2016 Israel Tour: Sea of Galilee

BAPTISM. A rite of incorporation employing water as a symbol of religious purification.

A. Introductory

1. Greek Terminology
2. Phenomenology
3. General Orientative Remarks
4. History of Religions Background

B. Baptism of John

1. The Rite and Its Significance
2. Jesus’ Baptism by John

C. Baptism of the Early Church

1. The Beginnings
2. Corpus Paulinum
3. Gospel of Matthew
4. Acts of the Apostles
5. First Peter
6. The Johannine Writings
7. Other NT Writings
8. One Baptism—Many Interpretations?

A. Introductory

1. Greek Terminology. The Gk verb for “baptize,” baptizein, is formed from baptein, “dip,” and means “dip frequently or intensively, plunge, immerse.” By Plato’s time and onwards it is often used in a figurative sense (e.g., in the passive, “soaked” in wine, Plato Symp. 176 B). It appears 4 times in the LXX: 4 Kgdms 5:14 (Naaman in the Jordan), Jdt 12:7 (purification), Sir 34:25—Eng 34:25 (purification after touching a corpse), Isa 21:4 (figuratively of lawlessness). The noun baptisma is only used in Christian literature, where it refers to the baptism of John or to Christian baptism. The word baptismos is used in a wider sense for dipping, washing (of dishes Mark 7:4), of ritual washings (Heb 9:10); John’s baptism, Joseph. Ant. 18.117; Christian baptism, Col 2:12 [variant]. A synonymous noun is loutron “bath” used of both ordinary and ceremonial baths, but in the NT only with reference to baptism. The corresponding verb louein “wash, bathe” is encountered in its everyday use in, e.g., 2 Pet 2:22 and John 13:10. It refers to ceremonial baths in Lev 15:11 and to Christian baptism (probably) in the compound form apolouein in 1 Cor 6:11.

2. Phenomenology. Rites of immersion were not uncommon in the world in which early Christianity developed. One type of symbolism with which they were frequently connected was that of purification: from sin, from destruction, from the profane sphere before entering an holy area, from something under a taboo, etc. See, e.g., Lev 16:4, 24 (the high priest before and after the rites of atonement); Leviticus 15 (on menstruating women); 1 QS 3:5–9 (cleansing from sins); Sib. Or. 4.165 (a baptism of repentance); Joseph. Ant. 18.117 (on John’s baptism); Joseph. Life. 11 (on Bannus’ ablutions for purity’s sake); Apul., Met. 11.23 (purification at the initiation into the Isis mysteries); b. Yebam. 47 ab (on proselyte baptism).

Such cleansings can take place when one stands on the verge of a new state in life or is entering into a new community or upon a new phase of life, etc. Thus they can function as rites of initiation or as rites of passage. Depending on the way in which one regards the situation being left behind and the one being entered, such rites can be connected with ideas of a new birth, of a new life, or of salvation as contrasted to nothingness, chaos, death, or destruction.

3. General Orientative Remarks. In this article attention is concentrated on the ideas of baptism conveyed by the different existing NT texts from the perspective of their historical situation. This does not mean that questions of “history of tradition” are totally left aside or that problems of the prehistory of motifs, etc., are not touched upon, nor that issues of origin are not dealt with. Such problems, however, play a less important role in this presentation. Although one’s way of assessing them often has consequences for one’s work on the Pauline material, for example, the NT passages themselves will occupy the center of interest. While the results of such exegetical work are subject to the same lack of security as those of all historical research, attempts at reconstructing backgrounds, origins and hidden developments and changes in a history of tradition—legitimate and necessary as they are—take place on even shakier ground.

The reader should be prepared to allow for different understandings of our material. Insofar as texts are part of the communication process, it is normal to try to take into account the situation in which somebody said something to somebody in order to achieve something. But that does not necessarily mean that the author’s basic ideas behind the text and their connotations were the same as those of the reader or audience even in the original situation. If, for example, Paul himself, when writing Romans 6, was not inspired by ideas concerning the initiates’ dying and rising with a divinity celebrated in some mystery religion, the readers of his epistles in antiquity might very well have had their understanding colored by such associations or experiences (cf. Tert. De Bapt. 5 accusing the cults of Isis, of Mithras, and of Eleusis of imitating the Christian rite).

4. History of Religions Background. As already intimated, many religions in antiquity practised different washings and baths. This holds true for the mysteries of Eleusis, of Mithras, and of Isis; the OT prescribed several ablutions to be performed, rules which were observed by Jews also in NT times (John 2:6); the Qumran community laid a particular stress on them, and Bannus (Joseph. Life. 10) and John the Baptist were not alone in practising baptisms outside of mainstream Judaism; other baptismal movements also appeared in the Transjordanian/Syrian area. Sometime during the 1st century c.e. proselyte baptism was introduced in Judaism, and when baptism received a central place in Mandeism, the rite as such was certainly no novelty, regardless of whether it should be regarded as pre-Christian or not.

One should beware of assigning the same or even similar meanings to these rites. As rites they are open to several interpretations; in each case it is to be expected that the meaning of the rite is provided by the ritual context or otherwise through instruction or tradition.

B. Baptism of John

1. The Rite and Its Significance. The sources for our knowledge of John’s baptism are the notices in the NT and a brief passage in Josephus (Ant 18.116–18). The baptism he performed was closely bound to his preaching, which looked forward to God’s coming for judgment. He summoned his audience to repentance from this perspective, and in view of the coming judgment one underwent the baptism “unto the remission of sins” (Mark 1:4; cf. Joseph., Ant 18.116–18).

Although a scholarly consensus holds that John did not take over or adapt any particular baptism from his milieu, his appearance and preaching, as well as his baptism, can be regarded as one expression of expectations and ideas concerning the eschaton which are reflected in, among others, OT pseudepigrapha and Qumran texts. In addition, passages of such contents often contain echoes of OT passages such as Deuteronomy 30–31, Isaiah 40, Ezekiel 36, or Jeremiah 31. Thus, e.g., Jub. 1:22–25 and 1 QS 4:18–23 look forward to a time of repentance, when God will cleanse his people from evil through holy spirit, or give them a holy spirit and cleanse them so they do not turn away from him any more. Furthermore, when NT passages apropos of the Baptist (Mark 1:2; Matt 11:3, 10, 14; Luke 1:17, 78, etc.) indirectly refer to Malachi 3:1, this means adducing a text which illustrates the spiritual climate in which John appeared. There, in the perspective of the coming Day of Yahweh, we encounter the following motifs: a messenger sent before God (3:1), God’s coming (3:1–2, 5), the coming of the Day (3:2; 3:19, 23), purification through fire (3:2–4), burning (3:19), returning to God (3:7) from sins against fellowmen (3:5) and against God (3:8–9, 13–15), the sending of Eliah before the Day comes (3:23).

