Books in Brief

006

What Has Archaeology To Do With Faith?

eds. J. H. Charlesworth and W. P. Weaver

(Philadelphia: Trinity Press, 1992) 128 pp., $13.95

Is archaeology’s primary function to corroborate the Bible, or do archaeology and the Bible shed little or no light on each other? The contributors to this volume take the middle ground on this longstanding question. They all agree there is historical substance to some Biblical accounts that can be illuminated by archaeological data, either by filling in the social context, or by revealing the meaning of a text, or by providing (though only rarely) evidence for the historical reality of Biblical events.

This book, part of a series of books exploring the boundaries between faith and science, would have been a good deal more lively if the editors had provided a greater variety of opinion on these issues. Moreover, some of the volume’s contributors will surprise readers, as they are not archaeologists. Co-editor James Charlesworth is a New Testament scholar who has studied literary artifacts and manuscripts, such as the Dead Sea Scrolls, which are only marginally part of the subject matter of archaeology; and W. Waite Willis is a theologian, who concedes the oddity of his participation in this volume. Both J. Maxwell Miller and James F. Strange will be more familiar to BAR readers, but Miller himself points out that he is concerned with archaeology as part of his work as a historian and does not view himself as an archaeologist.

Readers may be left feeling that the answer to the question posed in the book’s title, “What has archaeology to do with faith?” is “Very little, except to disconfirm the historical claims made by various Biblical texts.” We are presented, among other things, with the popular critical views that there were probably no Exodus-Sinai events and no invasion by the Israelites; that Joshua never “fit the battle of Jericho”; that David and Solomon’s reigns were less grand than the Bible paints them and Omri’s rule more substantial; and that Jesus may never have preached in synagogues, because, as some argue, there were none prior to 70 A.D.

What is not stated clearly by these scholars, but should have been, is that the historical critical method requires that we be as probing and critical in our evaluation of extra-Biblical data as we are with the Biblical data itself. Skepticism about the historical value of the Bible coupled with an uncritical acceptance of such archaeological reports as the destruction layers at Jericho, or the supposed lack of pre-70 A.D. evidence for synagogues, or Assyrian reports concerning the Omriide dynasty, reflect an uneven application of historical scrutiny to the relevant data.

There is a common assumption that the critical historian or archaeologist must approach Biblical data with a certain amount of skepticism. Frankly, I would challenge that assumption. What is needed is an open mind, a critical sensibility not rashly disposed to discredit or credit one text or report or view over another. What is needed is intellectual curiosity and the willingness to be rigorous in examining the relevant data, not an adherence to a strange credo that amounts to “justification by doubt,” as if that is what distinguishes a critical scholar from an uncritical one.

Nor is it possible completely to separate the historical record from either Jewish or Christian faith. If there were no Exodus-Sinai events and no resurrection of Jesus, then Jewish faith and Christian faith might have to be reinterpreted in ways that would be unrecognizable and probably unacceptable to those who wrote the foundational documents. One must distinguish between a faith grounded in historical events and a faith grounded in our ability to reconstruct what happened using historical methodology. The critical-historical method, whether applied to texts or other sorts of artifacts, can at best only establish probability, not certainty. Thus it is one thing to say faith is grounded in history, and another to say faith can or should be grounded in some particular historical reconstruction of that history. Scholars tend to assume, mistakenly, that because they cannot demonstrate that something happened, then it must not have happened.

Despite these criticisms there is much to commend in this book, especially in J.F. Strange’s essay. He shows how Roman cullture overlayed the somewhat Hellenized 008Jewish culture found in Judea and Galilee. He applies recent research concerning the social setting of the Jesus movement to help us better understand the mix of urban and rural environments in which Jesus lived. We also are reminded that New Testament archaeology is still a new and evolving discipline compared to Old Testament archaeology, with the former’s parameters and methodology far from set in stone.

If it is true that “the historical character of the biblical narrative … continues to give … impetus to Palestinian archaeology” (p. 81), then it behooves us to be careful in the way we evaluate the inter-relationship of faith, history and historical research. The answer to the question posed by the title of this book ought to be “much indeed,” for the historical content of the Bible cannot be properly evaluated apart from its historical and social contexts, and it is particularly in the realm of context that archaeology provides us with a wealth of data.

