JOHN WARBURTON-LEE PHOTOGRAPHY/ALAMY STOCK PHOTO
Imagine the scene just after 70 CE: The Zealots have led a disastrous revolt against the Romans, Jerusalem lies in ruins, the Temple has been burned to the ground, and many of your coreligionists have been taken as slaves. What to do?
Then, two generations later, a second revolt occurs (132–135 CE), as a group of fighters led by Simeon Bar-Kokhba takes up arms against the Romans—only to be defeated yet again. In the wake of this warfare, Emperor Hadrian changes the name of Jerusalem to Aelia Capitolina—in direct reference to his family name and the Roman god Jupiter—and forbids Jews to live in or near the city. Again, what to do?
ERIC LAFFORGUE/ALAMY STOCK PHOTO; NESNAD, CC BY 4.0, VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
ERIC LAFFORGUE/ALAMY STOCK PHOTO; NESNAD, CC BY 4.0, VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
To be sure, many Jews remained in the land of Israel, as Jewish life was renewed in the Galilee to the north. Other Jews moved to more amicable locations within the Roman Empire, including the Aegean and Rome itself. Still others moved east to Mesopotamia, away from Roman rule, but this region also turned out to be a hotbed of battles, as the Romans and Persians (first the Parthians, then the Sassanians) fought for control of the Tigris and Euphrates valley during the second and third centuries.
Within this general picture, there was one more option available to Jews during the tumultuous first few centuries of the Common Era: move south, to nearby Arabia. To be sure, this option is far less well known, and even major surveys of Jewish history do not refer to the presence of Jews in Arabia during this period. Everyone acknowledges, of course, the presence of Jews and Christians in the Hejaz (essentially west-central Arabia, including the area around Mecca and Medina) during the seventh century, for how else could Jewish and Christian ideas have influenced Muhammad in the creation of Islam? But how and when did these Jews arrive in Arabia? Until recently, it was difficult to answer this question. Today, fortunately, an array of new documentary evidence allows us to reconstruct the historical picture more fully.1
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First, though, some background about Arabia during this time. During the last few centuries BCE and the first few centuries CE, the area of southern Jordan, the Negev, and northern Arabia was the domain of the Nabateans, a wealthy Arabian people who controlled the lucrative South Arabian incense trade. Many BAR readers will have visited Petra, the famous capital city of the Nabateans. Today, Saudi Arabia is developing tourism at Madain Saleh (ancient Hegra), another major Nabatean city, with landscape and cliff tombs similar to those at Petra. As we shall see, while the Nabateans were the dominant people in the area, Jewish communities were established at the major oasis cities of North Arabia as well. Let’s review the evidence, which comes almost entirely from ancient inscriptions.
We begin with an Aramaic tomb inscription written in Nabatean script, found at Tayma, one of the largest and most important oases of North Arabia. Dated to 203 CE, it reads, “This is the memorial of Isaiah, the councilor, son of Joseph, chief citizen of Tayma, which Amram and Ashmu his brothers erected over him.” Immediately, one notices that three of the four personal names are Hebrew names known from the Bible (Isaiah, Joseph, Amram), a clear indication that the family recorded here is a Jewish one. Note, moreover, that the deceased, Isaiah, served as city councilor, while even more remarkably, his father Joseph had served as mayor (r ’ š, “head”) or “chief citizen” of the city. Now, if Isaiah served as city councilor around 200, and his father Joseph served as mayor, say, around 170, it is highly doubtful that this Jewish family arrived in Tayma only in the late second century. Undoubtedly, the family would have settled in Tayma at least a generation or two earlier, in time to allow its scions to rise in the ranks of the local society. Thus, we may posit a scenario whereby the ancestors of this family moved to Tayma soon after or possibly even some years before the Bar-Kokhba Revolt.