John’s baptism took place in view of the “coming one,” who was to “baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Matt 3:11–12 = Luke 3:16–17; to be preferred to Mark 1:8: “the Holy Spirit” only). The fire baptism is almost certainly an instance of judgment imagery (cf., e.g., Dan 7:10; Rev 20:10; 4 Esdr 13:10; Mek.Exod. to 18.1; ed. Lauterbach vol. 2, p. 163); if we assume that “the spirit” is not a Christian interpretation, it may originally either have meant something like Isa 4:4 “a spirit of judgment and a spirit of burning”; or it may have referred to the positive outcome of the Day, which is more probable with regard to material like the passages from 1 QS and Jub. just mentioned.

The same background material also gives a reasonable context for distinguishing John’s baptism from most other ritual baths and washings in that one most likely underwent it but once and did not perform the rite on oneself but received the baptism passively. These features, understood in the light of the Jewish material cited above, indicate that John’s baptism meant that prior to the approaching divine judgment the repentants who had confessed their sins received the gift of remission. (This seems more probable than interpreting the baptism as meaning an assurance or a hope of being remitted in the coming judgment.) In contrast to the Qumran community, John directed his call for repentance and baptism to all the people, notwithstanding which the rite came in fact to function like a rite of initiation into a group of people who, being pardoned, expected “the stronger one” to come. They also probably followed an ethic which was inspired by John’s preaching and its eschatological outlook (Mark 2:18; Luke 3:10–14; 11:1). John’s appearance in the wilderness and baptizing in the Jordan point to some sort of Exodus typology, meaning that here a renewed Israel was being created. The group hardly formed anything like a community or a sect, but NT passages (Mark 2:18–19; 6:29; Matt 11:2; Luke 11:1; John 1:35–37; 3:22; 25; Acts 19:1–7; see also Ps. Clem. recogn. 1.54, 60; ed. Rehm), as well as certain traces in the Mandean material, point to the existence of groups that regarded themselves as “disciples of John,” both in his lifetime and after.

In the NT gospels, John and his baptism are given a two-sided treatment. On the one hand, they are seen as the necessary preparation for Jesus, the Messiah; on the other, their importance is played down. For Mark, John and his baptism certainly belong to “the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, God’s son” (Mark 1:1), but his baptism is contrasted with that of him who follows after, “the stronger one,” viz., Jesus, who will baptize “with the Spirit.” (Consequently, Jesus does not begin his public preaching until “after” John has been arrested; Mark 1:14). Mark does not return to the topic of baptism, but presumably his readers have had the common early Christian conviction of being equipped with the Holy Spirit, and consequently have associated John’s words with Christian baptism.

Matthew (3:5–6) does not say that John’s baptism was for the remission of sins—perhaps the evangelist was of the opinion that remission was only given through Jesus (Matt 1:21; 26:28). That the coming one was to baptize “in Holy Spirit and fire” (3:11) may possibly have been understood as saying 2 things: the “fire” probably refers to the judgment (3:10, 12; 7:19; 13:40, 42, 50; 18:9; 25:41), a judgment held by the Son of Man (13:40–43; 25:31–46). On the other hand, the Matthew context suggests that the baptism “in the Holy Spirit” is the baptism in the name of the Trinity (28:19), ordered by the risen Son of Man.

In Luke the baptism with the Spirit clearly is the one described in Acts, through which “the coming one” gathers his people (Luke 3:17); since the author repeats John’s saying in Acts (1:5) without mentioning the fire (in spite of Acts 2:3!), it seems that by baptism “in fire” (Luke 3:16) he refers to the future burning of the chaff, i.e., the annihilation of the evil in judgment. John’s water-baptism is contrasted to the Christian community’s receiving of the Spirit (Acts 1:5; 19:1–7).

In the Gospel of John, finally, John’s water-baptism is still seen as ordered by God (1:33), but John’s role is only that of the precursor. He must “diminish” (3:30) at the arrival of him over whom the Spirit descends and who baptizes with the Holy Spirit (1:33). Thus, the importance of John’s baptism is further played down and contrasted with Christ’s Spirit-baptism. In the context of John, the latter means that through the completion of the work of the Son, leading to his “glorification” (cf., e.g., 7:39), the life-giving effects of this work are given to men (see further below, on John 3:5).

2. Jesus’ Baptism by John. That Jesus was baptized by John is historically certain. It must have been embarrassing to the early Church that its Lord had taken on the ritual sign of repentance, and thus, in some way or another, regarded himself in the light of John’s preaching of confession of sins and a return to God in view of the approaching final crisis, including the coming of the stronger one. The history of tradition of the story is problematic (Mark 1:9–11; the “Q” version, distinguishable in Matt 3:13–17 = Luke 3:21–22, is rather similar; see also John 1:32–34). As presented finally in all 3 of the Synoptic Gospels, the story has a Christological accent.

Thus, in Mark (1:9–11) the brief mention of Jesus’ baptism (v 9b) is immediately followed by a report of a combined vision and audition by Jesus, which make evident to the reader who the main character of the Gospel is, viz., the divinely authorized messianic Son. In Matthew a dialogue between John and Jesus is added (3:14–15), which explains that Jesus is baptized, not because he—the stronger one—needs it, but because both of them must “fulfill (5:17) all righteousness,” i.e., the baptism belongs to that which God wants. This motif of righteousness is related to the sonship (in 3:17 proclaimed to others than Jesus): in Matthew divine sonship means radical obedience to God’s will (4:1–11; 26:39; 27:43). Thus, Matthew’s baptism story presents Jesus as an example in humility and obedience (Matt 5:9, 45). For Matthew’s reader, Jesus’ baptism may also have been taken to indicate that he became a model: as he was baptized, so were the Christians of later times (28:19), and as he fulfilled all righteousness, so righteousness was demanded from them (5:20; 28:20).

In Luke’s version (Luke 3:21–22), the baptism itself is pushed even further aside and separated from what follows through a reference to Jesus’ praying; in this way the language of the story moves it rapidly towards the public presentation and proclamation of Jesus as God’s son, working under God’s Spirit (3:38; 4:1, 14, 18). Finally, in John knowledge of Jesus’ baptism seems to be presupposed (1:32–34; 3:26), although it is not explicitly mentioned.

We have seen that in their redaction Mark and Luke have not connected Jesus’ baptism with that of the Church, but given it a Christological function. So has Matthew, but in such a way that Jesus can be seen also as an example in baptism. On the other hand, Christian readers of Mark and Luke who believed that their baptism was combined with the receiving of the Spirit and who were wont to see themselves in some sense as God’s sons or children (Rom 8:14; Gal 3:26)—or who at least knew to turn to God as “Abba” (Luke 11:2; cf. Mark 11:25; Rom 8:15; Gal 4:6)—might naturally have seen their own baptism prefigured in Jesus’ baptism by John.

