047Israel’s faith-history begins with the people’s response to their escape from Egypt under Moses’ leadership around 1275 B.C.1
What happened at the Exodus? A motley group of slaves, resident aliens in a hostile Egypt, escaped from oppression under the leadership of a certain Moses; then they saw in their successful escape a clear sign of God’s special love and care for them. In the concept of covenant, Moses helped them see God’s hand in what had happened and taught them how to respond to their saving God.2
Moses apparently took over the political form of covenant from a type of treaty, either contemporary or remembered from the not-too-distant past, made by Hittite emperors in what is now central Turkey with their loyal vassals in various parts of the Near East. Moses used the Hittite covenant form to shape the Israelite people’s understanding of their new relationship with the God who had delivered them.3
In the Hittite covenant treaties, the Hittite emperor always began by introducing himself and recalling his special favors toward the vassal.4 The unearned royal kindness led necessarily to a response by the vassal, either the free pledge of loyalty and fidelity finding expression in acceptance of certain duties, or else the willful rejection of the emperor’s kindness and rebellion against him.5 Fidelity to the treaty relationship would maintain it and bring both divine favor and the continuance of the emperor’s kindness, while infidelity to the relationship would disrupt it and bring both curses and retribution.6
Moses presumably saw that this pattern of royal initiative and response by the vassal fit the situation 048of divine initiative and human response very well. And so he used it as the basis of the covenant between Israel and Yahweh at Sinai.7 The faith that found expression in the original Mosaic covenant was simple and direct, yet also very profound and fruitful. The Israelites acknowledged Yahweh’s unexpected and undeserved love for them, as experienced in the Exodus, and pledged themselves to a full and total response of love. The Decalogue, or Ten Commandments, indicated some specifics of the covenant obligations, but the relationship was left largely open-ended. Later generations would see the covenant as detailed and legalistic, and it would be regarded as the place where minutiae of life and cult were spelled out at length, but its original form was exuberant and freeing, the generous expression of a grateful people’s loving faith.
Although the Mosaic covenant at Sinai marked the real beginning of Israelite faith, I don’t mean to deny that the first members of the covenant community had personal and communal histories and traditions. They obviously did. And these histories were gradually taken over and transformed by the new covenant faith, leaving their own impress on that faith in the process. The stories of the patriarchs in Genesis grew out of that ongoing dynamic interaction of earlier history and new faith. Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were gradually understood to have followed the lead of the same God who later made himself so strikingly known in the deliverance from Egypt. Patriarchal religion seems to have been marked by deep trust in the protective love of the clan deity, a deity who would one day give his people the success, stability and prosperity for which they yearned.8
The escaped Israelites gradually consolidated their forces, attracted recruits from related clans and began a reasonably successful process of settlement in central Canaan. All these events they understood as a sign that Yahweh’s redemptive power and love were still with them and as a continuation of the covenant blessings that formed the initial basis of their corporate life at Sinai. They also saw the events subsequent to the Sinai experience as a fulfillment of the hopes of their early ancestors. The divine favor, first known as such in the Exodus, was now seen to extend forward to the settlement in Canaan and also backward to the hopes of the patriarchs.9 Those hopes must have been based on divine promises, and so Israelite faith, regarded the land of Canaan as the promised land. It was the ongoing sign and reality of God’s love of them, the fruit of the covenant and the new focus of the covenant faith.
