hours.” 151 Athenians: “Philip, at Chaeroneia, knowing the Athenians were impetuous and inexperienced, and the Macedonians inured to fatigues and exercise, contrived to prolong the action: and reserving his principal attack to the latter end of the engagement, the enemy weak and exhausted were unable to sustain the charge.” 397
Manuals make clear that physical exercise was of paramount importance with an army’s success dependent upon soldiers’ ability to endure rigorous exercise. Xenophon also claims that physical discipline makes men obedient to authority: “To make the men who are under your command obedient, it is important to impress on them by word of mouth the many advantages of obedience to authority, and no less important to see that good discipline brings gain and insubordination loss in every respect.” 398
In addition to physical exercise and discipline, soldiers would also be taught skills such as swimming and leaping. 399 Drills are depicted as a key component of this initial training period with recruits learning how to maintain formations and learn basic fighting skills, such as how to thrust a sword effectively into the body of an enemy. According to Onasander, learning the formation was the most immediate and most important drill that recruits needed to learn since they must “become accustomed to remaining in rank, to keeping to their own companies, and to following their own leaders.” 400
Aelian also emphasizes the importance of drills and argues that they help soldiers prepare for the mental and intellectual demands of warfare. As he explains, “Beside the physical
397 Polyaenus. Stra. 4.2.7. 398 Xenophon. Cav. 1.24. 399 Vegetius, Mil. 1.9-10. 400 Onasander . Gen . 5.1. 152 strength, the moral power of the army was attended to with the greatest precision. The qualities of the mind were calculated, and each man ranked according to his courage and military skill.” 401
Onasander also emphasizes that it is for this reason that no one with a weak mind can enter the military since “a weak mind can contribute no valuable ideas.” 402 Training thus needed to include drills that tested soldiers’ mental and physical endurance.
Manuals claim that officers were responsible for carefully carrying out this whole training and education process with one to two selected officers empowered with the task. Aelian claims that it was always the duty of the commander of a unit to carry out and oversee the selection and initiation of recruits, describing the process as a “science” and “art” in which a
“commander takes a given number of men and teaches them all things useful in the service.” 403
As the recruit transitions into the community, the recruit voluntarily submits himself to his commanding officers who in turn orchestrate his entrance into the community.
Like the regulations on leadership, the initiation and admission procedure cultivated a clear line of separation between soldiers and civilians. Unlike civilians who were expected to obey their relational commitments to their fathers, soldiers bore no such responsibilities to their family members but were expected to enter into a new community that remained separated from civilian society. In the case of Roman armies, manuals emphasis a father’s loss of authority over his son, arguing that the paternal head of the family was never allowed to disinherit a son who
401 Aelian, Tac. 3. 402 Onasander, Gen. 1.10. 403 Aelian, Tac. 3. 153 was serving in the military. 404 The idea that the military offered a new concept of family and community is routinely emphasized in manuals.
As Joseph Marchal explains, in the Greco-Roman world, the idea of brotherhood and fraternal partnerships was directly tied to military activities. 405 For example in Homeric literature the most notable examples of fraternal partnerships include friendships linked by their military roles, such as Achilles and Patroclus. Similarly, Alexander and Hephaestion’s beloved friendship is tried to their military roles with Alexander being described as deeply grieved by the loss of his friend in Babylon and pursuing the conquest of the entire country in response to his grief. 406 As this example illustrate, fraternal l friendship was identified by Greek authors as the hallmark of military activities. 407
Building upon this point, Horst Hutter argues that friendship served an important purpose in battle with intimate fraternal partnerships serving as a means of encouragement in battle as friends imitated a brave friend and tried to protect their friends. 408 Marchal argues that this link endured well into the Roman period as Roman militaries were influenced by and inherited many
404 Dig. 28.2.26: “A son of a family who serves in the military cannot be disinherited by his father.” 405 Joseph A. Marchal, Hierarchy, Unity, and Imitation: A Feminist Rhetorical Analysis of Power Dynamics in Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006), 64– 66. 406 Polyaenus, Stra . 4.3.31: “The Cossaeans began to disband. Alexander, having received intelligence of the error, into which his movement had betrayed the enemy, detached a body of horse to secure the posts on the mountains: then wheeling round he joined the detachment of cavalry, and completed the conquest of the country. This circumstance, it was said, arising from Hephaestion's death, consoled Alexander for the loss of his friend.” 407 Konstan confirms this insight and provides evidence of other famous military friendships in Greek history. See David Konstan, Friendship in the Classical World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 27–42. 408 Horst Hutter, Politics as Friendship: The Origins of Classical Notions of Politics in the Theory and Practice of Friendship (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2006), 62–63. 154 of the same military traditions and customs. As he explains, Scipio was described by Appian as proudly referring to his army as a “troop of friends.” 409 Providing men with life-long partnerships, the military gave young men with the rare and unique opportunity to form strong and lasting partnerships with other men who vowed to protect and serve each other till death.
The process of admission provided the institutional apparatus for creating this fraternal network of social support. In effect, recruits underwent some sort of process of depersonalization in which they voluntarily submitted themselves to be scrutinized and judged by their superiors. Depersonalization also occurred as recruits were stripped of the markers of masculine status that had once determined their value and worth in civilian society. Whereas one’s family, wealth, and marriage partner determined a man’s masculine status in society, the army rejected those civilian institutions as markers of masculinity.
With the rejection of these markers of civilian life, manuals supplanted wealth and family with rigid and intense programs of training and education. Recruits were judged and ranked solely on the basis of their physical appearance and intellectual and moral capabilities with these capabilities serving as an indication of a man’s commitment to military life and discipline.
Manuals depict recruits as being reborn into another more perfect family where officers and fellow soldiers operated as members of a loving family and community.
3.2.3 Regulations on Wealth
This distinctive configuration of masculinity was further reinforced by restricting soldiers access to and use of material resources. Manuals routinely emphasize that soldiers’ personal finances and financial dealings with local merchants should be closely regulated and monitored.
409 Appian, Roman History 6.14.84. All translations follow the translations in Appian Roman History I Books 1-8, trans. Horace White LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1912). 155 Manuals established this system of surveillance through a standardized system of financial pension which was closely regulated and monitored by officers.
Polybius argues that Greek generals typically implemented a pension organized according to rank with “two obodi by the day” going to soldiers, double to centurions, and a drachma to cavalry. 410 Polyaenus warns that failure to provide soldiers with these routine stipends proved to be a source of constant trouble with Philip forced to resort to acts of buffoonery to redress his soldiers clamoring for their pension: “The soldiers around were clamorous for their pay; in which he (Philip) was much in arrears to them, and had not the means at the present to make it good.” 411 Luckily for Philip, he was able to use “a stroke of buffoonery” to get “rid of their demands.” 412 For Polyaenus, Philip’s legacy served as a constant reminder of the importance of maintaining this pension system.
Ptolemaic and Seleucid armies instituted a standardized pension system based upon land grants. 413 Upon retirement, soldiers were given a standardized plot of land. Those in the cavalry were given 100 arouras, and after 220 BCE the size was reduced to 80 to 70 arouras. 414
410 Polybius, Hist . 6.39.12. 411 Polyaenus, Stra. 4.2.6. 412 Polyaenus, Stra. 4.2.6. 413 Due to a lack of historical evidence regarding the practices of Seleucid armies, there has been some debate whether Seleucid rulers subscribed to a similar system and granted land to loyal soldiers and officers. On debates about the existence of military communities of settled soldiers in the Seleucid Kingdom See N. Sekunda, “Military Forces. Army Land Forces,” in The Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Warfare , ed. P.A.G. Sabin, H. van Wees, and M. Whitby (Cambridge, n.d.), 335; G.M. Cohen, “Katoikiai, Katoikioi and Macedonians in Asia Minor,” AncSoc 22: 41–50; Christelle Fischer-Bovet, Army and Society in Ptolemaic Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 82. 414 P.Genova III 103 (after 229/8 BCE). Text and translation by Fischer-Bovet, Army and Society in Ptolemaic Egypt , 213. a 70-aroura man, in P.Enteux. 11 (221 BCE). Text and translation by Fischer-Bovet in Army and Society , p. 212. Fischer-Bovet describes an aroura as a fixed plot of land. 156 Infantrymen received plots of 20 to 5 arouras. If soldiers or officers failed to abide by the terms of their contract, rulers could confiscate soldiers’ property. 415 Thus, even after soldiers were given property, rulers still retained control over the property with the ability to confiscate it at any point in time.
Roman armies initially subscribed to a similar system of pension, allotting land grants to retired soldiers. However, Augustus reformed the pension system and instituted a standardized system of monetary payments. 416 Vegetius provides a full description of Augustus’ system of pension. He argues that records of this system were diligently recorded and preserved: “For the whole detail of the legion, including the lists of the soldiers exempted from duty on private accounts, the rosters for their tour of military duties and their pay lists, is daily entered in the legionary books and kept we may almost say, with greater exactness than the regulations of provisions or other civil matters in the registers of the police.” As he explains, financial records were kept with greater care and diligence than any other matters in military camps. 417
Only the most trusted and respected officers were entrusted with the responsibility of collecting and recording the financial records of the military camp. Officers were thus “chosen for their integrity and capacity, and answerable for the trust and obliged to account with every man for his own proportion.” 418 The process of opening and recording accounts with the camp began when a recruit enlisted in a military camp. Upon entering their names in the payroll,
415 P.Haun.inv.407 (119 BCE), the papyrus indicates that a grant to 75 infantrymen in 135 BCE was confiscated in 119 after soldiers failed to show up for the land survey. Text and translation by Fischer-Bovet in Army and Society , p. 212. 416 Cassius Dio 55.24.9. 417 Vegetius, Mil. 2.12. 418 Vegetius, Mil . 2.13. 157 officers kept track of each soldiers’ pay list with soldiers depositing half of every monthly pay in an account kept by the military camp.
Vegetius claims that this institution went back to ancient Greek and Roman armies with soldiers depositing their money into a savings account to prevent soldiers from squandering’ their earnings: “The intent was to preserve it for their use so that they might not squander it in extravagance or idle expense. For most men, particularly the poorer sort, soon spend whatever they can get.” 419 The institution of a savings account acted as a safeguard against soldiers’ squandering their earnings on luxuries and extravagances. Moreover, Vegetius argues that the
“soldier who knows all his fortune is deposited at his colors, entertains no thoughts of desertion, conceives a greater affection for them and fights with greater intrepidity in their defense.” 420
Along with this savings account, soldiers were required to contribute to a common fund for the purpose of caring for soldiers who were sick and injured and to pay for the burial expenses of those killed in battle: “There was an eleventh bag also for a small contribution from the whole legion, as a common fund to defray the expense of burial of any of their deceased comrades.” 421 Soldiers were entrusted with the responsibility of caring for sick and injured members of their community with soldiers voluntarily handing over their own earnings to care for those in need.
This system of financial management assured that soldiers remained free from the influence of wealth and luxuries with officers taking care of soldiers’ financial needs. While soldiers were expected to purchase goods and supplies from local merchants, manuals make clear
419 Vegetius, Mil. 2.14. 420 Vegetius, Mil. 2.14. 421 Vegetius, Mil. 2.14. 158 that officers monitored these transactions by setting the prices of goods. Polybius for example claims that while soldiers must purchase their own and food, they must do so at a price and amount set by officers: “The Roman soldiers are obliged to purchase their corn and clothes, together with the arms which they occasionally want, at a certain stated price, which is deducted by the quaestor from their pay.” 422 Furthermore, soldiers were not given any other option, but
Polybius confirms that were obliged to purchase all goods from the prices set by officers.
Similarly, Vegetius claims that it was the responsibility of the praefect to set prices and regulate soldiers’ expenses. 423 In addition to regulating soldiers’ expenses, the praefect also had to assure soldiers maintained their supplies: “He had the charge of providing carriages, bathorses and the proper tools for sawing and cutting wood, digging trenches, raising parapets, sinking wells and bringing water into the camp. He likewise had the care of furnishing the troops with wood and straw, as well as the rams, onagri, balistae and all the other engines of war under his direction.” 424 The praefect was entrusted with the responsibility of regulating soldiers’ access to marketplaces and purchasing power.
Appian claims that Scipio Aemilianus during the siege of Carthage went so far as to monitor every financial transaction between his soldiers and local merchants: “I shall allow none to come back except such as bring food, and this must be for the army, and plain food at that. A definite time will be given to them to dispose of their goods, and I and my quæstor will superintend the sale. So much for the camp followers.” 425 Scipio did not just monitor every transaction but also regulated the food that was sold to his soldiers. The idea that military
422 Polybius, Hist . 6.39.13-14. 423 Vegetius, Mil. 3.3. 424 Vegetius, Mil. 2.5. 425 Appian, Roman History 17.116. 159 officers should monitor soldiers’ purchases and financial dealings with local merchants was a commonly held idea.
Similarly, Polyaenus depicts Scipio as intently concerned with soldiers’ exposure to luxury items. In the case of booty, Scipio is reported as ordering all accumulated plunder sent away: “He ordered also to be sent away all couches, tables, vases, and the whole…if he saw any of the generals reclined on couches, he would lament the luxury of the army, and their love of ease.” 426 Along with expelling luxury items from the camp, Scipio instituted a plain diet of cold dinners and sparse clothing: “ He introduced the wearing of the Gallic cloak, and he himself used to wear a black one when walking about the camp.” 427 If Scipio saw any general disobeying his orders and reclining on couches, Polyaenus argues that he would “lament the luxury of the army, and their love of easy.” 428 Wealth and various luxury items were identified as a potential threat that weakened men’s resolve in battle.
Caesar is also idealized within manuals for his repudiation of wealth and opulent lifestyles. Within his armies, the only ornaments which soldiers owned were their own weapons which Caesar ordered should be ornamented with gold and silver. 429 According to Polyaenus, this practice reminded his soldiers that their weapons were the only objects of value in the military camp: “Caesar encouraged his men to have their weapons richly ornamented with gold
426 Polyaenus, Stra. 8.16.2 427 Polyaenus, Stra. 8.16.2. 428 Polyaenus, Stra. 8.16.2. 429 Valerie A. Maxfield, The Military Decorations of the Roman Army (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), 101–44. Maxfield explains that Caesar was commonly represented as using triumphal ornamentation to emphasize his soldiers’ valor on the field of battle. 160 and silver; not only for the sake of a splendid appearance, but because the more valuable they were, their owners would the more reluctantly part with them.” 430
Reinforcing this point, Vegetius claims that exposure to such extravagances infuses in soldiers “a love of idleness and ease.” 431 This system of economic surveillance assured that soldiers lived modestly and rejected urban luxuries. With food and clothes identified as urban luxuries, Vegetius warns that all aspects of a soldiers’ life needed to remain “course and moderate” lest pleasures and luxuries “enervate them.” 432 His manual also emphasizes that assuring soldiers’ receive the same amount of goods and supplies makes certain that soldiers would not come to resent each other. 433 It is for this reason that he mandates that while on a difficult military campaign, provisions should be distributed “at a fixed allowance to each man without distinction of rank.” 434 While the financial pension system distributed provisions according to rank, Vegetius claims that such distinctions should be abandoned in times of battle.
Polybius claims that officers could mitigate these threats by situating the marketplace in which soldiers purchased supplies in the space between the tents of officers: “The space behind the tents of the Tribuni is thus used. On one side of the square of the Praetorium is the market, on
430 Polyaenus, Stra. 8.23.20. 431 Vegetius, Mil. 1.23. 432 Vegetius, Mil. 1.2. 433 Along with food and basic supplies, water was also subject to officers’ scrutiny as Vegetius emphasizes that water is among the most valuable and important commodities in the camp: “The water must be wholesome and not marshy. Bad water is a poison and the cause of epidemic distempers” ( Mil. 3.2). Among the major threats to the military camps was the spread of “epidemic distempers” which was linked to outbreaks of plague and sickness. He claims that it is for this reason that officers were responsible for regulating and monitoring soldiers’ access to this commodity. Access to fresh water and routine bathing is repeatedly emphasized as a fundamental component of a soldiers’ daily routine. 434 Vegetius, Mil . 3.3. 161 the other the office of the Quaestor and the supplies which he has charge of.” 435 Surrounded on either side by the tribunes, camp praefect, and quaestor, the marketplace could be closely monitored and surveyed at all times by officers.
Although soldiers were expected from time to time to go into local towns and purchase their own supplies, by setting the price of goods officers could extend their control over soldiers.
Even when soldiers went to local marketplaces without the supervision of officers, manuals represent financial transactions as closely regulated by officers with local merchants only allowed to sell particular types of goods to soldiers at prices set by officers. With soldiers only able to access local markets and merchants through officers, this system of economic surveillance instituted a strict separation between soldiers and the local economy. Moreover, this separation enabled soldiers to reject the temptations of luxuries and wealth, living without need or desire for material goods, since every need was met by military officers.
This system of economic surveillance assured that soldiers remained free from the corrupting influences of local economies. Chief among these was the threat of debt. An episode from Arrian’s retelling of Alexander’s conquests warns that debt could be a source of mutiny. In an effort to thwart this threat, Alexander is reported as asking his soldiers to voluntarily report their debts to him. Arrian explains that soldiers were “at first only a few entered their names on the list, being nervous lest Alexander had merely tried an experiment to see who had not lived on their pay and who had been living extravagantly.” 436 Even in the case of a great military commander such as Alexander debt remained a constant threat.
435 Polybius, Hist . 6.31.1. 436 Arrian, Anabasis 7.5.5. 162 The Roman military tried to curb this threat by prohibiting soldiers from owning property in the provinces in which they served. 437 By preventing soldiers from accumulating property while on campaigns, officers could closely monitor soldiers’ property and possessions while they were away on military campaigns by affording them the legal status of being away on state business in instances of debt claims. 438 A soldier’s property had to remain unsold by creditors if the soldier’s estate fell into debt. These regulations assured that soldiers did not fall into debt while away on military campaigns.
The idea that wealth, property, and urban luxuries could be a corrupting influence on soldiers is well attested in military manuals. Roman manuals routinely use historical examples to reinforce the threat that materialism posed to military discipline. Among these include Sallust’s depiction of Sulla as a maniacal tyrant whose armies pillaged the Roman people. According to
Sallust, Sulla allowed his soldiers to own property and pursue their own booty which resulted in the abuse of the Roman people: “All became robbers and plunderers; some set their affections on houses, others on lands; his victorious troops knew neither restraint nor moderation, but inflicted on the citizens disgraceful and inhuman outrages.” 439
Similarly, Herodian warns that after Severus allowed Roman soldiers to covet money and buy luxurious foods, soldiers refused to obey orders and follow their disciplinary regime:
“Severus was also the first emperor to make a change in the harsh and healthy diet of the soldiers
437 Dig. 49.6.9: “Soldiers are prohibited from procuring farms in the provinces in which they serve in the army.” 438 Dig. 4.35.9: “And when they (soldiers) are summoned to the camp, the cause of the republic cannot be neglected, because he has to go and serve in wars and must return to the military camp.” Dig. 4.6.40: “At any time, a soldier is not befit to be prosecuted, while he is a way on state business, it is not permitted.” 439 Sallust, Cat . 11.4. 163 and to undermine their resolution in the face of severe hardships; moreover, he weakened their strict discipline and respect for their superiors by teaching them to covet money and by introducing them to luxurious living.” 440 As this example demonstrates, ownership of property and the pursuit of material possessions could transform an army of disciplined soldiers into a band of robbers and thieves who lacked any discipline.
Authors argue that Hellenistic and Roman armies instituted regulations that tried to curb the corrupting influences of wealth and property. Among these regulations included a pension system that officers diligently regulated and controlled as officers monitored soldiers’ personal finances, setting the price of goods and limiting who soldiers could conduct business with. With the implementation of this pension system, officers were expected to provide for soldiers’ basic material needs. In exchange for submitting to the power of military officers, soldiers were guaranteed a lifetime of financial security.
These regulations raise questions about the implications of this pension system on the inner life of soldiers. It is possible that this system of regulations cultivated a sense of emotional detachment from wealth with soldiers no longer needing to worry about their financial futures.
With every material need met by officers, soldiers were dependent upon officers. This in turn allowed them to remain focused on their tasks and duties in the camps and on the battlefield.
There were other possible implications, including the idea that this emotional state of detachment with wealth instituted a certain degree of separation between military and civilian life. Unlike soldiers, civilian men had to constantly worry about fulfilling the material needs of their wives and children. In stark contrast to civilians who needed to accumulate wealth and
440 Herodian 3.8.5. 164 property to provide for their families, soldiers rejected wealth and property in favor of the military’s pension system. Moreover, this distinction promoted the assumption that worrying about material resources weakened men’s resolve in battle and ability to fulfill their duties and commitments to fellow soldiers.
Like the regulations on leadership and admission, these regulations ushered in a distinctive configuration of masculinity that was different from other types of civilian masculinities. Among the chief differences includes the rejection of wealth as a marker of a soldier’s status. Unlike civilians, soldiers were ranked and divided according to their capacity to reject the temptations of wealth and urban luxuries with wealth represented as a direct threat to military discipline.
3.2.4 Regulations on Marriage
In addition to regulations on leadership, admission, and wealth, manuals also implement distinctive regulations on marriage. As in the case of previous regulations, manuals treat marriage as a site of difference between civilian and military masculinities. Moreover, marriage serves as an important mechanism for demarcating and reproducing soldiers’ separation and difference from civilian society.
For example, Athenaeus claims that there was a binding prohibition against marriage for soldiers. He argued that this binding prohibition could be traced back to Philip. According to
Athenaeus, Philip had issued a binding prohibition against wives and women accompanying his
Macedonian army: “And Philip the Macedonian did not take any women with him to his wars, as
Darius did, whose power was subverted by Alexander. For he used to take about with him three
165 hundred and fifty concubines in all his wars.” 441 No matter how long a campaign lasted, Philip did not permit his men to interact with women while on campaigns. Athenaeus contrasts this practice to the Persian king Darius whom he describes as being quickly defeated by Alexander.
Philip’s binding prohibition serves as indication of the Greek army’s superiority.
As addressed earlier in the chapter, Polyaenus argues that Philip was so strict about his binding prohibition against women that he even expelled his best and most trusted generals from his army for refusing to obey the prohibition: “Philip, while encamped against the Thebans, was informed that two of his generals, Aeropus and Damasippus had taken a singing girl from an inn, and introduced her into the camp: and the fact being proved, he banished both of them from the kingdom.” 442 This historical example exemplifies the lengths to which Philip was willing to go through to ensure that his soldiers obeyed his binding prohibition against women.
Manuals idealize Alexander in much the same way as his father and claim that he refused to co-habit with women while on military campaign. Even after Alexander captured an exceedingly beautiful woman, he refuses to touch or even look at the woman: “having taken captive a maiden of exceeding beauty betrothed to the chief of a neighboring tribe, treated her with such extreme consideration that he refrained from even gazing at her.”443 As in the case of his father, Alexander is represented as refusing to engage in any sexual encounter with women when away on military campaigns with his army.
In addition to Philip and Alexander, Roman manuals also commend Scipio Africanus for his self-discipline and refusal to sexually assault subjugated women. In one such tale, Scipio acts
441 Athenaeus 557b. 442 Polyaenus, Stra. 4.2.3. 443 Frontinus, Stra. 11.6. 166 in much the same way as Alexander and refuses to touch captive women, choosing instead to return them to their husbands: “There was brought before him among the captive women a noble maiden of surpassing beauty who attracted the gaze of everyone. Scipio guarded her with the greatest pains and restored her to her betrothed.” 444 Frontinus argues that Scipio’s self-discipline was rewarded with the entire tribe impressed by his effort to return subjugated women to their husbands. 445 Interpreting his self-discipline as a sign of his strength, they willingly submit to his domination. As in the case of Philip and Alexander, Scipio’s repudiation of his sexual desire for women is taken as a sign of his strength and commitment to the men in his army.
Scipio Aemilianus is also commended for his binding prohibition against women from entering the camps. For example, when he discovered that his men had brought prostitutes into the camps along with merchants, he demanded that his troops immediately expel the women:
“Scipio Aemilianus besieged Numantia and restored the strictest discipline in an army that was corrupted by license and luxury. He forbade all tools of pleasure, expelled two thousand prostitutes from the camp, made the soldiers work every day.” 446 Within the story, women are categorized as an urban luxury. Appian’s retelling of the scene reinforces the link between women and wealth with merchants accompanying the women and being expelled alongside the women.447
444 Frontinus, Stra. 9.5. 445 Frontinus, Stra. 9.5: “Alicius by name, presenting to him likewise, as a marriage gift, the gold which her parents had brought to Scipio as a ransom. Overcome by this manifold generosity, the whole tribe leagued itself with the government of Rome.” 446 Livy, Periochae 57. Translation of the Periochae follows the translation in The History of Rome, Volume IV, Books Thirty-Seven to The End, With the Epitomes and Fragments of the Lost Books , trans. W.A. McDevitte (London: H. G. Bohn, 1862). 447 Appian, Roman History 6.84-85. 167 Manuals depict great military leaders, such as Philip, Alexander, and Scipio Aemilianus, as issuing binding prohibitions against women from entering military camps. This prohibition is represented as resolving the threat that women posed to military life and discipline. With soldiers unable to exercise self-control over their desires for women, officers are represented in manuals as curbing soldiers’ access to women by imposing limits and constraints on their ability to engage in sexual relationships with women.
In the case of Roman armies, authors commonly propagate the idea of a binding prohibition against marriage for soldiers. Claudius is reported as temporarily lifting this ban and granting the privilege of marriage to “the men who served in the army, since they could not legally have wives.” 448 Tacitus also comments that veterans of the Roman army were not
“accustomed to tie themselves by marriage and rear children.” 449
This idea is also propagated by Livy who claims that in the second century BCE soldiers could not be “united in wedlock” with women to whom they had born offspring while on military campaign in Spain. 450 The ban also appears in the context of Septimius Severus’ deregulation of the military in 197 CE. According to ancient historians, the marriage ban was lifted along with bans against property ownership and wealth accumulation: “He was the first emperor to increase their food rations, to allow them to wear gold finger rings, and to permit
448 Dio Cassius 60.24.3. Translations of Dio Cassius follow the translation in Dio Cassius: Roman History , trans. Earnest Carey and Herbert B. Foster, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1924). 449 Tacitus, Annals 14.27. Translations of Tacitus follow the translation in Tacitus: Annals , trans. John Jackson, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1937). 450 Livy 43.3. 168 them to live with their wives; these were indulgences hitherto considered harmful to military discipline and the proper conduct of war.” 451
Greek papyri found in Egypt dated to the second century CE indicate that there may have in fact been a legal precedent for this prohibition. The cattaoui papyrus consists of a series of legal cases which involve Roman soldiers stationed in the region. 452 In three of these cases, the children of soldiers demand certification that they are the legitimate heirs, but in all three cases the sons are ruled to be illegitimate since they are the offspring of soldiers. In case 4, the soldier bore two sons with a Roman citizen whom he married. However, despite the fact that they were married, the prefect rules “I cannot make you their legal father,” which means that his children are illegitimate. 453 Since the marriage did not produce legitimate children, the marriage itself is illegitimate. These cases indicate that soldiers residing within Roman military camps in Egypt could not engage in the practice of legal marriage with their children defined by the law as illegitimate.