C. Baptism of the Early Church

1. The Beginnings. a. Origin of Christian Baptism. Several reasons favor the assumption that baptism was practised from the very beginning in the early Church as some sort of initiatory rite. Not only does Luke take it for granted in Acts, but so do authors who represent other strands of the early Church and as far as we can see they do so independently of each other (Paul, “John,” “Matthew”). Indications that in some place there was no baptism from the beginning fail to convince most NT scholars. Thus, the lack in Matthew 10 of a commission to baptize is usually explained in other ways. The case is similar to that of the prohibition to go the Gentiles (10:5): In both instances Matthew has his reader wait until 28:17–20. Luke takes care of baptism as the initiatory rite in Acts 2. (It seems to have been an impossible thought to the synoptists to insert a commission to baptize into the story of Jesus’ public ministry.) Acts 18:24–19:7 certainly raises some questions for anyone who assumes that baptism was generally practised in early Christianity from its beginning. But it seems that the difficulty is rather the result of Luke’s redaction in combining the 2 passages than an indication that in the a.d. 50s there were Jesus-disciples who did not know of Christian baptism.

Thus, if the practice of baptism was general from the beginning of the early Church, all the more intriguing is the question of its origin. John 3:22 and 26 suggest that Jesus had been involved in baptizing, but this is corrected in 4:2 which says that it was his disciples who baptized. Should this be a case in which John provides us with more and better historical knowledge than the Synoptic Gospels, it would point only to such an activity occurring at the very beginning of Jesus’ career. Jesus himself apparently did not baptize, and thereafter, in the main part of his public ministry, baptizing apparently had to give way to his preaching and disappeared. Thus, the Jesus who preached the gospel of the Kingdom and summoned people to conversion and belief, did not combine this proclamation with a demand for or invitation to baptism.

The historical riddle is not solved by Matt 28:19, since, according to a wide scholarly consensus, it is not an authentic saying of Jesus, not even an elaboration of a Jesus-saying on baptism. Jewish proselyte baptism has been proposed as the usage the early Church took over and christianized. The practice did exist in the 1st century c.e. and therefore early enough to be adopted by the Christians. Certainly it was more of an initiation rite than the purification baths and the sprinklings prescribed in the OT, and thus invites a comparison with Christian baptism. But it was not associated with any remission of sins or with any other eschatological meanings, nor was it a passive rite: one immersed oneself, although in the presence of 2 men learned in the Law (b. Yebam. 47a). Thus, proselyte baptism was hardly the occasioning factor behind Christian baptism, nor for that matter behind John’s baptism.

Instead, according to a rather common scholarly opinion, John’s baptism is the point of departure of Christian baptismal practice. We have already seen that John’s baptism was connected with eschatological expectations, and so was the baptismal rite of the early Church (Acts 2:38–40; John 3:5; Rom 6:4–5; Tit 3:5–7). Both were associated with an act of conversion and were performed “unto the remission of sins” (Mark 1:4; Acts 2:38 etc.). Repentance opened the door to a community which in some respect or another formed a preparatory stage for the eschaton. Thus each of the two rites also became a kind of initiation rite, which was only performed once. (This is certain in the case of Christian baptism and probably in that of John). Last, but not least, as already mentioned, both rites were received passively, in that someone else immersed the person being baptized or poured water on him. That Jesus and (some of) his disciples had been baptized by John should have favored the adoption of a baptismal rite, but as we now have them, the versions of the baptism of Jesus show no traces of its having been an etiological story with the function of explaining the adoption of the rite.

If the early Church thus inherited its baptism from John, we would like to know the reason why but are only left with the impression that it was a natural practice—one did not have to defend or to explain it, at least not in such a way as to be visible in the documents left behind. But the conviction of Jesus’ followers that his resurrection brought about a decisive shift in eschatological perspective (Acts 17:31; 1 Cor 15:20–21; 1 Thess 1:10) is most likely to have been an important factor that made it natural to take up John’s baptism, loaded as it was with eschatological associations. But the role of Jesus Christ and the Christ-event necessitated its becoming a baptism “into the name of the Lord Jesus” or something similar.

b. “Into the name of the Lord Jesus.” It is relatively certain that in the early Church one commonly referred to baptism as being done “into the name of the Lord Jesus” or something similar. One strange thing with this phrase is that the construction in what seems to be its earliest form, viz. “into the name of …” (Gk eis to onoma) was not otherwise used in normal Gk, except for the language of banking, in which it referred to the account/name “into” which a sum of money was placed. It does not occur in the LXX.

NT scholarship has generally assumed that the phrase meant that the baptized person was dedicated to the heavenly kyrios. One has either assumed (with W. Heitmüller) that the one baptized was compared with a sum of money added to somebody’s bank account, or one has adduced a Mishnah passage quoted by P. Billerbeck, m. Zebaḥ. 4.6, which states that a sacrifice has to be offered “into the name of the Name.” This expression is then understood as saying that the sacrifice must be offered to God. The difficulty with the first explanation is that it is hard to imagine how one came upon the idea of using such odd imagery. The second one certainly explains the Gk phrase: it is a literal translation of Heb-Aram lšm/lšwm. The suggested meaning of the phrase has not enough support, however, in the material adduced. The context of the cited m. Zebaḥ. 4.6 rules that the sacrifice also has to be offered “into the name of the offerer,” i.e., that one should bear in mind who it is that presents the offering. This observation shows that the Heb-Aram phrase does not have anything to do with dedication. Nor does the Gk phrase insofar as it would be a literal translation of the Sem wording.

In this situation the present writer has suggested that the phrase was coined by the Palestinian Church in Heb (or Aram) and that it was then translated literally into Gk. One should look, however, for a different meaning of the phrase than the ones noted so far. Among other usages of the lšm/lšwm there was also one which is found in ritual contexts. Thus we hear of gatherings “into the name of Heaven” (m. ʾAbot 4.11), of sacrifices slaughtered “into the name of the Name” (m. Zebaḥ. 4.6), or “into the name of the mountains” (m. Ḥul 2.8), of circumcision “into the name of Mount Gerizim” (t. ʿAbod. Zar. 3.13), and of knowing “into whose name” one vows (m. Nid. 5.6). In these and similar examples the phrase indicates what the fundamental reference of the rite in question is. It is reasonable to assume that early Christianity characterized its baptism using this halfway technical language, and that the formula followed the rite also into Gk-speaking circles. Matthew is witness to the usage of the expression also in other contexts (10:41–42; 18:20), as well as applied to baptism (28:19). In Acts, Luke reveals that “into the name of the Lord Jesus” (Acts 8:16; 19:5) was the formula that he had learned. It is also known by Paul, perhaps as connected with another way of naming Christ (1 Cor 1:13, 15 say only “Christ,” Gal 3:27 “into Christ,” and Rom 6:3 “into Christ Jesus.”

