Susanna

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True or not, Anita Hill told the story of her alleged sexual harassment by the now-Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas to a nationwide television audience of millions, fascinated by the drama of sex and power. But Susanna was never given the opportunity to tell how she had been sexually harassed by two scurrilous old men. Condemned to silence and then to death, Susanna would have been executed but for the intervention of a young advocate who conducted the most famous cross-examination in history. Yet her story has been recounted for centuries—why? It too is a drama of sex and power, with the added impact of God and the threat of death. Short—only 64 verses—the fate of Susanna, as a woman and a text, is worth examining.

If you ask a Roman Catholic whether the story of Susanna is in the Bible, the answer, quite correctly, will be: “Yes, it’s the 13th chapter of the Book of Daniel.” If you put the same question to a Jew or a Protestant, the answer, quite correctly, will be: “No, it’s not canonical. It’s in the Apocrypha, a group of texts that didn’t quite make the final cut.”

That will surprise many people who don’t realize that even Catholic and Protestant Bibles are not the same.

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Beginning in the third century B.C.E.,^a the Hebrew Bible—or at least the first five books of it—was translated into Greek.^b Later—nobody knows exactly when but probably in the next hundred years or so—the rest of the Semitic “Bible” was added. The earliest extant copies of this Greek Bible translation date to the fourth century C.E. It is called the Septuagint because of the legend that 72 Jewish scholars working separately came up with precisely the same Greek translation. Often abbreviated LXX, the Septuagint became the basis of what Christians called the Old Testament. However, the Septuagint contains a number of texts that were not ultimately included by the Jewish community in the Hebrew Bible—Tobit, Judith, the Wisdom of Solomon, Ecclesiasticus or Ben Sirach (different from Ecclesiastes), First and Second Esdras, Baruch, the First and Second Book of Maccabees and, of course, the Additions to Esther, to Jeremiah, and to Daniel (which includes the story of Susanna). In the 16th century, the Protestant churches, following the lead of Martin Luther, decided to exclude these texts—they became known as the Apocrypha—from their canon, although in many Protestant Bibles the Apocrypha was printed between their Old and New Testaments or after the New Testament.

Whether biblical (for Catholics) or apocryphal (for Protestants), the story of Susanna is told at a fast-moving clip. The principal characters are well developed, the plot simple and direct. Told with mounting suspense, the story contains a sudden and effective denouement.

The story takes place in Babylon where the Jews were in exile after the Babylonian destruction of 023Jerusalem in 586 B.C.E. Without actually saying so, the story reflects the fact that at least some Jews had become not only comfortable but very successful in the Babylonian Diaspora. Indeed, we are specifically told that Susanna’s husband, Joakim, at whose home the action occurs, is “very rich” and adjoining his house is his fine garden (v. 4). His wife, Susanna, is not only “very beautiful” but also very devout, having been raised by religious parents who have instructed her in the Law of Moses (vv. 2–3).

Joakim’s home has become a gathering place where Jews regularly come to discuss the affairs of the day. Among the regulars are two elders who have recently been appointed judges. (Unbeknownst to the Jewish community, these two men have throughout their lives broken the laws of God and man [vv. 5–6].)

Each day at noon everyone would leave Joakim’s home, and Susanna would then take a stroll in the garden—a fact that does not escape the notice of the two new judges (vv. 7–8a). Separately and independently, they lust after her (vv. 8b–12).

One day, after the noon departure, when the two new judges are separately on their way to lunch, each decides to double back for another peek at Susanna—and each surprises the other. To one another, they confess their desire for Joakim’s beautiful wife. They agree on a plan by which, when Susanna is alone, they can force her to satisfy their lust (vv. 13–14).

The opportune time arrives on a hot afternoon when Susanna decides to bathe in the garden. She instructs her two maids to shut the garden gates and bring her oil and cosmetics. The maids depart, leaving Susanna alone in the garden—alone except for the two lustful judges hidden in the bushes (vv. 15–18).

As soon as Susanna dismisses her maids, the two lechers accost her, insisting that she have sex with them, right then and there. If she refuses them, they tell her, they will frame her by swearing that they caught her having sex with a young man who escaped (vv. 19–21).