In his manual, Vegetius idealizes the idea of a binding prohibition against women excluding them from military camps, claiming that the greatest threat to military life is effeminacy: “Such seditious dispositions principally show themselves in those who have lived in their quarters in idleness and effeminacy. These men, unaccustomed to the necessary fatigue of the field, are disgusted at its severity. Their ignorance of discipline makes them afraid of action
451 Her. 3.8.5. Translations of Herodian follow the translation in Herodian History of the Empire, Volume I Books 1-4, trans. C.R. Whittaker LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1969). 452 The cattaoui papyrus. Text and translation by Sara E. Phang, The Marriage of Roman Soldiers , 23-38. Case 4: P. Catt. III.11-22; Case 5: P Catt. IV. 1-15; Case 6 : P. Catt. IV. 16- V.26. 453 P. Catt. III.22. Text and translation by Sara E. Phang, The Marriage of Roman Soldiers , 23- 38. 169 and inspires them with insolence.” 454 Femininity and behavioral traits commonly associated with women are identified as diametrically opposed to the traits deemed absolutely necessary for military life.
Military manuals do not just represent women as opposed to military discipline but as a contaminating pollutant that can infect and corrupt a military camp. In the case of his military defeat of Ptolemy XIII argues that women acted as a contaminant that corrupted and weakened the Roman legionaries of Achillas, the military commander of Ptolemy XIII’s forces:
“The forces with Achillas were not such as to seem contemptible in respect of number or
grade of men or experience in warfare. For he had twenty thousand men under arms.
These consisted of soldiers of Gabinius who had habituated themselves to Alexandrian
life and license and had unlearnt the name and discipline of the Roman people and
married wives by whom very many of them had children.” 455
Marrying women and producing offspring caused soldiers to unlearn their military habits of being and ultimately collapse in the face of Caesar’s superior forces. In stark contrast to Caesar’s forces, Achillas and his men are depicted as weak and unable to control their sexual passions.
The practice of marriage among soldiers serves as both a marker of an army’s inferior status and also represented as a contaminant that impacts soldiers’ discipline and commitment to military life.
454 Vegetius, Mil. 3.4. 455 Caesar, Bell. Civ. 3.82. All translations of Caesar’s Civil War follow the translation in Caesar: Civil War , trans. Cynthia Damon, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2016). 170 Similarly, Hannibal’s defeat in battle is blamed on the presence and influence of women in military camps. Hannibal’s soldiers remain “ensnared by prostitutes” and as a result decide to abandon their general in battle:
“A different army, not a trace of the old-time discipline remained. For they came back
most of them ensnared by prostitutes, and also as soon as they began to be quartered in
tents, and the march and other tasks of the soldier followed, they would give out both in
body and in spirit after the manner of recruits. And afterward through the whole season of
summer camps a great many kept slipping away from their standards without furloughs;
and deserters had no hiding places other than Capua.” 456
Women’s presence in military camps disrupts social relationships and commitments between soldiers as men are depicted as slipping away and deserting military commanders. As sexual desire corrupts men’s commitments to one another, women are represented as a dangerous influence on a soldier’s state of being.
Like wealth and urban luxuries, women are represented as a threat to military discipline with sexual desire associated with the dereliction of duty and military defeat. The connection between sexual desire and women is explicit with representations of military defeat entangled with scenes of sexual licentiousness. Among the most infamous examples includes the legate
Calvisius Sabinus in 39 CE who allowed his wife to enter a Roman military service:
“His first military service was infamous. He had as legate Calvisius Sabinus, whose wife,
out of a depraved desire to see the grounds of the camp, entered at night dressed as a
soldier, and licentiously interfered with the watches and other military duties, and dared
456 Livy 23.45.1-5. 171 to fornicate in the very headquarters; Titus Vinius was accused of this crime [committing
adultery with her]. At Gaius Caesar’s orders he was thrown in chains, but with the change
of reigns he was dismissed” 457
The entrance of a woman into a military camp ends with Titus Vinius’ arrest and dismissal. Prior to his adulterous deeds with Calvisius’ wife, he was the most powerful general in Rome.
However, a woman triggers his downfall with his inability to control his sexual desires for another man’s wife. Moreover, Calvisius’ wife is described as not just entering the camp and committing adultery but as watching and interfering with military duties. The story serves as a warning about the impact of women on military life and discipline with the story positing a direct connection between sexual licentiousness and the downfall of an army.
As these examples illustrate, femininity and traits associated with women were treated in much the same way as wealth and urban luxuries with manuals arguing that soldiers’ proximity to femininity weakened men’s discipline and resolve in battle. As Craig Williams explains,
“military discipline, pertinacity, endurance, and bravery in the face of death are all coded as masculine, and their absence as feminine.” 458 Building upon this point, Cynthia Enloe explains that militarized masculinity functions on the assumption that “femininity and wifeliness must not be permitted to interfere with or dilute the male bonding that remains the preferred glue holding together military units.” 459
457 Tacitus, Hist. 1.48. 458 Craig A. Williams, Roman Homosexuality: Ideologies of Masculinity in Classical Antiquity: Ideologies of Masculinity in Classical Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 138. 459 Cynthia Enloe, Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women’s Lives (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 156. 172 With women being idealized as the living embodiments of femininity, military manuals operate with the assumption that women are a direct threat to military life and discipline. Coming into contact with women primarily through sexual relations is depicted as destroying soldiers’ commitment to military discipline. In the case of Titus Vinius, his desire for sexual relations with a woman is depicted as the driving cause behind his decision to betray his own legate and relational commitments to his fellow soldiers.
This representation of military life created a configuration of masculinity constituted by the rejection of sexual reproduction, and with it the idea that reproduction was a requisite component of a man’s life and commitment to his society. Rather than treat sexual reproduction as a basic social necessity for men, manuals argue that the institution responsible for structuring procreation presents a direct threat to a soldier’s ability to fulfill his social responsibilities.
The repudiation of procreation is depicted as a mechanism for ensuring men remain committed to military life and discipline and a marker of soldiers’ difference from civilian men.
Unlike soldiers, civilian men accepted the institution of marriage and maintained relational commitments to women for the purpose of pleasure and procreation. In stark contrast to civilian society, the military rejected the idea that procreation was a requisite component of becoming a man.
Like regulations on admission and wealth, promoting the idea that women threatened men’s capability to serve in the army might have impacted the inner life of soldiers. These regulations might have cultivated some state of emotional detachment with women and children.
With soldiers no longer mandated with the responsibility of caring and providing for wives and children, manuals function with the assumption that soldiers would be free to serve their officers.
The responsibilities of caring for women and children is represented as a distraction that prevents 173 soldiers from fulfilling their social commitments to officers and sacrificing themselves on the battlefield if need be. Manuals seem to depict that this was in fact the case, arguing that soldiers should not feel any desire for relationships with women and children.
Military manuals promote the assumption that cultivating an elite configuration of masculinity required rejecting the institution of marriage. Cultivating this state of emotional detachment is represented in manuals as enhancing soldiers’ relational commitments to their commanding officers. As a mechanism of enhancing the power structures that constituted military organization, regulations on marriage marked soldiers’ elite and superior masculine status with military men separated and distinguished from civilian society.
3.3 Conclusion
Military manuals constructed a distinctive concept of masculinity constituted by the repudiation of local civilian institutions. Family, wealth, and marriage were the three chief institutions that manuals targeted. All three institutions were identified with civilian life and treated as a direct threat to the reproduction of military life and discipline. The development and implementation of distinctive regulations on leadership, admission, wealth, and marriage acted as a mechanism for rejecting these institutions and demarcating military life from civilian life.
With the repudiation of these markers of civilian status, the military’s ranked system of hierarchy privileged a system of education and training that occurred outside of the context of home and family as the primary marker of status. Manuals idealize the assumption that military power and authority was marked solely by a man’s commitment to the military’s rigid and intense programs of physical, intellectual, and moral discipline. By privileging education and training as the primary marker of masculine status, military manuals idealized and cultivated a
174 homosocial and hyper-masculine military culture constituted by a configuration of masculinity that subordinated women, children, and other types of civilian masculinities.
Although military manuals argue that soldiers voluntarily decided to undertake this way of life. The authors of manuals make clear that this system of social separation from civilian society needed to be enforced through a rigid system of discipline and punishment. As Vegetius explains, the military needed to develop systems of severe and rigid punishment to regulate soldiers’ behavior since laziness in battle could lead to the destruction of an entire legion:
“It is an observation of Cato that misconduct in the common affairs of life may be
retrieved, but that it is quite otherwise in war, where errors are fatal and without remedy,
and are followed by immediate punishment. For the consequences of engaging an enemy,
without skill or courage, is that part of the army is left on the field of battle, and those
who remain receive such an impression from their defeat that they dare not afterwards
look the enemy in the face.” 460
Unlike civilian life, mistakes on the battlefield could mean life or death. Thus, manuals assume that punishment must be severe and exacting to avoid the slightest of mistakes.
According to Polyaenus, great military generals, like Augustus, did not hesitate to use horrific punishments to punish troops who refused to follow orders in battle. As he explains,
“Augustus did not order a general execution of those who evaded action in battle; but he punished them with decimation.” 461 In decimation, a cohort selected for punishment would be
460 Vegetius, Mil. 1.12. 461 Polyaenus, Stra. 8.24.1. 175 divided into groups of ten. The soldier whom the lot fell was then executed by nine other soldiers, usually by clubbing the man to death. 462
Similarly, Xenophon argues that the great Greek field commander “Clearchus was a man to be obeyed. He achieved this result by his toughness. His punishments were severe ones and were sometimes inflicted in anger…With him punishment was a matter of principle, for he thought that an army without it was good for nothing.” 463 As Xenophon explains, “a soldier ought to be more frightened of his own commander than of the enemy.” 464
Describing systems of punishment in Roman armies, Polybius explains that when evidence of misconduct was discovered in the camp “the council is then assembled; the cause is judged by the tribune, and the guilty person sentenced.” 465 Detailing the standardization of systems of punishment, Vegetius argues that the punishment or execution occurred at the
“decumane gate directly opposite to the Praetorian in the rear of the camp.” 466 The position at the rear of the camp assured that other soldiers would bear witness to the punishment.
Military manuals argue for the necessity of a well-organized system of punishment in which soldiers were publicly castigated and disciplined before other soldiers. Transgressing the regulations of the camps was met with swift punishments which included public execution.
While manuals represent military life as constituted by a voluntary choice on the part of the individual, they also simultaneously demonstrate that military life demanded a carefully
462 Watson, The Roman Soldier , 119. 463 Xenophon, Anab . 2.6.1-15. 464 Xenophon, Anab. 2.6.15. 465 Polybius, Hist. 6.14.7. 466 Vegetius, Mil. 1.20. 176 regulated system of discipline and punishment in which soldiers were punished for the most mundane of mistakes.
The military’s professionalization created a need for soldiers that were skilled, trained, and able to operate complex military technologies. Manuals fulfilled this need by developing disciplinary regimes that transformed a man’s character and personhood. Enlistment in the military required the successful transformation of a man’s character and personhood. This transformation was marked by emotional detachment from civilian society. By cultivating emotional detachment from civilians and their way of life, military manuals could transform men into professional soldiers who could be called upon to enact the law upon local civilian populations and also travel across vast distances without feeling the emotional or physical need to return to their homes of origin.
While the reality on the ground was different from the situation imagined within the minds of ancient authors, it does not detract from the fact that certain ideas circulated in antiquity that idealized military institutions. In the imaginations of ancient writers, the military functioned as a perfect homosocial space where men were transformed into an elite fighting force that could defeat any enemy combatant on the battlefield. Furthermore, as the first and foremost example of professionalization, military manuals offer a window into the discursive register that conditioned the chief mechanisms of professionalization in antiquity.
The next chapter will investigate the social, linguistic, and organizational analogies between the organizational features of military manuals and the scrolls. Among the chief analogies includes the scrolls repudiation of civilian markers of status, including family, wealth, and marriage. Like Hellenistic and Roman military manuals, the scrolls identify the desire for the luxuries and activities of civilian life as a threat to membership and the social cohesion between 177 members. The next chapter will assess this analogy in the way in which manuals and the scrolls treat civilian life and how the military’s culture of professionalization served as a discursive register for Jewish communities’ efforts to rework the meaning and purpose of the Mosaic covenant.
178 CHAPTER 4
MASCULINITY IN CRISIS: THE PROFESSIONALIZATION OF COVENANTAL MASCULINITY IN THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS
After the Israelites departed from the land of Egypt in search of their new homeland,
Moses is depicted within biblical texts as developing and instituting a set of regulations that transformed this undisciplined and homeless group of people into a skilled, disciplined, and trained administrative regime that successfully defeated some of the most skilled societies in the ancient Near East.467 In the Dead Sea Scrolls, these regulations are celebrated and heralded as the primary reason for Israel’s successful conquest of Canaan with the scrolls’ authors encouraging their readers to return to the regulations that transformed the wilderness community into a skilled, disciplined, and successful military institution.
However, the scrolls do not just celebrate these regulations, but in their call to turn to the
Mosaic covenant the scrolls subtly and seamlessly restructure the constitutive elements of their legal culture. This chapter analyzes the mechanisms by which the scrolls’ authors restructured
467 Scholars have demonstrated that the Persian Empire played an important role in the formation and codification of Judah’s legal culture. Philip Davies for example argues that from the last third of the sixth century Judah functioned as a Persian colony and was regulated by the colonial policies of the Persian Empire. Biblical texts make clear that Persian rulers ordered communities to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem (Ezra 1:3). Furthermore, Ezra and Nehemiah are appointed by Persian rulers and given the task of regulating the temple and its ancestral laws. With the explicit approval and support of Persian rulers, Ezra is described as delivering the “law of Moses” in the Temple and reading it out to communities. As Davies explains, the Mosaic Law is itself represented as part of the “promulgation of the king’s law, which in effect meant not a single law for the entire empire but a basic law that incorporated variations” Judah’s indigenous legal culture was itself conditioned by the Persian Empire’s multitiered system of law and is represented in Ezra and Nehemiah as a component of colonial governance. See Philip R. Davies, Scribes and Schools: The Canonization of the Hebrew Scriptures (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998); Philip R. Davies and Thomas Romer, Writing the Bible: Scribes, Scribalism, and Script (London: Routledge, 2013); Lisbeth S. Fried, The Priest and the Great King: Temple- Palace Relations in the Persian Empire (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2004). 179 these elements. In short, this chapter seeks to explain why and how the scrolls’ authors restructured their past to redress their experiences under occupation.
There are two distinctive components to this critical analysis of the scrolls. First, this chapter undertakes an analysis of the constitutive elements of the Mosaic Law. While these regulations were written, edited, and collected by many different authors from different periods, it is possible to tease out some general themes. Of specific interest is their treatment of masculinity. In the Hebrew Bible, Moses is represented as developing and imposing regulations that delineate the status of men who serve in different social roles. In each case, the institutions of family, marriage, and wealth play pivotal roles in the delineation of a man’s role and status in society. This first section analyzes these three social institutions as important mechanisms by which men maintained their distinctive social status in society.
The second portion of this chapter explores how sectarianism emerged from a dynamic process of restructuring the regulations that delineated masculine status. The War Scroll ,
Community Rule , Damascus Document , and Rule of the Congregation figure preeminently in this section. Although each text offers different representations of what constitute the covenant and goes about restructuring their tradition in different ways, each scroll attempts to negotiate, contest, and restructure the central markers of masculine status in the Mosaic covenant. By reconfiguring the Law, the scrolls construct configurations of masculinity that parallel ideas and practices commonly depicted in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals.
The purpose of this section is to analyze these parallels and explore how these parallels testify to the mechanisms that the scrolls’ authors used to transform the covenant into a mechanism for professionalization. Professionalization here refers to the process whereby men are transformed into disciplined, skilled, and trained administrators of the Law through a 180 program of intense education and training that does not occur in the context of home and family.
I argue that professionalizing their ancestral laws might have allowed local communities to reject the notion that the Mosaic covenant made Jewish men effeminate, irrational, and unable to mount a military defense of their homeland. By rejecting this assumption, the scrolls’ authors could ingeniously undermine the dominant discourse and colonial governance. Moreover, the conclusion reached in this dissertation demonstrates how the insights gained from the study of sectarianism in Islamic studies can be successfully applied to the study of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
4.1 The Construction of Masculinity in the Mosaic Covenant
4.1.1 Masculine Status in the Covenant
Biblical texts issue general regulations for men that do not address conditions specific to the situation of soldiers and priests. As discussed below, biblical texts represent Moses as issuing his regulations in the context of the wilderness community’s preparations for war and military conquest. Thus, although these regulations do not address circumstances unique to men serving in military camps, they still occur within the larger context of the wilderness community’s transformation into a disciplined, skilled, and well-trained military institution.
Among the regulations reserved for men include specific regulations on marriage and procreation. The divine mandate to procreate and fill the land is the very first divine mandate given to humanity: “God blessed them and God said to them: Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.” 468 This divine mandate is repeated twice to Noah after the Flood. 469 After
Abraham swears the covenantal promise, God again repeats that the terms of the covenant
468 Gen. 1:28. All translations follow the New American Revised Edition (Washington, DC: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2002). 469 Gen. 9:1, 7. 181 involve the promise of male fertility: “I will make you exceedingly fertile; I will make nations of you; kings will stem from you.” 470 While Ishmael may stand outside of this covenantal promise,
God promises “I will make him very fruitful and multiply him greatly.” 471 After God changes
Jacob’s name to Israel, this mandate is again repeated to Jacob: “Then God said to him: I am
God Almighty; be fruitful and multiply. A nation, indeed an assembly of nations, will stem from you, and kings will issue from your loins.” 472
In Deuteronomy, Moses claims that the settlement of Canaan represents the fulfillment of
God’s mandate and promise of innumerable descendants to the patriarchs. 473 Leviticus reinforces this claim, representing the settlement of the land as the fulfillment of God’s covenant to the biblical patriarchs of endless fertility: “I will remember my covenant with Jacob, and also my covenant with Isaac; and also my covenant with Abraham I will remember. The land, too, I will remember. The land will be forsaken by them, that in its desolation without them.” 474 In each case, God’s covenants with the biblical patriarchs involves the promise of endless fertility and procreation. 475
The act of procreation is represented as a fundamental component of the Mosaic covenant with Moses mandating the wilderness community with the social responsibility of procreating.
Following biblical texts’ logic, those who fail to fulfill this divine mandate are in violation of a
470 Gen. 17:6. 471 Gen. 17:20. 472 Gen. 35:11. 473 Deut. 1:8. 474 Lev. 26:42-43. 475 Elberg-Schwartz confirms this insight and explains that procreation was a non-negotiable divine mandate. See Howard Elberg-Schwartz, “The Problem of the Body for the People of the Book,” in Women in the Hebrew Bible: A Reader , ed. Alice Bach (New York: Routledge, 2013), 58. 182 primary divine directive. Becoming a man required a contractual based sexual relationship with a woman for the purpose of procreation. Within the imagination of biblical authors, the idea that a man could choose to refrain from marriage and still be a man was unimaginable. Procreation was a general requirement for male membership within the Mosaic covenant.
Biblical texts reinforce this point and represent Moses as condemning the performance of sexual acts outside the context of marriage. As Ester Fuchs explains, men’s betrothal to women is a fundamental component of Moses’ regulations with scenes of men’s betrothal to women dramatizing God’s betrothal to Israel and its great heroes. 476 Building upon her insight, Tikva
Frymer-Kensky confirms that procreation is represented as a “masculine imperative” that needs to be controlled by men through the institution of the Law. 477
This masculine imperative is structured through the institution of a series of complex and seemingly contradictory regulations on the practice of endogamous and exogamous marriage. 478
While Moses himself contracts an exogamous marriage and God curses Miriam with a skin
476 Esther Fuchs, Sexual Politics in the Biblical Narrative: Reading the Hebrew Bible as a Woman (New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 108. 477 Tikva Frymer-Kensky, Studies in Bible and Feminist Criticism (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2006), 241–43. 478 Satlow provides a detailed analysis of the practice of endogamy and exogamy in bible. See Michael L. Satlow, Jewish Marriage in Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011), 133-40. There are other biblical examples of condemnations against endogamous marriages. Samson for example demands a foreign Philistine wife, acting against his parents’ wishes, simply because “she pleases” him: “His father and mother said to him, ‘Is there no woman among your kinsfolk or among all your people, that you must go and take a woman from the uncircumcised Philistines?’ But Samson answered his father, ‘Get her for me, for she pleases me’” (Judg 14:3). In another scene, Samson sees a prostitute and immediately without hesitation “enters” her. In the end, Samson’s uncontrollable passions lead to his downfall with his wife Delilah emasculating him by cutting of his hair. Samson’s hair serves as a symbol of his vitality, power, and male sexual potency. By cutting it, Delilah literally strips Samson of his manhood. Samson’s story serves as a cautionary tale of the emasculating effects of desiring foreign women. Sexual desire itself is not castigated, but the text denigrates act of desiring women outside of one’s ethnic group. 183 disease when she and Aaron criticize his marriage to Zipporah, 479 he frequently prohibits exogamous marriages between Israelites and foreigners. For example, Moses prohibits Israelite soldiers from marrying Midianite women and orders the execution of any man who has sexual relations with a Midianite woman. 480 Moses also issues a ruling that privileges endogamous marriages in the case of inheritance rights. 481 When daughters of an Israelite man petition Moses for the right to inherit their father’s land, Moses agrees along as the daughters agree to marry within their own Israelite tribe. 482
In addition to these regulations, all of the patriarchs are depicted as contracting endogamous marriages. 483 Abraham contracts a marriage with Sarah; Isaac with Rebecca; Jacob with Rachel and Leah. These marriages are also endogamous with each of the patriarchs marrying within his familial group. For example, Sarah is the half-sister of Abraham, Rebecca is the granddaughter of Isaac’s brother, and Rachel and Leah are the daughters of Jacob’s uncle. 484
In addition to emphasizing the importance of endogamous marriage, Moses also institutes certain regulations that prohibit the pursuit of sexual desire outside of marriage. Exodus explicitly condemns the act, representing it as a forbidden crime against God. 485 Deuteronomy also argues that the punishment for “lying with a woman married to a husband” is death. 486
479 Num. 12. 480 Num. 31:1-18. 481 Karen Winslow discusses in detail this point. See Karen Winslow, “Mixed Marriage in Torah Narratives,” in Mixed Marriages: Intermarriage and Group Identity in the Second Temple Period , ed. Christian Frevel (New York: T & T Clark, 2012), 132–49. 482 Num. 36:1-11. 483 Joseph remains the only exception to the rule. 484 Gen 20:12; 24:24; 29:10. 485 Exodus 20:14. 486 Deut 22:12-30. 184 In the case of women found guilty of adultery, Moses institutes specific regulations that punish women who are unfaithful to their husbands. According to Moses, if a husband suspects that his wife is unfaithful, he must bring her to the priest so that the priest can question her and perform a ritual that will indicate whether she is guilty or innocent. 487 Upon questioning the accused woman, the priest must have her drink consecrated water and if she is guilty Moses promises that the water will “bring a curse” and “her belly will swell and her uterus will fall” making her infertile. 488
In addition to prohibiting adultery, Moses is also depicted as prohibiting men from engaging in sexual acts with a menstruating woman. In Leviticus, God instructs Moses and
Aaron that a man can contract the uncleanness of a woman’s menstrual blood if he lies with her while she is menstruating: “If a man lies with her, he contracts her menstrual uncleanness and shall be unclean for seven days; every bed on which he then lies also becomes unclean.” 489 God also instructs Moses to impose certain regulations on genital discharge with men and women mandated with the responsibility of cleaning themselves upon seminal emission. 490
God is also depicted as telling Moses to prohibit Israelites from engaging in sexual acts with family members. Children are forbidden from having intercourse with their mothers and fathers, and brothers and sisters are forbidden to have intercourse with one another. 491 Although aunts are forbidden from having intercourse with their nephews, uncles are allowed to have
487 Num. 5:11-31. 488 Num. 5:27. 489 Lev 15:24. 490 Lev 15:18. 491 Lev. 18:6-10. 185 intercourse with their nieces. 492 God is also represented as prohibiting homosexuality: “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; such a thing is an abomination.” 493
While the Mosaic covenant imposes certain restrictions on sexual activity, Moses does not condemn sexual desire or its pursuit within the confines of marriage. The patriarchal narratives celebrate sexual desire and represent it as an essential component of God’s covenantal promises to Israel. For example, Jacob desires Rachel even after her death and works for over fourteen years just for the opportunity to marry her. 494 Sexual desire and pleasure is only castigated if men defy the limits of marriage and their ethnic group.
The Mosaic covenant requires the reproduction of the family unit as defined by Moses’ regulations. Biblical texts represent Moses as condemning the act of desiring and pursuing certain women, specifically foreign, married, or menstruating women. Sexual desire and passion are themselves not condemned or represented negatively. Following the Hebrew Bible’s representation, desiring women is socially appropriate within the limits of endogamous marriages. Moreover, the institution of marriage is represented as a fundamental component of membership within the Mosaic covenant.
Men are not just expected to procreate and produce male offspring, but they are also mandated with the responsibility of submitting to the authority of their parents. 495 Honoring
492 Lev. 18:13. 493 Lev. 18:23. 494 Gen 29:18-30. The Song of Songs also affirms and celebrates sexual desire and pleasure. Sexual desire is imagined as a sensual feast where a woman is imagined as wine, honey, spices, perfumes, and fruits: “How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride, How much better is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfumes than any spice! Your lips drip honey, my bride, honey and milk are under your tongue; And the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon” (Songs 4:10-11). 495 Exod. 20:12. 186 one’s mother and father is a lifelong commitment and one which represents the fulfillment of the
Mosaic covenant. The covenant requires submission to hierarchal arrangement of power defined by the structures of the family. Within biblical texts, membership within a family hierarchy serves as the primary mechanism by which men claimed their status in the covenant.