Applying baptism to the analogies mentioned in the preceding paragraph should indicate that baptizing “into the name of Jesus” (etc.) meant that one saw Jesus as the fundamental reference of the rite. This could involve a negative and a positive definition. Negatively it distinguished Christian baptism from other similar rites (not least the baptism of John, as in Acts 19:1–7). Positively it should suggest what baptism meant with Jesus as its fundamental reference, viz., there should be some sort of Christology behind it. But the more specific implications of the expression are likely to have been different in different times and places. If it meant one thing in its first context, this would not preclude its being understood or interpreted in a different manner in another situation or by other early Christian theologians.

In Acts 2:38 and 10:48 the phrase is “in the name …” (the Gk prepositions being epi and en respectively). It has been assumed that they represent variant traditions. In the opinion of the present writer they should rather be explained as examples of Luke’s technique as an author of letting the characters in his book speak in a way that suited them. Thus Peter, the revered apostle, is made to express himself in a biblical style when talking of baptism in 2:38 and 10:48: The prepositional phrases in these cases are common in the LXX (which Luke also imitates elsewhere), whereas, as we have seen, the Gk “into the name …” (eis to onoma) is both unbiblical and a bit strange as compared to normal Gk.

It should also be mentioned, however, that both in Biblical Gk and in rabbinic traditions the “name” phrases could be rather loose and have relatively small weight. Thus, in a rabbinical discussion one could slip from “into the name of x” to “into x” without changing the sense of the phrase (e.g., m. ʿAbod. Zar. 3.7; cf. b. ʿAbod. Zar. 48a). In Luke 21:12, Luke can write “because of my name,” where the parallels in Mark and Matthew say “because of me,” and the same Luke in Acts 10:43 can write about forgiveness of sins “through his name” and in Acts 13:38 “through him.” Similarly in the Psalms, one calls “on the Lord’s name” as well as “on the Lord.” This flexibility probably is true also of the baptismal formula and would then be the explanation why Paul can switch between “into the name” (1 Cor 1:13) and “into” without “the name” (as in 1 Cor 10:2 etc.). Such a flexibility may have facilitated Paul’s finding a particular meaning in the phrase “baptized into Christ,”—viz. that of being put into and united with the body of Christ. Luke’s usage of “in the name” (en or epi; Acts 2:38; 10:48), apparently without meaning anything else than do the “into” formulas, is another indication of how the name phraseology was not very fixed. In spite of the normal conservatism of ritual language, one was not totally bound; thus Paul is probably thinking of baptism in 1 Cor 6:11, but there the phrase is “in the name of the Lord” instead of “into …”

The repeated use of “into the name” etc., raises the question whether the name of Jesus (etc.) was actually mentioned at the ministration of baptism. In the NT, Jas 2:7 has been cited as support for the supposition that it was. Herm. Sim. 8:6, 4 alludes to the passage, but without clear reference to baptism, while Just. 1 Apol. 61.10–13 refers to such a practice using similar language. The usage of the lšm phrase in the rabbinic regulations may possibly add some extra strength to the supposition. It seems that when somebody presented an offering in the temple, he declared what kind of offering he was giving: cf., e.g., b. Pesaḥ. 60a: “Behold, I slaughter the Pesah into its name,” i.e., “this is a passover sacrifice.” The parallel would then intimate that the purpose or the fundamental reference of baptism was mentioned at the rite and that this was done in such a way that Jesus was mentioned. Indirectly Paul’s argument in 1 Cor 1:13, 15 also suggests such a practice.

2. Corpus Paulinum. a. Paul. Paul does not present any direct teaching on baptism as such, but several times he argues other matters by making use of ways of thinking of baptism. In order that his argument be accepted by his addressees, he often refers to or quotes opinions on or understandings of baptism which have also been held by other early Christian theologians, including his opponents or those addressees whom he did not know personally. In most of these cases we can feel certain that Paul has agreed with them; in others he may have modified the opinion he cites (Rom 6:3–4) or just quoted it as an argument without sharing it (1 Cor 15:29). Given this place of baptism in Paul’s writings, we have to realize that his view on baptism is largely hidden behind his epistles, in which we mostly only perceive what he regards as implications or consequences of his theology of baptism. Consequently any attempt to make a historically based reconstruction of Paul’s thinking in these matters runs the risk of stressing wrong aspects and leaving out others which may have been important to him, but did not happen to be needed for his arguments in the letters we have access to. To these cautions should be added the circumstance that one of the more important texts, Rom 6:1–14, places the interpreter before an exceptionally great number of difficulties in terms of language, content, and function with regard to the receivers.

In 1 Cor 1:12–17 Paul says that he is thankful that he baptized only a few of the Corinthians, “for Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel” (v 17). This remark is generally understood as showing no contempt on Paul’s part for baptism. Rather he let his coworkers baptize, and it is probable that baptizing meant not only performing the rite but also taking an active part in preparation for it. This can explain how people came to rally around a teacher like Apollos (1 Cor 1:12).

As noted, Paul knows of the baptismal formula “into the name of …” But in his arguments he may instead write “into (Gk eis) Christ” (Rom 6:3; Gal 3:27; cf. 1 Cor 10:2: “into Moses,” and 1 Cor 12:13: “into one body”), or “in (Gk en) the name of the Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 6:11). In this way Paul connects certain concepts about Christ and his importance with baptism. Thus in 1 Cor 1:12 it seems that the “party” designations (“I belong to Apollos” etc.) make Paul think of one effect of baptism, viz., that one can say “I belong to Christ” (1 Cor 1:12; 3:23; Gal 3:29). Then he immediately ironically states that he himself was not crucified for the Corinthians, nor were they baptized “into Paul’s name.” This indicates that to Paul baptism somehow made Christ’s crucifixion a crucifixion “for” (Gk hyper) the one baptized. In other words, one “belongs to Christ” through baptism, which applies Christ’s vicarious death to the person being baptized. Thus the soteriological center of Paul’s thinking was a central motif in his understanding of baptism.

The preaching which gathered around this center had to be received in faith, a faith that meant that the believer was put right with God (justified), according to the contents of the kerygma. Inasmuch as it also is intimated that one enters this blessed state through baptism, the question arises regarding the relationship between faith and baptism. There is no tension or contradiction to be seen between the two. Thus, according to Gal 3:26–29 men are “God’s sons through faith in Christ Jesus,” but this statement is explained by the next one, which says “for all of you who were baptized into Christ, put on Christ.” One may say that faith is the subjective side of the receiving of the gift of salvation, baptism the objective side. Furthermore, although 1 Cor 6:11 might be traditional, in its Pauline context it interprets the gifts of baptism as not only “you were washed,” and “you were sanctified,” but also “you were justified,” namely “in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.” Here baptism is associated with all the wealth Paul otherwise connects with the salvific gospel which reveals the righteousness of God through faith (Rom 1:16–17; 5:1–2, etc.).

