Bible Books

012

The Many Forms of Israelite Religion

A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period
Volume 1: From the Beginnings to the End of the Monarchy
Volume 2: From the Exile to the Maccabees

Rainer Albertz
(Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1994) 725 pp., $32.00 (each)

The scope of this work is staggering. It is little wonder that Albertz received the 1995 Biblical Archaeology Society Publication Award for one of the two best books relating to the Old Testament. At the same time, this work is not for the timid. It assumes that readers are familiar with the field and its basic terminology. This may not be the best book to convey the arcane world of biblical studies to the interested public, yet, if ever there was a work that repays a close and arduous reading, this is it.

Not everyone will agree with Albertz’s positions. In these turbulent days regarding historical matters, Albertz’s approach is best described as moderate, and thus he will find critics at both ends of the spectrum. Those holding a maximalist historical perspective (which tends to accept ancient historical statements as true until demonstrably refuted) will hardly find comfort in Albertz’s late dating for the composition of the Pentateuch. Yet minimalists (who tend to accept nothing in the Bible that is not archaeologically attested) will bristle when Albertz says that “some elements of the tradition even go back to the period before the state.” Thus, even though Albertz is willing to affirm a late date for the Priestly source’s reinterpretation of Israelite religion,^a he is also quick to affirm that P “is hardly sheer invention.” And even though Albertz has a sophisticated understanding of the growth of the literary tradition, his overall bent is to treat the biblical narratives as historically reliable source material.

The main aim of the work is to reconstruct ancient religious phenomena through social analysis. Albertz argues that we can learn more about the religious expressions of ancient Israel if we appreciate the differences between the religions of small family groups (patriarchal religion) and those of larger liberation groups (Moses and the Exodus band), pre-state alliances (tribal confederacy) and the “power politics” of kingship theology.

Albertz is well versed in the scholarly literature and provides an integrated view of each historical period even when our evidence is limited. He includes thorough discussions of the northern state cults (such as Jeroboam’s Bethel cult and the religious policy of the House of Omri), of the “Yahweh alone” movement of the eighth century B.C.E., the reform movements of Hezekiah and Josiah, and the pervasive Deuteronomic reform of the seventh century B.C.E. Along the way, Albertz takes great pain to reveal the “internal religious pluralism” of ancient Israelite society. He is equally concerned with articulating the religion of the exilic and post-exilic period, which he feels has been given short shrift in the past primarily due to a Christian rush to see the church as the goal of the history of Israelite religion. Finally, extending his work far later than most religious histories of Israel, Albertz discusses the political and cultic origins of the Samaritans and provides a lengthy treatise on the religious expressions of the Hellenistic period.

Albertz is basically correct in his moderate approach to the historical value of the Hebrew Bible, yet his adoption of a 014late date for the entire Pentateuch is disappointing. At times his flip-flopping between positions is confusing. For example, he frequently asserts that the Deuteronomists can be used as sources for reconstructing earlier stages of Israelite religion, while at other times he says that they describe the early period “in quite sweeping terms…probably because they did not have any concrete information about it.”

One might mention Albertz’s romanticizing of early Yahwism and his bleak description of the state and Temple cult. The origin of Yahweh religion is “indissolubly connected” with the process of political liberation both of the Exodus group and the pre-state alliance. Albertz describes the latter, with its open-air sanctuaries (“high places”), as “visible and accessible to all.” Such a decentralized religion was “near to the people” because “God had not yet been enclosed in the darkness of a temple building.”

Albertz has harsh words for the religion of the Jerusalem state, which he describes as a “completely alien” kingship theology that “invaded” Israelite religion and turned Yahweh from a god of liberation into a god of state oppression. Priests joined court theologians in “propagating” the official theology of the king and Temple. Thankfully, based in large part on “the extraordinary conditions of its beginnings,” elements of the Yahwism of old remained in opposition to “the commandeering of Yahweh for power politics in kingship theology.” Later still, prophets like Hosea would add their voices to correct the state’s “erroneous course” that in the end resulted in “a form of idolatry.” The final synthesis of pre-state and state religion takes place when the Deuteronomists “created the very first…conceptual and intellectual theological outline of Yahweh religion.” This “large-scale mediating theology” reduced the “theological error” of Jerusalem royal and Temple theology, which had dangerously identified Yahweh with state power and state cult.

