Queries & Comments

008

Worldwide

Far from “Ferocious”

The November/December 2013 “Worldwide” features a dog you describe as “ferocious” who, you say, is associated with the goddess of medicine and healing. To my untrained eyes, the dog’s “down” (not seated) position, the upturned mouth, the few (especially upper) teeth showing, prominent tongue, and even alert ears all suggest a happy dog, not a ferocious one.

As the spouse of an Alzheimer’s victim, I can attest to the healing power of a loving dog. It comes as no surprise to me to find dogs associated with a goddess of healing.

Sun God in the Synagogue

Does the Mosaic Violate a Commandment?

With reference to the beautiful floor mosaic of the Hammath Tiberias synagogue (First Person, “Sun God in the Synagogue,” BAR 39:06), I’d like to ask how it was that Jews of the period could so blatantly be in breach of the commandment forbidding “any likeness of anything that is in heaven above or in the earth beneath or in the water under the earth” (Exodus 20:4; Deuteronomy 5:8). Admittedly they were probably not worshiping such images, but it’s nonetheless a violation of God’s will—in a synagogue to boot—as laid out in Exodus and Deuteronomy, isn’t it? Were people reinterpreting or simply disregarding the edict?

Steven Fine, professor of Jewish History at Yeshiva University in New York and director of the Center for Israel Studies, responds:

The question of Helios on synagogue floors has been the subject of scholarly debate since the discovery of the Beth Alpha synagogue mosaic in 1928/29. Two camps have generally developed. One, led by Protestant scholars E.R. Goodenough and Morton Smith, read such imagery as reflecting a distance from the religion of the Talmudic rabbis, as evidence of what has come to be called “non-rabbinic Judaism.” Others, beginning with Israeli E.L. Sukenik and continuing with my own work, were not quite so surprised by such imagery on synagogue floors, knowing the breadth and elasticity of both Jewish reflection on images that were not used in “idolatrous” religious contexts and the variety of Jewish art created over the subsequent 1,500 years—in Jewish communities that embraced “rabbinic” culture. While rabbis, reflecting on the Second Commandment and other Biblical texts, were antagonistic toward imagery that they deemed “idolatrous,” images that were not were generally permitted.

Helios is a fascinating case, since each of the synagogue communities that used this imagery approached his image differently—thus providing us with a window into the ways that ancient Jews negotiated the boundary between permitted and forbidden iconography.

Pagan Symbols Enrich Religious Understanding

At the end of your column on pagan symbols in ancient synagogues, I thought of a passage from Paul: The Mind of the Apostle by A.N. Wilson. On page 72 of this excellent book, Wilson talks about how Paul, though Jewish, used the symbolism and liturgy of the pagans in his religious thought: “The genius of Paul … was to mythologise Jesus. Paul, who had a much broader experience of life in the Mediterranean and was witness to the religious experience of people other than Jews.”

By using archetypal material from the pagan world, Paul was able to bring deeper spiritual meaning and coherence to the life of Jesus, and to create better understanding of the monotheistic faith he preached to the world at large.

So, in order to enrich the imagery of a mosaic project at a synagogue, for example, a Jewish artist might look for ideas from the larger Greco-Roman world.

The mosaic of Christ in the guise of Apollo [Helios] (First Person, BAR 39:06) shows an artist 009 010 wrestling with the problem of depicting a new religious concept. Christ is considered the King of Kings, an all-powerful celestial monarch. You can’t show Christ enthroned in the style of that most mighty of men, the emperor (that would get you into trouble during this era, although, after Constantine it was par for the course). So, you might want to use Apollo as a stand-in, as he was youthful and the bringer of light to humankind.

I’m not sure about that “Leda and the Swan” on the sarcophagus, but perhaps the man who commissioned it was a rich fellow who didn’t know much about art but he knew what he liked. And maybe he wanted to shock his mother-in-law! Seriously, though, here is another example of the cross-cultural influence of Greco-Roman symbolism. The swan is a diurnal, solar being and Leda is a nocturnal, lunar being. In their mating the opposites are brought together. The divine and the mortal are one. Whoever commissioned this sarcophagus was probably a sophisticated and broad-minded person, well versed in pagan thought.