Already the short remark in 1 Cor 1:13 and its implications point to how Paul—and other early Christian theologians—have wrestled, in part unconsciously, with a task that occurs in many religions: how to relate a fundamental divine act in the past to later times, be that act creation, the Exodus, the death and refinding of Osiris, or Christ’s death and resurrection. One needs a bridge between past and present, or, to use different language, an actualization of the past in the present or an understanding of the present in the light of the past. In our case, a kind of actualization of Jesus’ salvific act was made in the preaching of the gospel and in its reception in faith and in baptism as well.

The topic of actualizing Christ’s death and resurrection—the fundamental salvific act—reappears somewhat more specifically, in Rom 6:1–14, where it is part of Paul’s argument in defense of the principle of justification by faith without following the Law. His real or imagined opponents accuse him of holding that the law-free gospel he preached meant that one had better “remain in sin, in order that grace may abound” (3:8; 6:1, 15). Over against this accusation Paul launches a tightly knit and rather complicated argument, which partly makes use of elements from tradition. His thesis is that “we who died to sin” cannot “live in it” (6:2).

The argument takes its departure in the statement that baptism “into Christ Jesus” means baptism “into his death” (v 3), indeed, being “buried with him” (v 4) (cf. the tradition in 1 Cor 15:3–7: “Christ died, … was buried, … was raised …”) The statement in v 3 is something on which Paul and his opponents agree—otherwise the argument would not work. In other words, baptism “actualized” Christ’s death for the one being baptized. The dying and burial with Christ also had an aim, namely that, as he was raised, “so also we should walk in newness of life” (v 4b), i.e., here it is Christ’s resurrection which is actualized. In v 5 the consequences of baptism are expressed in a slightly different way. The sentence presents them in a protasis-apodosis construction. The protasis (v 5a) “if we are united with the counterpart of his death” is a variation of the statement concerning the sharing of Christ’s death (v 3). Also the apodosis varies the preceding argument, viz., that baptism means that one should walk in newness of life: “we shall be (united with the counterpart) to his resurrection” (a literal rendering of a relatively common way of understanding the difficult construction.) It is now noteworthy that, according to Paul, baptism into Christ’s death meant life with the raised Christ in an ethical duty to “newness of life” in the present time (v 4b), and also a hope of sharing his resurrectional life in the (personal or cosmic) eschaton. (Some, however, take the future in v 5b as hortative.) From v 6 onwards Paul explains, reconfirms and develops his argument: “we (who died in baptism)” is specified as “our old person,” who was “crucified with (Christ),” i.e., the former (“adamitic”) conditions under the reign of sin in hostility to God (cf. 5:10) or in estrangement from him, were abolished. Step by step, Paul then forces his way through to a conclusion in 6:12–14: “Thus sin must not reign in your mortal body, so that you obey its passions” (v 12). He arrives there via these stepping stones concerning Christ: “somebody who is dead is not accused of sin (lit.: is justified from sin)” (v 7); Christ died, and did so “to sin once for all” (v 10); Christ is alive (v 9); Christ “lives to God” (v 10). Here are the parallel steps concerning Christians: “we died with him” (v 8); “you must consider yourselves dead to sin (v 11a); “we shall live with him” (v 8); “we must consider ourselves alive to God” (v 11b).

This sketchy scrutiny of Rom 6:1–14 has pointed to some negative and some positive consequences of baptism as Paul sees it: It meant a liberation not from sinning, but from sin’s reign, from living according to the conditions of its power. Liberation is real but not automatic; it must be realized in a life lived to God, a life that looks forward to its fulfillment in resurrection (v 5, 8) and eternal life (v 22–23).

The baptismal liberation from sin’s power is a positive, dynamic factor in the life of the Christian: In Rom 6:4 it is called “newness of life.” This can be contrasted to “our old man” (v 6), and stands for new conditions in which one lives in and under Christ (cf. “new creation,” 2 Cor 5:17; Gal 6:15). These conditions are described in another picture in Gal 3:27: in baptism one “puts on Christ.” In Biblical language, clothes can be a metaphor for life conditions, essential equipment, etc. (2 Chr 6:41 and Isa 61:10: salvation; Ps 93:1: power; Bar 5:1: glory of God, etc.). Thus Christ, what he has achieved, what he is, and what he stands for, is the life-conditioning, decisive basis of a Christian existence.

The same new conditions are also touched upon in 1 Cor 6:11, “you were sanctified,” i.e., brought into a realm which more than others belongs to God and where he is present in a particular sense. This “sanctification,” together with a “washing” and a “justification” took place “in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” and “in the Spirit of our God,” i.e., the Christ-related blessings of baptism were given through the powerful working in the present by God himself, who stands behind the giving as well as the reception of these blessings. Lastly it must be pointed out that, precisely as in Romans 6, Paul is arguing a case of morality in 1 Cor 6: It is important to his argument that these God-given new life-conditions bring with them a duty to practice them in an ethically responsible life. Once again, the eschatological perspective is present: In the argument Paul says as a warning, “The unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God” (6:9).

That the Spirit is the power at work in baptism is also expressed in 1 Cor 12:13. Also here Paul takes a recognized opinion as a point of departure for an argument: “We were baptized in (or: through) one spirit into one body.” We need not discuss whether the Spirit is thought of here as the mode or the means of baptism into the one body—it is both. But it is also a gift connected with baptism, as is seen from the next clause “and we were all made to drink of one Spirit” or, better, “we all had one Spirit poured over us” (v 13b). Possibly 2 Cor 1:22 also refers to baptism (as a seal) on which occasion God also gave the Spirit as a pledge—a pledge of the further eschatological gifts, the Spirit itself being one of them (Rom 8:23; cf. Acts 2:16–21).

1 Cor 12:13 also points to another aspect of Paul’s thought on baptism: that it brings with it a unity of the ones baptized. This unity is constituted by the one life, which is given from and in community with the one Christ (in his body, the church in Corinth), as well as by the one Spirit. Whereas in 1 Cor this view is a point of departure for an argument concerning how to deal with the different pneumatic gifts, the same theme also appears in Galatians (3:26–29), and there is an argument for the view that Gentile Christians are God’s sons through faith and therefore Abraham’s seed (see also 1 Cor 1:10–13). In both passages we encounter what may be a traditional formula: “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor freeman, there is no male and female” (the last clause only in Galatians; cf. also Col 3:11). This means seeing baptism as having rather radical consequences. The common life in Christ, into which one was baptized, implied a unity and a solidarity which questioned religious, cultural, and social conditions of the ordinary world order.