Thus, even at the beginnings of Israelite faith there was dynamic growth and development. During the two centuries of Israel’s settlement and expansion in Canaan before the establishment of the monarchy (between, say, 1220 B.C. and 1020 B.C.), Yahweh’s covenant love presumably became more and more accepted, a normal part of life, a focus of religious festivals, but also so something to be taken for granted and counted on. In times of danger or invasion by nomads, God’s protection would be seen in the emergence of charismatic leaders, called judges, who would muster a volunteer army to re-establish peace and security. God was the people’s Lord, and they needed no permanent human leader.10
The first major shift in Israelite religious understanding had its roots in the Philistine crisis of the late 11th century B.C. (about 1030), some 250 years after the Exodus. The Philistines were part of a much larger group, the Sea Peoples, whose population shifts caused great havoc in many parts of the eastern Mediterranean beginning around 1400 B.C.11 The group of Sea Peoples known as Philistines(Hebrew, plsûtym), who eventually gave their name to 049Palestine (Hebrew, plst), settled along the Mediterranean coast of southern Canaan in the second half of the 12th century B.C., then expanded inland and gradually encroached on the territory occupied by the Israelite tribes (who were themselves beginning to expand westward from the central hill country onto the more fertile coastal plain). Sporadic skirmishes led to more serious battles, and the Israelite central sanctuary established by Samuel at Shiloh eventually fell to the Philistines sometime after 1050 B.C. (cf. 1 Samuel 4; Jeremiah 7:12, 28:6). Something more than charismatic leadership was evidently needed if the enemy’s power was to be decisively broken.
Two conflicting opinions vied for acceptance at this critical juncture. The older, more traditional view was that God would help his people in his own time. The newer, opposing view was that God wanted the people to adapt to the changing times and choose a permanent leader for themselves, perhaps even a king whose descendants would succeed him in office. The respected and influential Samuel may himself have shared something of each view, since both are attributed to him. In 1 Samuel 8:4–18, Samuel is presented as opposing the appointment of a king, but he recognizes that God wants him to give in to the people’s wishes (verse 22). In 1 Samuel 9:15–10:7, Samuel appears to have a much more positive attitude toward establishing a king. Eventually, Samuel (himself a charismatic leader) yields to popular pressure and appoints Saul to be the new leader. It may be that Samuel never intended Saul (or David, whom he later appointed to replace Saul) to be “king” in the sense of a hereditary monarch or the founder of a dynasty; he may have meant only to appoint a leader with special authority for the duration of the crisis. This may explain why ngyd (Hebrew for “leader” or “prince”) is used twice to describe Saul (1 Samuel 9:16, 10:1) and five times to describe David (1 Samuel 13:14, 25:30, 2 Samuel 5:2, 6:21, 7:8), twice in contrast to Hebrew mlk “king” (2 Samuel 5:2; 6:20–21).
Perhaps Samuel hoped that Saul would willingly step down once the crisis was over. In any event, he certainly thought Saul would be a wise leader as well as a good general. But either immediately or gradually it became clear to Samuel that Saul was not a good choice. Saul proved to be moody, easily depressed, jealous of anyone who might become more popular than he, and intent on establishing a true dynasty—or at least so the tradition remembers him! (It may be that the biblical narratives are influenced by the desire to account for the failure of Saul, the Lord’s first anointed, and for David’s subsequent success.) Samuel quickly saw his mistake and sought to replace Saul with another charismatic figure; the young David (1 Samuel 13:8–15a, 15:1–16:13). And yet, because Saul had authority as Yahweh’s chosen, only after his defeat and death inbattle could David openly begin to assume command (2 Samuel 2:1–8).12
In spite of his own personal failings, which were considerable, David was all that Saul was not. He defeated the Philistines and then drove them completely out of Israel’s territory. He conquered or made alliances with the various peoples round about and established an apparently secure political structure for Israel.13 David replaced the earlier, loosely regulated tribal structure with a centralized government operating out of Jerusalem.14 The choice of Jerusalem was a clever stroke. The city had never been occupied by any of the Israelite tribes. It belonged to none of them. It stood on the border between the northern and southern groups of tribes. And it had been captured personally by David and his bodyguard (2 Samuel 5:6–10, 1 Chronicles 11:4–9). 050No tribe or faction could claim to have been slighted in favor of another by the choice of neutral Jerusalem as capital.
As he consolidated the monarchy politically, David found himself faced with real religious problems. Israel had never been ruled by a human king before.15 Yahweh had been the people’s only king (cf. 1 Samuel 8:7); the Ark of the Covenant was the symbol of his presence;16 the charismatic leader had served only as the temporary instrument of Lord’s power;17 the central sanctuary of the tribes, which could move from one local shrine to another, not a capital but a focus for the renewal of covenant with Yahweh at stated times.