Hezekiah’s Tunnel

Will the Dots Ever Get Connected?

I am writing in response to Hershel Shanks’s review of new thinking on the City of David water installations (“Will Hezekiah Be Dislodged from His Tunnel?” BAR 39:05). There are still too many unanswered questions 068 to make complete sense of the interconnected water systems of Gihon-Siloam. I pointedly use the plural—systems—since these rock-hewn spaces, some essentially unrelated to the others, were created for various purposes and evolved over a span of close to a thousand years at least! Shanks’s theory that Channel IV originated with some earlier project (even if we don’t know what it was) should in no way be dismissed. The argument that the tunnelers “would drown” in digging it does not hold water (pun intended). We should not sell the ancients short. They were certainly capable of temporarily controlling or diverting the water issuing from the spring during any construction. They were also capable of driving a more or less straight tunnel through the ridge to the other side of the city—note the straight, westward orientation of the tunnel’s northernmost segment. (The question, which has never been adequately answered, is: Why didn’t they?) Some day, someone will connect all of the dots regarding the City of David water systems. But we’re not there yet—or even close.

By the way, a little research will reveal that the photograph purporting to show Montague Parker is actually of his collaborator, the Finnish poet and translator Valter Juvelius, who is mentioned in the article.

The writer is a BAR author and has been a senior archaeology volunteer in Israel (especially Nazareth) for many years.

069

Ovadiah vs. Ilan

Courtesy and Promptness in Publishing

Re: Asher Ovadiah’s charge that Tal Ilan behaved “unethically” for publishing Jewish names from Elijah’s Cave that he had studied 42 years earlier, but had not yet published (Strata, “Who’s Right? You Decide,” BAR 39:06):

Asher Ovadiah is correct that Tal Ilan should have informed him of her intent to publish names, when she knew he had performed initial research. That’s common courtesy and professional ethics.

On the other hand, Ovadiah is out of line in his contention that Ilan’s publishing 42 years after his failure to do so is “an invasion of scientific and intellectual property.” While there might be extenuating circumstances excusing publication for several years, surely that could not explain more than a decade, much less four decades. How long would Professor Ovadiah permit a Ph.D. candidate to postpone publication of a dissertation?

Can Knowledge Be Owned?

Does Ovadiah feel he solely owns this knowledge? Even if that may once have been true, the expanse of 42 years (almost a half-century!) negates his accusation that Tal Ilan invaded his scientific and intellectual property!

Hoarding Research (Again)

Surely Ovadiah knew of Ilan’s work from 2002 on. Why didn’t he communicate with her after she began publishing her lexicon of Jewish names? His assumption of “control” over this work reminds us of the Dead Sea Scroll hoardings by some scholars.

Embarrassed by His Own Tardiness

Hmm … He sits on valuable data for 42 years and then complains that another person published it? Ovadiah appears to be embarrassed by his own tardiness and channeling his own failure into a criticism of an innocent party.

Set Time Limits for Publishing

Maybe there ought to be a set time limit in which one should report his findings or by then someone else could publish his work.

On excavations sponsored by the Israel Antiquities Authority, the excavator must publish his/her finds within four years. Otherwise the excavation permit may not be renewed.—Ed.

Ownership of Names Is Laughable

Mr. Ovadiah ought to be doubly ashamed, first of his discourtesy to Ms. Ilan, and second for his refusal to publish his research in anything like a reasonable time period. For a scholar to take more than 40 years to publish research is unconscionable. As we all recall, BAR raised Cain with the scholars researching the Dead Sea Scrolls when they failed to timely share their knowledge with the public. Mr. Ovadiah’s claim to some sort of proprietary ownership in the names found in Elijah’s Cave is laughable.

Correction

Codex Sinaiticus

The caption under the picture of the Codex Alexandrinus (“What’s Critical About a Critical Edition of the Bible?” BAR 39:06) notes that there are two other ancient copies of the Septuagint, one of which is the Codex Sinaiticus discovered at the Mt. Sinai monastery and “still there.” It is not still there. The vast majority of it is in the British Library in London. Only a few leaves remain at the monastery. For how it was taken from the monastery, see Hershel Shanks, “Who Owns the Codex Sinaiticus?” BAR 33:06.

Worldwide