Moses also emphasizes that birth in certain ancestral lines was a fundamental component of membership in the covenant. The census serves as the primary mechanism for ancestral lines’ reproduction and legitimation. Moses is represented as taking a census in the second year of the
Israelites’ departure from Egypt to organize ancestral lines. 496 There is a second census taken once the second generation enters the land of Canaan. 497 The census is described as including
“males twenty years old and above” from the twelve tribes. 498 Men are the only persons included in the census. Leviticus reinforces this point and argues that on the eighth day of a boy’s birth, circumcision must be performed as a marker of a man’s birth into certain ancestral lines and overall status in the Mosaic covenant. 499 Membership in the covenant is represented as determined by birth and obligatory for men.
In addition to family and marriage, the accumulation of land and its resources also serve as a masculine imperative. Moses is depicted as instructing the wilderness community that the land of Canaan represented the fulfillment of God’s promise to the biblical patriarchs: “See, I have given that land over to you. Go now and possess the land that God swore to your ancestors,
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give them and to their descendants after them.” 500 Upon the
496 Num. 1:1-46. 497 Num. 26:1-65. 498 Num. 1:3. 499 Lev. 12:3. 500 Deut. 1:8. 187 conquest of the land, the Israelites obey Moses’ mandate and divide up the land between the twelve tribes. 501 This scene promotes the assumption that possession of land was an essential marker of a man’s membership in the covenant.
In addition to the land, Deuteronomy also represents Moses as promising the wilderness community that the accumulation of the land’s resources represented the fulfillment of God’s promises: “He will love you, bless you, and multiply you; he will bless the fruit of your womb and the fruit of your ground, your grain, and your wine, and your oil, the increase of your cattle and the issue of your flock.” 502 As Sandra Gravett, Karla Bohmbach, and Donald Polaski explain, wealth here and in another passages in the Hebrew Bible refers to various kinds of property, including animals, women, land, and material goods. 503
Moses is not the only figure who confirms that wealth is a marker of masculine status.
The biblical patriarchs reinforce this point with each patriarch described as possessing an abundance of animals, women, material goods, and land. 504 Abraham is described as becoming
“very wealthy in livestock and in silver and gold.”505 Like Abraham, Jacob is also wealthy “with large flocks of sheep and goats, female and male slaves, and many camels and donkeys.” 506 In addition to the biblical patriarchs, the Hebrew Bible depicts wealth as a mandatory component of
501 Josh. 14:5. 502 Deut 7:13. 503 Sandra L. Gravett, Karla G. Bohmbach, F. V. Greifenhagen, and Donald Polaski, An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible: A Thematic Approach (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 239. 504 The idea of conquest will be developed further in 4.1.2. 505 Gen 13:2. 506 Gen 30:43. 188 leadership. Solomon for example is described as becoming “greater than all the kings of the earth in riches and in wisdom.” 507
These examples illustrate that the accumulation of land and its riches were imagined as a crucially important component of a man’s status in the Mosaic covenant. The possession of land, women, and material resources, and slaves represented the fulfillment of God’s promise to the wilderness community upon their departure from Egypt. The only prohibitions given against the accumulation of wealth involve the use of gold and silver for idol worship: “You shall not make alongside of me gods of silver, nor shall you make for yourselves gods of gold.” 508 Deuteronomy
17 also issues a warning against kings accumulating too many horses, wives, or gold and silver. 509 Deuteronomy imposes limits on the amount of riches that any one king may possess.
In addition to regulations against idol worship, Moses also imposes regulations against unscrupulous business practices. God is depicted as forbidding Israelites to reduce their kindred to poverty, forbidding money to be given at interests or food to be sold at a profit. 510 God also argues against the unscrupulous buying and selling of land arguing that the “land is mine, and you are but resident aliens and under my authority.” 511 This divine mandate provides the justification for the jubilee year in which Israelites are given the divine mandate to forgive the debts of other members and prisoners and free slaves upon the end of seven cycles of Sabbatical years.512 Along with these regulations, Israelite men are mandated with the responsibility of
507 1 Kings 10:23. 508 Exod. 20:23. 509 Deut. 17:14-20. 510 Lev. 25:35-37. 511 Lev. 25:23. 512 Lev. 25:8-13. 189 providing an annual tithe to the priesthood and Levites with a divine mandate. 513 Charitable giving is thus represented as a fundamental component of a man’s commitment to the covenant. 514
Family, marriage, and wealth all serve as markers of a man’s status in the Mosaic covenant. The covenant made between God and the men of Israel promotes the idea that being a man demands reproducing and maintaining patriarchal family structures while accumulating material resources for the purpose of growing Israel’s expanding population, riches, and resources. Furthermore, membership within the covenant is obligatory with birth into established paternal lines of descent signifying a man’s social status within society.
Confirming this point, Ester Fuchs explains that at the heart of Moses’ regulations is the construction of a distinctive concept of Israelite masculinity. According to Fuchs, the collusion of sexual and national politics plays a crucial role in this construction process with this concept of masculinity constituted by the careful regulation and maintenance of institutions that draw men into sexual relation with women. 515 These institutions include family, marriage, and the accumulation of material resources. Thus, the biblical texts represent sexuality as a crucial component of transforming men into disciplined and trained leaders of Israelite society.
4.1.2 Regulations for Military Camps
As briefly addressed above, Moses is represented in the text as issuing regulations that prepare the entire wilderness community for war. To this end, Moses is depicted as immediately preparing his community for war by transforming tribal affiliations into military camps. Biblical
513 Lev. 14:22-28. 514 This point will be explored further in 4.1.3. 515 Fuchs, Sexual Politics in the Biblical Narrative , 117–32. 190 texts represent Moses as issuing very specific regulations for the organization of these military camps and for the behavioral standards of those living within them. This section outlines these specific regulations for military camps.
Within biblical texts, enlistment in these camps is depicted as a divine mandate.
According to Numbers, “all the men in Israel of twenty years or more who are fit for military service” must be enrolled in the military camps. 516 At the time of enrollment in the census, young men were obliged to pay the half-shekel ransom and participate in the army. 517 The key point is that enlistment into the war camps in the wilderness was not voluntary but was a mandatory component of membership for every man except those serving in authorized roles in the temple cult.
In terms of the organizational structures of the camps, they were organized hierarchically with the twelve tribes arranging themselves into four camps. 518 Judah for example is named as a divisional camp with the tribes of Issachar and Zebulun under the authority of the tribe of
Judah. 519 The text also names specific male leaders for each of the four divisional camps with a man overseeing the camp and a man overseeing each ancestral house. For example, the son of
Amminadab, Nahshon is named as the leader of the divisional camp of Judah with the son of
516 Num. 1:3. 517 Exod. 30:11-16; Num. 1:1-3; 26:2-51. In Levine's treatment of the passage he notes that a shekel contained twenty grains with the shekel weighing anywhere from 11.4 to 12.2 grains. Moreover, he explains that it is intended to serve as an act of devotion that brings the Israelites to the attention of their God. By giving it, soldiers and their commanders can be assured that God will remember them. See Baruch A. Levine, Numbers 1-20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 257. 518 Num. 2:3-31. 519 Num. 2:3-9. 191 Zuar Nethanel leading the ancestral house of Issachar. 520 Each of the four camps is described as organized “under the ensigns of their ancestral houses.” 521
These examples illustrate that the war camps are imagined within biblical texts as arranged hierarchically with specific male heirs of the ancestral houses given certain privileges and responsibilities according to their commitments to their respective tribes. Male endogamy also plays in important role in the camps’ organization with firstborn sons allotted political and religious rights and representation. Furthermore, this hierarchical arrangement imbricates military and priestly power with the sons of Aaron called by Moses to lead the camps. For example, in the case of breaking camp and moving, the sons of Aaron are mandated with the crucial task of going into the Tent of Meeting and taking down the screen curtain and covering the ark with it. 522 Moreover, the sons of Aaron are given the crucial responsibility of performing the blessing over the soldiers gathered in the camps. 523 Numbers presents an idealized portrait of the camps’ organization and represents members from all the ancestral houses working in unison with the other ancestral houses.
This union between military and religious power is evident within Moses’ purity regulations for soldiers. In Deuteronomy, Moses is depicted as ordering soldiers to keep away from anything bad since God journeyed along with military encampments. 524 The two major sources of contamination that the text is primarily concerned with are nocturnal emissions and excrement. 525 In the case of nocturnal emissions, the text argues that a soldier must leave the
520 Num. 2:3-5. 521 Num. 2:2. 522 Num. 4:5. 523 Num. 6:22-26. 524 Deut. 23:10. 525 Deut. 11-14. 192 camp, take a bathe toward evening, and then when the sun has set may return to the camp. 526 For excrement, Moses argues that soldiers must keep trowels in their equipment and relieve themselves by digging holes. 527
Deuteronomy concludes these regulations with the affirmation that since God “journeys along in the midst” of the camp, it “must be holy, so that he does not see anything indecent in your midst and turn away from you.” 528 Furthermore, this passage indicates that configurations of impurity played a crucial role in arranging social relations between soldiers in military camps.
As Moshe Weinfeld explains, this configuration of impurity plays a crucial role in delineating the holiness and sacredness of a camp. 529
These purity regulations extend to corpses and scaly infections. For example, Numbers argues that touching a corpse makes a soldier unclean. 530 People with a “scaly infection and everyone suffering from a discharge” are also expelled from the camp. 531 Commenting on this passage, David Biale explains that genital discharge was commonly associated with God’s procreative power and thus ejaculation was equated with a loss of God’s vitality. 532 These regulations indicate that while all men were mandated with the responsibility of serving in the military, only those who met the purity requirements could enter the camps.
526 Deut. 23:12. 527 Deut. 23:14. 528 Deut. 13:15. 529 Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1972), 225. 530 Num. 5:2. 531 Num. 5:2-4. 532 David Biale, Eros and Jew: From Biblical Israel to Contemporary America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), 29. 193 This point is repeatedly emphasized with the biblical authors stressing that God dwells within the midst of the camp. 533 There is a notion that soldiers must maintain a state of ritual purity while in a military camp since God lives among them as a warrior. As Jessica Keady confirms, the soldier in Deuteronomy serves as the embodiment of the strong Jewish male body. 534 With soldiers acting as the idealized embodiment of masculinity, they become the symbol for holiness and ritual purity. Purity and masculinity are linked with ritual purity reconfigured to the site of war. Put differently, gender is not an effect of purity but it is a structuring agent that shapes biblical understandings of the constitutive elements of purity.
Genital discharge and scaly infections threaten a soldier’s purity, since they threaten a soldier’s perfect physical masculine body. The concept of the battlefield as a ritual sphere where God’s presence is made manifest requires the imposition of certain purity regulations that structure a soldier’s body and habits of living.
In addition to prohibiting people with scaly infections or discharges from entering the camps, the text also imposes certain purity regulations on soldiers returning from battle. After combat, soldiers must remain outside the camp for at least seven days, purifying themselves “on the third and on the seventh day.” 535 All battle instruments must be cleansed with both water and fire with soldiers washing their garments on the seventh day.
In addition to these cleansing rituals, Moses also institutes regulations on soldiers’ sexual relationships with women. For example, Deuteronomy permits soldiers to not only marry while away on military campaign but also marry women that they take captive: “When you go out to
533 Num. 5:3. 534 Jessica M. Keady, Vulnerability and Valour: A Gendered Analysis of Everyday Life in the Dead Sea Scrolls Communities (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2017), 99. 535 Num. 31:19. 194 battle against your enemies, and the Lord our God delivers them into your hands and you take them away captive, and see among the captives a beautiful woman, and have a desire for her and would take her as a wife for yourself.” 536 However, this sexual union is regulated and monitored with the biblical text arguing that the female captive must first shave her head, cut her nails, and mourn her family for at least one month before a soldier can sexually violate her. 537
Deuteronomy also depicts Moses as prohibiting newly married soldiers from leaving their wives. Rather than urge soldiers to leave their wives, Deuteronomy mandates that soldiers must first please their wives, providing them with one year to be happy: “When a man is newlywed, he shall not go out on a military expedition, nor shall any duty be imposed on him. He shall be exempt for one year for the sake of his family, to bring joy to the wife he has married.” 538 As in the case of captive women, Deuteronomy expresses interest in the sexual lives of soldiers and argues that military service should not come between a man’s commitment to marry and procreate.
In addition to encouraging soldiers to fulfill their social obligations as husbands, biblical texts represent Moses as arguing soldiers to fulfill all their familial obligations while away on military campaigns. If a soldier has built a home and left it undedicated, needs to tend to his vineyard, or is engaged but not yet married, Deuteronomy argues that the soldier must return home and fulfill his obligations to his family and home. 539 This biblical passage indicates that soldiers had to ensure that they satisfied their familial obligations before they left their families and wives to go on a military campaign. Enlisting in the military did not require soldiers to break
536 Deut. 21:10-11. 537 Deut. 21:12-14. 538 Deut. 24:5. 539 Deut. 20:1-8. 195 their relational commitments. Rather biblical texts promote an idealized social expectation that soldiers would make every effort to maintain their relational commitments to their wives and families while away on military campaigns.
Deuteronomy also confirms that soldiers have a right to accumulate wealth and spoils while away on military campaigns: “However, you are to take as booty for yourself the women, the little ones, the livestock, and everything in the city — all its spoil. Yes, you will feed on your enemies’ spoil, which your God has given you.” 540 Moreover, Deuteronomy argues that all the nations which currently live in Canaan must be destroyed completely: “As for the towns of these peoples, which your God is giving you as your inheritance, you are not to allow anything that breathes to live. Rather you must destroy them completely.” 541 Soldiers are encouraged to pillage cities and take captive women as loot. Confirming this point, Susanne Scholz explains that the oppressive and violent capture and assault of women, land, and material resources is implicated in the narrative’s representation of military conquest. 542
Although Deuteronomy argues that soldiers have a right to accumulate riches while away on military campaigns, Moses argues that soldiers must bring the spoils of war to the priests who are responsible for counting all the spoils collected in battle, both “human being and beast alike.” 543 In Numbers, Moses also mandates a tax on the spoils in which one out of every five hundred recorded items must be given to Eleazar the priest. 544 Although soldiers are allowed to enjoy the spoils of war, all spoils had to be collected and accounted for by the priesthood with
540 Deut. 20:14. 541 Deut. 20:16-17. 542 Susanne Scholz, Sacred Witness: Rape in the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010), specifically Chapter 4. 543 Num. 31:26. 544 Num. 31:29. 196 the priests and Levites getting a substantial portion of the spoils. Moreover, the text recounts that
“commanders of thousands and commanders of hundreds” voluntarily handed over gold offerings to the priests to “make atonement.” 545 This is not a general rule routinely emphasized in every text, but it occurs in this specific instance within Numbers.
This concern over the regulation of spoils and plunder extended to women. In one such scene, Moses is depicted as ordering soldiers who spared Canaanite women to murder all the women and their male offspring: “‘So you have spared all the women!’ he exclaimed. ‘These are the very ones who on Balaam’s advice were behind the Israelites’ unfaithfulness to the Lord in the affair at Peor, so that plague struck the Lord’s community. Now kill, therefore, every male among the children and kill every woman who has had sexual relations with a man.’” 546 Moses provides a binding prohibition against mismanaging the spoils of war and taking Canaanite women and children as slaves and sexual partners.
Although Moses does not condemn the act of plundering a community, he imposes strict regulations on the organization of booty, plunder, and the spoils of war. Biblical texts permit soldiers to accumulate riches and spoils, but they are not permitted to take Canaanite women or riches from the Canaanite people. According to Joshua 7, soldiers and military commanders must keep all the riches of the Canaanites in the collective treasury of religious officials: “But be careful not to covet or take anything that is under the ban; otherwise you will bring upon the camp of Israel this ban and the misery of it. All silver and gold, and the articles of bronze or iron, are holy to the Lord.” 547
545 Num. 31:48-54. 546 Num. 31:15-17. 547 Josh 6:18-19. 197 Describing these biblical scenes of conquest, Susan Niditch argues that the practice of the ban or herem is intended to reify the texts’ configuration of war as an act of ritual and religious devotion. 548 All spoils of war are understood to belong to God and Israelite soldiers are called to destroy idolatry completely, even if it means genocide of an entire people and their resources, because war is imagined by biblical authors as confirmation of God’s promise to wipe out idolatry. War is thus an altar and site of ritual practice that only God controls.
With the assumption that the battlefield functions as a ritual altar, military conquest seems to be represented in biblical texts as a masculine imperative. As Scholz describes, the violent and oppressive seizure of women’s bodies and material resources is a formative idea structuring the narrative’s representation of the distinctive elements of military conquest. 549
Building upon this point, Leah Schulte argues that in these representations of conquest, the focus is squarely on men and how these violent acts impact “the male characters and Israel’s relationship with her deity.” 550 Put simply, this is an idealized representation of war that promotes the idea that the violent seizure of resources and women was a crucial component of conquest.
These regulations promote the idea that the wilderness community was able to transform by working together and maintained a perfect union of priestly and military power. Furthermore, the camps are depicted as holy spaces where God dwells among soldiers, aiding them in their
548 Susan Niditch, War in the Hebrew Bible: A Study in the Ethics of Violence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 65–70; Hamlin confirms this point. See E. John Hamlin, Inheriting the Land: A Commentary on the Book of Joshua (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1983), 52–53. 549 Scholz uses the modern category of “gang rape” to describe this biblical treatment of women. See Scholz, Sacred Witness , vii–ix. 550 Leah Rediger Schulte, The Absence of God in Biblical Rape Narratives (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2017), 17–18. 198 military conquests of the Promised Land. Soldiers are expected to maintain a certain state of ritual purity lest God see soldiers acting improperly. In the case of Numbers, these regulations involved prohibitions against people with skin ailments and soldiers returning from battle.
Masculine status in the military is thus tied to an elite state of purity distinct that distinguished soldiers from women and men deemed unfit for service.
Although soldiers were expected to maintain certain purity standards while in the camps, they were still required to fulfill their commitments to civilian institutions, such as family and marriage. As in the case of civilian society, marriage, family, and wealth all served as markers of status. Enlistment in the military was not necessarily a profession and did not mean that a man could reject his familial duties. Rather it was a mandatory responsibility for all men.
4.1.3 Regulations for the Temple Cult
In addition to issuing regulations for military camps, Moses is also depicted as instituting certain regulations that demarcate men for service in the temple cult. The biblical texts make clear that each of the ancestral houses makes camp around the Tent of Meeting. 551 However,
Moses mandates that Aaron and his sons were the only persons authorized to enter the Tent of
Meeting with Aaron and his sons camped east of the tabernacle, toward the sunrise. 552 The biblical texts make clear that only the sons of Aaron, Nadab, Abihu, Eleazar, and Ithamar, are singled out for priestly service in the temple cult.553 In addition to Aaron and his sons, Levi and his sons are called to assist the priests in their duties and are thus not enrolled for military service
551 In Exodus’ representation, sacrifices are depicted as occurring outside of the Tent of Meeting in the court of Tabernacle (29:11). 552 Num. 3:38. 553 Num. 3:1-4. 199 with the other tribes.554 Among the Levites obligations included maintaining the tabernacle by providing furnishings for the Tent of Meeting. 555
There are some obvious parallels between the regulations that organized priestly and military life. As addressed earlier, military camps were imagined as religious spaces and altars of worship where God entered and acted on behalf of Israel. 556 Thus, the space of the temple cult and those who regulate it are treated in a similar manner to soldiers in battle.
Among these analogies include specific purity regulations. For example, both soldiers and priests are forbidden from coming into contact with corpses. 557 In addition to contact with a corpse, priests with scaly infections and genital discharge were also prohibited from eating the sacred offerings. 558 Just as soldiers with scaly infections and genital dischargers were considered unclean, priests needed to become clean again before they could partake in and consume the sacred offerings.
Priests were also subject to regulations concerning their appearance, blemishes, and disabilities. For example, priests were forbidden from shaving the edges of their beard or making the crown of their head bald. 559 Priests with physical disabilities, scabs, and/or blemishes were not allowed to “come forward to offer the food of his God.” 560 Men with “lameness of the tongue” were also excluded from service. 561 While they could not offer up the sacred offerings,
554 Num. 2:33. 555 Num. 3:7-9. 556 Niditch, War in the Hebrew Bible , 50–57. 557 Lev. 21:1. 558 Lev. 22:4. 559 Lev. 21:5. 560 Lev. 21:17-20. 561 Mic 4:6; Zeph 3:19. 200 priests with scabs, disabilities, and/or blemishes were permitted to partake in and consume the food offering. The only space that priests with blemishes were forbidden from entering was the veil near to the altar. 562 As Jonathan Klawans explains, purity here is conceptualized in physical terms. 563 Biblical texts emphasize this physical conceptualization of purity arguing that priests must physically wash themselves before entering the Tent of Meeting. 564
In addition to these analogies, priestly and military institutions were organized hierarchically according to patrilineal ancestral houses. Priests by definition were men who were born into priestly families. 1 Chronicles 6 explains that sacrificial activities and services could only be performed by the sons of certain families. In the case of the holy of holies, the text makes clear that only “Aaron and his sons made the sacrifice on the altar for burnt offerings and on the altar of incense; they alone had charge of the holy of holies and making atonement for
Israel, as Moses, the servant of God, had commanded.” 565 Exodus and Numbers parallels this description of the priestly hierarchy and depicts service in the temple cult as an exclusive male privilege.
As Carol Newsom and Sharon Ringe explain, biblical representations of the priesthood make clear that men are the only ones who could come directly before God with women approaching God only through indirect means. 566 Building upon this point, Joan Taylor explains that the closest that a woman could come to God was at the door of the Tent of Meeting (Exodus
562 Lev. 21:23. 563 Jonathan Klawans, Purity, Sacrifice, and the Temple: Symbolism and Supersessionism in the Study of Ancient Judaism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 564 Exod. 30:19-21. 565 1 Chron. 6:34. 566 Carol Ann Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe, eds., Women’s Bible Commentary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998), 47. 201 38:8). 567 However, Taylor confirms that the door remained an impenetrable barrier that prevented women from approaching God directly.
Ross Kraemer confirms that biblical texts represent the maintenance and reproduction of the temple cult as exclusively male. Among the examples that her analysis singles out include
Exodus 23:17 and Deuteronomy 16:16 which require all males to appear before God at an authorized place of God’s choosing. 568 Building upon this point, Wegner argues that biblical texts seem to argue that women were exempted from pilgrimage. 569 For example, Deuteronomy
16:16 mandates that only all males must appear before God three times a year.
With their gender and ancestry serving as crucially important markers of their status,
Moses is said to have imposed certain regulations that regulated their patrilineal ancestral lines.
In particular, priests were prohibited from marrying women who had been divorced or women who were “debased by prostitution.” 570 The “most exalted of the priests,” can only marry a woman who is a virgin and who has been “taken from his kindred.” 571 Furthermore, if a priest’s daughter had unauthorized sexual relations, Moses mandated that she be “burned with fire.” 572
The impositions of these regulations on priests’ sexual relationships with women reproduced their ancestral line and also distinguished them priestly families from the laity. The idea that
567 Joan Taylor, “The Women ‘Priests’ of Philo’s De Vita Contemplativa: Reconstructing the Therapeutae,” in On the Cutting Edge: The Study of Women in the Biblical World: Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza , ed. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (New York: Continuum, 2004), 115. 568 Ross Shepard Kraemer, Her Share of the Blessings: Women’s Religions among Pagans, Jews, and Christians in the Greco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 95–97. 569 Judith Romney Wegner, Chattel or Person? The Status of Women in the Mishnah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 147–49. 570 Lev. 21:7. 571 Lev. 21:14. 572 Lev. 21:10. 202 priests animated from patrilineal ancestral lines reifies the importance of the patriarchal family structure in society.
Family and marriage were not the only institutional structures used to delineate priestly status, but priests were also expected to regulate and manage the community’s material resources. In Numbers 18, God mandates to Aaron “you shall not have any heritage in their land nor hold any portion among them.” 573 God prohibits Aaron and his sons to own land, promising
Aaron that God “will be your portion and your heritage among the Israelites.” 574 However while
Aaron and his sons might be prohibited from owning property, God promises that the priests and their families are entitled to every gift ritually offered to the temple cult. 575 The implications being that priests and their families were given more access to the animals sacrificially killed in the temple and thus given the distinctive privilege of eating more meat than non-priests.
Deuteronomy and Leviticus offer different representations of tithing practices.576
According to Deuteronomy, Moses mandated that Israelites provide a yearly tithe of grain, wine, and oil as well as the firstborn of one’s herd to the temple treasury with the centralized collection of tithe placing great control over material resources into the hands of the priesthood. 577 This practice is different from the practice depicted in Numbers 18 as described above. However, in both cases the texts argue that priests reserve the right to tithes. Even the Levites who received a
573 Num. 18:20. 574 Num. 18:20. 575 Num. 18:11. 576 Lev. 27:30-33; Deut. 14:22-27. 577 Deut. 14:22-29. 203 tithe of the sacred offerings of the Israelites had to offer up part of their assigned tithe to the priests and thus present a “tithe of the tithe” to priestly families. 578
There are also specific tithing practices reserved for military campaigns. In Numbers,
Moses is represented as mandating that after a successful military campaign, soldiers and military officers were required to provide a gift to priests. 579 Because these sacred gifts of precious objects and material resources were stored within the temple, priests functioned as managers of this national treasury that could be used for certain political and social purposes.
Once brought to the Temple, tithes could be used by the king to protect the people, according to the historiographic accounts of ancient Israel in the Hebrew Bible. In one instance,
Joash is represented as taking everything from the treasury to prevent King Hazael of Aram from invading Jerusalem. 580 The treasury was also used to bribe other powers to come to the aid of
Israel when facing the threat of a military invasion. 581 Tithing was thus structured around protecting the people from military domination.
In addition to protecting local communities from military domination, biblical texts argue that the treasury of the temple cult was to be used to care for society’s most vulnerable members.
For example, Deuteronomy represents tithing as an important component of charitable giving.
578 Num. 18:26. The Levites were mandated with certain responsibilities related to the caretaking of the tabernacle and temple worship (Num. 3:21-26), but they could not serve as priests and consecrate ritual sacrifices (Num. 18). Scholars debate Deuteronomy’s representation of this relationship between priests and Levites and the text’s use of the terms. See Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1972), 54. Leuchter discusses the importance of temple service in agrarian cultures. See Mark Leuchter, The Levites and the Boundaries of Israelite Identity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 73-85. 579 Num. 31:26. 580 2 Kgs 12:18-19. 581 1 Kgs 15:17-21. Asa bribes Aram. 204 Building upon this point, Marty Stevens argues that Deuteronomy routinely stresses the sacral character and obligation behind charitable giving and tithing. 582
Among the chief texts that Stevens uses to support his argument include Deuteronomy
14:28. This passage argues that a portion of income was supposed to be diverted to the resident alien, the orphan, and the widow. The idea that the authors would include a mandate to care for the needy and disenfranchised in their directive for charitable giving to the temple cult indicates that tithing was imagined as a mechanism for protecting the poor and vulnerable in society.