Egypt in Late Antiquity

Roger S. Bagnall

(Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton Univ. Press, 1993) 370 pp., $29.95

A young woman, sold into prostitution by Theodora, her mother, was murdered by one of her customers, an Alexandria city councillor named Diodemos. In the murder trial, the governor sentenced Diodemos to death and awarded Theodora a portion of the councillor’s estate. In commenting on the tragic circumstances, the governor said the prostitute had died two deaths, one at the hands of Diodemos and one by the actions of her mother, who “because of her constant poverty deprived her own daughter of her modesty, and through which also she killed her.”^a

An eerie reminder of our own social concerns—poverty, violence against women and victims’ rights—this fourth-century C.E. case is one of many fascinating glimpses into Egyptian society that Roger Bagnall presents in Egypt in Late Antiquity.

Bagnall synthesizes an enormous amount of information on the economic, social and religious transformations of the fourth century C.E., a time when Egypt experienced economic troubles and felt the influence of Christianity. This leading papyrologist offers us the most expansive assessment to date of these transformations. With an impressive command of current scholarship and a database of over 3,500 documents, Bagnall illuminates many facets of life in fourth-century Egypt’s villages and cities by drawing our attention to a telling clue in a document, or by making sense of an entire archive or by applying a statistical analysis to his argument.

The author’s introduction alerts the reader to the value and limitations of papyri and other types of historical evidence (though his dismissal of hagiographical sources is regrettable). Bagnall’s expertise in ecological, economic and political conditions anchors his work in a set of contrasts between city and countryside; he argues that their changing relationship defined other aspects of daily life: the family, slavery, patronage, class, bilingualism, literacy, ethnicity, indigenous religions, 009Hellenism and Christianization.

The overriding transformation Bagnall outlines involves the gradual urban domination of Egypt’s agricultural economy and village institutions. Already in the third century, villages had begun to surrender their economic independence, religious leadership and civic functions to an emerging elite living in cities. Villages began to disintegrate while the importance of native temples, which formerly had preserved Egyptian scripts and culture, also diminished. Bagnall argues that the loss of village autonomy permitted an organized Christianity to introduce a new kind of leadership—that of bishops—and a new language—Coptic. In line with the economic and political transformations Bagnall identifies, Christian leadership and language developed in the cities. Coptic culture became the “bearer,” rather than the antithesis, of Hellenism. Bagnall’s final assessment of Egypt’s place in the larger Mediterranean society is as paradoxical as it is compelling: While the papyri are unique to Egypt, the transformations they reveal are typical of other eastern Mediterranean regions.

Bagnall’s book makes an important contribution to our understanding of the numerous contacts between religion and society. The chapter on paganism, church organization and monasticism, for example, challenges previous stereotypes, severing the supposed link between the “rise of Christianity” and the “decline of pagan religions.” Instead, he attributes the decline of paganism to the withdrawal of imperial support for temple buildings. Furthermore, his picture of the various geographical, economic and social ties between monasteries and neighboring villages undermines the image of perfect isolation found in many monastic writings.

In his comparison of Christianity and paganism, Bagnall is less convincing. Although he recognizes the problematic nature of the evidence, his use of the categories “pagan” and “Christian” obscures the diversity of religious behavior in Egypt. For instance, while the papyri reveal suggestive differences in “pagan” and “Christian” attitudes toward disease, Bagnall’s explanations do not take into account related evidence from martyr cults, magic, burial practices and healing shrines. In a culture where Greek and Coptic, literate and illiterate co-existed, one expects that religion also involved a process of translation, even amid the acrimonious polemics and schisms of the fourth century.

In this valuable work, Bagnall shows us the rich possibilities of papyri. Their unexpected survival has reshaped our ability to imagine human existence in a distant Mediterranean society and allows us to recognize its affinity to our own.

The Roman Near East, 31 B.C.–A.D. 337

Fergus Millar

(Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 1993) 616 pp., $45.00

This masterful work surveys a crucial period of Roman rule over the area between the Taurus Mountains in modern Turkey and Egypt (comprising the modern states of Turkey, Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Israel, Egypt and Saudi Arabia). Millar’s book examines the geographical, political, military, economic, social, cultural, religious and linguistic history of nearly four centuries, from Octavian’s triumph over Antony in the battle of Actium in 31 B.C.E. to the death of the Roman emperor Constantine in 337 C.E. Millar gives particular attention to Judea, both because it has been more systematically excavated than any other region in the area and because the most important literary guide for the earlier period is the first-century C.E. Jewish historian Flavius Josephus.