It has been suggested that this close Christ-relationship which, according to Paul, is a consequence of baptism, was also implied in his use of the formula “(baptize) into Christ.” Namely, should this expression be understood locatively, so that baptism meant being put into Christ, the New Adam, a kind of corporate personality? As the expression is so vague and, therefore, so capable of several interpretations, such an understanding is not impossible. For the same reason 1 Cor 10:2 (“our fathers … were all baptized into Moses”) cannot decisively speak against it, although the idea is certainly not that the Israelites were incorporated, so to speak, into Moses, but rather that “Moses” represented the salvation and revelation at the Exodus.

Finally, Paul can also speak of the Christ relationship established through faith and baptism using terms of ownership (1 Cor 1:12; Gal 3:27; cf. 1 Cor 3:23). That a man “belongs to” or is a slave to his god, who is his “master” or “lord,” is a common idea in the world of religions (see, e.g., Isa 44:5). Man’s god has him at his command and takes care of him. Given the widely spread confession of Jesus as the Lord (kyrios), the idea of belonging to him is near at hand (1 Cor 7:22). The metaphor of sealing in 2 Cor 1:22 has a similar meaning and may possibly refer to baptism. As a matter of fact, the idea of being sanctified at baptism (1 Cor 6:11) has similar connotations, for priests, offerings, buildings, etc., are “sanctified” (see, e.g., Exod 28:36; 29:44; Judg 17:3; 2 Chr 29:5) to God, and belong to him for that reason; they are there for his service and are under his protection. We should also remember that an essential aspect in the thinking concerning the covenant between God and his people was that he was their God and they his people (e.g., Deut 29:13; for the new covenant see, e.g., Jer 31:31).

b. Extra-Pauline Understandings of Baptism in Paul’s Letters. We have touched upon interpretations of baptism which Paul presupposes are known and accepted by his addressees. Since these addressees in some cases are unknown to him (which is largely true of his Roman addressees) and are sometimes opposed to him (Romans; 1, 2 Corinthians), it is reasonable to assume that these interpretations are also held by non-Pauline theologians in the early Church.

Such “extra-Pauline” interpretations of baptism involve views of entering a relationship to Christ, receiving the remission of one’s sins for Christ’s sake (1 Cor 1:13; 6:11), dying and rising with him (Rom 6:3–8), becoming his possession or his slave (1 Cor 3:23; 2 Cor 1:22; Gal 3:29). The Spirit was somehow also connected with baptism in other minds than Paul’s. Thus, some have been of the opinion that the Spirit was at work in baptism and that Christians then were endowed with it (1 Cor 6:11; 12:13). In Rom 6:3–8 there are good reasons to believe that Paul subjects the more widespread view to adaptation. This view may have been that baptism meant sharing Christ’s resurrection (Col 2:12; 3:1), i.e., some sort of “realized eschatology,” whereas Paul is anxious to stress that the resurrection belongs to the future. The adaptation may be caused by an enthusiastic understanding of baptism that Paul has met in Corinth, and which he seeks to restrain. It can be discerned behind the overestimation of glossolalia (the language of the angels, 1 Cor 13:1?) and behind the denial of the coming death and resurrection (1 Corinthians 15; 2 Tim 2:18). A belief that baptism ensured life in an almost magic way may also explain the practice of being baptized on behalf of dead people, mentioned in 1 Cor 15:29. A similar attitude of overestimating the effect of baptism (and of the eucharist) in Corinth seems to lie behind 1 Cor 10:1–13. Paul attacks a sense of security that can be built on such an attitude. That “the fathers” were baptized (in the sea), ate the spiritual food, and drank of Christ (the rock) as Paul points out, did not save them from God’s wrath when they sinned.

c. The Pauline School. The author of Colossians stands close to Paul and is well versed in his letters. (Note, however, that some exegetes do not think that Colossians is deutero-Pauline.) In using baptismal motifs as a basis for arguing against a certain “philosophy,” he differs somewhat from Paul’s thinking as seen in Rom 6:4–5: According to Colossians baptism is not only a death and a burial with Christ (2:12, 20), but also a resurrection with him “through faith in the power of God who raised him from the dead” (2:12). The role of faith is natural also to this author, but it is emphasized that it is directed towards a victor: Baptism means, namely, sharing the destiny of Christ who, in his resurrection, triumphed over the cosmic powers (2:15) which were the authorities to which the “philosophy” referred (2:8, 16–23). As united with this sovereign, the baptized Christians are carried—indeed even “filled”—by his divine “fullness” (2:9–10). Entering the flock of this supreme ruler meant being pardoned all previous sins (1:14; 2:13) and being saved from the power of darkness (1:13), and being moved instead by God into the kingdom of his son and becoming an heir of the lot of the holy ones in light (1:12). The life the Christian has “with Christ” after the death “with him” is a “hidden” one, but one which looks forward to glory at Christ’s “revelation” (3:4), which is to say that the present participation in Christ’s triumph is coupled with an eschatological expectation.

Baptism is mentioned also under the imagery of circumcision (2:11). On the one hand, this is made to signify that in baptism the “body of the flesh” (2:11), or the “old person and his deeds” (3:9), was put away, i.e., the previous conditions were changed in which one’s person was dominated by this-worldly, nondivine factors. On the other hand, it also indicated that the hindrance to belonging to God’s people was eliminated (cf. 2:13).

The optimistic and empowering aspect of the consequences of baptism in Colossians is balanced by the parenesis in 3:1–4:6. As in Romans 6, it is a principal point that the life given in baptism has to be lived. The new—indeed radically new—conditions of a new humanity united with Christ and sustained by him as the true image of God (3:10–11; Gal. 3:27–28) imply an imperative to strive for their realization in life and may even have been a social challenge.

Ephesians contains many echoes from the author’s thought on baptism, so many, in fact, that it has been suggested that the epistle is a baptism homily or represents a baptismal liturgy. This can hardly be regarded as more than conjecture. But given that the epistle stands in the same Pauline tradition as Colossians (although later), one cannot but recognize the indirect references to baptism and its impact. In Ephesians, however, as distinguished from earlier texts in the Pauline tradition, baptism is not brought in to serve an argument concerning something else, but seems to be almost the warp on which the whole letter is woven.