A wealth of information awaits the reader at every turn in Albertz’s monumental achievement. His work is judicious throughout, aside from his Big-Brother portrayal of kingship and Temple religion, and his occasional urge to overreach thin evidence in order to craft a tight synthesis. One will come away from this work with a new appreciation for the non-static quality of ancient Israelite religious expressions. Albertz goes farther than any other scholar to date in his appreciation of “the internal religious pluralism” of ancient Israelite society, which, like its modern counterparts, was far more complex than we tend to imagine.

Sage, Priest, Prophet: Religious and Intellectual Leadership in Ancient Israel

Joseph Blenkinsopp
(Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1995) 191 pp., $19.00

In his newest book, distinguished Notre Dame Bible scholar Joseph Blenkinsopp analyzes the cultural forces that helped shape the literature of the Hebrew Bible. In particular, he writes clearly and concisely about how sages, priests and prophets filled their social roles in ancient Israel.

The sages (“wise” men and women) are treated first because their role in Israel is perhaps the easiest for modern readers to associate with intellectual leadership. As he does with all three classes of people, Blenkinsopp analyzes the sages’ roles in society and the literature preserved in the Hebrew Bible associated with their work. He is hesitant to say much about a relationship between the historical Solomon and the wisdom movement in Israel, reflecting a caution typical in current biblical scholarship. The editorial history of the Book of Proverbs (attributed by tradition to Solomon), therefore, is sketched out from the middle of the eighth century B.C.E. (a good century after Solomon) into the Hellenistic period. There are short descriptions of Ecclesiastes and Job, along with a brief treatment of scribes and lawyers. The latter are important because of the connection between the work of sages and that of preserving and commenting on Pentateuchal instructions. On several occasions, the author points out possible linking elements with the Greek intellectual tradition.

The chapter on priests suggests the difficulty of reconstructing a history of the priesthood in Israel. Blenkinsopp concentrates on the post-exilic period (particularly the Persian period, 538–333 B.C.E.) and the difficulties that those who returned from Exile had in reconstructing life in Judah. Readers who know little about the history of scholarly analysis of the priesthood may find this chapter more difficult to read than the one concerning sages, but it will amply repay a careful reading. One also encounters Blenkinsopp’s humor as he notes occasionally how an earlier scholar’s (Julius Wellhausen’s) prejudice against priestly concerns influenced the portrait of priestly rituals and concerns. Blenkinsopp describes the priestly material of the Pentateuch as deeply concerned not only with the sanctity and integrity of Israel, but also as informed by a universalistic perspective on the nature and role of humankind in God’s world.

The third major chapter treats prophets and the phenomenon of prophecy. Blenkinsopp analyzes Max Weber’s definition of prophets as bearers of charisma, and he provides brief discussions of the various terms in the Hebrew Bible associated with the prophets. He concentrates on the books attributed to the pre-exilic period (for example Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, Micah), concluding that the prophets behind these books can be classified as critical of Israelite and Judean imperial ideology. Their books were preserved because the harsh judgments they offered about their respective regimes proved accurate. These early “writing prophets” may have been dissidents whose vision of transcendent reality emerged during an “axial age” (a time of intellectual breakthrough) in Israel.

One may quibble over details in his presentation, but Blenkinsopp is an engaging writer who guides readers competently through the mazes of social reconstruction and biblical interpretation.