All this David and his advisers perceived clearly. Their effort to root the new institution of monarchy firmly within the older covenant traditions gave rise to a radically new form of faith, a new religious understanding. This “new faith” did not replace the old, but coexisted with it, influenced it in various 051ways and eventually combined with it to produce yet another form of Israelite faith. To understand what happened, we have to examine David’s innovations more closely.
The Ark of the Covenant was the sign of Yahweh’s presence to his covenant people. It was intended to be enshrined at a central sanctuary, such as Shiloh (I Samuel 3:1–3, 4:4), but it had been kept at Kiriath Yearim since being returned by the Philistines following their capture of it (1 Samuel 4:11, 5:1–7:2). David’s transfer of the Ark to Jerusalem in a solemn procession (2 Samuel 6:1–19) thus identified that city as the new central sanctuary.
The Mosaic covenant had made Yahweh’s good deeds toward his people the basis for their loving response to him.18 In 2 Samuel 7, Yahweh is presented by Nathan the prophet as recounting his kindnesses to Israel and to David (verses 8–11a). This is but a prelude, however, to Yahweh’s new promise—that David’s descendants would succeed him on the throne, forming a genuine dynasty (or “house”). Moreover, this dynasty would never be rejected, not even for infidelity. This was a new and different emphasis in Israel’s religious understanding, not only effectively linking the familiar covenant pattern with the more ancient traditions of promises to the patriarchs, but also coming out with a firm guarantee of divine protection for the future, regardless of Israel’s worthiness. The earlier covenant community had believed that Yahweh’s loving care account would continue, but it had also known that this care was conditioned on their continued fidelity. The new Davidic theology had shifted the focus in order to root the new political structure of kingship firmly within the people’s religious consciousness.
David and his advisers allowed their faith to be shaped by events and by the needs of their day, just as Moses had done earlier. Henceforth religious worship in Jerusalem would focus on praise of the loving God whose help in the past was matched only by his absolute reliability for the future.19 The need or an answering attitude of fidelity and obedience was easily overlooked.
Since the psalms come largely from Jerusalem temple-worship, it is not surprising that they frequently reflect this way of thought. Most of the Pentateuch and the major historical biblical books were strongly influenced by this Davidic theology and expressed it in different ways.20 The prophet Jeremiah, on the other hand, had to oppose this understanding when it led to the dogma that no harm could possibly come to Jerusalem and the Temple (Jeremiah 7:1–15, 26:1–19).
When David grew old and senile, his two eldest surviving sons, Adonijah and Solomon, were rivals for the throne. David’s retainers were also split into two factions, but Solomon’s mother Bathsheba persuaded David to choose her son over his older halfbrother (1 Kings 1).
Solomon continued the strong centralist policies of his father David, modeled his coun on other Near Eastern kingdoms,21 built a Canaanite-style Temple for Yahweh in Jerusalem (something that David had been dissuaded from attempting),22 and continued the unpopular practices of taxation and a standing army (both begun by his father).23
When Solomon died, the northern tribes decided that the time to protest had arrived. They approached Solomon’s son and heir, Rehoboam, and demanded that he modify his father’s policies. The tribes sought some of the freedom they had enjoyed before the rise of the monarchy (1 Kings 12:1–5).When Rehoboam bluntly and insultingly refused, the northern tribes simply broke away from the Davidic monarchy and appointed one of Solomon’s former generals, Jeroboam, to be their king (1 Kings 12:13–20).
Monarchy in the north (the kingdom of Israel) turned out to be very different from that of David’s descendants who ruled in the south (the kingdom of Judah). In Israel the ancient principle of Yahweh’s direct rule through charismatic leaders who were raised up as needed to meet specific crises was maintained; prophets were thus able to rebuke or depose kings, and even oventhrow dynasties, almost at will.24 The northern kings inherited the account ability of the covenant people before Yahweh; the southern kings were virtually above the law, heirs ofthe inviolability promised to the Davidic dynasty.