Baptism becomes a focus of God’s immense salvific work: He is the one active behind it and in it (1:3–14; 2:4–10), from the election before the foundation of the world and via the work of Christ on to the eschatological goal, the “heritage,” of which the Spirit is a pledge (1:14). The pre-Christian state of the addressees was like a death or a darkness or a sleep (2:1, 5; 5:8, 14). More specifically, they were sinful Gentiles, not belonging to God’s people (2:1–3, 11–12). But faith in the gospel of salvation, along with receiving baptism (1:13), meant forgiveness (1:7; 2:7; 4:32) and life and light—already now—through Christ (2:5–6; 5:14). They were “sealed” through the Spirit of the promise (1:13), i.e., the Spirit signified that they belonged to God and had the promise of receiving the heritage (cf. Ezek 9:4; Isa 44:5). Given this picture of the pre-Christian situation, baptism is not described as a death or burial with Christ, but as a resurrection with him, indeed, being enthroned with him (Eph 2:6). The Christian is carried by the same divine power as Christ (1:20) and has “access to the Father” (2:18), or using another image, the Christian is joined to a Temple of God, built on Christ, the cornerstone (2:20–22). This ecclesiological perspective of “realized eschatology” is found also in 5:25–26: Christ gave himself up for the Church “in order that he sanctify her, cleansing her by the washing of water, in the word.” In individual baptisms, Christ’s self-sacrifice is applied, and the rite adds new members to the Church, which is presented as a bride, cleansed by the bridal bath. The phrase “in the word” is difficult: Either it refers to something said at baptism which in some way mentioned Christ and/or his work, or it has to do with Christ’s sanctifying the Church through his word. That this Church is one is mentioned in the formula of 4:5–6: Baptism unites all believers in the same faith in the one Lord.

Also in Ephesians the new, real conditions given in baptism are the basis of a duty to live a moral life (4:22–24). The older conditions are certainly left behind (2:1, 5; 5:8, 14), but nevertheless they still make their claims; so “the old man” must be put off and “the new man” must be put on (4:20–24), i.e., the life in Christ has to be realized as exemplified in the parenesis in 4:25–5:14.

Also in Titus (3:5) baptism is the crucial point in the application of God’s saving act through Christ to the individual. In imitation of Paul, the author contrasts God’s grace behind this means of salvation to man’s deeds of righteousness, which did not bring this salvation. The pre-Christian situation is painted in dark colors: foolishness, disobedience, lusts, etc. (3:3). In baptism, however, God saved the Christian from this condition for a life of “righteousness” (1 Tim 6:11; Titus 2:12; 3:7). The effect of baptism is described as “regeneration” (cf. John 3:5; 1 Pet 2:2) and renewal (cf. 2 Cor 5:17; Gal 6:15; Eph 2:15; 4:24). The former imagery can be compared with the Jewish statement that a proselyte is as a newborn child (b. Yebam. 48b). The renewal is effected by the Holy Spirit, the gift of which is connected with baptism, and it all gives the Christian the hope of inheriting eternal life (3:5–7). That the admonitions in 3:8–11 follow the utterances on baptism is a sign that also for this author baptismal renewal has to have a counterpart in real life.

3. Gospel of Matthew. It has been noted above that Matthew’s version of the story of Jesus’ baptism (3:13–17) not only has a Christological point; it also presents Jesus’ baptism as a model of the audience’s baptism. Matt 28:19 represents the evangelist’s conviction that his Church practiced baptism in accordance with Jesus’ will and reflects the baptismal formula in use there (cf. Did. 7:1, 3). The main verb of the commission in 28:19 is “make disciples.” Becoming a disciple in Matthew’s view means to cling to Jesus, to whom the Father has given all authority (v 18), listen to his words, and do his will. Baptism is the step into discipleship—faith is not mentioned, but is presupposed (cf. 18:6). Matt 18:20 (“gather ‘into’my name”) demonstrates that Matthew retains what above was claimed to be the original meaning of performing a rite “into the name of …,” viz., that the name indicated the fundamental reference of the rite. What is new in Matthew is the mention of the Trinity in the baptismal formula (the actual thought of the Father and the Spirit together with the Son is found also in Ephesians 1–2 and Titus 3, dealt with above). God the origin and goal, whom Jesus called his Father (7:21; 10:32; 26:42 etc.) and whose will he performed (26:42), was also the Father of the disciples (5:16, 45, 48; 6:9 etc.). He turned to man in the words and works of the Son, but also in the Spirit, the power of the present, active God (1:18; 12:28; cf. 10:20). Thus, the rite of baptism had as its basis the salvific work of a God who communicated with man in these ways. Probably the words of John the Baptist in 3:11 (“baptize in holy spirit”) are seen as fulfilled in Christian baptism—because of the central position of Jesus Christ for discipleship it can be said that, in a sense, he is the one who baptizes.

4. Acts of the Apostles. It should be borne in mind that Acts is simply a narrative telling how the witnesses of Jesus advanced step by step from Jerusalem to the world with the gospel (1:8). What is said of baptism therefore belongs to the story of this process and should not be isolated from it. The attempts to reconstruct different baptismal rites and/or theologies using Acts as a source rest on rather unstable ground, and will be left aside here.

Luke takes baptism for granted. It is treated as the undisputed initiation rite of the Church, and when mission enters a new, decisive phase, baptism is mentioned as a natural step in connection with people’s acceptance of the message about Christ, i.e., becoming believers (or sometimes “repenting,” 2:38; 11:18 etc.). Thus, baptism is reported at the following milestones in the narrative:2:38–41 (Pentecost in Jerusalem); 8:12 (Samaria); 8:35–39 (the Ethiopian eunuch); 9:18 (Paul); 10:44–48 (Cornelius); 16:14–15, 30–34 (Lydia and the jailer in Philippi); 18:8 (Corinth).

Entering the Christian community through faith and baptism means to be “saved” (2:40; 11:14; 16:30–31), and in 2:40 what one is saved from is specified: “this crooked generation” (cf. Deut 32:5), i.e., from those who have turned away from God. In 8:10–13 the magic practices of Simon form a dark background to faith and baptism. One side of this salvation is the remission of sins, which explicitly is one of the gifts of baptism in 2:38; 10:43, 48; 22:16. However, both “salvation” and remission of sins are among the eschatological blessings which, according to Luke, are present already in the Christian community (2:17–21); the final kingdom is not yet there (1:6–8), but God is present in the community bestowing some of the eschatological gifts. To these also belongs the Holy Spirit (2:17–18), the gift of which is connected with baptism (2:38; 8:14–17; 9:17–18; 10:47–48; 19:1–6).