The Roots of Wisdom: The Oldest Proverbs of Israel and Other Peoples

Claus Westermann, translated by J. Daryl Charles
(Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox, 1994) 178 pp., $19.99

Claus Westermann, the eminent German scholar best known for his commentaries on Genesis and his form-critical work on the prophets, takes up the question of Israel’s earliest wisdom traditions, those found in Proverbs 10–29 and 31. Running contrary to current views, which see these proverb collections as the work of a late, elite class of scribes, bureaucrats and wisdom teachers, Westermann argues for an earlier form of proverbial wisdom in Israel, one deriving from the 016everyday life of rural villages and towns in the pre-exilic period (before 587 B.C.) This wisdom was expressed and passed on in short one- or sometimes two-line sayings in indicative form as proverbs of observation, comparison, characterization and antithesis. Such sayings originated orally in concrete situations and had their greatest function in their continued oral use (not in collections) in community settings, where they were used to guide, exhort, manage, teach and resolve conflicts.

Westermann distinguishes these concrete, humorous, endlessly deft short forms from the stilted, generalized abstractions about wisdom found in the longer poetic compositions of Proverbs 1–9 and the pedagogical genre preserved in Proverbs 22–24.

Early wisdom, then, is functional and specific; late wisdom is pedagogical and abstract, even where it incorporates sayings from the earlier fund of wisdom. Westermann follows this core of early wisdom into the Psalms, the historical books, Job, Ecclesiastes and down into the teachings of Jesus. Appendices give his analysis of relevant proverb collections from a variety of societies: Africa, Sumatra, Mesopotamia and Egypt, where he finds striking similarities in form, content, development and transmission to those he outlined for Israel. His discussion of “royal” proverbs in tribal societies of Africa is especially relevant to his attempt to detach biblical proverbs of similar content from an automatically assumed setting of a royal school (for which there still exists no proof in the pre-exilic period). He concludes that the presence of such topics among the proverbs of those who do not live in monarchical social settings ought to raise questions about the origin of similar forms in Israel.

Whether one follows Westermann’s reconstruction of the origin and transmission of the Book of Proverbs or not—and many of his points might be argued differently—this book ought to be required reading for anyone who still views the Israelite wisdom movement as a “quest for order,” a wholesale product of a “citified” elite who knew nothing of the real life of the people, or a treasure-trove of fixed insights that may be reliably turned into inflexible doctrine. His findings must surely force reconsideration of the nature of Jesus’ views of humanity, intellect and ethical action (he sees Jesus as a representative of earlier egalitarian wisdom.)

Westermann’s reflections on the role of such proverbial wisdom in a modern world confronted by consumerism, specialization and global disintegration of the ecosystem amply demonstrate why he is one of the best loved and most useful theologians of our day for those who seek to ground their struggles for justice, blessing and beauty in the biblical witness.

Given that this book offers such a corrective to traditional constructions of wisdom in Israel, it is a shame that the English translation is so very poor. In spots, it is simply wrong; in other places, it is merely awkward and peculiar. Even worse, Westermann’s original format for the proverbs cited has been reorganized, making the work less usable, and the translator has interpolated his own footnotes, a practice unknown to this reviewer, wherein he egregiously declares Westermann to be wrong. Editors, translator and proofreaders alike owe Westermann an apology. Scholars are advised to use the German edition; readers in English would do well 017to wait for a revised translation of this engaging, timely volume.

Arguing the Apocalypse: A Theory of Millennial Rhetoric

Stephen D. O’Leary
(New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1994) 314 pp., $35.00

Apocalypse: On the Psychology of Fundamentalism in America

Charles B. Strozier
(Boston: Beacon Press, 1994) 316 pp., $25.00

With the approaching end of the millennium, attention to apocalyptic expectations and movements is growing, and membership in fundamentalist groups is rising to new heights. These two books seek to help us understand the phenomenon of fundamentalist millennialism. O’Leary’s Arguing the Apocalypse is much denser in style and concept but better at analyzing millennialist argumentation. Strozier’s Apocalypse is more anecdotal but never gets much past description to genuine explanation.