Furthermore, biblical texts make clear that the priesthood was responsible for the proper management and regulation of these resources.
Just as the military camp was identified as a holy space, the Tent of Meeting was also defined as a holy space where God dwelled and men directly encountered God. Like soldiers, those who attended the space were expected to embody a state of ritual purity that distinguished them from lay men and women. This ritual separation was maintained through patrilineal descent with birth serving as a mechanism for delineating a man’s status in the temple cult. Since membership in the priesthood was determined by birth, priests had a social obligation to marry and reproduce male offspring. Biblical texts also make clear that priests were mandated with the responsibility of collecting and regulating tithes and ensuring that those in need received material protection.
Biblical representations of the temple cult depict priests as the guardians of covenantal masculinity with priests responsible for storing and protecting Moses’ divine injunctions within the Tent of Meeting. This protection was not just symbolic, but priests are envisioned by biblical
582 Marty E. Stevens, Temples, Tithes, and Taxes: The Temple and the Economic Life of Ancient Israel (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 135–36. 205 authors as responsible for the protection of the people and proper regulation of material resources. Those who served in the military camps and temple cult were imagined as working collaboratively with one another to protect the local population from foreign domination and exploitation. Covenantal masculinity was thus constituted by a perfect union between priestly and military power.
4.2 Judah’s Crisis of Masculinity
The Mosaic covenant established men’s social roles and obligations in society. The leadership, economic, and spatial structures of the wilderness community coalesced around the idea that manliness was constituted by the possession of women, the land, and the resources that the land provided. Patrilineal ancestral houses were the central institutions responsible for the community’s protection and safety, assuring that the land remained firmly in the hands of the
Israelite community. Moses also promises that these ancestral houses were to ensure that all those in need receive the requisite resources. In each case, family, wealth, and marriage served as the central markers of membership in the Mosaic covenant and remained the chief institutions by which Israelites participated in their society’s maintenance and reproduction.
Some of the Dead Sea Scrolls indicate that the institutional frameworks which determined masculine status were unraveling and in jeopardy. 583 As addressed in chapter two, this dissertation will not approach the scrolls as the product of a “sect” or isolated group of individuals set apart from the dominant culture. Rather the point is to read the scrolls as emblematic of a larger cultural movement in which locals expressed their understanding of
583 There are major issues and debates concerning the scrolls’ translations and fragmentary material. However, it is beyond the scope of this study to examine every translation in detail. Therefore, texts and translations of the scrolls will be pulled from Martínez and Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition . 206 occupation and their role in it. Regardless of debates about the dating of each of the scrolls, they were written during a point in Judah’s history in which locals lived in a state of occupation.
Furthermore, the scrolls will not be read as depicting the actual practices of a group, but this reading will investigate how the scrolls represent certain ideas and practices as they exist within the imaginations of their authors.
The scrolls seem to suggest that the chief source of the problem was men’s inability to abide by the terms of the Mosaic covenant. While Moses makes clear that the Law required interpretation, the scrolls are unique in that they suggest that the entire institution itself was crumbling. Interpretation alone is not so much the issue. Rather, the scrolls represent local men as not even knowing about the Law or caring to maintain it in any form. This destabilization of the Law of Moses manifests itself in the scrolls’ repeated castigations of deviant male behavior.
The Halakhic Letter for example repeatedly emphasizes that some members of local society were willfully transgressing the Mosaic covenant. Among the list of problematic activities includes the prevalence of violence and fornication: “For in these matters [… because of] violence and fornication [many] places have been ruined.” 584 Violence and illicit sexual activities are identified as a primary source of ruin with local society overrun with these unlawful and problematic transgressions of the covenant.
The authors of the Halakhic Letter depict the curses of the covenant as coming to fruition: “And we are aware that part of the blessings and curses have occurred that are written in the b[ook of Mos]es. And this is the end of days, when they will return in Israel to the L[aw …]
584 4Q398 fr. 14-21 5-6; 4QMMT C 1-17. 207 and not turn bac[k] and the wicked will act wick[edly].” 585 Referring to the Deuteronomic covenantal blessings and curses, the authors argue that they are living in a time in which the wicked and those who act wickedly will fall away from the Law and not turn back. This apocalyptic outlook assumes that society has been ruined with the prevalence of violence and fornication with local communities transgressing and turning away from the precepts of the
Mosaic covenant.
These themes are also prevalent in the Damascus Document . The authors routinely castigate men who are willingly transgressing the covenant: “[They] should [take] care [to act in accordance with the exact interpretation of the law for the a]ge of wicke[dness: To be keep] apart from the sons of [injust]ice; [to abstain from wicked wealth which defiles, either by] promise or by [vow, and from the wealth of the] [temp]le and from [stealing from the poor of his people, from making their widow]s [their] spoils,] [and murdering orphans].” 586 The reference to the
“sons of injustice” indicates that the text is chiefly concerned with local men who are knowingly and willingly violating the precepts of the covenant. Baumgarten and Schwartz confirm that the reference to stealing what rightfully belongs to the widows and orphans is a reference to the funds deposited in the temple.587
These disobedient sons are mentioned alongside problems with wicked wealth which refers to the misappropriation of wealth from the temple, and the abuse of the poor, widows, and orphans. Like the Halakhic Letter , the Damascus Document identifies wealth as a key threat with
585 4Q398 fr. 11-13 3-5; 4QMMT C 18-24. 586 4QD a 3 ii 21-23; CD 8.27. 587 Joseph Baumgarten and Daniel Schwartz, 'Damascus Document (CD),' in Damascus Document, War Scroll, and Related Documents , ed. James H. Charlesworth (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995), 23. 208 the text scolding those who steal from the wealth of the temple and from those most in need. As addressed previously in the discussion of covenantal masculinity, the accumulation and management of material resources and the protection of women and children from foreign military domination are all coded as masculine in biblical representations of covenantal masculinity. Put simply, the idea that the scroll includes the management of the community’s resources, the protection of civilians, and the improper dedication of wealth indicates that the authors are chiefly concerned with distinctive markers of masculine identity.
The Damascus Document characterizes the world as one overrun by vipers and the webs of spiders: “[They speak (abomination) against] them. [They are] al[l igniters of fire, kindlers of blazes; webs of a spider are their webs,] [and the]ir eggs are [vi]pers’ [eggs. Whoever comes close to them will not be unpunished.” 588 With this representation, the text presents the world as overrun by wickedness and evil, warning the reader to stay away from those who transgress the covenant and speak abominations. As scholars have suggested, the term vipers’ eggs are drawn from biblical passages from Isaiah 50:11 and Isaiah 59:5 in which biblical authors represent those who defy the covenant as receiving divinely ordained punishment.589 The use of these biblical passages suggest that the scroll believes the time for this divinely ordained punishment has come to fruition.
Comparing their present society to the wilderness community as they transgressed and strayed from the covenant, the authors use the metaphor of a heifer straying from a path to
588 4QD a 3 ii 1-2; 4QD b 2; CD 5.13-6:18. 589 Joseph Blenkinsopp, Opening the Sealed Book: Interpretations of the Book of Isaiah in Late Antiquity (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2006), 93, 201–2; Martha Himmelfarb, A Kingdom of Priests: Ancestry and Merit in Ancient Judaism (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006), 119; Michael A. Knibb, The Qumran Community (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 44. 209 describe the present state of their local society: “Like a stray heifer so has Israel strayed, when the scof[fer arose, who poured out over Israel waters of lies] and made them stray into a wilderness without path.” 590 The Damascus Document also describes local men as seeking “easy interpretations” of the covenant and choosing illusions while sentencing the just and acquitting the guilty. 591 Local society is represented in the scroll as troubled with locals described as straying from the basic precepts of the covenant.
The Community Rule offers a similar representation of reality. As in the case of the
Damascus Document , the authors represent their community as a beacon of light surrounded by a sea of darkness with the authors describing themselves as living “during the dominion of
Belial.” 592 The authors call upon their members to “walk in perfection” and “detest all the songs of darkness.” 593 The text advises the reader to keep away from those described as the “sons of darkness.”
The scroll’s concern for improper masculine behavior is repeated in a passage that represents locals as reproaching those deemed for divinely ordained punishment: “He should not reproach or argue with the men of the pit but instead hide the counsel of the law in the midst of the men of injustice.”594 The men of the pit denotes those not sanctioned to have a blessed afterlife. 595 Rather than help them, the Community Rule advises members to avoid teaching or
590 4QD a 2 ii 15-17; CD 1.21-2.21. 591 4QD a 2 ii 21-23; CD 1.21-2.21. 592 1QS 1:18. 593 1QS 1.8-10. 594 1QS 9:16-17. 595 Catherine Murphy suggests that the text’s reference to the concept of a pit might be an economic referent with pits commonly used in antiquity to store commodities. However, Matthew Goff disagrees with this interpretation and argues that the phrase “men of the pit” may also be a term for Sheol and describes those not sanctioned to have a blessed afterlife. See Catherine M. Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community (Leiden: 210 speaking truth to condemned men and represents them as lost causes who will never return to the
Mosaic covenant.
In addition to condemning others for their improper behavior, the authors also condemn themselves and their fathers before them: “We have [trans]gressed, we have [si]nned, we have committed evil, we and our [fa]thers before us, inasmuch as we walk […] truth and just […] his judgment upon us and upon o[ur] fathers.” 596 The authors emphasize that members have not only transgressed, but their fathers before them have also transgressed the covenant. Like the rest of the world, they recognize that they and their fathers before them lived in sin with this recognition driving them to turn back toward God.
Paralleling themes within the Halakhic Letter and Damascus Document , the Community
Rule characterizes local society as overrun by men who thirst for wealth and improperly manage the resources of the community. As Hanan Eshel argues, the scrolls deliver a sharp criticism against those who enrich themselves through “ill-gotten wealth” and the unlawful mismanagement of resources reserved for the Temple.597 There is a clear acknowledgment of a failure to fulfill their established masculine roles in society. Even their fathers were not safe from this wickedness and had routinely strayed from the covenant.
This characterization of the world also surfaces in the Rule of the Congregation. The authors describe themselves as keeping the covenant “in the midst of wickedness to ato[ne for
Brill, 2002), 228; Matthew J. Goff, The Worldly and Heavenly Wisdom of 4QInstruction (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 201. 596 1QS 1:25-26. 597 Hanan Eshel, Exploring the Dead Sea Scrolls: Archaeology and Literature of the Qumran Caves , ed. Shani Tzoref and Barnea Levi Selavan (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 39. 211 the ear]th.” 598 The authors describe their world as wicked with societal members unable to keep the precepts of the Mosaic covenant. As in the case of other scrolls, the Rule of the Congregation continues to paint a stark portrait of their world, promoting the assumption that their entire world has been overrun by wickedness. 599
Similarly, the Habakkuk Pesher imagines Jerusalem as a ravaged and looted place with local religious and political authorities participating in this destructive process. 600 The text repeatedly references this point in 1QpHab 9: 2-18:
“It says: ‘Since you pillaged many peoples all the rest of the nations will pillage
you’…its interpretation concerns the last priests of Jerusalem who will accumulate riches
and loot from the plundering the nations. However in the last days their riches and their
loot will be given into the hands of the army of the Kittim ‘For the human blood (spilt)
and the violence (done) to the country, the city and all who dwell in it.’” 601
There is no one to protect the people of Jerusalem as they are pillaged and ravaged. Even the priests ravage their own people and plunder the region for their own personal benefit.
Religious leaders are depicted as not fulfilling their established social duties but taking advantage of those who need their protection. Whereas biblical representations represent the priesthood as protecting the people from foreign domination, the Habakkuk Pesher represents the
598 1QSa 1.3. 599 Not all the texts were written during the same exact period. Furthermore, many of the texts were likely copied and transmitted over time. However, the focus here is on general themes and representations of the world that emerge during the Seleucid and Roman occupations. 600 1QpHab 8:7-13. 601 1QpHab 9: 2-18. 212 priesthood as exposing people to military conquest and domination. The Kittim are imagined as saving the people from the wickedness and tyranny of the local priesthood. 602
The Kittim are imagined as conquering the temple cult, deposing the priests, and also plundering the region: “And they shall march across the plain, smiting and plundering the cities of the earth. For it is as He said, ‘to take possession of dwellings which are not their own. They are fearsome and terrible.’” 603 The Kittim overrun the earth, devouring people devour “like an eagle which cannot be satisfied,” as “they address [all the peoples] with anger and [wrath and fury] and indignation.” 604 With local political and religious leaders unable to protect local communities from military domination, the Kittim are free to “mock the great and despise the venerable.” 605
The scroll’s representation of Israel’s future is one in which Israel is left vulnerable to military conquest, domination, and exploitation. As Kenneth Atkinson explains, the focus here is on the events associated with the Roman conquest of Judah with the authors depicting these events through an apocalyptic lens. 606 Building upon his insight, the Roman occupation is blamed entirely on the failures of the local priesthood who have left the region vulnerable to military domination.
602 The Kittim likely refers to Roman armies. See Kenneth Atkinson, “The Identification of the Wicked Priest Reconsidered: The Case for Hyrcanus II,” in Sibyls, Scriptures, and Scrolls: John Collins at Seventy , ed. Joel Baden, Hindy Najman, and Elbert Tigchelaar (Leiden, Brill, 2016), 82. 603 1QpHab 3:1-3. 604 1QpHab 3:9-13. 605 1QpHab 4.2. 606 Atkinson, “The Identification of the Wicked Priest Reconsidered: The Case for Hyrcanus II,” 82. 213 The scroll describes a breakdown of masculinity as men are unable to manage the resources of their community and protect them from attack. Men are represented as acting inappropriately and failing to fulfill their prescribed roles as protectors and providers. The authors repeatedly emphasize this idea in their castigation of the Wicked Priest who serves as the embodiment of the local priesthood’s failures: “The city is Jerusalem where the Wicked Priest committed abominable deeds and defiled the Temple of God. The violence done to the land: these are the cities of Judah where he robbed the poor of their possessions.” 607 The local leadership has transformed Jerusalem into a corrupted and defiled place, committing the most abominable deeds against their own people. 608 Moreover as John Collins explains, the text is most likely castigating the high priestly office itself with term “wicked priest” involving a pun on the term “high priest.” Representing Jerusalem and its local male leaders as defiled and corrupted, the scrolls paint local men as completely emasculated and unable to defend their community.
The authors of the War Scroll offer a similar representation of reality and imagine an eschatological war against the Roman military with the scroll’s authors imagining themselves as soldiers fighting in God’s army. In this eschatological war, local men are depicted as openly violating and breaking the covenant and in the process enabling the Kittim to destroy the region:
“The first attack by the sons of light will be launched against the lot of the sons of darkness, against the army of Belial, against the band of Edom and of Moab and of the sons of Ammon and
[…] Philistia, and against the bands of the Kittim of Ashur, who are being helped by the
607 1QpHab 12: 7-10. 608 John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2016), 186. 214 violators of the covenant.” 609 The authors argue that there are men from within the community who are not abiding by the covenant and in the process helping the Kittim destroy the region.
Implying that this war is a domestic or civil one, the enemy in this case is from within as local men are described by the authors as the enemy combatant.
Analysis of these scrolls indicates that the crisis of the covenant was constituted by a crisis of masculinity. Put differently, the persistent transgression of the covenant destabilized men’s established roles and status in society and in so doing jeopardized the Law’s reproduction within society. The scrolls routinely emphasize this point and argue that deviant male bodies are responsible for bending the covenant, by mismanaging wealth and fornicating with foreign women, and in so doing making themselves impure. Jessica Keady confirms this insight and argues that there is an explicit relationship in the scrolls between the loss of masculinity and loss of purity.610 In the case of the War Scroll , Keady explains that the authors demonstrate an intense concern with men who have broken societal rules and made themselves impure in the camps. 611
The War Scroll argues that resolving this loss of purity requires that men be “strong and brave” and not, terrified, alarmed or trembling. 612 According to Keady, the repeated emphasis on purity and the pervasive image of the impure man in the scrolls is predicated on the assumption that impurity distorts and threatens the strong and powerful male Jewish body. 613
Building upon Keady’s argument, the scrolls’ emphasis on men who are unable to fulfill their societal obligations and have made themselves impure in the process indicates that they are
609 1QM 1:1-2. 610 Keady, Vulnerability and Valour , 68. 611 Ibid., 102-4. 612 1QM 15.7; 1QM 17.7-8. 613 Keady, Vulnerability and Valour , 57. 215 chiefly concerned with a crisis of masculinity. Jewish men who do not know about the Mosaic
Law nor make any effort to learn them are threatening the status of the Jewish male body. The authors of the scrolls develop and experiment with potential resolutions for this local crisis of masculinity. In many cases, this resolution involved a restructuring of covenantal regulations.
The War Scroll , Community Rule , Damascus Document , and Rule of the Congregation exemplify this shift in understanding of covenantal masculinity. This discursive shift involves the implementation of specific regulations. They can loosely be categorized into four distinctive categories including leadership, admission, wealth, and marriage.
4.3 Recovering Covenantal Masculinity
4.3.1 Regulations on Leadership
This section details regulations on leadership. In each case, the scrolls develop regulations that subtly restructure configurations of leadership in biblical texts. Among the distinctive features of these regulations includes the emphasis on military organization and parallels with Hellenistic and Roman military manuals.
For example, the War Scroll ’s description of its army’s organizational structures exhibits numerous parallels with descriptions of Roman armies depicted in military manuals. 614 Yigael
614 Adam Kolman Marshak, The Many Faces of Herod the Great (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2015), 181. Adam Marshak has previously explained that the Hasmonean and Herodian armies were shaped by many of the military habits and customs of Hellenistic and Roman armies. As Marshak explains, John Hyrcanus I and Alexander Jannaeus actively sought out Greek mercenaries for their armies (Jos. Ant . 13.374, 377-378). By the reign of Hyrcanus II, Marshak argues that “the Hasmonean army was a mixture of Jews and Greeks” (p. 181). The Greek soldiers recruited into local armies undoubtedly brought with them their knowledge of Hellenistic military practices which they shared with local soldiers. Moreover, the idea that Hasmonean rulers actively recruited Greek soldiers into their units indicates that they respected and idealizes the habits and lifestyle of Greek soldiers. In the case of Herod, Marshak argues that he very consciously “mimicked Roman military strategy in his use of siege tactics and his 216 Yadin for example has concluded that the War Scroll ’s description of weaponry, formation, and tactics closely resembles those of the Roman army. 615 Among the major analogies include the exact number of troops in the legionary with both the War Scroll . Until the imperial period,
Roman legions were often composed of 3,000 infantry men arranged in three fixed lines. 616 The
War Scroll organizes its own legion into three lines of one thousand men and thus appears to match the Roman legion’s basic structure of numerical organization. 617
Building upon Yadin’s argument, Gmirkin argues that “the durations of service for troops in the pre-Marius Roman army and War Scroll also show remarkable agreement.” 618 For example, both mandate ten years of service for the cavalry, fifteen years of service for light armed infantry, and twenty years of service for soldiers of the heavy infantry and heavy cavalry. 619 From the age of conscription to the coordination of infantry and cavalry, the War
construction of Roman castra (military camps).” Keppie and Shatzman confirm that it was common for client kings to mimic the practices and organization of Roman armies. For example, Herod is said to have organized his infantry units into multiples of 500 which is around the exact same number of soldiers in a typical Roman legion . Josephus argues that Herod sent a unit of 500 soldiers as an auxiliary force to Gallus and then to Caesar which indicates that he organized his infantry units into multiples of 500 ( AJ 15. 307-317). See also Lawrence Keppie, The Making of the Roman Army: From Republic to Empire (London: Routledge, 2002), 141; I. Schatzman, The Armies of the Hasmoneans and Herod: From Hellenisti to Roman Framework (Tubingen: Mohr, 1991), 198–210. 615 Y. Yadin, The Scroll of the War of the Sons of Light Against the Sons of Darkness (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962). More specifically, he argued that the text was patterned after the Roman legions of the 2 nd century BCE. 616 Yadin, 175–76. 617 1QM 5:3. 618 Gmirkin, “The War Scroll and Roman Weaponry Reconsidered,” 96. Gmirkin contested the idea that the War Scroll was modeled after Caesar and Augustus’ armies of the 2 nd century and instead concluded that the scroll was written after Marius’ reforms to the army in 104 to 103 BCE. 619 Gmirkin (1996), 96–97. 217 Scroll ’s representation of its army shows remarkable congruity with descriptions of Roman organization in military manuals.
Although there is remarkable congruity between the two, the War Scroll ’s structural organization is also fundamentally different from that of a Roman legion. The central difference between the two stems from the War Scroll’ s description of its hierarchical divide between authorities and the citizenry. Creating a hierarchal order with military and priestly significance, the text depicts the priests and Levites as going into battle alongside infantry with a union of priestly and military authority: “The priests and the Levites. The priests shall blow the two trumpets of assem[bly...of ba]ttle upon fifty shields and fifty infantrymen shall go out from the one gate and [...] Levites, officers. With each battle line they shall go out according to all [this] o[rder.” 620 This organization recalls the organization of the wilderness community with members organized according to the ensigns of their ancestral houses. 621
This reference to the military organization of the wilderness camps is further reinforced
-This self 622 .(המחנה) with the text’s routine self-description of itself as a military camp description parallels the description of the wilderness community’s organization. As Jonathan
Campbell and Cecilia Wassen explain, the language of “camps” recalls the wilderness period with the term frequently being used in the Hebrew Bible to refer to the armies of the Israelites while they wandered in the wilderness. 623
620 1QM 7:15-17. 621 1QM 3:13-15. 622 1QM 3.4; 4.9; 7.1-7; 14.2. 623 Cecilia Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005), 128. Jonathon Campbell, “Essene-Qumran Origins in Exile: A Scriptural Basis?” JJS 46 (1995), 152-53. 218 The War Scroll actively uses this system of organization as the basis of its own hierarchy.
In doing so, the scroll seems to blend military and priestly customs. For example, the text mandates that leaders must be between the ages of forty to fifty years old: “The men of the array shall be between forty and fifty years.” 624 The scrolls indicate that age is an important component of determining one’s status. Numbers mandates a similar procedure for the religious leadership of the Temple, instituting term limits for priests according to their ages. 625 The authors have restructured the term limits of the priesthood, applying them in the context of military camps. 626 Bridging military and priestly traditions, this regulation indicates that the authors are restructuring and innovating the tradition to produce a hierarchical organization in which priests predominated.
The Damascus Document produces a similar structure of hierarchical organization. Like the War Scroll , the authors of the Damascus Document self-identify themselves as a military
A supreme council chosen from the priestly ancestral houses is responsible for 627 .(המחנה) camp the camp’s management: “And [this is the rule of the judges of] the congregation. [Ten me]n [in number,] chosen from among the congregation, for a period: fo[ur from the tribe of Levi and of]
Aaron and [six] from [Israe]l, [lea]rned in the book of Hagy and in the princi[ples of the covenant; between] twenty-five and sixty years. And no-one over [sixty years should h]old the office.” 628 Like the War Scroll , the priests predominate the hierarchal leadership structures of the
624 1QM 7:1-2. 625 Num. 8:25. 626 Werrett and Parker, “Purity in War: What is it Good for?” 299. HAVE THE FULL CITATION OF THIS ITEM HERE 627 4QD a 8 i 4. 628 4QD a 8 iii 4-7; CD 10.3-12. 219 camps. The text also mandates term limits for the leadership based upon their ages of service with a judicial formation situated at the center of the leadership structure. 629
With this council of judges responsible for judging the camps, the administration of affairs was overseen by an examiner figure who was responsible for managing members and regulating the daily social and financial affairs of the camps: “And the] examiner who is over all
[the camps will be between] thirty [years] and fifty [years of age, mastering] every secret [of men and] every langua[ge…On] his [authority, the members of] the ass[em]bly shall enter,
[each one in his turn;] and any ma[tter which] any [ma]n needs to say to the assembly, [should be told to the examiner].” 630 Like the judges, the examiner figure has term limits that restrict his service to the ages of thirty to fifty.
The examiner seems to function in much the same way as a priest. Among these analogies include his regulation and monitoring of all affairs within the camps. However, the examiner figure need not originate from a priestly ancestral line and unlike priests handles the daily affairs of all members. Furthermore, his power over the lives of members seems to parallel the authority given to officers in the military with officers responsible for the management of soldiers’ daily lives and interactions.
While the Damascus Document ’s hierarchical arrangement of power privileges priestly authority, it restructures priestly authority with the integration of the examiner figure. Unlike
629 The Damascus Document’s references to a judicial body and the importance of the presence of priests in this judicial body are treated at length in Florentino García Martínez, Qumranica Minora II: Thematic Studies on the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar (London: Brill, 2007), 88–90; C. H. Hempel, The Laws of the Damascus Document: Sources, Tradition, and Redaction (London: Brill, 1998), 100–2; Devorah Dimant, History, Ideology and Bible Interpretation in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Collected Studies (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 68– 70. 630 4QD a 10 i 1-5; CD 14: 8-20. 220 priests whose authority was determined by their birth into certain ancestral lines, the examiner’s status is determined by his qualifications and ability to effectively judge matters. As the authors emphasize, the examiner is one who “masters every secret of men and every language.” 631
Qualifications garnered through education and disciplined practice and not birth are the basis of authority and status in the camps.
Like the Damascus Document , the Community Rule ’s leadership structure alludes to and recalls the wilderness narrative. For example, the text organizes the structure of the Yaḥad , hierarchically with “priests ranked first, then the Levites, followed by the laity all the people one after another in their thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens.” 632 The Community Rule uses language that alludes to the organization of the war camps in the wilderness. For example, Moses is depicted as dividing and ranking leadership in the camps “as commanders of thousands, of hundreds, of fifties, and of tens.” 633 Just as priests and Levites were appointed over the laity in the wilderness, priests and Levites were again ranked first and appointed over the laity in the
Yaḥad . Confirming this observation, Robert Hayward argues that the scroll’s hierarchal order recalls “Israel’s constitution as a military camp on its journey through the desert to the promised
Land.” 634
The Community Rule routinely emphasizes the importance of this system of rank, arguing that when more than ten or more members meet, they must always organize and sit according to their rank with priests ranked first. 635 While priests are ranked first, the Community Rule
631 4QD b 9 v 13. 632 1QS 2:22. 633 Exod. 18:21. 634 Robert Hayward, “The Jewish Roots of Christian Liturgy,” in T&T Clark Companion to Liturgy , ed. Alcuin Reid (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2015), 27. 635 1QS 6:2-5. 221 arranges the remaining members according to their ability to master their insights and deeds:
“And they shall be recorded in order, one before the other, according to one’s insight and one’s deeds, in such a way that each one obeys another, the junior the senior. And their spirit and their deeds must be tested, year after year, in order to upgrade each one to the extent of his insight and the perfection of his path, or to demote him according to his failings.” 636 Like the Damascus
Document , one’s status and rank is determined by their education and demonstrated commitment to an agreed code of conduct.