Susanna moans that she is trapped: Either she must sin by committing adultery (for which God would punish her with death) or she will be falsely accused and convicted of adultery (which means death at the hands of the community). Susanna chooses the latter course. She cries out, and the two judges begin to shout against her. One of them opens a garden door and everyone from the house rushes in. The judges proceed to make their accusation and “the servants felt very much ashamed for nothing like this had ever been said about Susanna” (v. 27).

The next day, Susanna’s trial for adultery is held at the scene of the “crime.” The text notes that Susanna’s parents, children and all her relatives are also at the trial (v. 30). Apparently, the two judges are still desirous of her, for they order her veil to be removed—we are again told that she was a woman of “great refinement and beauty”—so they can “feast their eyes on her beauty” (vv. 31–32). On the testimony of the two judges that they had caught her in flagrante delicto, Susanna is convicted and sentenced to death. The judgment is rendered by the community because the two judges are witnesses against her.

No one bothers to ask Susanna if she has anything to say—not even her husband or her parents. The testimony of the two witnesses, whose age and rank put them above suspicion, is enough to convict her.

Weeping, she calls on God who “know[s] what is secret” (vv. 42–43). The Lord hears her cry: Just as she is being led off to her execution, God inspires the young Daniel to challenge the verdict, claiming that Susanna has been framed (vv. 44–49).

Daniel demands that the case be reopened. The trial then resumes at the scene of the alleged crime. Daniel separates the two witnesses and proceeds to cross-examine each of them out of the hearing of the other. To each he puts the same question: “Under what tree did you see them making love?” One answers: “A mastic tree.” The other answers, “An oak tree.”

Daniel’s clever cross-examination obviously destroys the case against Susanna. “Then the whole assembly raised a great shout and blessed God, who saves those who hope in him” (v. 60).

The two judges who have perjured themselves are convicted of bearing false witness and are sentenced to the same punishment that would have been imposed on the victim of their perjury had they been successful (cf. Deuteronomy 19:18–19): The judges are put to death (vv. 61–62).

A little belatedly Susanna’s parents and husband praise God, although they did not seem to have much faith in Susanna before Daniel’s cross-examination. And Daniel—in one sense this is the whole point of the story—acquires “a great reputation 024among the people” (v. 64), although prior to being inspired by God, Daniel too was apparently quite willing to accept the verdict against Susanna.

So the story ends. Susanna, an innocent, is saved, and the young Daniel first comes to the attention of his people.

On the face of it, it is not obvious why the story of Susanna was excluded from the Hebrew Bible, especially if one considers that Song of Songs (a book of erotic poetry), Ecclesiastes (whose basic message is “Everything is meaningless”^c) and Esther (in which God’s name is not mentioned even once^d) were included. By contrast, the story of Susanna has a strongly religious character. God is mentioned or alluded to 15 times in the book’s 64 verses. Not only Susanna and Daniel, but also the narrator, the distinguished members of the 025community who preside at the reopened trial, Susanna’s parents and relatives, and the assembly—in fact, everyone except the two villains—mention God. At two points (vv. 5 and 53) the Jewish scriptures are quoted or paraphrased. From beginning to end, religious interests and elements pervade the story.¹

Why then was it excluded?

One theory is that it was excluded because, like the other so-called Additions to Daniel^e and other books of the Apocrypha, it was originally composed in Greek.²

It is true that no ancient Hebrew or Aramaic copies of any of the Additions to Daniel have yet been found—even among the Dead Sea Scrolls. However, at nearby Masada, a fragment of a Hebrew copy of Ecclesiasticus (Ben Sirach) was found. And the Dead Sea Scrolls include Hebrew and/or Aramaic texts of several books of the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha,^f including Tobit, Jubilees, Enoch and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. Moreover, among the fragmentary texts found in Cave 4 at Qumran are three Aramaic texts,³ featuring a Daniel who relates Jewish history to a king. All of this indicates the likelihood that the “Additions to Daniel” in fact had a Semitic Vorlage (i.e., prototype).