In the north, Jeroboam attempted to counteract the pull of the Jerusalem Temple by establishing shrines at ancient sanctuaries in Dan and Bethel (1 Kings 12:26–33). Since he didn’t have the Ark to put there, he used the ancient symbol for the divine pedestal, a calf or a young bull (verses 28–30). This was presumably in deliberate opposition to Solomon’s adoption of the Canaanite cherubim as the divine pedestal (1 Kings 6:23–28). In this way, Jeroboam was presenting himself as the real preserver of the ancient faith, even though Jerusalem circles25 would try to discredit him by accusing him of idolatry, saying that the bull image had been meant as an idol rather than as a pedestal for the invisible Yahweh.
Neither in Israel nor in Judah did the ancient covenant structure of Israel’s religious understanding pass unchanged into the time of the Divided Monarchy, but it remained influential in very different ways in the new religious understandings of both northerners and southerners.
The roots of biblical prophecy lie in various Nea Eastern ecstatic phenomena and in the covenant 052theology’s conception of God’s direct rule over the people. Under the new institution of monarchy, the prophet functioned as a continuation of the earlier charismatic leader to counteract the tendencies to absolutism inevitable in the more organized sociopolitical structure. While there was perhaps equal need for this role in both Israel and Judah, there was more initial openness to it or support for it in Israel, at least among some segments of the population. Most of the ninth-and eighth-century B.C. prophets operated in the north—in Israel rather than in Judah.
The prophets served as covenant-messengers. When king or people failed to live according to the covenant, the prophets recalled the meaning of the covenant relation to Yahweh and the implications of the failures of king or people. The Prophets really represented a force of dynamic conservatism in reaction to the innovations of the two monarchies. They thus appealed to ancient resonances within the people’s religious heritage, but brought these resonances to expression in new ways. Repentance was the dominant motif in much prophetic preaching. The Israelites were challenged to see themselves as recipients of God’s love, but as unfaithful and rebellious recipients whose lives and actions had consistently frustrated or hampered God’s plans for them. The stance of faith had to include admission of guilt, acknowledgement that misfortune and failure were deserved punishments, and hope that the Lord’s love would turn from punishment to healing. Divine mercy could not be earned, anymore than God’s redemptive love had been earned in the past, but the believer was challenged to repent.
Sometimes the prophetic interpretation of contemporary disasters as punishments and occasions for repentance was taken seriously by the king. Although this apparently never happened in Israel, it did occur in Judah, at least under Hezekiah in the late eighth century B.C., and again under Josiah in the late seventh century B.C. Both initiated religious reforms.26 Although their intentions were admirable, their reforms inevitably focused on externals and failed to touch people’s hearts. Both kings’ reforms collapsed, but a legacy of religious understanding remained: a concentration on externals and a sense that disaster was inevitable unless the Lord intervened and changed people’s hearts.
Israel was conquered by the Assyrians in 721 B.C., and the northern kingdom came to an end.
In the south, Josiah’s reform in the late seventh century B.C. (2 Kings 22:3–23:25) produced what we call the Deuteronomistic History (combining the Book of Deuteronomy with Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings). The Deuteronomistic History was an effort to provide a thorough theological history of Israel from the settlement in Canaan to the reign of Josiah. It emphasizes the reward-punishment aspects of the covenant, as well as the prime importance of love of and fidelity to Yahweh in response to the unearned love of the covenant Lord.27
The Deuteronomistic History uses these themes as principles to interpret history and as a framework for a retelling of the stories about Israel’s past. Cultic infidelity and disaster are shown to be reciprocally linked, as are cultic fidelity and prosperity.28 Thus, the northern kingdom is presented as totally bad from start to finish, because of Jeroboam’s alleged “idolatries” with the calves of Dan and Bethel and because of Jeroboam’s successors’ repeated failure to break with the pattern he had begun (cf. 2 Kings 17:7–18). The Deuteronomistic Historian had no choice but to interpret the northern monarchy as corrupt from the start, because it had been destroyed by Assyria a century earlier.