In addition to this change, the Community Rule also emphasizes that every decision is made by members through a system of lots. 637 The authority of the priesthood is thus curtailed with this democratic system of decision making represented as the primary mechanism by which rulings and decisions are made in the Yaḥad . This procedure does not necessarily represent a new innovation, but the process of casting lots has priestly precedents. As Yonder Gillihan explains, the language of casting one’s lot ‘is drawn from biblical law and narratives that depict leaders of
Israel discerning God’s will by casting lots draws upon the biblical ideal of Israel coming to understand God’s will by casting lots.” 638 For example, Joshua depicts the tribes of Israel as casting lots to apportion the land of Canaan between the tribes. 639 In Chronicles, casting lots is used to apportion duties to the priestly and Levitical classes. 640
Building upon Gillihan’s point, Roman armies are commonly depicted as casting lots to apportion duties and decide leadership positions. Like the oath taking procedure, the procedure
636 1QS 5:23-24. 637 1QS 5:3. 638 Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 366. 639 Josh. 18-19. 640 1 Chr. 24-26. 222 of casting lots evokes local religious customs while simultaneously also recalling common military customs, as depicted in military manuals. Furthermore, it indicates a shift in understanding of what constitutes religious authority in the community with non-priestly members given the ability to make decisions once only reserved for the priesthood.
This shift in understanding is also exemplified in the authority figure, described as “the man appointed at the head of the Many” 641 Like the examiner in the camps, this authority figure is distinguished by his knowledge and commitment to Yaḥad ’s distinctive laws. He is also given the responsibility of educating members and initiating them into the community, judging their commitment to the discipline and teaching them the central precepts by which members live by.
The community’s hierarchical structure is fundamentally different from the hierarchical structure of the wilderness community with members ranked according to their education and discipline.
The Rule of the Congregation also organizes members “in accordance with his intelligence and the perfection of his behavior.” 642 With the sons of Aaron ranked first followed by the sons of Levi, members are ranked “under the direction of the heads of the [c]lans of the congregation, as commanders, judges and officials, according to the number of all their armies, under the authority of the sons of Zadok.” 643 While the text evokes descriptions of the war camps in the wilderness, the authors subtly reconfigure this hierarchy by dividing and ranking members according to their intelligence and behavior. As Shani Tzoref explains, the scroll itemizes
641 1QS 6:14 642 1QSa I 17. 643 1QSa I 23-24. 223 desirable behavior and uses this itemized list to define and rank membership within the congregation. 644
In each case, the scrolls subtly restructure the hierarchical organization of the camps in the wilderness period to create a complex priestly-military bureaucratic organization. While priestly status is determined by membership within certain ancestral lines, the examiner figures in the Community Rule and Damascus Document maintain their position according to their qualifications. The examiner figure does not function in the same way in the scrolls. However, general thematic analogies maybe teased out of their representations. These include their demonstrated intelligence and commitment to structural regulations with this authority figure expected to embody the rules that structured the daily lives of members.
Gillihan argues that the examiner figure is described in much the same way as an ancient
Roman assessor or professional legal expert in the Roman Empire who uses his knowledge of the law to administrate local provincial courts. 645 For example, the Damascus Document describes the examiner figure as distinguished by his ability to “every secret of men and every language.” 646 Similarly, the Community Rule argues that it is “by their deeds” and “the extent of his insight and the perfection of his path” by which men garner authority. 647 Neither the
Damascus Document nor Community Rule argue that authority must always descend from a certain ancestral line. In both cases, the examiner figures operate like assessors and achieve their positions of authority through their demonstrated knowledge of the Law.
644 Shani Tzoref, “The Use of Scripture in the Community Rule ,” in A Companion to Biblical Interpretation in Early Judaism , ed. Matthias Henze (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2012), 229. 645 Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 248. 646 4QD b 9 v 13. 647 1QS 5:23-24. 224 Although the scrolls appeal to the past to legitimate their leadership structures, this call to return to the past is constituted by a subtle effort to reform the past. Among these reforms includes the effort to supplant traditional markers of status with a structured program of education and training. Rather than argue that birth in ancestral lines defines one’s authority, the scrolls argue that intelligence and a commitment to a rigorous programing of training and education are the defining expressions of authority in their communities. This discursive shift seems to deemphasize the importance of family, wealth, and marriage in denoting a man’s authority. The scrolls’ leadership structures emphasize that authority is maintained and reproduced through a demonstrated commitment to integrity, competency, and self-discipline.
This reformation of the Mosaic covenant bears explicit parallels to the constitutive elements of leadership structures in Hellenistic and Roman armies. Like military manuals, the scrolls professionalize their leadership structures by identifying a specialized program of education and training that occurs outside of the context of home and family as a requisite component of leadership in the Mosaic covenant. These parallels suggest that the scrolls’ leadership structures cultivate a distinctive configuration of masculinity that hinges on a rigorous program of training and education. The scrolls make clear that this program of training allows leaders to attain the highest levels of integrity and competency and thus become skilled, disciplined, and respected administrators of the Law.
4.3.2 Regulations on Admission
In addition to leadership, the scrolls also subtly restructure regulations on admission.
While the scrolls may appeal to the idea that they are turning to the very same regulations that structured the wilderness community, their admission procedures restructure biblical ideals. This
225 section will treat each scroll’s admission procedures separately as well as scholarship’s engagement with the scrolls’ different admission procedures.
Among the key differences between admission procedures in biblical texts and the scrolls includes an exaggerated emphasis on voluntarism. For example, the authors of the War Scroll promote the assumption that admission into the military should be a voluntary choice on the part of the recruit: “And these shall be volunteers for war, perfect in spirit and in body.” 648 Whereas
Numbers depicts enlistment in the military as an obligation of every adult male in the community, the authors of the War Scroll depict enlistment in the army as a voluntary choice with recruits freely offering and volunteering to serve in the military.
The idea that enlistment should be a voluntary choice recalls the emphasis on voluntarism in Greek and Roman military manuals. Rejecting the idea that enlistment should be mandatory, the War Scroll depicts membership within military camps as an elite and highly selective process in which only the most perfect “in spirit and in body” voluntarily chose to join. Reinforcing this point, the text bans “any man who has an indelible blemish on his flesh, nor any man suffering from uncleanness in his flesh” from entering the military. 649
The text justifies this ban by appealing to the idea that “holy angels are present” with the army. 650 This point is reinforced with the scroll’s claim that no women are allowed in the camp because the angels are there. 651 This prohibition against people with disabilities recalls priestly regulations against blemishes in Leviticus. 652 However, the text innovates this existing tradition
648 1QM 7:5. 649 1QM 7:2. 650 1QM 7:6. 651 1QM 7:3. 652 Lev. 21:16-24. 226 by issuing a binding prohibition against people with blemishes from entering the military camp.
While priests were forbidden from entering the veil or offering food, they were allowed to eat the food of God and sacred offerings and thus not forbidden from entering holy places.
1QM excludes anyone with a defect from entering the space of the camp which is deemed holy. As Saul Olyan explains, “In 1QM, defects have evidently been recast as utterly incompatible with holy space, holy items, and holy beings such as angels, not unlike impurities.” 653 This change suggests that this innovation is the result of the text’s effort to interweave priestly and military practices together.
This prohibition against people with defects and disabilities indicates that the authors envisioned some sort of inspection process in which the bodies and minds of recruits were scrutinized. Drawing upon priestly and military referents, this process of scrutiny parallels the procedure of physical and moral scrutiny depicted in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals.
However, unlike soldiers in biblical texts, recruits in the War Scroll ’s army voluntarily enroll and undertake this procedure. Confirming this point, Ian Werrett and Stephen Parker argue that the scroll emphasizes that enlistment must be a voluntary undertaking on the part of the recruit with only those perfect in spirit and flesh capable of enlisting in the military. 654 By interweaving local and foreign military traditions together, the text’s admission procedure simultaneously invokes local and foreign military customs.
653 Saul M. Olyan, Disability in the Hebrew Bible: Interpreting Mental and Physical Differences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 108. 654 Ian Werrett and Stephen Parker, “Purity in War: What is it Good for?” in The War Scroll, Violence, War and Peace in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature, ed. Kipp Davis, Kyung S. Baek, Peter W. Flint, and Dorothy Peters (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 300. DON”T NEED FULL CITATION HERE 227 The Damascus Document depicts a similar procedure of admission into its camps. Like the War Scroll , the authors emphasize that admission into the camps should be a voluntary process in which a man freely “imposes upon himself to return to the law of Mos[es] with all his heart and all his soul.” 655 This practice of swearing fidelity to the Law of Moses is based on a biblical precedent. For example, Deuteronomy mandates that Israelites must love and seek God with all their ‘heart and soul.’ 656 While fidelity to the Law of Moses is depicted as a fundamental component of the Mosaic covenant, the Damascus Document implies that the community must pledge to turn back toward God.
The Damascus Document uses military terminology to describe this procedure. For example, the term “to muster” is used to describe the process of joining the camps: “[Rule of the assembly of a]ll the c[a]mps. [Al]l [of them] shall be enlisted by their names: the priests [first, the levites] second, the children of Israel third.” 657 The text also describes members as “the mustered ones.” 658 As Hempel argues, Numbers uses the very same verb to describe men’s enlistment into the army at twenty years of age. 659
In addition to drawing on biblical precedents, the text also employs admission techniques commonly used in foreign militaries. These include the use of a registry in which candidates must record their names in the camp registry upon entrance into the camps. 660 The text’s treatment of disabilities also parallels practices in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals. For
655 4QD a 8 i 1-2. 656 Deut 4:29; 6:5; 30:6, 33. 657 4QD b 9 v 6-7; CD 13:22-14:9. 658 4QD e 6 iv 14. 659 Hempel, The Laws of the Damascus Document , 134, Num 1:3: “You and Aaron shall muster in companies all the men in Israel of twenty years or more who are fit for military service.” 660 4QD b 9 v 7-9; CD 13:22-14:9. 228 example, in Vegetius’ description of the officer’s examination of recruits, he stresses that officers must examine every physical feature of a recruit’s body, paying particular attention to their minds, faces, eyes, and “the make of their limbs” to ensure recruits bear no physical defects that would prevent them from participating in military exercises. 661 The Damascus Document argues that the examiner figure must follow a similar procedure and closely examine the physical features of a recruit’s body: “And no one stupid [or de]ranged should enter; and anyone feeble- minded and insane, those with eyes to weak to see, [and] the lame or one who stumbles, or a deaf person, or an under-age boy, none [of] these [shall enter] the congregation. for the ho[ly] angels”662
Like the War Scroll , the Damascus Document forbids people with certain defects from entering the physical space of the camps. This prohibition indicates that the authors imagined some sort of process of physical scrutiny whereby candidates’ physical and intellectual abilities were assessed. 663 Since people with intellectual and physical disabilities were excluded from the
661 Veg. Mil. I.3-5. 662 4QD a 8 i 8-9. 663 4QD a 8 i 1-9; CD emphasizes that recruits underwent a process of intense physical and moral scrutiny: “And those who enter the covenant for all Israel, the eternal statute, shall have their children who have reached the age to join those who are mustered take the oath of the covenant upon themselves. And thus the statute for the entire age of evil, for any who turns from his corrupt way: On the day that he speaks with the Examiner who is over the Many, they shall muster him with the oath of the covenant, which Moses established with Israel, the covenant to return to the Torah of Moses with all heart and with all soul, to that which has been found to do for the enti[re ag]e [of evi]l. No man shall teach him the judgments before he stands before the Examiner, [lest] he deceive when he examines him. When he takes it upon himself to return to the Torah of Moses with all heart and with all soul, [they are inno]cent if he transgresses. Regarding all that has been revealed from the Torah to the Multitude of the Camp: if he inadvertently transgresses it, the Examiner shall ex[plain it to ]him and shall command him about it and t[ea]ch for up to one full year, and in accordance with his knowledge [let him draw near, but anyone] who is a fool or mad [shall not enter.] All who are simple-mind[ed] and e[r]r, or are weak of eyes [so that they cannot see, [or] who are crippled or lame or deaf, or] [a yo]ung [b]oy: no m[an] [from] these may come into the Congregation, for the hol[y] angel[s] [are in their midst]” ( CD 15:5b–17: 15:5b). 229 camps, it can be deduced that the authors believed that candidates should have undergone a rigorous program of physical scrutiny.
In addition to paralleling admission procedures in military manuals, this practice also recalls Moses’ prohibition against people with disabilities for local priestly and military service.
Just as the War Scroll justified this prohibition with a reference to “holy angels” in the midst of the camp, the Damascus Document legitimates this process of scrutiny by referencing this very same idea.664 This prohibition against people with disabilities from entering the camps subtly interweaves local priestly and military customs together and in the process reworks the tradition.
The scroll confirms that the examiner figure had the responsibility of inspecting a candidate as “he stands in front of the examiner, lest he [appears si]mple when he examines him.” 665 The authors of the Damascus Document emphasize that no one can enter the camp without his approval: “[one of all the members of the camp should have authority to] introduce anyone into [the con]gregation [without the permission of the examiner of the camp. And] no[ne of those who have entered the covenant] of God.” 666 His task is to evaluate every candidate who enters the camp in an effort to prohibit those deemed unworthy. Scholars confirm this point and argue that the examiner is responsible for the scrutiny of candidates. 667
Like an officer in military manuals, the examiner is responsible for the physical and moral examination of the candidate. The scroll implies that this inspection involves close
664 4QD a fr. 8 i 8. 665 4QD a fr. 8 I 1-2. 666 4QD a 9 i 16-17; 4QD b 9 iii 2-4; 4QD f 5 i 21-5. ii 2-4). 667 Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 170–86; Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 158–64; Charlotte Hempel, Damascus Texts (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 40. 230 scrutiny of the candidate’s body and physical stamina as well as his intellectual abilities with the examiner figure responsible for the education of recruits. As the text describes, “If h[e inadvertently fa]ils, the examiner should teach him and give orders concerning him and he should learn for a full year.” 668
In addition to this parallel with military manuals, the Damascus Document also argues that candidates in the camps are given a one-year probationary period in which they can stray from their commitment to return to the Law of Moses. 669 Like soldiers in Roman military camps, candidates undergo a year-long routinized training program overseen by this examiner figure.
Wassen and Hempel confirm this point.670
The scroll also emphasizes that the examiner regulated the entrance of candidates and their children camps. As the authors explain, “He shall instruct their children […] and their small children [with a spir]it of mo[de]sty and with [compassionate] l[ove]. 671 From an early age, children are subject to the power and authority of the examiner who is responsible for indoctrinating them into the camps. 672
668 4QD a fr. 8 i 5-6. 669 Veg. Mil. 1.7. 670 Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 166–67; Hempel, The Laws of the Damascus Document , 101. 671 4QD a 9 3:6–7; CD 13:17–18. 672 There is an ongoing debate in scholarship about the identity of the speaker in this passage. The identity of the speaker can change the meaning of the passage in that some scholars argue that the passage concerns the children of a man who has divorced his wife and others argue that the passage concerns all the children of the camps. Tom Holmen is among those who believe that the passage concerns the children of a man who has divorced his wife. He arrives at this conclusion by connecting line 6 with line 9. In line 9, the subject of the speaker is defined as “one who divorces.” Thus, he argues that the identity of the subject in line 6 is a father who has divorced his wife. He therefore believes that the passage concerns the children of this father’s divorce. However, Wassen argues that since line 6 appears in a passage about the responsibilities of the examiner figure, it should be read in a communal sense with the exhortation directed to 231 In describing the role and status of the examiner figure, the authors of the Damascus
Document compare him to a father and shepherd: “He shall have pity on them like a father on his sons, and will heal all the ‹afflicted among them like a shepherd his flock.” 673 Just as a father watches over his sons, the examiner figure is described as caring for members in much the same way as a parental figure, effectively taking over the role of members’ biological fathers. 674 This description shares explicit analogies with the descriptions of officers’ duties in Hellenistic and
Roman military manuals. For example, Onasander compares a good officer to a father. 675 This analogy suggests that the examiner figure functioned in much the same way as a military officer.
Overall, the Damascus Document ’s admission procedure signals a transformation of the individual with members becoming their recognized brothers: “And they shall be inscribed [by
brother” to characterize“ אח their names, each o]ne after his brother.” 676 The text uses the term
children of the entire community. Whether or not the passage refers to divorce does not impact the argument concerning the examiner’s role in systems of education. Tom Holmen, "Divorce in CD 4:20-5:2 and in 1 1QT 57:17 18: Some Remarks on the Pertinence of the Question", RevQ 18/71 (1998), 397-408; Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 165. 673 4QD a 9 4:6; CD 13:9. 674 While the text implies that the examiner and recruits are male by using masculine pronouns to describe participants, Cecilia Wassen cautions against assuming that men were the only ones involved in the admission procedure and argues that women were inducted into the community as full members among “those enrolled” and are thus not left completely out of the admission procedure (Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 134–68.). Wassen argues further that women are also included within the hierarchy, pointing to passages within the penal code which use the term “Mothers” as a title of respect for women within the community (4QD e 7 i 13b-15a: “And whoever complai]ns against the fathers, [shall be expelled] from the congregation and not come back again. [But if] against the mothers, he shall be punished for ten days because for mothers there is no mingling (?) in the midst of [the congregation]”). The terms “Mothers” and “Sisters” are not used to refer to a biological relationship between members but rather are used as titles of respect for women. Although women are given titles of respect, there is no indication in the text that women are entrusted with the responsibility of initiating and training male and female recruits. The text functions on the assumption that the examiner is a male authority who is bestowed with the unique responsibility of inducting recruits into the camps. 675 Onasander, Gen . 1.13. 676 4QD b 9 v 6-8. 232 members as they enter into the camps, indicating a transformation in candidates’ relational commitments. This transformation parallels the depiction of admission procedures in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals with candidates undergoing a process of physical and moral scrutiny carried out by an examiner figure. However, in stark contrast to military manuals, the
Damascus Document details a specific role for members’ dependents, including women and children.
This emphasis on the role of dependents in the community is also emphasized in the Rule of the Congregation .677 1QSa actively situates this imagined community in an idealized future with the community being called to assembly at “in the final days.”678 In being called to assemble, members are represented as assembling along with their children who have “read into
[their] ea[rs] [a]ll the precepts of the covenant, and shall instruct them in all their regulations, so that they do not stray in [the]ir e[rrors.].” 679 The scroll also describes members as growing up within the organizing structures of the congregation. At the age of twenty, members are transferred “[to] those enrolled, to enter the lot amongst his fam[il]y and join the holy
677 Knibb, The Qumran Community , 145–47. As Knibb explains, the role of dependents, including children and wives, is heavily emphasized in the scroll with the authors imagining that members would grow up within the community. This idea is markedly different from the communities imagined in the Damascus Document and C ommunity Rule which seem to imagine members entering their communities as adults. Maxine L. Grossman, Rediscovering the Dead Sea Scrolls: An Assessment of Old and New Approaches and Methods (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2010), 232–34. Grossman confirms this observation and argues that the “sectarian life cycle” in the scroll is constituted by the assumption that members will grow up within the confines of the community. 678 1QSa I 1. 679 1QSa I 4-5. 233 commun[ity].” 680 Five years later, he takes “his place among the «foundations» of the holy congregation to perform the service of the congregation.” 681
At thirty years of age members are allowed to take their “place among the chiefs of the thousand of Israel, the commanders of a hundred, commanders of fi[f]ty, [commanders of] ten, the judges and the officials of their tribes in all their families, [according to the dec]ision of the sons of [Aar]on, the priests.” 682 Evoking descriptions of the wilderness community’s military organization, this passage depicts men as assuming leadership positions with both military and
to describe adult הפקודים ”priestly relevance. The text also uses same term “the mustered ones members’ admission: “At the a[ge] of twenty ye[ars, he will transfer] [to] those mustered, to enter the lot amongst his fam[il]y and join the holy commun[ity].” 683 Members must also commit their name to an army register: “He shall only write his family in the army register, and he will do his service in the chores to the extent of his ability.” 684 Like the Damascus Document , the
Rule of the Congregation parallels admission procedures in military manuals.
In addition to these parallels, the text also prohibits people with disabilities from assuming leadership positions: “No man who is a simpleton shall enter the lot to hold office in the congregation of Israel for dispute or judgment, or to perform a task of the congregation, or to go out to war to subdue the nations; he shall only write his family in the army register, and he
680 1QSa I 9. 681 1QSa I 11-12. 682 1QSa I 14-16. 683 1QSa I 8-9. 684 1QSa 1.21-22. 234 will do his service in the chores to the extent of his ability.” 685 In contrast to the Damascus
Document , the passage only mentions intellectual disabilities in its prohibition.
Although people with intellectual disabilities are forbidden from leadership positions, they are still allowed to register themselves in the army registry and perform chores according to their abilities. As Maxwell Davidson argues, the Damascus Document and the Rule of the
Congregation both exclude people with bodily blemishes. 686 However, the Rule of the
Congregation still allots certain roles and responsibilities to people with physical deformities.
Whereas the Damascus Document forbids people with disabilities from entering the camps, the
Rule of the Congregation only prohibits people with intellectual disabilities from serving in the army or assuming leadership positions.
The admission procedure is different from those depicted in either the War Scroll or
Damascus Document with the authors of the Rule of the Congregation imagining that members would enter the congregation as children and grow up within the confines of the group. Members do not take an oath to return to the covenant, because they are already within the congregation at the age of maturity. The text also emphasizes the role of family within the community as members identify themselves by their families within the army registry. 687
685 1QSa I 19-22. 686 Maxwell Davidson, Angels at Qumran: A Comparative Study of 1 Enoch 1-36, 72-108 and Sectarian Writings from Qumran (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992), 230. 687 The idea that the Rule of the Congregation references family indicates that women existed within the communities imagined by the authors. Scholars have debated at length the extent to which women are present in each of the scrolls. For example, both Maxine Grossman and Cecilia Wassen explains that the mention of children and family in the Damascus Document suggests that women were imagined as playing a social role in the authors’ imagined community. Moreover, Wassen argues that women were even imagined as serving in some sort of leadership positions, reserved for female elders. See Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document, 187-189; Maxine L. Grossman, Reading for History in the Damascus Document: A Methodological Method (London: Brill, 2002), 230-243. Crawford and Schuller also treat this subject at length. 235 In stark contrast to the Rule of the Congregation and Damascus Document , the
Community Rule details a complex and structured process of admission with no reference to a member’s dependents or families. Like the Damascus Document and War Scroll , the Community
Rule ’s admission procedure places a great deal of emphasis on voluntarism. The scroll emphasizes that a candidate must freely volunteer to enter the Yaḥad : “And anyone from Israel
to“ פקד who freely volunteers to enroll in the council of the Community.” 688 Using the verb muster” to describe members’ enrollment into the Yaḥad , the admission process uses military terminology.
The Community Rule rejects the notion of compulsory membership and argues that members must choose to muster for the Yaḥad on their own accord. The authors promote the assumption that membership within a community should be based upon a voluntary commitment to a prescribed way of living. In the Yaḥad , education also plays a formative role in membership with candidates choosing to undergo a process of scrutiny and instruction. 689 As Dimant explains, members are described as voluntarily devoting themselves to the community’s “pious ways just as the voluntary sacrifice was offered to God.” 690
See Sidnie White Crawford, “Not According to Rule: Women, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Qumran,” in Emanuel: Studies in Hebrew Bible Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov , ed. Shalom Paul et al. (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 127–50; Eileen Schuller, “Women in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Some Observations from a Dictionary,” Revue de Qumrân 24, no. 1 (93) (2009): 49–59. 688 1QS 6.13-14. 689 1QS 6:13-23 690 Devorah Dimant, “Israeli Scholarship on the Qumran Community,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Scholarly Perspective: A History of Research , ed. Devorah Dimant (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 264. 236 In contrast to other scrolls, this scrutiny and education procedure is more elaborate and developed with four separate stages of scrutiny. 691 Upon volunteering, candidates entered the first stage which involved an immediate test of candidates’ moral and intellectual abilities: “The man appointed at the head of the Many shall test him with regard to his insight and his deeds. If he suits the discipline he shall let him enter into the covenant.” 692 As in the case of the Damascus
Document , an established authority figure oversees this test.
If this authority figure deems the candidate worthy, he is then allowed to undertake an oath of entry. The Community Rule describes this oath of entry in much the same way as the
Damascus Document . A candidate is asked to “enter into the covenant so that he can revert to the truth and shun all injustice.” 693 While the oath evokes biblical mandates to honor the covenant, the composition subtly innovates existing traditions by implying that candidates need to revert or return to the truth and thus imagines the world in which candidates live as one which is constituted by injustice and failure to abide by the truth. In addition to drawing upon local customs, this oath taking procedure shares analogies with oaths taken in Greek and Roman military manuals. Like soldiers in the military, candidates must take an oath to abide by the rules of the camp and the precepts of their authorities.694
While the first step unfolds in much the same way as the War Scroll and Damascus
Document ’s admission procedures, the second stage differs by subjecting candidates to a second scrutiny performed by all members of the community. All are asked to deliberate on the recruit
691 John Collins and Yonder Gllihan have assessed this issue at length. See Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community , 57-60; Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 363-371. 692 1QS 6:14-15. 693 1QS 6:14-15. 694 As addressed in section 3.2.2 237 and cast their lot on the recruit’s status: “And then, when he comes in to stand in front of the
Many, they shall be questioned, all of them, concerning his affairs. And depending on the outcome of the lot in the council of the Many he shall be included or excluded.” 695 The fate of candidates is decided by all those in the Yaḥad . The procedure emphasizes the voluntary nature of the Yaḥad ’s organizing structures with members democratically electing all members into the group.
After candidates successfully pass this collective scrutiny, they then enter a one year probationary period in which they cannot partake in the ‘pure food’ nor ‘share in the possessions of the community’: “He must not touch the pure food of the Many until they test him about his spirit and about his deeds, until he has completed a full year; neither should he share in the possession of the Many.” 696 Like the Damascus Document , the Community Rule mandates a one year probationary period in which candidates are not yet fully integrated into the group.
During this probationary period, the text also prohibits members from consuming the pure food of the community. This regulation recalls priestly regulations concerning the consumption of sacred offerings by unclean priests: “The one who touches such as these shall be unclean until evening and may not eat of the sacred portions until he has first bathed his body in water. Then, when the sun sets, he shall be clean. Only then may he eat of the sacred offerings, for they are his food.” 697 As in the case of the Damascus Document , this probationary period draws upon priestly and military precedents.