Moreover, the internal evidence for this is quite strong. The two variant Greek texts of Susanna (more of this later) both contain features that presuppose a Hebrew or Aramaic text, including a variety of Semitic idioms, the use of the same Greek root with almost diametrically opposite meanings, variants between the versions that are best explained by viewing them as different renderings of the same Semitic text, and, most significant of all, a couple of very puzzling Greek phrases that are best explained by presupposing a misreading of a Semitic original.⁴

Taken together, these factors provide a reasonably strong case for a Semitic Vorlage for Susanna. Accordingly, the story was not excluded from the Hebrew canon because it had been originally composed in Greek.

Another theory explaining why it was excluded is that it was composed too late. But the rest of the Book of Daniel, which dates to about 163 B.C.E., was included in the Jewish and Christian canons. Was Susanna composed after that? We just don’t know. The: latest date for the composition of Susanna is the date of the Septuagint’s Greek translation of Daniel, which was probably around 100 B.C.E. The earliest date suggested for the Semitic text itself is some time during the middle or late Persian period (550–331 B.C.E.). We are unfortunately left with a time span of several centuries, but at least for the moment we are stuck with this uncertainty.

Other reasons scholars have given for Susanna’s exclusion from the Hebrew canon are more technical and even less satisfying. Perhaps the best we can do is to say the sages who fixed the Hebrew canon and decided on the authoritative texts they canonized used a text of Daniel that did not include Susanna or the other Additions to Daniel (the Additions to Esther that have survived only in Greek were also excluded^g).

That the text of Daniel was hardly fixed at an early date is suggested by the fact that two quite different versions of the Susanna story have 026survived. In addition to the Septuagint text of Susanna, we have the text of a somewhat later Greek version attributed to Theodotion. The Septuagint text is much less polished than the Theodotion text. For this reason, the Theodotion text is usually used as the basis of our translations. Indeed, so different are the two versions that of the 60 verses—out of 64—“shared” by the two versions, slightly less than a quarter have total or even significant partial verbatim agreement. Some scholars—quite rightly in my view—believe that Theodotion made a separate Greek translation of a Semitic text rather than making an editorial revision of the Septuagint. On the other hand, Theodotion must have had the Septuagint translation before him; otherwise, how could we account for the verbatim agreements between them?⁵

More significantly, Theodotion’s version elevates Daniel at the expense of Susanna. In Theodotion’s version, the story is placed at the beginning of the book of Daniel instead of at the end. In Theodotion’s version, the story thus functions as an introduction to Daniel, the hero of the book. To be sure, Daniel still does not appear on the stage until verse 45 of the Theodotion version, but from there on he has top billing. Only in Theodotion’s version is Daniel’s full authority immediately recognized by the elders who preside at the re-opened trial: “Then the presiding elders said to [Daniel], ‘Come sit with us and inform us, since God has granted the authority to you’” (v. 50).

In the earlier Septuagint, version the concluding verses (vv. 63–64) emphasize the importance and moral capabilities of young people in general:

“So an innocent life was saved that day. Because of this the young are beloved of Jacob—on account of their simplicity. And let us watch over the young that they be courageous sons. For the young are idealistic, and a spirit of knowledge and understanding will always be in them.”⁶

The emphasis here is not so much on what Daniel did, commendable though it was, but on what young people can do and the importance of older adults nurturing them.

By contrast, in Theodotion’s version the story ends with this glorification of Daniel:

“From that day forward Daniel had a great reputation in the eyes of the people” v. 64).

With that, the curtain rings down on Daniel rather than Susanna; and for the rest of the Book of Daniel he, understandably, takes all the curtain calls, not Susanna. In Theodotion, her story serves, 027primarily, as an introduction to the prophet Daniel, and is but the first of several tales featuring him.

Most scholars regard the story as totally fictitious. It belongs to the literary genre called the folktale. Its theme is a popular motif of this genre: a wise child intervenes and corrects an injustice.⁷

Because of the common themes and motifs in the story, some have argued that it originated as a purely secular and profane tale⁸ that combined two common themes: (1) the wise judge and (2) “the widespread tale of the chaste wife falsely accused and repudiated, generally on the word of a rejected suitor.”^h9 If the Susanna story was originally a purely secular tale circulating outside of the Jewish community, the texts that have come down to us have been thoroughly adapted to a Jewish environment. There is no theological basis here for excluding it from the canon

As noted, in Theodotion’s version the story of Susanna comes at the beginning of the Book of Daniel, thus emphasizing that the purpose of the book is to introduce Daniel as an important God-touched figure, even though he does not appear until the latter part of the story. Nevertheless, this placement of the story—at the beginning of the book—elevates Daniel’s role at Susanna’s expense.