O’Leary’s work requires the reader to become familiar with the technical terminology of rhetoric. The author does, however, provide guidance, with frequent summaries of what has previously been presented. The book is less concerned with the original intention of apocalyptic writing than with the way in which it has been interpreted and reinterpreted. O’Leary suggests that the apocalyptic mentality arises not only from economic, sociological or psychological causes, but also from the workings of apocalyptic discourse itself. This discourse, in O’Leary’s view, involves a social process, with the rhetor creating expectations among the audience and with the revising of apocalyptic argument according to how the rhetor fulfills or disappoints these expectations. What is left unexplored is why the apocalyptic discourse arises in the first place.

O’Leary analyzes two aspects of apocalyptic rhetoric: the shape of its arguments (based on Aristotle) and its dramatic structure (derived from the ideas of the 20th-century philosopher Kenneth Burke). Apocalyptic argument deals preeminently with three core topics: evil (which we attempt to reconcile with a meaningful life and with one God who is good), time (our way of dealing with mortality and with experiences of evil through belief in an end to, and a transcending of, history) and authority (establishing biblical grounds for the claims about time and evil). This portion of the book sometimes belabors the obvious, simply categorizing the themes of apocalyptic into the technical language of rhetoric.

Of greater interest is O’Leary’s analysis of apocalyptic argument as a dramatic enactment and his observation that this enactment could be either tragedy or comedy. Tragic apocalyptic drama sees evil as sin or guilt and views time and human action as moving inexorably to a predetermined end. The comic drama, on the other hand, sees evil as error, misunderstanding or ignorance and views time as open-ended and human action as 018able to work toward restoring equilibrium. It is only the tragic apocalyptic drama that gives specific historical referents to the descriptions of evil in the apocalyptic argument, while comedy repudiates simplistic identification and sees history as episodic and open to new possibilities.

O’Leary applies his analysis to modern apocalyptic movements, pointing out their tragic dramatic form. He compares the Millerites of the 1840s and Hal Lindsey of the present, bringing in Ronald Reagan, Pat Robertson and the New Christian Right. Of particular interest are several observations: how the Millerites were able to refashion their arguments into Seventh Day Adventism after the precise predictions of the end failed to materialize; how Lindsey avoided the pitfalls of precise predictions of the end by shifting these events to after the second coming of Christ and promising converted Christians immunity from the catastrophes (premillennial rapture), and how the Christian Right found room for politics by seeing their actions as a way of helping America to endure until the coming of Christ and to survive the inevitable subsequent catastrophes.

While O’Leary brings rich insights into how fundamentalists argue the Apocalypse, he does not stress why they do so. Strozier’s book offers some insight, though his claim to offer psychological analysis falls short. Rather, he remains on the surface, describing his interviews with individuals in three diverse fundamentalist groups—a wealthy group of executives in a prestigious Manhattan neighborhood, a declining white Pentecostal church in midtown Manhattan and an African-American church in Harlem. The first six chapters on the psychology of fundamentalism blur into each other. The remaining five chapters, described as psychosocial perspectives, repeat the well-known history of the rise of modern fundamentalism and its views toward the State of Israel and then bring in, rather arbitrarily, brief considerations of Hopi and New Age apocalypticism. This very broad historical overview adds nothing new.

The chief value of Strozier’s book lies in the many personal interviews contained in it. One has the sense from these vignettes that apocalyptic argument arises from concerns with death, with loss of meaning in life, with external threats of evil or with internal conflicts of soul. Still, the book would have been more helpful had it evaluated these raw interviews more systematically for clearer psychological insights. One ends the book still asking why, among many with the same trials in life, some are drawn to fundamentalism and others not. One still wonders whether there are personality traits of cultural influences or educational experiences that predispose some toward fundamentalism. Finally, one is left wondering whether fundamentalism should be dealt with in theological terms or if it is to be understood in psychological and sociological terms.