As for Judah, which still survived, the Deuteronomistic Historian rendered a mixed verdict. The promises to David still held, and would be fulfilled in Josiah perhaps, but the general infidelity and unworthiness of southerners and of most southern kings accounted for the various misfortunes Judah itself had suffered.29
Josiah’s reform collapsed with his death in battle against an Egyptian army in 609 B.C. (2 Kings 23:29–30). Twenty-two years later (in 587 B.C.) the kingdom of Judah was destroyed by the Babylonians, and its leaders were exiled (2 Kings 25:1–21). Someone in the school of the Deuteronomistic Historian revised the earlier work just enough to fit the new situation. Josiah’s predecessor Manasseh was presented as so evil that even Josiah’s goodness could not stave off but only postpone the coming disaster.30
The reward-punishment theology of much prophetic preaching and of the Deuteronomistic History may seem inadequate and misleading to us today, but it provided a way to make theological sense out of the disaster of the Exile by presenting it as the well-deserved punishment of a people who had persisted in their stubborn infidelity toward the God who loved them. When the punishment came and was accepted, the way was then open to the later Jeremiah, the later Ezekiel and the nameless prophet we call Second Isaiah (Isaiah 40–55) to look for a new outpouring of divine love toward the people. Jeremiah spoke of a new covenant, written on the heat (Jeremiah 31:31–34), which would make it possible for the people to know, as if “by nature,” what the Lord desired of them. Ezekiel, too, spoke of a new heart for all the people, so that they could love the Lord spontaneously and effectively (Ezekiel 11:19–21, 36:26–27), and of a new temple, in which 053Yahweh would again dwell, and out of which the waters of life would pour forth for the redeemed people and their land (Ezekiel 40:1–43:5, 47:1–12).31 Second Isaiah took up the ancient Exodus imagery to describe the imminent new acts of redemption that would far outshine the former divine favors.32
The Exile was thus a watershed in the history of Israelite religious understanding. The faithful remnant of the covenant community needed only to confess their sinfulness and the justice of Yahweh’s punishments acknowledge once more their lack of merit in God’s sight and hope for the Lord’s return in love.
The so-called Priestly strand within the Pentateuch was also composed during the Exile. It tried to bring order and meaning into the chaos of exile by zeroing in on the Temple ritual as the true fulfilment of the covenant and of all Israel’s traditions. The Pentateuchal narratives were structured by the Priestly Writer around cultic or ritual high points. Whoever accepted the various cultic and ritual practices established by the Lord through Moses was eligible to enter the covenant community. But the covenant made at Sinai was no longer regarded as the unique and crucial one, since God was said to have made several “eternal covenants” with all the humanity after the Flood (Genesis 9:16), with all the household of Abraham (Genesis 17:13), with the covenant people (Exodus 31:16) and later with their imagery priests (Leviticus 24:8) at Sinai, and finally with the priestly leadership through Phinehas toward the end of the time of wandering in the wilderness (Numbers of 25:13). The faith and religious understanding of the 054Pentateuch’s Priestly editors were at once more expansive and more narrowly cultic than were those of Israel at earlier periods. Their covenant community was not limited by political sttuctures, but was, at least in principle, open to all who were willing to accept its conditions. Political independence was no longer a reality, so God could no longer be met there. The Temple could be rebuilt one day, however, and then faithful performance of the ritual would ensure Yahweh’s continued presence and availability to all people.
The optimism and openness of the Priestly Writer, of the later Jeremiah and Ezekiel and of Second Isaiah are in marked contrast to the more narrowly defensive and protective attitudes that soon would become prominent features in at least parts of the post-Exilic community. The dangers of syncretism and loss of identity faced by the returned exiles in the precarious post-Exilic situation caused them to narrow their focus.
The glorious hopes raised by Second Isaiah’s vision were rudely dashed by the realities of life in ruined Jerusalem for the small band of returnees from the Babylonian Exile. Initial hopes that member of the Davidic royal house would once again lead them soon proved deceptive. A theocratic community took shape—led by the high priest, grouped around the rebuilt Temple, and refusing help from settlers round about, both pagans and those who worshipped Yahweh in ways that seemed suspect.