695 1QS, 6:15-16. 696 1QS 6:16-17. 697 Lev. 22:6-7. 238 Upon reaching the second year of candidacy, candidates finally enter the third stage of admission. Candidates can only reach this stage if they have not committed a single sin over the course of the two years. 698 This involves yet another opportunity for members to cast lots and vote on the status of a particular candidate: “When he has completed a year within the
Community, the Many will be questioned about his affairs, concerning his insight and his deeds in connection with the law.” 699 This scrutiny involves a test and evaluation of a candidate’s intellectual and behavioral development with members evaluating what a candidate had done and learned over the course of his probationary year.
If members approve of a candidate, he then is allowed to submit his possessions to the
Yaḥad .700 This procedure parallels procedures described in military manuals. For example,
Vegetius argues that soldiers must hand over all their possessions to be registered and monitored by officers. 701 Just as soldiers must register their possessions with officers, candidates in the
Yaḥad submit their possessions to a higher authority who is given the responsibility of watching over and caring for their possessions. 702 Although members in the Yaḥad are expected to distribute their possessions into a communal fund, there is no indication in the text that they lose
698 4QS d vii 1-2 (1QS 8.24-9.10): “And he may return to the interpretation and to the council if he does not go sinning through oversight until two years have passed. Because for one sin of oversight he will be punished two years; but for impertinence he shall not go back again.” 699 1QS 6.18: “When he has completed a year within the Community, the Many will be questioned about his affairs, concerning his insight and his deeds in connection with the law.” 700 By the second year, recruits are able to more fully enter into the community, but some restrictions still apply. For example, the recruit is not able to drink the Congregation’s liquid supplies (6:20b). Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 2011, 369. Gillihan argues that this probably includes all liquids including wine, lamp oil, water, and any sort of wet produce. 701 Veg. Mil. 2.12. 702 This point is explored further in 4.3.3. 239 their rights to their property. Like soldiers, members do not necessarily lose their rights to their property but voluntarily enlist it to the care of others.
After successfully completing the second year of candidacy, a candidate is examined one last time by members of the community: “And when this second year is complete he will be examined by command of the Many. And if the lot results in him joining the Community, they shall enter him in the order of his rank among his brothers for the law.” 703 Once the candidate is enrolled and given a rank into the order, he is allowed to partake in the Yaḥad ’s wine and material stores. 704 Furthermore, the text claims that upon completion of this fourth stage of scrutiny the Yaḥad now has exclusive authority over the member with his “counsel and judgment” belonging to the Yaḥad.705
There are some analogies between the Community Rule , Rule of the Congregation , War
Scroll , and Damascus Document . In each case, they draw upon existing priestly and military customs while subtly innovating certain traditions, such as the oath taking procedure. Although they share some similarities, the Community Rule in contrast to other scrolls does not mention any exclusion of people with disabilities nor exclude people on the basis of age. The scrutiny process is also much more stringent with members getting the ability to judge candidates on two separate occasions. 706 In contrast to both the Damascus Document and Rule of the Congregation , the Community Rule also does not issue any established role or status to dependents and families.
703 1QS 6:21-22. 704 IQS 6:20-21: “He must not touch the drink of the Many until he completes a second year among the men of the Community.” 705 1QS 6:22b-23. 706 John Collins has explored this point in detail. See John Joseph Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community: The Sectarian Movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2009), 43-65. 240 Despite subtle differences between the different texts, they all impose regulations on members’ admission into each group.
While all the scrolls recall regulations from the wilderness period, they make subtle alterations to existing traditions. Among the fundamental changes that the scrolls make to the tradition include voluntary procedures of admission that parallel procedures of admission in professional armies. These parallels suggest that the scrolls render observance and membership in the covenant into an institution that requires an advanced and rigorous program of education.
The authors make clear that this program of advanced training ensures that only those with the highest levels of competency and integrity are capable of membership.
This reconfiguration of membership effectively professionalizes the tradition. Put differently, the covenant is transformed into a mechanism for cultivating physical and intellectual competency and integrity. By doing so, the authors deemphasize the importance of marriage, family, and wealth as markers of status with these programs of specialization occurring outside the context of family and home. Like soldiers in the military, candidates are screened, selected, and ranked according to their ability to successfully complete this advanced and rigorous program of education and training.
4.3.3 Regulations on Wealth
The implementation of distinctive admission procedures was not the only mechanism which the scrolls’ authors use to restructure members’ relationships to their homes and families.
Regulations on wealth also serve as an important method for cultivating separation from local institutions. This section details each scroll’s regulations on wealth accumulation and
241 management and analyzes how these regulations subtly restructure biblical representations of wealth’s role in sustaining covenantal masculinity.
The Damascus Document is among those that actively restructure procedures of wealth accumulation and management. The text achieves this creatively restructuring of the local tradition by prohibiting members from engaging in any economic transaction without informing the camp examiner. No member is allowed to buy or sell anything without the camp examiner who must oversee every financial transaction: [And no-one should] make [a purchase or sell]
[any]thing, without [informing the examiner] [o]f the cam[p; he shall proceed in consultation [ ] so that they do not err.” 707 As Catherine Murphy explains, “the examiner is given complete authority not only to accept or reject incoming members, but also to approve or prohibit all purchases and sales.” 708 Following the text’s logic, no member can buy or sell anything without the examiner’s approval, because unregulated trade can cause members to err and lapse on their commitment to return to the Law.
There is no biblical precedent for this regulation. The closest approximation may involve
Moses’ mandate that priests oversee the collection and distribution of loot and plunder, but even then the priests are not mandated with the responsibility of monitoring every transaction. This regulation parallels the commonly held ideal in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals that officers should regulate and monitor soldiers’ transactions with traders to protect soldiers from
707 4QD b 9 iv 9-11; 4QD a 9 iii 1-10; CD 13:15-20 708 Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 58. 242 unscrupulous practices. The examiner operates with regard to the wealth of members in a manner that parallels the role of military officers. 709
With wealth identified as a threat to members’ commitment to the Mosaic Law, wealth is treated as a marker of the moral status of candidates with the examiner mandated with the responsibility of evaluating candidates’ wealth along with their intelligence and integrity: “[And everyone who joins his congregation, he should examine] concerning his actions, his intelligence, [his strength,] [and his wealth; and they shall inscribe him in his place according to] his [inher]itance in the lot of lig[ht].” 710 As Catherine Murphy explains, this passage harkens back to a Deuteronomic injunction mandating covenant fidelity with members expected to love
God with all their heart, their whole being, and whole strength (Deut. 6:5). 711 However, the text subtly restructures this biblical injunction by asserting that members are supposed to honor God with not just their strength and heart but their wealth.
The Damascus Document reinforces this point, arguing that the examiner and judges are responsible for distributing member’s resources to those in need. Members are not only required to submit to the supervision of the examiner but must make a monthly deposit:
“This is the rule of the Many, to provide for all [their needs: the salary] of two [days at
leas]t. It shall be placed [in the hand] of the examiner and of the judges. [From it they
shall g]ive to the inju[red, and with it they shall] support [the ne]edy and the poor, [and to
709 As addressed previously, Vegetius for example argues that officers most closely regulate and monitor all transactions in the camp (Veg. Mil. 2.12). 710 4QD a 9 iv 8-9; CD 13:4-14. 711 Deut. 6:5: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.” Yonder Gillihan also emphasizes this point. See Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 218. 243 the elder] who is bent, and [to] the afflicted, and to the prisoner of a foreign people, [and
to the girl who] has no redeemer, and to the youth who has no-one looking after him, and
for all [the task of the association; and] the house of the association shall not be deprived
of its means.” 712
As Gillihan explains, the dues are not based on a fixed sum but “wages of two days” which indicates that they were assessed individually according to a member’s income. 713
The mandate that the examiner figure is responsible to devote these funds to those in need recalls Deuteronomy’s representation of the purpose of tithing.714 As Gillihan observes, the care for the vulnerable was a fundamental component of Moses’ regulations with members mandated with the responsibility of distributing resources to care for the needs of others. 715
However, the Damascus Document restructures this biblical precedent by arguing that members must hand over at least two days wages once a month.
This reference to handing over a set amount of wages once a month to the examiner figure also resembles financial procedures in military manuals. For example, Roman soldiers were expected to set aside a certain amount of their wages every month to deposit in a charitable fund. 716 Just as soldiers were expected to make a monthly deposit to a charitable fund, members of the camps are expected to make a monthly deposit to a charitable fund and defray the expenses of those in need.
712 4QD a 10 i 5-10 & 4QD b 9 v; CD 14:8-20. 713 Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 262. 714 Deut 14:28-29. 715 Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 258-63. 716 Veg. Mil . 2.13. 244 Another passage on theft within the camps reinforces this point:
“[Eve]ry [lost object about which it is not known who stole it from the property of the
camp in which it was stolen] its ow[ner should] make a maledictory [oath; whoever hears
it, if he knows and does not say it, is guilty. Whoever hears it, if he knows and does not
say it, is guilty. If there is any] debt [due to be given back, but there are no creditors, then
the debtor should confess to the priest and it will be for himself,] apa[rt from the r]am” 717
The passage addresses an incident in which a member has stolen from the “property of the camp.” While the passage makes reference to the idea of camp property, it makes clear that there is an owner to this property and thus members who submit their possessions to the camp still maintain ownership rights to their possessions. 718 The concept of communal property did not necessarily entail a prohibition against private property.
In addition to indicating that the authors operated with some notion of communal property, the passage mandates that the owner of the property should make a maledictory oath and thus makes clear that there was a specific restitution process for stolen goods. This practice alludes to similar mandates in the wilderness community. For example, debtors must confess to the priest and offering up an offering of an atonement. The passage also seems to draw upon a specific injunction from Deuteronomy 22:2 in which the finder of the property is allowed to keep the said property until the owner appears to recover it. 719
717 4QD b fr. 9 i 6-8; CD 9:16-18. 718 As Gillihan explains the idea of a communal fund demonstrates that the camps clearly maintained some notion of private property. Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 12. 719 Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 51. 245 As Murphy explains, the text is actively drawing upon biblical material, reworking it into the text. According to Murphy, this creative hermeneutical method renders property “sacralized by the consignment of liminal property (stolen or found, true owner unknown) to the priests, illustrating that the illegal alienation of property was understood to affect the cosmic and social order and to require remedy.” 720 This injunction regarding theft thus illustrates that the authors understand the property of the camp to be sacred and akin to ritual offerings.
Building upon Murphy’s point, this practice also parallels regulations in Hellenistic and
Roman military camps. As addressed in chapter three, within military camps soldiers submitted their private possessions to the camp but maintained their rights to their property. 721 The authors of the Damascus Document seem to maintain a similar understanding of property. Gillihan confirms this point and argues that there are clear similarities between the two. For example, in both cases candidates in the camp and soldiers in Greek and Roman manuals made deposits that were recorded but those deposits remained within the exclusive possession of the individual candidate and soldier. 722 However, there are significant differences between the two including the idea that the authors of the Damascus Document understand the property of the camps to be sacred and an essential element of ritual practice.723
Another example of this creative hermeneutical strategy is the text’s binding prohibition against money lending. Although heavily fragmented, a passage from the Damascus Document indicates that members could not engage in money lending practices: “[ ] in the covenant I [ ] and let him not stan[d ] let him not giv[e] I [as sujrety, and his money for usury, and his [fo]od
720 Ibid., 51. 721 See section 3.2.3. 722 Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 380. 723 Wassen explores this point at length. See Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 70. 246 for increase, let him not giv[e] I [ ]for vanity because [ ].” 724 The passage contains a legal injunction directed at members against the practice of money lending. Leviticus 25:37, Ezekiel
18, and Psalm 15 likewise attempt to regulate the practice of money lending and warn against taking advantage of people. Proverbs also advises people against standing in for another man’s debt, arguing “senseless is the man who slaps his hand in pledge who becomes surety for his neighbor.” 725 However while biblical passages warn against taking advantage of people, they do not prohibit people from participating in money lending. In contrast to biblical regulations, the
Damascus Document issues an outright ban against the practice of money lending.
This prohibition against money lending lends further support to the idea that the authors are deeply concerned with the problems that wealth poses to the community. The authors’ repeated attempts to institute regulations to monitor and scrutinize members’ financial transactions demonstrates that wealth remained a major problem in the minds of the authors.
Reinforcing this point, the text routinely warns members to abstain from “wicked wealth” and to stay away from the “men of injustice.” 726 Acting in accordance with the exact interpretation of the Law means guarding oneself against the threat of unregulated and unsupervised wealth.
The text mitigates this threat by banning certain economic practices, such as money lending. The Damascus Document also limits members’ ability to buy and sell goods. As in the case of admission and initiation, the examiner regulates and monitors every single economic exchange within the camps. Members are also mandated with the responsibility of contributing to a communal fund that distributes resources to those in need, as mentioned above. With the
724 4QD b 4 8-11. 725 Proverbs 17:18. 726 4QD a 3 ii 21-23; CD 5:13-6:18. 247 examiner and judges supervising and distributing resources, the camps are presented as a protected and safe space for economic activity and exchange. Confirming this assessment,
Murphy argues that "the community was nothing if not a new and alternative oikonomia .” 727 By creatively restructuring biblical injunctions on commerce and finance, the authors of the text are able to create an alternative economy for members to conduct trade and commercial activities.
Building upon this point, Regev describes the scrolls as creating an alternative economy specifically reserved only for members and separated from the local economy.728
Cultivating this separation enables men to fulfill their social obligation to provide for the needs of the most vulnerable members of society. This new vision of the economy also enhances male authority with the examiner and judges retaining full control over members’ lives. Put differently, this concept of the economy fosters a certain understanding of a moral order in which male authority is privileged by the promise that only men who cultivate the highest levels of competency and integrity can protect them from material exploitation.
This type of masculinity provides an alternative to the temple cult as the Damascus
Document situates male authority in an exclusive hierarchy. Unlike ruling authorities in the camp, leaders of the temple cult did not monitor and regulate members’ financial transactions.
As addressed earlier, this point is routinely stressed in the scroll’s castigation of the temple cult and representation of local leaders as mismanaging the temple cult’s material resources.729 The
Damascus Document exaggerates the power and status of an elite and exclusive hierarchy by giving them complete control over members’ lives. By doing so, the scroll’s moral and social
727 Murphy, “The Disposition of Wealth in the Damascus Document,” 89. 728 Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran , 348. 729 4QD a 3 iii 4QD c 4 ii; CD 6:9-21. 248 order is one which shares analogies with military institutions with this representation paralleling representations of wealth management systems in military manuals.
Like the Damascus Document , the Community Rule also institutes new regulations on wealth. 730 Among these regulations includes an obligation requiring members to submit all their material possessions and property to the Yaḥad . Upon admission, members are mandated with the responsibility of registering their possessions into a communal fund. After the successful completion of a second year of probation, members’ possessions were fully merged with the
Yaḥad .731 With the submission of these resources, members were expected to share their resources and submit to the Yaḥad ’s authority in money and judgment: “Whenever one fellow meets another, [the junior shall obey] the senior in work and in mo[ney. They shall] ea[t together,] to[ge]ther they shall bless and together they shall take counsel.” 732 The authors of the
Community Rule imagine members as equitably sharing resources with one another.
In contrast to the Damascus Document , there is no indication that members possess the rights to their possessions after submitting them to this communal fund. Rather once merged members’ possessions are to be shared equally among all members. 733 This regulation mandates
730 Scholarly debates about the Community Rule ’s concept of wealth is discussed further below. Among those included in the debate include Chaim Rabin, Qumran Studies (London: Oxford University Press, 1957), 22–36; Charlotte Hempel, The Qumran Rule Texts in Context: Collected Studies (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 30-31; Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran , 335–40. 731 1QS 6:21-23. 732 4QS d ii 7-8; 1QS 5.21-6.6. 733 While Chaim Rabin contests this claim and argues that the Yaḥad allowed members to maintain their ownership over private possessions, he uses a regulation in the text that required members to replace possessions that they had been negligent with. Charlotte Hempel outlines the problems with this argument. See Rabin, Qumran Studies , 22–36; Hempel, The Qumran Rule Texts in Context , 30-31. Furthermore Joan Taylor includes an extended discussion on the idea that women and families might have been included among the property of men. See Joan E. Taylor, “Women, Children, and Celibate Men in the Serekh Texts,” HTR 104 (2011): 171-190. 249 members to replace lost possessions: “However, if he is negligent with the possessions of the
Community achieving a loss, he shall replace it in full. And if he does not manage to replace it, he will be punished for sixty days.”734 This regulation involves an instance of misappropriating and stealing communal property and reinforces the idea that members’ property was fully merged with the community’s property with members losing their rights of ownership.735
In a similar regulation, the text mandates punishment for members who lie about their management of possessions: “If one is found among them who has lied knowingly concerning possessions, he shall be excluded from the pure food of the Many for a year and they shall withhold a quarter of his bread.” 736 This passage indicates that the authors were acutely concerned with the potential among members to lie about their possessions, mandating the reduction of rations for any person who knowingly attempts to mismanage the Yaḥad ’s resources.
Whereas in the Damascus Document members retained their rights to their property after registering them in the camps, members in the Yaḥad relinquished their rights to their private property upon entering the community. Despite these differences, they both situate wealth as a threat to the Mosaic covenant. Just as the Damascus Document described members as submitting their knowledge, being, and wealth to the camps, members in the Yaḥad must “submit freely to his truth will convey all their knowledge, their energies, and their riches to the Community of
734 1QS 7.6-7. 735 The Community Rule imposes ration-fines as punishment for offenses which indicates that rations were considered property of individual members. See Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 387-90. 736 1QS 6.24-25. 250 God in order to refine their knowledge in the truth of God’s decrees and marshal their energies.” 737
The passage evokes a covenantal prayer that members must love God with “your whole heart, and with your whole being, and with your whole strength.” 738 However, the authors of the
Community Rule insert wealth into the covenantal equation and creatively restructure what constitutes membership in the covenant. In contrast to Deuteronomy, the authors of the scroll believe that membership in the covenant involves submitting all their possessions to the Yaḥad .
Hempel confirms this point and argues that the Community Rule has subtly restructured the covenantal prayer.739
This restructuring of the covenantal equation evokes military and priestly relevance. Like soldiers in Seleucid and Roman armies, members of the Yaḥad must register and submit their possessions. 740 However, in contrast to the Yaḥad , recruits in the army maintained their rights to their property. There is then a subtle difference between the two. This subtle difference could perhaps be explained by the text’s analogies with priestly practices. Like priests in the temple cult who were not permitted to own property, members in the Yaḥad operate in much the same way as priests and relinquish their rights to their property.
Explaining the necessity for this regulation, the Community Rule promises that authorities of the Yaḥad would properly manage the resources of the community. As the scroll explains,
737 1QS 1:11-13. 738 Deut. 6:1-4. James VanderKam, “Sinai Revisited,” in Biblical Interpretation at Qumran , ed. Matthias Henze (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2005), 57. 739 She uses 6 different passages as key evidence, including 1:11b; 3:2; 5:2; 6:17, 19-20, 22. Hempel, The Qumran Rule Texts in Context , 31–40. 740 This procedure was discussed in section 3.2.2. 251 “And these are the regulations of behavior for the examiner in these times, concerning his love and his hatred. Everlasting hatred for the men of the pit in clandestine spirit. To them he should leave goods and hand-made items like a servant to his master and like one oppressed before someone domineering him.” 741 This authority figure is compared to a loving servant who willfully serves his master, leaving members goods and hand-made items. Juxtaposing authorities in the Yaḥad to the “men of the pit,” the passage depicts this examiner figure as the exact opposite of men who abuse wealth and mismanage the resources of the community.
The scroll emphasizes that only authorized leaders are allowed to manage members’ resources. These include the sons of Aaron: “Only the sons of Aaron will have authority in the matter of judgment and of goods, and their word will settle the lot of all provision for the men of the Community.” 742 As a priestly referent, the Community Rule ’s regulation evokes priestly authority, arguing that only the priesthood retained the proper authority to manage the Yaḥad ’s resources. 743 As in the case of the Damascus Document , the Community Rule argues that only authorized leaders were responsible for the management of resources and assured members that they were the only ones capable of properly managing the community’s resources.
The Community Rule also prohibits members from mixing and sharing their resources with those outside of the community. Following the text’s logic, sharing resources with people outside of the community jeopardizes the Yaḥad ’s financial security: “And the goods of the men of holiness who walk in perfection. Their goods must not be mixed with the goods of the men of deceit who have not cleansed their path to separate from injustice and walk in a perfect behavior.
741 1QS 9.21-22. 742 1QS 9.7 743 Himmelfarb explains that this claim is followed with no procedural details, See Himmelfarb, A Kingdom of Priests: Ancestry and Merit in Ancient Judaism , 127. 252 They should not depart from any counsel of the law in order to walk.” 744 This passage prohibits members from exchanging goods and resources with anyone outside of the Yaḥad , deeming such individuals “men of deceit.” 745 Like the Damascus Document , the text ensures that all transactions occur under the supervision of the Yaḥad ’s principle authorities. 746
The text routinely warns readers of the threat that wealth posed to the covenant, including greed in a list of infractions. 747 The authors of the scrolls depict greed as belonging to the “spirit of deceit.” The very desire to accumulate wealth is identified as evil itself: “Understanding to those with a stray spirit and to instruct in the teaching those who complain to reply with meekness to the haughty of spirit, and with a broken spirit to the men of the bending (of the law), those who point the finger and speak evil, and are keen on riches.” 748 The preceding passage includes those who “are keen on riches” in its description of men who bend the law.
As Murphy explains, wealth is identified by the authors as a marker of a man’s propensity to break the law. 749 Building upon this point, Regev argues that these regulations function as a mechanism of group solidarity and separation from outside society with wealth serving as an important boundary that separated members and kept them safe from the threat of defilement.750 The imposition of this separation between those within and outside of the community also acts to as a mechanism for depersonalizing economic transactions and
744 1QS 9.8-9. 745 Gillihan reinforces this point. See Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 320. 746 Regev outlines some of these parallels as does Gillihan. See Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran , 2007, 348–56; Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls , 372-75. 747 1QS 4.9-11. 748 1QS 11.1-2. 749 Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 222. 750 Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran , 2007, 339–44. 253 commercial activities. As in the case of the Damascus Document , no economic or commercial activity can happen without the scrutiny of the principle authorities of the Yaḥad . Members cannot buy or sell goods through person to person transactions but must rely on authorities to conduct commercial activities. This depersonalization of exchange is depicted as protecting members from bending the law.
In contrast to the Damascus Document and Community Rule , the War Scroll and Rule of the Congregation do not require members to submit their possessions to be registered and closely monitored by certain authorities. However, there are subtle changes to established economic and commercial activities. In the case of the Rule of the Congregation , the text does not require young men to pay the half-shekel of temple dues upon enrollment in the military. As Catherine
Murphy explains, there is no explicit reference to the necessity of the contribution. 751 1QSa possibly restructures the practice of enrollment, because it does not believe that it will be required in the final days.
There are also subtle references to matters of wealth. These include a mandate for members to be ranked, “depending on whether (he had) much or a little, one will be more or less honored than his fellow.” 752 This could be an economic referent to material wealth or it could refer to a member’s spiritual inheritance in the “lot of light.” 753
751 Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 214; Moreover, Peter Flint and James VanderKam have suggested that the authors only believed that the regulation was to be applied only at the end of days. Peter W. Flint and James C. VanderKam, The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment (London: Brill, 1998), 72. 752 1QSa I.18. 753 Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 215. Murphy argues that the passage is unclear whether it is an economic or spiritual referent. 254 Although the preceding passage could be interpreted as either a spiritual or economic referent, the text indicates that members had to participate in a “table of the community” in which resources would be equally shared among members. 754 This sharing of resources occurred whenever ten or more members were present. As Murphy explains, this table could be imagined
“as an alternative to the sacrificial meals in the Jerusalem temple.” 755
Like 1QSa, the War Scroll makes subtle references to matters concerning wealth and represents God as always on the side of the poor:
“You made Belial for the pit, angel of enmity; in dark[ness] is his [dom]ain, his counsel
is to bring about wickedness and guilt. All the spirits of his lot are angels of destruction,
they walk in the laws of darkness; towards it goes their only [de]sire. We, instead, in the
lot of your truth, rejoice in your mighty hand, we exult in your salvation, we revel in
[your] aid [and in] your peace. Who is like you in strength, God of Israel, whose mighty
hand is with the poor?” 756
The text employs the idea of a pit, a concept frequently employed in the Community Rule , linking the “men of the pit” with cravings for wealth and feelings of jealousy. 757 In the War
Scroll , the term is used to describe Belial, the living embodiment of wickedness, guilt, and the laws of darkness. Juxtaposed against Belial, the Sons of Light are positioned in opposition with the laws and darkness, represented as among the poor. As Hanan Eshel explains, the Sons of
754 1QSa II 14-22. 755 Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 215. 756 1QM 11.10-14. 757 1QS 9.16-17. 255 Darkness are identified with the army of Belial and are depicted as engaged in an attack against the Sons of Light. 758
The War Scroll ’s representation of wealth reverses expectations, arguing that it is “by the hand of the poor” that the “hordes of Belial” will be defeated. 759 The Sons of Light, described as lacking property and physical resources, will be the ones who “humble the mighty of the peoples.” God thus raises up the poor to defeat the opposing “hordes of Belial.” The authors reiterate this point in their representation of their future victory: “For you will deliver into the hands of the poor the [ene]mies of all the countries, and in the hand of those prone in the dust in order to fell the powerful ones of the nations.” 760 It is by way of the poor that the Sons of Light will vanquish their enemies. Poverty is not an indication of weakness. Rather it is the mechanism by which God will defeat their enemies. Wealth marks the distinction between good and evil with poverty associated with the good.
Scholars have routinely explained how the War Scroll engages the concept of poverty and argue that the condition of poverty is a crucial component of the authors’ identity. 761 As
James Charlesworth explains, the concept of poverty becomes a title that the authors use to
758 Eshel, Exploring the Dead Sea Scrolls , 150. 759 1QM 11:7-9. 760 1QM 11:13. 761 John Kampen, “Wisdom, Poverty, and Non-Violence in Instruction,” in The War Scroll, Violence, War and Peace in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature: Essays in Honour of Martin G. Abegg on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday , ed. Kipp Davis, Kyung S. Baek, Peter W. Flint. (London: Brill, 2015), 215–36. 256 identify their elect community. 762 Furthermore, Martin Hengel understands the scroll to be transforming a socioeconomic concept of poverty into a spiritual or religious concept. 763
While the Sons of Light are described as poor, the text appears to contradict itself by simultaneously describing the Sons of Light as using military equipment made of gold, silver, and bronze. Their shields for example are art pieces, build by skilled craftsmen: “The shield shall be bound with a border of plaited work and a design of loops, the work of a skillful workman; gold, silver, and bronze bound together and jewels; a multicolored brocade. It is the work of a skillful workman, artistically done.” 764
This seemingly contradictory description of the Sons of Light can perhaps be explained through the scroll’s analogies to Roman military manuals. For example, in Roman military manuals, Caesar is described as teaching his soldiers that the only thing of value that they should possess was their equipment, allowing soldiers to adorn their shields and swords with gold and jewels. 765 The practice of placing jewels and gold on the military equipment of the Sons of Light may function in much the same way as Roman militaries and indicate that the only thing of value that the Sons of Light possessed and valued was their battle equipment, indicating that the Sons of Light did not value frivolous gold and wealth. In sum, their poverty allows them to attain a level of purity and thus be with the angels who give them direct access to their abundant resources.