Poor Susanna! She was abused in the story by the two corrupt, not to say sinful, judges. She was abused by her husband and family when they failed to come to her defense. She was abused by her community who blithely condemned her to death without even getting her side of the story or cross-examining her accusers. Even Daniel failed to come to her defense until God stirred him up. When her story is placed at the beginning of the Book of Daniel, as Theodotion does, she is further abused by the fact that this has the effect of focusing the tale on Daniel rather than Susanna; it is the first of many tales about Daniel, the hero of the book—in effect, his introduction. Finally, her fascinating story was excluded by the rabbinical sages from the canon of the Hebrew Bible.

But despite all this, Susanna has been treated kindly by history. Her influence has been powerful 028and pervasive in literature, music and art. Some feminist scholars see all this as the artist taking the opportunity to contemplate—visually or aurally—a beautiful naked woman at her bath (in effect, in a respectable parallel with the action of the elders) who is being taken advantage of by two dirty old men.¹⁰ And indeed medieval and Renaissance painters (nearly all of whom were male) routinely depicted, not scenes such as the pre-luncheon garden parties at Susanna and Joakim’s home or her first court trial or the all-important cross-examination scene involving Daniel, but a naked or partially clothed Susanna, usually in the clutches of the two lechers.

I’m no art historian, but in my quick, amateur survey of paintings of the Susanna story by the Old Masters,ⁱ of 33 paintings of the Susanna story, only one depicted the trial itself.¹¹ All the rest 029featured Susanna bathing or being accosted by the would-be rapists.

While the standards of ideal female beauty certainly varied from country to country and from period to period, the artists’ emphasis was clearly upon Susanna’s beauty and voluptuousness, rather than upon her piety or anguish. The one glaring exception to this generalization is “Susanna and the Elders” by Artemisia Gentileschi (1610), a female artist who as a very young teenager had been raped by her art teacher and his companion. In Gentileschi’s rendition, Susanna’s facial expression, hands, and body position are anything but sensual or erotic. Rather, they express the female perception of “the intimidating pressure of the threat of rape.”¹²

Down through the centuries the story of Susanna has been featured in the other arts as well. In music: Paul Rebhun’s musical play (Ein geistlich Spiel von der Gotfurchtigen und keuschen Frawen Susannen [1536]), Palestrina’s motet (Susanna ab improbis [16th century]), oratorios by Virgilio Mazocchis (L’ historia di Susanna [1643]), Alessandro Scarlatti (Il martirio di Santa Susanna [1706]), Handel’s Susanna (1749), and Jean Gilbert’s operetta Die keusche Susanne (1910). Susanna is the protagonist in dramas in a number of languages, including French,¹³ German,¹⁴ and English,¹⁵ not to mention Greek.¹⁶

The representation of Susanna has not always been of a sympathetic and serious moral tone. For example, the Scottish playwright, James Bridie, in his Susannah and the Elders (1937), makes Susanna an incorrigible flirt.

In all these forms, the story of Susanna has been told and retold for centuries. Different ages see different themes: a cautionary tale about hasty judgment, a reminder that authority figures may be corrupt or an encouragement for women to resist 052intimidation. In societies where a woman’s word isn’t worth much, the story says God pays attention to the powerless, so the community should too.

The basic appeal of the story is the injustice of it all, until Susanna is cleverly rescued by Daniel. Innocence is vindicated. But we would be foolish to deny that part of the story’s appeal is its skillful mixture of three of the most basic fascinations of men and women at any time and place: God, sex and death.

We thank Diane Apostolos-Cappadona for her helpful information regarding the art that accompanies this article.

True or not, Anita Hill told the story of her alleged sexual harassment by the now-Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas to a nationwide television audience of millions, fascinated by the drama of sex and power. But Susanna was never given the opportunity to tell how she had been sexually harassed by two scurrilous old men. Condemned to silence and then to death, Susanna would have been executed but for the intervention of a young advocate who conducted the most famous cross-examination in history. Yet her story has been recounted for centuries—why? It too is a drama of sex and […]