What makes this book most unusual and valuable is that it is based primarily on 074inscriptions, papyri and monumental remains. No other work on the subject comes close to being so comprehensive in its knowledge of the latest archaeological discoveries and publications. Millar has clearly surveyed the entire region in person and often gives the reader the feeling of what the remains are like; one senses that he has friends sending him information—by fax—of the dramatic discoveries as they occur. All of this is coordinated with a highly critical reading of the literary sources.

Millar is, therefore, able to draw a geographical and chronological map to indicate which languages and dialects were being spoken and written. It is no surprise to discover that Greek was the predominant language and that Latin was rarely the language of daily speech, let alone the literary language of the Near East. What will be unexpected is the extent to which Greek everywhere included Latin and Semitic words and names. The survival of a number of Semitic languages, as seen in the names of villages and of people, is striking. Millar also refutes, once and for all, the notion that Hebrew was a dead language during this period.

Millar is particularly interested in demography and the extent to which, notably in Judea, the region was dominated by large villages. As he convincingly shows, villages represented the most important social formation throughout the Roman Near East. Again and again he illustrates how a local conflict, involving villagers from different groups, could make its way through the entire decision-making structure of the empire. One of Millar’s most valuable insights is that a function of Greco-Roman culture in the area—a good example is Palmyra—was to offer a vehicle for the expression of an indigenous local culture.

With an incredible amount of detailed, fascinating information, Millar traces the whereabouts of the various Roman army units and determines the diverse origins of the soldiers. A very significant contribution is the evidence that the military history of the Near East cannot be separated from its social, cultural and religious history. An indication of the importance of the Near East to the Romans can be seen in the aftermath of the First Jewish Revolt (66–74), when almost a quarter of the entire Roman army was stationed in Syria and Judea. Moreover, it took approximately one-seventh of the imperial army five months to complete the capture of Jerusalem in 70. The Roman empire may have expended more money in the Near East, particularly because of its military demands, than it raised in revenue from the region. Millar observes that many of the military campaigns repeatedly brought emperors to the Near East; indeed, the Near East was crucial to almost any successful claim to be emperor.

Millar clearly indicates work that still needs to be done. The chain of mountains between the middle Orontes valley in Syria and the Mediterranean has never been open to archaeological investigation, despite indications that a significant population lived there under the Roman empire. At Masada, in Israel, the circumvallation wall, the seven Roman siege-camps and other installations, and, most important, the western siege-ramp have not been excavated. Much evidence from Dura Europos and Palmyra in Syria has not been published in final form (in particular, we lack a volume on the large number of inscriptions and graffiti at Dura Europos).

One might have hoped for a better explanation of why the empire lasted so much longer in the East—almost a full millennium—than in the West. One clue may perhaps be found in the large population of the East and its relative economic strength. Indeed, recent archaeological evidence at Sardis and Aphrodisias indicates that this area was flourishing during the third century C.E., when the empire was supposedly tottering.

We might have expected more clues as to why proselytism—by pagan cults, Jews and Christians—flourished during this period, as well as more about the social background of the triumph of Christianity. An explanation is also needed for the extraordinary durability of Judaism even after the destruction of the Temple and the rise of Christianity.

Millar is aware, of course, that a vast amount of information about all aspects of this period is available in the Talmud, but he is cautious about using it because that work was not codified until about 400 C.E. (in the case of the Jerusalem Talmud) and about 500 C.E. (in the case of the Babylonian Talmud). Nevertheless, Millar should have found valuable insights in the remarks of the many rabbis who knew both the Parthian-Sassanian (Persian) and the Roman empires at first hand. The rabbis compared the two empires, with differing conclusions, and spoke of both the positive and negative sides of Roman rule from the viewpoints of security against bandits, the burden of taxation, the constant change of emperors, military policies and the administration of justice.

Despite its length, this book is a tantalizingly brief, almost telegraphic, survey of a vast subject. It is marked by responsible judgment, always concerned not to go beyond the evidence.

What Has Archaeology To Do With Faith?

eds. J. H. Charlesworth and W. P. Weaver

(Philadelphia: Trinity Press, 1992) 128 pp., $13.95