762 James H. Charlesworth, The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls: Scripture and the Scrolls (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2006), 336–37. 763 Martin Hengel, Property and Riches in the Early Church , trans. J. Sutherland Bowden (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974), 18–19. 764 1QM 5.5-6. 765 Poly. Strat. 8. 23.20. 257 While the representation of the final war promises that the Sons of Light will reap the spoils of war, it functions as a source of relief for the present state of extreme material deprivation: “Open] [your gates continuously so that] the wealth of the nations [can be brought to you!] Their kings shall wait on you, [al]l your [oppressors] lie prone before you, [the dust of your feet they shall lick.] Daughters of my people, shout with jubilant voice! Adorn yourselves with splendid finery! R[u]le over the kingdom of [… to] your [camp]s and Israel to reign forever.” 766 The Sons of Light will ultimately win the final war and receive all the wealth of the nations in the end. As Murphy explains, this promise “suggests that the present deprivation is economic.” 767 The War Scroll presents a complex portrait of wealth with the Sons of Light currently living in a state of material deprivation, but in the final war the Sons of Light receive the promised spoils of war and wealth of all the nations. Furthermore, this passage draws upon an eschatological tradition in which gentile nations are represented as bringing their wealth to
Israel. 768
Both the War Scroll and Rule of the Congregation subtly invert expectations about the procedures for wealth accumulation and management. As in the case of the Community Rule and
Damascus Document , they reject the idea that wealth should serve as a marker of status in the covenant. Like the regulations on leadership and admission, this shared effort to invert expectations restructures status around learned and trained administrators of the Law.
The Damascus Document and Community Rule also create systems of financial management that bear explicit analogies to depictions of military economies in Hellenistic and
766 1QM 14.5-8. 767 Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 228. 768 Isaiah 60. 258 Roman manuals. In both cases, members cannot conduct business or engage in any financial transaction without authority figures intervening and supervising these transactions. Just as officers watched over soldiers’ interactions with local economies, authority figures instituted barriers that prevented members from engaging directly with the local economy. In the case of the Community Rule , members were also called to relinquish their claims to their property, submitting all their property into a communal fund that was managed by authority figures.
With wealth carefully regulated and managed by authorities, it could no longer serve as a marker of status. Moreover, the scrolls assume that the management of members’ resources by authority figures who had undergone a structured program of education and training were capable of managing members’ resources. Regulating wealth enables the scrolls’ authors to emphasize the importance of an established program of training in assessing the worth and value of members.
In the end, the parallels between Hellenistic and Roman military manuals suggest that the intent might be to professionalize systems of wealth regulation and management.
Professionalization of the Mosaic Law thus represents the cumulative effect of these reforms.
Furthermore, with every financial transaction requiring the oversight of an established and learned expert of the Law who has demonstrated his capability of assessing the merits of certain financial transactions, the scrolls authors could successfully redress any fears of economic exploitation.
4.3.4 Regulations on Marriage
The fourth and final set of regulations involves the imposition of restrictions on sexual activities and exchanges between men and women. Marriage was an important and fundamental
259 marker of masculine status in the Mosaic covenant. This section describes how the scrolls restructure this fundamental element of masculine status.
In the case of the Damascus Document , the authors routinely warn the reader that fornication and unrestrained sexual desire threatens a man’s commitment to the Mosaic covenant. In one such passage, the scroll paraphrases the Levitical holiness code:
“According to their exact interpretation; to lo[ve, each one, his brother like himself;] to
[streng]then [the poor, the needy and the foreigner; to seek,] ea[ch] one, the pe[ace of his
brother and not to be unfaithful against] [his] blood [relation; to refrain from fornication
in accordance with the regulation; to reprove] each one, [his brother in accordance with
the precept, and not to bear resentment from one day to the next].” 769
The passage’s mandate “to love each one, his brother like himself” evokes the levitical holiness code’s command to “love your neighbor as yourself.”770
In addition to this biblical analogy, the passage inserts a warning to refrain from
“fornication.” While the term appears in the Holiness code, it is used differently in the scroll.
Whereas Leviticus forbids men from handing over their daughters to “fornication,” 771 the
Damascus Document issues a binding prohibition against fornication for all male members. This subtle restructuring of this biblical precedent is part of the text’s larger treatment of sexual desire.
769 4QD d 4 ii 2-6; CD 6.20-7.3. 770 As Mary Katherine Birge explains, the words ‘fellow’ or ‘neighbor’ and ‘brother’ were used interchangeably. Mary Katherine Birge, The Language of Belonging: A Rhetorical Analysis of Kinship Language in First Corinthians (Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 2002), 117. 771 Lev. 19:29. 260 to fornicate” is used elsewhere in the scroll to refer to sexual“ זנה The verbal stem improprieties in general. Cecilia Wassen explains that the term “is commonly associated with lust.” 772 For example, Numbers uses the term to describe the Israelites illicit sexual relations with
Moabite women: “While Israel was living at Shittim, the people profaned themselves by prostituting themselves with the Moabite women.” 773 The verbal stem is also commonly used in prophetic texts to describe the community’s abandonment of the covenant. Hosea for example uses the term to describe Israel’s falling away from the covenant: “Because they have abandoned the Lord, devoting themselves to prostitution.” 774 The covenant is represented as analogous to a marriage.
Evoking this existing tradition, the Damascus Document argues that illicit sexual activity was the cause of humanity’s downfall at the time of the Flood.
“So that you can walk] [per]fectly [on] all [his paths and not allow yourselves to be
attracted by the thoughts of a guilty inclination and eyes of fornication. For] brave heroes
stum[bled on account of them, from ancient times until now. For having walked in the
stubbornness of their hearts] the Watchers of the [heavens fell; on account of it they were
caught…for having realized their desires and failing to keep their creator’s precepts,
until] his wrath [flared up against them…]” 775
The passage argues that the “eyes of fornication” were responsible for the downfall of the heroes.
The text suggests that the eyes are a source of temptation. The connection between the eyes and
772 Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 175. 773 Num. 25:1. 774 Hos. 4:10-11. 775 4QD a 2 ii 15-18; CD 1.21-2.21. 261 sexual desire is well attested in biblical literature. 776 For example, Numbers 15:39 suggests that the eyes are a source of fornication: “When you use these tassels, the sight of the cord will remind you of all the commandments of the Lord and you will do them, without prostituting yourself going after the desires of your hearts and your eyes.” 777
In this case, the text evokes the story of the Watchers as an example of those who fell victim to the eyes of fornication. Within Enochic literature, the Watchers descend from heaven to have illicit sexual relations with women: “They transgressed the word of the Lord, the law of heaven. And behold, they commit sin and transgress the commandment; they have united themselves with women and commit sin together with them; and they have married from among them, and begotten children by them. There shall be a great destruction upon the earth.” 778 The reference to the Watchers myth indicates that the text’s authors believe that illicit sexual desire was the cause of their downfall.
As in the case of the Watchers, illicit sexual desires are also responsible for the downfall of the princes of Judah. The text describes the princes of Judah as defiling “themselves in ways
is again used to warn readers that unrestrained sexual זנה of fornication.” 779 The verbal stem desires was the source of the leadership’s moral and physical collapse.
776 Ian Werrett confirms that the passage is suing the trope in much the same way as it appears in biblical material. See Ian Werrett, Ritual Purity and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 68-71. 777 Cf. Job 31:1; Prov. 17:24; Eccl 4:8. 778 1 Enoch 106.14-15. 779 4QD a 3 iii 25; CD 8.5. The cave 4 fragment breaks off before a description can be given of the princes of Judah. However, it can be inferred that the passage uses the same language to describe the princes of Judah used in CD. 262 The Damascus Documen t imposes certain regulations to protect members from the threat of illicit sexual desires. Among these include regulations on genital discharge. While Moses expresses concern over genital discharge, the Damascus Document heightens and expands upon existing regulation, creating three separate categories of discharge: “Regula[tion concerning the man with a disch]arge. Eve[ry man] [with a di]scha[rge from his flesh, or who brings upon himself a] lustful thought or who…his contact is like the contact of the … and he shall wash his clothes.” 780 The first type of genital discharge is from the flesh. The second involves a discharge due to “lustful thoughts.” The third and final type of discharge breaks off and is thus unknown. 781 Martha Himmelfarb argues that there is an explicit connection between this passage and the levitical regulations on discharge. 782 For example, the regulations on skin discharges follow the order of discussion in Leviticus. 783
In harkening back to the biblical tradition, the text however slightly alters this existing
is זנה ”tradition by adding in “lustful thoughts” as a category of genital discharge. The term “lust used to describe illicit sex acts. For example, in Jeremiah the term is used to describe the act of adultery and prostitution: “I now will strip away your skirts, so that your shame is visible. Your
of your prostitutions.” 784 Similarly, the term is (זנה) adulteries, your neighings, the lustfulness used in the levitical holiness to describe the illicit sexual union of a man with his wife’s daughter
780 4QpapD h 1 ii 3-7; 4QD a 6 i. 781 Martha Himmelfarb, “Impurity and Sin in 4QD, 1QS, and 4Q512,” DSD 8 (2001): 17–20. 782 Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 48. 783 For example, Leviticus 15 begins with the issue of discharge from the flesh (15:3), then addresses the issue of genital discharge from sex (15:18), and finally addresses the issue of a woman’s genital discharge from menstruation (15:19). 784 Jeremiah 13:27. 263 and/or his granddaughter.” 785 The text’s use of the term suggests that the authors have restructured the levitical purity code to include the practice of lust and illicit sexual desires.
Imposing regulations that curb the threat of unlawful sexual desires, the Damascus
Document imposes regulations that restrict male members’ access to marriage and divorce. In one such regulation, members are required to seek the guidance and approval of the examiner in their marriage contracts.
“[And no-one should] make [a purchase or sell] [any]thing, without [informing the
examiner] [o]f the cam[p; he shall proceed in consultation] lest they err. And likewise
with regard to anyone who mar[ries a woman:] it should be with consultation. And
likewise he shall pay attention to [anyone who divorces;].” 786
Just as the examiner figure regulated commercial activities, the examiner was mandated with the responsibility of regulating sexual activities between members. In this case, men cannot contract a marriage and/or a divorce without the direct approval of the examiner figure. While members are permitted to get married, they can only do so indirectly and are removed from the process as the examiner contracts the marriage.
The Damascus Document lays out specific criteria that structure the examiner’s scrutiny of women outside of the camps who have been offered up as potential marriage partners for male members in the camps:
“[a woman … the ho]ly […], who has experience in doing the act, who has either done
[the act in] her father’s [house,] or as a widow who slept (with someone) after she was
785 Ezek. 18:17. 786 4QD a 9 iii 1-5; 4QD b 9 iv 9-11. 264 widowed. And every [woman who has had] a bad [reput]ation during her maidenhood in
her father’s house, no-one should take her, unless [on inspection by] trustworthy and
knowledgeable [women], selected by the command of the examiner who is over [the
Many; then] he may take her and if he takes her, he should proceed in accordance with
the regulati[on. And he should not] announce about [her].” 787
A woman’s sexual history and reputation is of fundamental importance in this scrutiny process.
However, her sexual history is not the only important component of this scrutiny, but the text recommends a comprehensive examination. This examination is performed by women who carry it out at the command of the examiner. Cecilia Wassen argues that the examination probably entailed a process of establishing a woman’s sexual status with the midwives addressing any doubts about the virginity of the bride-to-be and her ability to procreate.788
` This prohibition against the marriage of widows and/or women who have slept with someone in their father’s house also evokes priestly regulations. Leviticus mandates that priests are only allowed to marry women who are virgins and have no experience in doing the sexual act, forbidding priests from marrying widows or women who have engaged in unlawful sex acts. 789 The Damascus Document creates a similar statute, arguing that members must not marry women who have experience with sexual activity outside of the bounds of marriage. Members in the camps are subjected to marriage regulations that are similar to that of the priesthood with marriage contracts closely regulated and monitored by camp authorities.
787 4QD f 3 11-15. 788 Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 201. 789 Lev. 21:13-15. 265 Women who live outside of the camps are not the only ones subjected to this process of scrutiny, but the scroll argues that the daughters of male members must undergo a similar moral and physical scrutiny:
“[A man gives his daughter to some-one] else, he should recount all her blemishes to
him, lest he bring upon himself the judgment [of the curse which he sai]d: «whoever
leads a blind man astray from the path». And also he should not give her to anyone who
is not fit for her, because [that is «two kinds». an o]x and an ass, and woolen and linen
clothing together. 790
Male members must scrutinize their daughters’ bodies, counting and recording all their blemishes. If a man does not correctly recount all the blemishes on his daughter’s body, the text makes clear that a male member has transgressed the Mosaic covenant, referencing curses for those who keep and break the covenant in Deuteronomy.
This reference to a woman’s blemishes may refer to the status of her virginity and her ability to have children with fathers required to prove that their daughters can have children. 791
Moreover, the authors appear to be likening a woman’s body to that of an animal being prepared for ritual sacrifice with Moses requiring communities to check for blemishes on an animal’s body, assuring that only animals without blemish are brought for sacrifice. 792 By evoking these biblical precedents, the text presents this regulation as a fundamental component of the covenantal tradition. Male members of the sect are also mandated with the responsibility of
790 4QD f 3 8-10. 791 Murphy and Wassen conclude that the reference to blemishes refers to her sexual status. See Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community , 195; Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 105. 792 Exod 12:5. 266 arranging marriages between their daughters and other members. The text evokes levitical purity regulations concerning mixing different kinds of cloth together and different kinds of animals together. 793 This reference reinforces the regulation’s biblical precedent with these new regulations appearing as though they are a fundamental facet of the existing tradition.
While the authors assume that sexual reproduction is a fundamental component of the
Mosaic covenant, they believe that this divine mandate is threatened by unrestrained and illicit sexual desires and activities. Subtly reconfiguring Leviticus’ regulations on unlawful sexual relations, the Damascus Document depicts desire and lust as a threat to the covenant with the greatest heroes and figures in biblical history falling to the temptation. Situating sexual desire in the holiness code, the authors resolve this threat through a process of moral and physical scrutiny overseen by the examiner.
With members prohibited from contracting their own marriages, the examiner figure is given the responsibility of orchestrating sexual unions between members and women from outside of the community. According to Wassen, marriage is treated in much the same way as any financial transaction with the examiner figure given the sole responsibility of supervising the transaction. 794 Building upon this point, these regulations depersonalize the marriage union, since it is the examiner and not male members who are responsible for marriage arrangements.
This depersonalization of sexual activities is also apparent in the text’s mandate that fathers must physically scrutinize the bodies of their daughters and recount all of their physical imperfections to men seeking marriages with their daughters. Members are emotionally detached from the process.
793 Lev 19:19. 794 Wassen, Women in the Damascus Document , 160. 267 This state of emotional detachment is reached through subtle changes to the Mosaic covenant. Evoking priestly regulations on marriage and the Holiness code, the scroll interweaves regulations that structured marriages among priestly families with distinctive regulations on animal husbandry and the mixture of fabrics to create a distinctive set of rules to structure marriages among members. A woman’s body is essentially likened to that of an animal with male members given the responsibility of subjecting their daughters to the same physical scrutiny as an animal prepared for ritual sacrifice.
In addition to evoking these biblical precedents, the text’s marriage regulations seem to parallel practices depicted in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals. For example, in manuals soldiers’ sexual relationships with women were closely regulated and monitored with women forbidden from entering the military camps all together. 795 This institutionalized system of social surveillance imposed rigid controls on a man’s capacity to have a family of his own.
Although the text does not prohibit marriage, the intrusion of the examiner figure into the process and persistent castigation of unregulated desire for women fosters a state of emotional detachment within a man concerning his desire for a relationship with a woman. 796 His desire for a wife and family is treated in much the same way as a disposable commercial good. This state of separation bears similarities to the separation imposed on armies in Greek and Roman military manuals. Like soldiers, members must maintain a degree of separation from their potential wives and children, trusting in the judgment of ruling authorities.
795 Poly. Strat. 4.2.3; Fron. Strat. 11.6. 796 As William Loader has confirmed there is no indication that the Damascus Document represents marriage as something to be feared or despised. Rather the scroll expresses interest in carefully regulating and safeguarding the institution. See William Loader, The Dead Sea Scrolls on Sexuality: Attitudes Towards Sexuality in Sectarian and Related Literature at Qumran (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2009), 382. 268 There are fundamental differences between the Damascus Document and Community
Rule ’s regulations on marriage. Among these differences includes the fact that the Community
Rule never discusses the possibility of marriage or even a procedure for marriage. Many scholars argue that the absence of marriage from the text indicates that members were celibate. John
Collins for example notes that there is some evidence that points to this possibility. As he explains, “The issue is whether the Yaḥad as described in the Community Rule was celibate.
Several considerations suggest that it was. The absence of any reference to women and children is remarkable. That the community thought of itself as a replacement for the temple cult, and in communion with the angles, and that it was obsessed with issues of purity, all required a very restrictive approach to sex is not outright abstinence.” 797
However, Eyal Regev has countered this idea and argued that there is no evidence that members practiced some form of celibacy:
“It is inconceivable that a sect which went to such pains to scrupulously specify its social
restrictions and organizational orders, failed to address such a fundamental religious
taboo and social boundary marker. How could the authors of the Community Rule fail to
mention, even in passing, the renunciation of marriage life and the exclusion of women,
when their celibacy was the main characteristic that set them apart from all other
Jews?” 798
797 Collins, Beyond the Qumran Community: The Sectarian Movement of the Dead Sea Scrolls , 150. 798 Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran , 254. 269 According to Regev, if members in the Yaḥad practiced something as unique and distinctive as celibacy, the text would not be silent on the issue since it would be the most distinctive feature of the community. 799
However, this silence indicates that the authors did not necessarily understand marriage to be an essential requirement for membership in the covenant. The absence of any significant commentary on marriage in the Community Rule demonstrates that there has been a significant shift in the authors’ understanding of the constitutive elements of the covenant. Furthermore, the authors’ scathing condemnation of sexual desire may serve as another indication of their mindset.
Just as the Damascus Document focused on the problem of lustful eyes and following one’s passions, the authors of the Community Rule routinely emphasize that members must keep away from those who walk according to lustful eyes:
“In order to keep oneself at a distance from all evil, and to become attached to all good
works; in order to do truth and justice and uprightness on earth and not to walk anymore
in the stubbornness of a guilty heart and of lustful eyes performing every evil; in order to
799 A number of scholars have addressed the issue. Cf., Joseph M. Baumgarten, ‘The Qumran- Essene Restraints on Marriage,’ in Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls: The New York University Conference in Memory of Yigael Yadin (ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman; JSPSup 8; Sheffield; JSOT Press, 1990), 13-24. Joan E. Tayler and Philip R. Davies, “On the Testimony of Women in 1QSa,” DSD 3 (1996): 223-35. Eileen M. Schuller, “Women in the Dead Sea Scrolls,”’ in Methods of Investigation of the Dead Sea Scrolls (ed. Wise et al.) FIX CITATION; USE REGULAR FORMAT, 115-31. Maxine Grossman, ‘Women and Men in the Rule of the Congregation: A Feminist Critical Assessment,’ in Rediscovering the Dead Sea Scrolls: An Assessment of Old and New Approaches and Methods (ed. Maxine Grossman; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 229-45. Sidnie White Crawford, “Not According to Rule: Women, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Qumran,” in Emanuel: Studies in the Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov (ed. Shalom Paul et al.; VTSup 94; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 127- 50. 270 welcome all those who freely volunteer to carry out God’s decrees into the covenant of
kindness.800
This reference to the eyes indicates that the authors are engaging the problem of illicit sexual desires. Just as the Damascus Document used the term to describe unlawful sexual activities, the authors identify sexual desire as a formative threat and distinguishing characteristics of those who remain outside of the Yaḥad .
The authors of the Community Rule routinely warn readers to beware of their eyes. In one such passage, the eyes are identified as the primary mechanism by which members will transgress their commitment to the covenant: “No-one should walk in the stubbornness of his heart in order to go astray following his heart and his eyes and the musings of his inclination.
Instead he should circumcise in the Community the foreskin of his tendency and of his stiff neck in order to lay a foundation of truth for Israel, for the Community of the eternal covenant.” 801
The reference to the eyes indicates that the authors are suggesting that sexual desire will lead members astray.
Members are told to circumcise “the foreskin of his tendency” to blunt this threat. This reference recalls Moses’ mandate to the wilderness community to circumcise “the foreskin of your hearts and be stiff-necked no longer.” 802 The passage entangles sexual desire in Moses’ prohibition against unlawful activities. Sexual desire is depicted as a fundamental threat to the covenant with members of the Yaḥad called to curb and abandon the power of illicit sexual desire.
800 1QS 1.4-7. 801 1QS 5.4-5. 802 Deut. 10:16. 271 Juxtaposing the Mosaic covenant to the spirit of deceit, the Community Rule depicts sexual desire as a defining characteristic of those who transgress the covenant. As the authors explain, “Impudent enthusiasm for appalling acts performed in a lustful passion, filthy paths in the service of impurity, blasphemous tongue, blindness of eyes, hardness of hearing, stiffness of neck, hardness of heart in order to walk in all the paths of darkness and evil cunning.” 803 As
Loader explains, the passage’s reference to lustful passion refers to sexual wrongdoing and thus treats sexual desire as a formative threat to the covenant. 804 Like wealth, illicit sexual desires need to be restrained and controlled lest they dismantle a member’s commitment to the covenant.
While the Community Rule does not provide specific guidelines that regulate members’ sexual relationships, the authors are concerned with sexual desire and its impact on members. As in the case of the Damascus Document , the Community Rule argues for some sort of system of restraint. Despite the fact that the authors do not explicitly mention what to do with women in the
Yaḥad , the text’s castigation of sexual desire indicates that there must have been strict controls that regulated relations between men and women. The text also makes this mandate for restraint seem as though it is a fundamental component of the Mosaic covenant, recalling Moses’ command for Israelites to circumcise their hearts.
Although there is no indication that the text forbids male members from marrying and procreating, the text’s indifference toward the institution and repudiation of sexual desire might indicates that the authors do not believe that marriage is a marker of a man’s commitment to the
Mosaic covenant. Rather than treat the desire for a wife and children as a fundamental component of the covenant, the Community Rule instead castigates it, treating the desire for
803 1QS 4.10-11. 804 Loader, The Dead Sea Scrolls on Sexuality , 252. 272 sexual relationships with women as a potential threat to the covenant. With this reconfiguration of expectations about the covenant, the text appears to subordinate the institution of marriage, stripping the covenant of its associations with marriage and family.
This generalized concern over sexual desire is a common theme which also surfaces in the War Scroll . Expressing a similar concern over the problem of sexual desire, the authors of the
War Scroll repeatedly extoll recruits to avoid “nakedness” which the authors argue “will be seen in the surroundings of all their camps.” 805 1QM routinely warns the reader to avoid nakedness, representing it as a threat to military discipline.806 The text’s reference to the idea of nakedness can be read as a prohibition against illicit sexual activities, since the term denotes sexual activity and desire. For example, Moses uses this term to describe a prohibition against sexual activities between close relatives: “None of you shall approach a close relative to uncover their nakedness.” 807 As Eve Levavi Feinstein explains, nakedness is frequently used in purity regulations to denote illicit and unrestrained sexual behavior. 808 Using the very same language to describe prohibited behaviors in the camps, the authors indicate that sexual activity within the camps is strongly prohibited and castigated.
In addition to castigating sexual activity in the camps, the War Scroll also prohibits women from entering the camp. The authors declare “no youth nor woman shall enter the camps from the time they leave Jerusalem to go to battle until their return.” 809 While away on military
805 1QM 7.7. The Community Rule (1QS 7.12-14) expresses a similar concern for bodily exposure as does the Damascus Document (4QD a 10 ii 9; 4QD e 7 i 3). 806 1QM 10.1. 807 Lev. 18:6. 808 Eve Levavi Feinstein, Sexual Pollution in the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 111. 809 1QM 7.3-4. 273 campaigns, soldiers are forbidden from coming into contact with women and children. This regulation parallels regulations within Hellenistic and Roman military manuals which prohibited women from entering military camps. 810 As in the case of the Damascus Document and
Community Rule , there is an expressed concern over the threat of sexual desire. The text identifies it as a central threat to the Mosaic covenant and institutes regulations to restrain that threat.
The Rule of the Congregation only provides one direct reference to sexual activity among members. This involves a regulation that restricts marriage to men twenty years of age and older.
This rule seems to be based upon Moses’ mandate for young men who reached the age of twenty to be counted in the census and registered in the military, indicating that the implied age of adulthood was twenty. According to the text, a man can only marry after reaching twenty years of age, because that is “when he knows good and evil.” 811 The authors also mandate that women must undergo some form of scrutiny before marriage and proclaim her commitment to the regulations of the law: “Then she shall be received to give witness against him (about) the regulations of the law and to take his [p]lace in the proclamation of the regulations.” 812 Marriage thus serves as a mechanism for women’s membership in the community.
Like the other scrolls, the Rule of the Congregation imposes restraints on members’ sexual relationships. However, in contrast to the Community Rule , the text implies that there is a direct relationship between marriage and membership in the Mosaic covenant, explaining how marriage serves as an important moment in a man’s maturity and reserves a significant and
810 Polyaenus, Stra. 4.2.3; Frontinus, Stra. 9.5; Dio Cassius. 60.24.3. 811 1QSa 1.10-11. 812 1QSa 1.11. 274 important role for marriage in a man’s life. Although the text does not necessarily understate the importance of marriage, it does treat and identify marriage as a potential threat to the covenant and thus amends the existing tradition.
In sum, all four scrolls express a general concern for the prevalence of sexual desire and institute regulations that restrict sexual activities. In the case of the Damascus Document , this expressed concern over sexual desire resulted in an increased emphasis on the status and importance of women’s sexuality. Instituting regulations once reserved for the priesthood to lay men living in the camps, the authors argue that virginity and sexual purity are important markers of a woman’s status, arguing that only virgin women are fit for marriage.