The edict of Cyrus had allowed Jews to return from Babylon in 538 B.C. The Temple was rebuilt some 20 years later (520–515 B.C.), but conditions in Jerusalem then stagnated for some 80 to 100 years. Finally, the governor Nehemiah saw to the rebuilding of the city walls (cf. Nehemiah 1–6) and had the scribe Ezra sent from Babylon to purify and reform the people’s religious life (cf. Nehemiah 8:9).33 Ezra brought with him the Torah, or Pentateuch, in roughly its present form.34 Presumably he also knew of the Deuteronomistic History. On his arrival, he reorganized the Temple ritual in accord with the ancient traditions,35 preached against the practice of intermarriage with the surrounding “peoples of the land” and persuaded the men to repent and put aside their foreign wives (cf. Ezra 9:1–10:44). Finally, he organized a renewal of the ancient covenant in which the people and their leaders bound themselves by oath and curse to exact observance of “all the commandments of Yahweh our God and his ordinances and his statutes.”36 The history of Yahweh’s past goodness, the people’s constant infidelities and Yahweh’s just punishments were made the basis for the covenant renewal. The hope was that, by exact observance of the Pentateuchal laws, Israel could avoid deserving punishment in the future.
This post-Exilic faith has a very different tone from the stages that went before. Now faith has become an acceptance of detailed obligations, and 055the individual’s religious energy has to be devoted the best possible observance of the Law in its totality. The religious understanding that found expression in the covenant-renewal ceremony organized by Ezra was quite different from either the religious understanding of those who had responded to the Exodus experience with the covenant at Sinai or the religious understanding of those who had let their lives be shaped by the royal Davidic covenant. This new religious understaning marked the beginning of Judaism and it would have its own rich development through the ensuing centuries. Judaism was something new in Israel’s religious history, as were Mosaic faith and Davidic faith before, but it can also be said to mark the end of Israelite faith as we have been using the term. The people’s faith was no longer understood, however imprecisely, as a direct relation to Yahweh the redeemer or Lord or judge, but as a relation first to the Torah or Law (Yahweh’s gracious gift) and only through the Law to Yahweh. In response to new crises and new experiences, study of the Law would become an increasingly important part of Jewish religious life, especially after the destruction Second Temple by the Romans in 70 A.D.
Religious understaning is not something that an individual or a community sets out deliberately to change, yet it does most assuredly change, especially in times of cultural stress. Frequently, more than one religious understanding can be found alive and well within the same community or even in the same individual believer. Properly understood, this is not a matter for regret, but a sign of life and of the continued action of God in the midst of his convenant people.
This article is dedicated to the memory of my dear friend and colleague, Dr. D. Glenn Rose, the former director of the Tell elHesi Expedition. His tragic death in Jerusalem in August 1981 is a personal loss whose force the years have not diminished me. Since Glenn and I on several occasions had discussed the issues raised here, I am particulary pleased to present this essay as a tribute to him.
47Israel’s faith-history begins with the people’s response to their escape from Egypt under Moses’ leadership around 1275 B.C.1 What happened at the Exodus? A motley group of slaves, resident aliens in a hostile Egypt, escaped from oppression under the leadership of a certain Moses; then they saw in their successful escape a clear sign of God’s special love and care for them. In the concept of covenant, Moses helped them see God’s hand in what had happened and taught them how to respond to their saving God.2 Moses apparently took over the political form of covenant from a type […]
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There is some dispute about the date of the Exodus from Egypt, and stories of Exodus 1–15 may well include traditions and reminiscences from several distinct departures by groups that later combined to form Israelite people.
2.
Exodus 19–24, 32–34 (largely early material adopted by various subsequent narrative sources and given a new framework by the book’s later Priestly editors).
3.
This analysis depends on the initial insights of Viktor Korosec (Hethitische Staatsverträge [Leipzig, 1931], George Mendenhall (Biblical Archaeology 17 [1954], pp. 49–76) and Klaus Baltzer (Das Bundesformular [Neukirchen Vluyn, 1960; rev ed., 1964]), The Covenant Formulary, trans. David E. Green [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971]), as developed and refined by numerous scholars. While questions have been raised about the validity of this approach or its implications for the covenant of Moses (cf. Dennis McCarthy, Treaty and Convenant (Rome, 1963; rev ed., 1978]), it remains widely accepted.
4.