ERIC LAFFORGUE/ALAMY STOCK PHOTO
RUTH STIEHL, 1970
Our second piece of evidence comes from ancient Hegra, about 80 miles south of Tayma. At this site another funerary inscription was found, also written in Nabatean Aramaic, dated to 356, that reads, in part: “This is [the tomb] which Ady[on] son of Honi son of Samuel, chief citizen (ryš) of Hegra, [erected] for Mawyah his wife, daughter of Amru son of Adyon son of Samuel, chief citizen (ryš) of Tayma.” Once again, we find Hebrew/Jewish names, including Honi (known from post-biblical Jewish sources) and Samuel. We also learn from this inscription that two leading families among the citizenry of both Tayma and Hegra were related by marriage.
TODD BOLEN/BIBLEPLACES.COM
From the same site comes a well-preserved sundial, now in the Istanbul Museum, perhaps dating as early as the second century, with a short Aramaic inscription, including the name of the donor, Manasseh bar Nathan. Once again, we must assume a Jewish donor bearing such a name, and once again, we must envision an individual of esteem in the community, with the means to donate the town sundial.
A bit farther to the south is ancient Dadan (modern Al-Ula), where a series of eight inscriptions written in Hebrew letters was found more than a century ago during the expedition by Antonin Jaussen and Raphaël Savignac. Most of these inscriptions are in Judeo-Arabic (that is, Arabic texts written in Hebrew characters), though at least one is written in Hebrew. These epigraphs, most likely dated to the fourth century, are all very short, consisting mainly of personal names, such as Isaac and Ishmael, along with a few short expressions of religious belief. But even from such short epigraphs there is much to learn. First, we note that the two personal names just mentioned are written in Arabic style, and not in their Hebrew or Aramaic style, namely, Isḥaq and Ismail (not Yiṣḥaq and Yišmael, respectively), thus indicating that these Jews of North Arabia already had begun not only to use Arabic, but also to write Arabic using the Hebrew alphabet. Second, we learn of the use of short phrases to express Jewish religious ideas, such as: brk ’lhym, “bless God” (written in Hebrew) and b’lh yṯq, “in God he trusts” (written in Arabic).
© LAÏLA NEHMÉ
Another inscription found at Dadan includes a bit more than just personal names. Written in Hebrew language and script, it reads, “Blessing unto Atur son of Menahem and (to) Rabbi Jeremiah.” We cannot know whether the latter individual adhered to what we call rabbinic Judaism, or whether the term rav (“rabbi”) was simply an honorific of some sort, but at least we may aver that this key Jewish term was in use at a major North Arabian oasis.
Our final inscription was only recently discovered, written in Nabatean Aramaic and found at Umm Jadhayidh, situated about halfway between Tabuk and Hegra along the ancient caravan route that linked these cities with Petra farther north. The text reads, in part: “May Šullay son of Awšu be remembered in well-being, and may he be safe in the presence of the Lord of the world. And this writing he wrote on the day of the feast of the unleavened bread.”2
In this case, the personal names do not disclose Jewish identity, but two phrases are noteworthy. First is the reference to the deity as mry ‘lm’, “the Lord of the world,” an epithet used by Jews for the one God, including those who wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls (e.g., 4Q529). Second is the mention of ywm ḥg ’l-pṭyr, “the day of the feast of the unleavened bread,” an obvious reference to Passover. The collocation of these two phrases in a single inscription ensures that the author, Šullay son of Awšu, was a Jewish man living in the desert region of northwest Arabia during the late third to early fourth centuries.
Taken as a whole, these inscriptions attest to the presence of Jews in the large oases of North Arabia. In the main, we have only the names of Jewish individuals, but here and there more pertinent information surfaces, including their high rank in society, their worship of the one God, their use of the term “rabbi,” and their observance of Passover.
We end with the Quran, first written down in the seventh century, which includes about a hundred references to Jews. Clearly the Jews (and Christians) of the Hejaz exerted a major influence on Muhammad, as he broke with the polytheism of Arabia to establish a new religious path. How the former group reached the region and how they sustained themselves in the lead-up to the rise of Islam has remained an open question. Fortunately, the inscriptions presented here allow us at least a minor window into that world.3