The scrolls also make clear that men must exercise self-restraint, curb their virility, and impose a system of control over their bodies. Each scroll depicts members in the covenant as possessing a natural passionlessness which requires constant vigilance. Reaching this passionless state of being requires constant supervision and scrutiny from authority figures.
Just as regulations on leadership, admission, and wealth enabled the scrolls’ authors to supplant traditional markers of status, these newly imposed regulations on marriage permit the scrolls’ authors to restructure the constitutive elements of the covenant. Chief among these is the role that marriage once played in cementing a man’s status and membership in the Mosaic covenant. The scrolls for the most part understate the importance of marriage. While some of the scrolls represent women and children as playing significant roles in their communities, marriage is also identified as a fundamental threat to membership and therefore is subject to strict regulations and surveillance.
275 In this way, the scrolls treatment of the institution of marriage seems to parallel practices depicted in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals. These parallels indicate that the distinctive components of the Law have been professionalized with marriage no longer playing a crucially important role in indicating a man’s commitment to the Law. Authority is not necessarily garnered through marriage, but through participation in a rigorous program of education.
4.4 Conclusion
The authors of the scrolls indicate that these regulations were intended to prepare their communities for an imagined future. While each text imagines the future differently, all four of the scrolls, examined in this chapter, routinely emphasize that their communities must prepare for this imagined future by becoming disciplined and trained administrators of the Law.
As explained briefly at the start of this chapter, the War Scroll imagines a military showdown between the “sons of light” pitted against the “sons of darkness” is echoed in the War
Scroll : “The sons of light and the lot of darkness shall battle together for God’s might, between the roar of a huge multitude and the shout of gods and of men, on the day of the calamity.” 813
The text provides a detailed description of the specific preparations that will be needed for every year of the imagined seventy year war, arguing that preparation for the war will need exactly six years. 814
The authors describe the sons of the light as the strongest and striking down wickedness through their disciplined, skilled, and hardened tactics. The regulations are intended to discipline and train members for this apocalyptic struggle with the sons of light described as
813 1QM 1.11. 814 1QM 2.9. 276 “disciplined.” 815 It is their commitment to a disciplined way of living that sets the sons of light apart from the opposing armies. They are volunteers “perfect in spirit and in body, and ready for the day of vengeance.” 816
The Rule of the Congregation shares a similar outlook. The authors introduce their narrative as “the rule for all the congregation of Israel in the end of days.” 817 The authors make clear that the end of days will usher in a period of messianic dominion: “[The Mess]iah of Israel shall [enter] and before him shall sit the heads of the th[ousands of Israel, each] one according to his dignity, according to [his] po[sition] in their camps and according to their marches.” 818
Preparing the community for the Messiah’s arrival, the authors depict their community as organized, prepared, and gathered for the final days. 819 The authors also reference the idea that they will be required to gather into their camps and march accordingly. Elsewhere the authors explain that they must be prepared to assemble for a convocation of war thus allude to warfare. 820 However, as Albert Hogeterp has explained, the Rule of the Congregation seems to promote a “less sharply defined idea of an eschatological war than the War Scroll .” 821
1QSa uses military language to describe its community and imagines eschatological future in which men shall be assembled to serve in the administration of the messiah. This
815 1QM 6.13. 816 1QM 7.5. 817 1QSa I 1. 818 1QSa II 14-15. Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran , 60. As Regev argues, the scroll imagines two messiahs, a priest and Davidic messiah. The priest precedes the Davidic Messiah. 819 1QSa I 1. 820 1QSa I 26. 821 Albert L. A. Hogeterp, Expectations of the End: A Comparative Traditio-Historical Study of Eschatological, Apocalyptic and Messianic Ideas in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the New Testament (London: Brill, 2009), 55. See also John J. Collins, Apocalypticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls (London: Routledge, 2002), 56–57. 277 requires men to be disciplined, trained, “learned in perfect behavior, and brave in the face of danger.” 822 The authors institute regulations intended to transform men into these well-trained and brave administrators. According to the Rule of the Congregation , even the women and children must be ready for the messiah’s arrival since they too will be assembled in the final days: “When they come, they shall assemble all those who come, including children and women, and they shall read into [their] ea[rs] [a]ll the precepts of the covenant, and shall instruct them in all their regulations, so that they do not stray in [the]ir e[rrors.]” 823
The Damascus Document also seems to share a similar aim. The authors function with the assumption that they are in the early beginnings of the final days in which the forces of destruction will befall those who do not keep the covenant: “All those entering his covenant but do not remain steadfast [in these;] they shall be [vis]ited [unto destruction at] the hand of
[Be]lial.” 824 The text continues, “[As is writ]ten:[A star] moves out [of Jacob] [and a scep]tre
[arises] out of Israel. The sceptre is the [pr]ince [of the wh]ole [congregation and when he rises]
[he will destroy] all the sons of Seth. The[se will escape in the age of] the first [visitation.] And the renegades will [be delivered up] to the sword.”825 The text evokes Balaam’s prophecy from
Numbers 24, interpreted as an oracle of a coming savior who will crush heathenism.
In contrast to the War Scroll and Rule of the Congregation , the Damascus Document does not emphasize that this showdown with evil will require members to learn certain battle tactics or military formations. Members do not necessarily need to be hardened or experienced to battle. Rather they must be disciplined and educated in the precepts of the Law. The authors are
822 1QSa 1.28. 823 1QSa 1:4-5. 824 4QD a 3 iii 24-25; CD 7.16-8.3. 825 4QD a 3 iii 20-25; CD 7.16-8.3. 278 not necessarily preparing their members for a final eschatological war. Rather they are preparing members to usher in a new administrative regime.
Like the Damascus Document , the Community Rule also does not emphasize that this apocalyptic showdown will require knowledge of specific battle tactics or military formations.
While the authors might not emphasize battle tactics, they routinely emphasize that this imminent apocalyptic struggle will divide the entire world into two opposing armies: “In these
(lies) the history of all men; in their (two) divisions all their armies have a share for their generations.” 826
The Community Rule confirms that members will have to face off with the armies of darkness in the near future. This showdown will end with the crushing defeat of these armies. As the authors explain, “For eternal damnation by the scorching wrath of the God of revenges, for permanent terror and shame without end with the humiliation of destruction by the fire of the dark regions. And all the ages of their generations (they shall spend) in bitter weeping and harsh evils in the abysses of darkness until their destruction, without there being a remnant or a survivor for them.” 827
To prepare for this impending struggle, the authors argue that members must learn and keep the precepts of the Law which will usher in God’s promised reign: “For those God has chosen for an everlasting covenant and to them shall belong all the glory of Adam. There will be no more injustice and all the deeds of trickery will be a dishonor.” 828 The scroll makes clear that this struggle against evil can only be waged through correct practice of the Law. The repudiation
826 1QS 4.15. 827 1QS 4.12-14. 828 1QS 4.23. 279 of sexual desire and wealth and complete submission to the Yaḥad ’s authorities will lead members to a final victory over the armies of darkness.
Whereas the Rule of the Congregation and War Scroll stress that members must learn battle tactics to prepare for the impending apocalyptic struggle, the Damascus Document and
Community Rule emphasize that correct practice of the Law as a way to prepare for their imagined eschatological struggle. This difference indicates that not all of the authors imagined their imagined future in the same way. Despite these differences, each scroll imposes distinctive regulations which transform their communities into a competent administrative regime prepared for an impending future in which they will achieve a final victory over the forces of darkness.
Put differently, the authors of the scrolls create a regime of administrative experts who are learned and trained in the Mosaic Law and can thereby successfully subdue and conquer their enemies.
Like Moses in the wilderness, the authors of the scrolls seek to transform their community into an elite administrative regime that can successfully conquer the world and defeat any enemy combatant on the battlefield. This appeal to return to the Mosaic covenant carries with it the expectation that members must return to a period in Israel’s history in which they organized their society was capable of defeating their enemies. By evoking this tradition and encouraging members to return to the Law of Moses, the authors of the scrolls indicate that they imagine a future in which Israel can once again defeat all their political enemies through military conquest and domination.
The authors attempt to achieve this transformation of their society’s institutions by instituting many of the same regulations that organized the wilderness community. These include the reinstitution of a social hierarchy that is envisioned as nearly identical to the one imposed on 280 the wilderness community. The primary analogy between the two stems from the scrolls’ shared efforts to create a perfect fusion of priestly and military authority. Just as the wilderness community was structured around a perfect balance of priestly and military power, the scrolls actively try to recreate this balance by organizing leadership structures around priestly and military authority.
However, the scrolls subtly change the traditions of the past with the insertion of an authoritative structure in which every action is closely supervised and regulated by authority figures. For example, in the Community Rule and Damascus Document , an examiner figure is responsible for scrutinizing the daily lives of members. This increased emphasis on a comprehensive system of social surveillance parallels common practices within Seleucid and
Roman military armies with manuals depicting soldiers as subjected to intense and unending examinations of their physical, intellectual, and moral character by military officers. Manuals for example emphasize that great military officers were distinguished by their commitment to educate, train, and scrutinize their soldiers. 829
Just as officers routinely assess and judge the worth of a soldier’s physical and intellectual abilities so too does the examiner figure in the Damascus Document and Community
Rule examine, scrutinize, and train initiates. Like a military officer, the identifying marker of the examiner figure’s status is his commitment to education and a rigorous program of training. This represents a departure from concepts of authority in the wilderness tradition. Unlike priests or soldiers in the wilderness community, the examiner figure is distinguished solely by his
829 Aelian, Ep. 4; Vegetius, Mil. 1.7; Polyaenus, Stra ., 4.2.7-10. 281 commitment to this program of training and education, rather than markers such as lineage, wealth, or marriage.
In addition to leadership structures, the scrolls also subtly alter the admission procedures that regulated daily life during the wilderness period. Whereas enlistment within the military is depicted as a moral obligation of every adult male, each of the scrolls depicts enlistment as a voluntary choice on the part of the individual. This emphasis on voluntarism parallels admission practices depicted in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals with recruits depicted as voluntarily enlisting in the military. Moreover, the moral and physical scrutiny which military recruits must undergo also parallels the process of scrutiny which candidates according to the scrolls must partake in.
Among the key analogies includes the common effort to understate the importance of family and/or nobility as a marker of a recruit’s character. In the scrolls, the value and worth of a member’s character is not judged and assessed according to their birth within certain ancestral lines. Rather the scrolls emphasize that a candidate’s physical features and intellectual abilities should serve as the basis of evaluation and judgment.
This reconfiguration of the priestly and military traditions instituted by Moses in the wilderness allows the scrolls’ authors to understate the importance of family, wealth, and marriage in the assessment of a candidate’s character.. By understating the importance of family in the selection and training of candidates, the scrolls’ admission procedures institute a degree of emotional separation between a candidate and his family. Like soldiers in Seleucid and Roman armies, candidates are ranked and arranged solely by their physical and intellectual abilities.
282 This pattern of depersonalization is also prevalent within the scrolls’ regulations on wealth. Instituting barriers that restrict members’ access to financial transactions, the scrolls institute barriers that cultivate a degree of separation between members and the local economy.
Among these barriers include the examiner figure’s close regulation of all economic transactions and exchanges.This system of surveillance ensures that members hold goods in common and fairly distribute resources to those most in need. This system of financial surveillance is heavily stressed in the Damascus Document . However, the authors of the Community Rule also emphasize that members are to share all goods in common with authorities supervising and surveying the process.
Like the scrolls’ regulations on admission, these regulations harken back to traditions described in the Torah with soldiers and priests in the wilderness community mandated with the responsibility of holding goods in common and taking care of widows, orphans, and the poor. 830
However, unlike the wilderness community, the scrolls extend this existing mandate to every single member of the community, arguing that it is the responsibility of members to submit every item to the supervision and approval of authority figures.
This subtle restructuring of regulations on wealth parallels economic procedures depicted in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals. Functioning in much the same way as a military officer, the examiner supervises every single transaction, ensuring that members are not taken advantage of or fall into debt. Like soldiers, members are also mandated with the responsibility
830 As discussed earlier, Deut 27:19 represents priests as mandated with the protection of widows, orphans, and the poor. 283 of sharing all goods in common, trusting that authority figures will fairly and equitably distribute resources to all members..831
The scrolls’ regulations on marriage and sexual desire also share clear parallels with the marriage practices of soldiers, as depicted in military manuals. Like wealth, sexual desire is identified as a threat to the Mosaic covenant. To curb this threat, the authors argue that sexual unions must be submitted, scrutinized, and approved by authorities, as is explicit in the
Damascus Document. In the case of the Community Rule , sexual desire remains among the greatest threats to membership, and marriage is not portrayed as a distinctive hallmark of membership in the Mosaic Law. In general, the scrolls portray sexual desire in all contexts as a threat to the Mosaic Law and try to curb this threat in different ways.
This collective understating of sexual desire and its potential impact on social relations among members significance parallels expectations about marriage in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals. Just as military manuals identify unrestrained sexual desire as a dangerous threat to soldiers’ ability to keep the laws of the camp, the scrolls seem to treat sexual desire, whether in the context of marriage or extra-marital affairs, as a central threat to the Law.
The scrolls argue that a man’s commitment to the covenant can be measured through his commitment to an established and rigid program of education and training. I hypothesize that this program of training professionalized the Mosaic covenant and thereby might have allowed the scrolls’ authors to create an elite administrative regime that could compete with the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ well-organized administrations. The scrolls make clear that their chief objective is to transform their communities into a competent and well-organized administration
831 Vegetius for example identifies urban luxury and wealth as the chief threat to military life and discipline ( Mil., 1.2). 284 that can dominant other competing nations. By cultivating a certain degree of emotional detachment from civilian institutions, the authors of the scrolls could prepare young men to serve within this imagined administration and transform young men into disciplined and skilled administrators of the Law.
By transforming young men into skilled administrators, the authors would have been able to destabilize and subvert colonial configurations of the Mosaic covenant. As addressed in chapter three, these configurations include the idea that the Mosaic Law made men weak, irrational, lazy, and unable to mount a military defense. The authors demonstrate that adherence to the covenant hardens and disciplines men, preparing them to serve as living embodiments of competency and integrity who administer the Law. This newly imagined configuration of the
Mosaic Law rejects the idea that the covenant was a marker of local men’s inferiority and subjugated status. Foreign administrations are represented as inferior and unable to compete with the covenant’s rigorous program of training and education.
By rejecting the dominant discourse, the scrolls’ authors could also represent themselves as more disciplined, skilled, and masculine than soldiers in occupying armies. This repudiation of the dominant discourse allowed local communities to fight back against occupying armies and defeat their enemies on the discursive battlefield. Religious practice is rendered into a mechanism by which local men can fight against colonial categories of classification, destroying the binary system of classification that rendered communities subjugated and inferior. In effect, the scrolls destroy the universalizing assumption that adherence to the Mosaic covenant made
Jewish communities inferior to Seleucid and Roman soldiers and in so doing ushered in their imagined victory over the forces of darkness.
285 CHAPTER 5
CONCLUSION: BECOMING MASTERS OF THEIR OWN STORY
Rather than propose one historically correct way of understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls, the purpose of this work was to offer scholars of religion the opportunity to consider the formative role that military occupation played in fostering and shaping the history of sectarianism in early Judaism. There were different and even contradictory political and historical factors that conditioned ancient indigenous communities’ experiences and expectations. This dissertation explored some of these possible historical factors and analyzed how the system of legal reforms that Seleucid and Roman rulers enacted in ancient Judah conditioned Jewish communities’ efforts to restructure the meaning and content of their legal tradition.
Reading for evidence of the formative influence of military occupation on indigenous communities in ancient Judah does not mean limiting their cultural artifacts to one possible meaning, but it requires recognition of the fact that ancient Jewish communities might have been conditioned in different ways by colonial governance. Within this totalizing system of power, they remained subjugated and subordinated. However, communities could still find opportunities to become masters of their own story within this relentless system of physical and verbal violence. To this end, each chapter explored the definitive components of my argument.
Chapter two, “Sectarianism as Mimicry of Military Discipline: A Historiography of
Sectarianism in the Study of Religion,” investigated how military occupation was a fundamental political and historical reality that conditioned the ways in which indigenous communities’ imagined how to be a Judean man under occupation. Occupation was a system of colonial
286 governance in which military and judicial power coalesced around a corpus of legal reforms.
Scholarship on Islamic civilizations and historiography was crucial to this investigation with scholars explaining that colonial governance plays a decisive role in structuring indigenous communities’ imaginations. Despite differences between the Ottoman, European, Seleucid, and
Roman Empires, in each case they instituted multitiered systems of laws to manage their colonies. As Pandey, Makdisi, and Robson demonstrate, the institution of legal pluralism in
Ottoman and European colonies effectively transformed religious affiliations into the primary means by which communities could seek legal rights and advantages and in the process spurred sectarian conflict within religious communities as they vied for the legal rights that the Ottoman and European Empires had made available to indigenous communities.
This insight can be applied to antiquity, since the Seleucid and Roman Empires are represented as attempting to institute a policy of legal pluralism in Judah whereby Seleucid and
Roman officials divided and ranked their colonies in accordance with their indigenous cult sites and ancestral laws. This governing process effectively undermined the region’s leadership as
Seleucid and Roman armies became the protectors and patrons. With this weakening in regional power structures, Judah’s cult site and its laws emerged as the primary mechanism by which communities could secure political advantages, such as tax exemptions, from the Seleucid and
Roman administrations. Communities consequently divided and ranked each other in accordance with their distinctive interpretations of their ancestral laws as they used their affiliations with the
Mosaic Law to vie for power and control. he
, This representation of Seleucid and Roman rulers as protectors and patrons of Judah legitimated and naturalized the assumption that Jewish communities were weak, effeminate, and incapable of protecting themselves. The predominant gender ideology of the Seleucid and
287 Roman Empires played a crucial role in reframing Jewish communities in a binary system of classification with Jews imagining Seleucid and Roman soldiers as the critical medium by which
Israel could retain its relationship with God.
By legitimating the idea that Jewish communities needed the protection of occupying armies, Seleucid and Roman rulers could also simultaneously justify their exploitation of the region’s labor and natural resources with Jewish communities forced to serve the immense material needs of occupying armies in exchange for their protection. With occupying armies prepared and ready to burn Jerusalem to the ground if they failed to meet their growing material needs, Jewish communities remained acutely aware of the horrific repercussions of breaking the law. Occupation was a totalizing system of violence that inflicted a heavy physical and emotion price on Jewish communities with the Mosaic Law becoming a central mechanism by which
Seleucid and Roman armies justified and legitimated this violence.
However, chapter two proposed that analysis of the Dead Sea Scrolls indicates that sectarianism offered an ingenious way to undermine colonial governance. Rather than merely obey colonial governance and divide and rank themselves in accordance with their affiliations with the temple cult, Jewish communities instead invented an ingenious strategy for contesting the assumption that the Mosaic Law made them weak and effeminate. While this strategy might have presented itself as social differentiation in which communities attempted to separate and differentiate themselves in accordance with their affiliations with the covenant, this served as camouflage. I hypothesized that the scrolls’ repeated emphasis on social differentiation represents mimicry of military discipline. The scrolls’ authors in effect set themselves apart from other Jews in much the same way as professional Seleucid and Roman soldiers set themselves apart from civilian society. In both cases, members are distinguished by their shared commitment
288 to a rigid program of training that closely regulates and surveys their commitments to the civilian institutions of family, wealth, and marriage.
I argued that these explicit parallels between the scrolls’ representation of the Mosaic
Law and military discipline suggest that the scrolls’ authors are not merely attempting to differentiate themselves from other Jews. Rather they are attempting to creatively engage with the emasculating assumptions that structured colonial governance. Chapter two concluded with this hypothesis and conjectured that sectarianism might have enabled locals to repudiate the notion that the Mosaic Law made locals weak, effeminate, and unable to protect themselves from military subjugation.
Chapter three, “Transforming Men into Soldiers: Masculinity and Professionalization in
Hellenistic and Roman Military Manuals,” analyzed the fundamental features of Seleucid and
Roman military institutions. The central purpose of this chapter was to engage the prevalent assumptions about military discipline that might have informed the way in which people understood the lifestyle and habits of Seleucid and Roman soldiers. Analysis of these assumptions provides a mechanism for understanding the strategic process by which Jewish communities developed to adapt to the central characteristics of military life and discipline.
This chapter focused predominately on the introduction of siege-craft and other technological developments and explored how these technological developments conditioned the
Seleucid and Roman Empires’ need for professional soldiers who were highly skilled and trained to operate complex military equipment. The prevalence of military manuals indicates that Greek and Roman rulers instituted a program of education and training that separated recruits from civilian society. By doing so, rulers cultivated a distinctive configuration of masculinity that distinguished professional soldiers from civilians. This distinctive configuration of masculinity
289 was one which instilled a certain degree of emotional detachment with civilian institutions and the markers of status whereby civilians claimed representation in their respective societies. This emotional detachment become the distinctive marker of professionalization with soldiers embodying the highest levels of competency, integrity, and virtue.
These behavioral traits served as the distinctive mechanism by which soldiers separated themselves from civilian men and their previous civilian attachments. Professionalization in turn enabled officers to deploy soldiers against civilians with soldiers expected to exert force on civilian communities. Rulers could also deploy soldiers in remote regions far removed from their families of birth and places of origin without disturbing agricultural cycles. Put simply, professionalization allowed Seleucid and Roman leaders to create vast and sophisticated military apparatuses that cemented their rule in occupied territories.
Chapter four, “Masculinity in Crisis: The Professionalization of Covenantal Masculinity in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” investigated the linguistic and organizational parallels between
Hellenistic and Roman military manuals and some of the practices and ideas depicted in the scrolls. The goal was not to show how locals merely copied military organization. Rather the intended point of this chapter was to analyze these parallels and suggest a rationale for these parallels. The primary rationale explored in this chapter included the idea of mimicry and how the scrolls creatively adapt the professional military’s program of training and education into their tradition, transforming the Mosaic Law into a mechanism of professionalization.
Although there are significant differences between the processes by which the scrolls restructure their tradition, in each case, the Damascus Document , Community Rule , War Scroll , and Rule of the Congregation , indicate that Jewish communities restructured the covenant to encompass a rigid program of training that closely regulated and surveyed members relationships 290 to civilian institutions, such as wealth, family, and marriage. Whereas Moses encouraged
Israelite soldiers to accumulate booty, marry, and fulfill their familial obligations to their wives and families, the scrolls understate and in some cases treat these institutions as a potential threat to the covenant. This reconfiguration of the tradition cultivated a new understanding of the constitutive elements of their tradition. Like soldiers in Hellenistic and Roman military manuals, members were now required to undergo an intense program of training that disciplined their desires for the safety and comforts of home, family, and wealth.
I hypothesized that these parallels demonstrate that the scrolls’ authors had transformed the Mosaic Law’s defining features to negotiate and adapt to the Seleucid and Roman Empires’ administrative regimes. Through mimicry of colonial governance Jewish communities could reject the idea that the Mosaic Law made men weak and effeminate and train young men to become disciplined and respected administrators of the Law. This disciplinary regime might have offered young men an opportunity for professionalization and thereby the ability to compete with occupying soldiers. Through membership in the covenant, young men could demonstrate that they were more disciplined, respected, and masculine than soldiers in occupying armies.
In the end, the scrolls’ authors attempt to restructure religious practice such that one could practice local religious laws by embodying behavioral traits typically associated with the administrative personnel of the Seleucid and Roman Empires. Just as Seleucid and Roman soldiers refused the temptations of sexual desire and wealth to go to war and sacrifice their lives on the battlefield for their ruler, Jewish communities could depict themselves as refusing the temptations of sexual desire and wealth to sacrifice themselves for God.
291 By reconfiguring their tradition around an intense program of education that occurred outside of the context of home and family, Jewish communities could battle and defeat Seleucid and Roman armies by turning toward the covenant. In effect, local men could reject their associations with effeminacy, laziness, and incompetency and subvert the dominant discourse.
Through the subversion of the dominant discourse, the scrolls’ authors could delegitimize the exploitative labor system that this discursive practice legitimated and reject the assumption that
Jewish communities needed the Seleucid and Roman armies’ protection and patronage.
In conclusion, I hypothesize that Jewish communities might have tried to transform the
Mosaic Law into a political battlefield where they could battle and defeat occupying forces through an ingenious discursive tactic. By transforming themselves, local men could present themselves as confident, ready, and able to defend themselves from military domination. The covenant consequently became a mechanism in which local men could redress the physical and verbal violence that they endured under occupation. The cultivation of this embodied state of being in the world dismantled the institutional apparatuses that sustained and reproduced the
Seleucid and Roman Empire’s domination of occupied regions. Locals could not physically fight and defeat occupying armies in occupied territories, but they could engage in a discursive battle against occupying armies by changing their everyday lived and embodied practices.
The end goal of this dissertation was to demonstrate how scholars could read the scrolls for evidence of the pain, sorrow, and horrific struggles that Jewish communities endured under occupation. While the scrolls attempt to institute barriers of separation with other Jews, I hypothesized that the end goal of these barriers was not necessarily to separate and divide themselves from fellow Jews. Rather it might represent an ingenious strategy to redress the emotional and physical trauma that conditioned their everyday lived experiences. The chief
292 trauma explored here involved the inability to become masters of their own story. With Seleucid and Roman rulers represented as manipulating their indigenous legal tradition to legitimate their domination, Jewish communities found an ingenious way to take back their relationship with
God and become masters of their own story.
This story might not end with the scrolls, but this discursive shift in Jewish communities’ understanding of the Mosaic Law most likely influenced and conditioned the emergence of early
Christian groups. With Jesus and his early followers described in the New Testament as operating with a distinctive concept of the Mosaic Law, it is probable that communities in the region continued to develop different responses to redress their experiences of occupation. In becoming masters of their own story, the scrolls’ authors would fundamentally change the contours of early Judaism and give rise to new ideas and practices that would go on to influence future generations to come.
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308 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Amanda Furiasse was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. She attended North Central College in
Naperville, Illinois where she received her B.A. in Religion. She received her M.A. in Theology from Loyola University of Chicago. After receiving her master’s degree, she worked alongside the Sisters of Mercy in Misericordia Heart of Mercy in Chicago, Illinois. Her experience working and living alongside individuals with intellectual disabilities at Misericordia inspired her to continue her studies in religion and focus on intersectionality and religion’s intersection with race, class, gender, sexuality, and ability. She attended Florida State University and received her
PhD in Religion in May 2018. Her dissertation and research at Florida State focused on the distinctive challenges that people face under military occupation and how art and ritual practice enables people to redress these challenges and overcome the emotional and physical trauma that they endure under occupation.
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