For example, “These are the words of the Sun Mursilis, the great king, king of the Hatti land, the valiant, the favorite of the Storm-god, the son Suppiluliumas … When your father died, in accordance with your father’s word I did not drop you. Since your father had mentioned to me your name with great praise, I sought after you To be sure, you were sick and ailing, but although you were ailing, I, the Sun put you in the place of your father and took your brothers (and) sisters and the Amurru land in oath for you.” James B. Pritchard, ed., Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, 2nd ed. (Princeton, 1955), pp. 203–204; the Hittite treaties are translated by Albrecht Goetze; italics in the original.
5.
For example, “When I, the Sun, sought after you in accordance with your father’s word and put you in your father’s place, I took you in oath for the king of the Hatti land, the Hatti land, and for my sons and grandsons. So honor the oath (of loyalty) to the king and the king’s kin!… The tribute which was imposed upon your grandfather and your father—they presented 300 shekels of good, refined first-class gold weighed with standard weights you shall present them likewise. Do not turn your eyes to anyone else! Your fathers presented tribute to Egypt; you [shall not do that!].” (There follows an extended list of obligations and prohibitions.) Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, p. 204; italics in the original.
6.
For example, “The words of the treaty and the oath that are inscribed on this tablet—should Duppi-Tessub not honor these words of the treaty and the oath, may these gods of the oath destroy Duppi-Tessub, together withhis person, his wife, his son, his grandson, his house, his land and together with everything that he owns
“But if Duppi-Tessub honors these words of the treaty and the oath that are inscribed on this tablet— may these gods of the oath protect him together with his person, his wife, his son, his grandson, his house (and) his country.” Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, p. 205. Sometimes extended lists of curses and blessings are included in the treaty; cf. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, p. 206.
7.
Cf. Exodus 20:1–17, 23:20–33. 24:1–11 or Deuteronomy 5:1–21, 27:1–28:24 (and passim). The early covenant pattern shines through here, even though it has been reworked by later writers to reflect subsequent concerns and emphases
8.
Cf. Albrecht Alt, Der Gott der Väter, Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament III/12 (Stuttgart, 1929); The God of the Fathers in Alt, Essays on Old Testament History and Religion, trans. R. A Wilson (Garden City, N. Y., 1967), pp 1–100. Cf. also Frank Moore Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge, Mass., 1973), pp. 3–12
9.
Cf. for example, Joshua 24:2–13; Deuteronomy 26:5–11.
10.
Cf. Judges 21:25; 1 Samuel 8:4–22, 12:6–13.
11.
Cf. R. D Barnett, “The Sea Peoples,” in The Cambridge Ancient History (CAH), 3d ed., Vol. II, part II, History of the Middle East and the Aegean Region c 1380–1000 B.C., ed., I. E. S. Edwards et al. (Cambridge, Eng., 1975), pp. 359–378. Cf. also William F. Albright, “Syria, the Philistines, and Phoenicia, I. The Sea Peoples in Palestine,” CAH, History of the Middle East, pp. 507–516.
12.
It took another seven and a half years before David was able to consolidate his rule over Israel in the north (cf. 2 Samuel 2:8–5:5)
13.
This was only possible because of a temporary power vacuum in the Near East generally, but it still remains a mighty achievement
14.
Cf. 2 Samuel 8:15–18, 20:23–26 for lists of David’s cabinet officers.
15.
Cf. Judges 17:6, 18:1, 19:1, 21:25.
16.
Cf. 1 Samuel 4:3–8, 21–22, 5:1–7:2; 2 Samuel 6:1–15, 21.
Cf. especially the “royal psalms” Psalms 2, 18, 20, 21, 45, 72, 89, 101, 110, 132.
20.
Most Pentateuchal sources came from Jerusalem circles, although the fragmentary Elohist materials in Genesis and Exodus probably had a northern origin, and the authors of Deuteronomy may have drawn heavily upon traditions brought back from the north by refugees from the destruction of Samaria. The Deuteronomistic History (Joshua, Judges, 1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings) and the Chronicler’s History(1 and 2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah) are both also from Jerusalem circles. Other considerations tempered the perspectives of the royal Davidic theology in each of these witnesses, however.