Four times Luke cites something like a baptism formula “in the name of Jesus Christ” (2:38; 10:48) or “into the name of the Lord Jesus” (8:16; 19:5). The differences are probably more a matter of Luke’s style than anything else (see “Into the name of the Lord Jesus” above), but the question arises as to what the expression may mean in the context of Acts. A likely suggestion is that the “name” expression indicates that the rite in some way was based on and/or was an objective application of the message about Jesus Christ which lead to faith in him. Basic points in the preaching of the apostles are these, according to the program in Luke 24:44–49: In Christ’s name one shall preach repentance and remission of sins to all nations (v 47), a presupposition of which is his (the Messiah’s) death and resurrection, predicted by the Scriptures (v 44–46); and, in addition, his glorified status (v 50–51, 26) from which he sends the Spirit (v 49). Thus, the apostolic message, as presented also in the speeches of Acts, has some important items in common with what is said of baptism. The christological basis of baptism is the same: Jesus is the vindicated and glorified one, the promised Messiah, the mighty and generous Sovereign, the Lord. The one who repents and believes is received by him and graciously pardoned (the death of Jesus seems to play but a minor part in this connection; compare, however, Luke 22:20). From his exalted position on the right hand of the Divine Majesty, Jesus sends the Spirit, who is active in the preaching of the gospel and in giving spiritual gifts.

In 2 instances Acts seems to present “irregularities.” The first is 8:14–17, where Peter and John are reported to have to come from Jerusalem to Samaria to lay their hands on the baptized converts in order that they should receive the Holy Spirit. The second is 10:47–48, according to which the Spirit falls on Cornelius and those in his house, so as to compel Peter to order their being baptized. When regarded within the framework of the story of Acts as a whole, these irregularities can be explained without serious problems. Precisely as irregularities they become signposts in the development of the Christian mission. In the 1st case the Samaritans’ place within the fulfillment of the promises is confirmed, and in the 2d the move into the Gentile world and the reception of uncircumcised Gentiles into God’s people are enforced by God’s Spirit itself. This is acknowledged by the Jerusalem Christians in 11:1–18); the conclusion is that “God has given the (opportunity of) repentance unto life also to the Gentiles” (v 18).

Lastly, it should be mentioned that in Acts we can surmise some details in the ritual of baptism. A laying on of hands (with prayer for the Spirit) is mentioned in 8:15–17 and 19:6 (cf. 9:17); a question arises whether there is any hindrance that a particular candidate be baptized (8:36; 10:47); there is a mention or invocation of the name of the “Lord Jesus” (22:16) in such a way that the rite could rightly be called a baptism “into the name of the Lord Jesus” (or something similar). Finally, the designation “the believers” for the Christians may possibly indicate that the rite included a question as to whether one believed in Jesus the Lord (etc.), which received the answer “I believe” (cf. Hipp., Apost. 21.12–18, ed. Dix, and the variant reading in Acts 8:37).

5. First Peter. Although baptism is mentioned only once in 1 Peter (3:21), it plays an important role as a basic presupposition for the presentation in the epistle. In fact, it is so important that scholars have suggested that it represents (parts of) a baptismal liturgy or a baptismal homily. Even though such a supposition may go somewhat too far, there is a wide consensus that 1 Peter makes substantial use of ideas associated with baptism. Furthermore, such ideas, to a large extent, seem to be expressed in more or less established turns of phrase.

The writer does not really argue a case in a progressive chain of reasoning, and thus the logical relationships between the ideas are not always explicit. This is also true of the passages where baptism appears to be of some importance to the contents. He seems, however, to want to strengthen and comfort his addressees in leading a faithful and moral Christian life in the face of pressures from the surrounding world. He does so by affirming that suffering as Christ’s disciple is part of the discipleship and, not least, that the Christians also have a hope of glory—“an inheritance imperishable and undefiled and unfading, kept for you in heaven” (1:4).

Baptism is obviously a decisive part of the Christian initiation, to which the author refers repeatedly, although not explicitly, as a foundation of his exhortations. It is called a rebirth (1:3, 23; cf. 2:2); it means a new human existence, one brought about by God himself (1:3, 23) through his living word, the gospel (1:23–25). This new existence is sustained and guarded by God (1:5) and looks forward in hope to the coming salvation when Christ is “revealed” (1:4–5, 7, 9, 13, 21; 3:15). The Christ-relationship of the Christian initiation means, not least, that it is his resurrection that is the reason for the hope (1:3, 21) and for the salvific effects of baptism (3:21). His vicarious and redemptive passion and death are mentioned (1:2, 18–19; 2:24; 3:18); they are apparently a presupposition for the possibility of being reborn, but are not brought into any explicit connection with baptism. In the present time, awaiting faithfully the coming glory, the Christians are tested (1:7) and may have to suffer as Christ had to (2:19–23; 3:14–18; 4:1–2, 12–14, 19). Being a minority (3:20), the addressees may feel tempted to conform to their old existence marked by Gentile vices (1:14; 4:2–4), but their new life means that they are holy, belonging to God (1:15–16, 22–25); so they are called instead to live this holiness in obedience in communion with Christ (1:13–14, 22; 2:1–10).

In 3:20–21, the only passage in 1 Peter which explicitly mentions baptism, there are a couple of linguistic difficulties which complicate its understanding. Much, however, is clear enough. Thus, the OT story of Noah and the Flood (Genesis 6–9) is made to prefigure what baptism means to the addressees. Like Noah’s family they are few, living in a world which deserves judgment from a patient God. And as Noah and his family were saved in the ark, in a corresponding way the addressees are saved (present tense) “through water” in baptism. One of the linguistic difficulties occurs here, but regardless of how one tries to solve it, the meaning should be something like the one just intimated. The author’s explanatory comment does not make matters easier: Baptism is said to mean “not the removal of dirt of the flesh, but an appeal to God for a good conscience through the resurrection of Jesus Christ,” or “… but a pledge to God of a good conscience through the resurrection …”. There is a tendency in modern translations and commentaries to favor the latter understanding. Actually, it is in harmony with that which the author otherwise indicates as being one of the aspects of Christian initiation: namely, an upright entering into a covenant with God, a pledge to be holy and obedient (1:13–16; 22–23; 3:8–12), with divine salvation also implied. According to 3:21 this salvation is something taking place in baptism, and according to 1:5, 9 it is a goal, owned in hope. Its foundation, both in 1:5, 9 and 3:21, is Christ’s resurrection, the Christ who is now enthroned in glory (3:22). Thus also in 3:19–22 baptism means being brought by God into a new existence, different from the former one, and, because of Christ’s resurrection and glory, one can look forward to the glorious fulfillment. On the other hand, the new existence means engaging in a life that demands to be realized, even under pressure.

6. The Johannine Writings. In the 4th gospel as we now have it, 3:1–21 is the only passage which, with some certainty, deals with Christian baptism. (John 13:8–10 and 19:34 are debatable as witnesses and, for that matter, hardly give more information than we already have in 3:1–21).

It is important to take the whole of the dialogue of 3:1–21 into account when assessing 3:3, 5, where baptism is almost explicitly mentioned (“reborn” and “reborn of water and Spirit,” respectively). The dialogue is constituted by 3 phases, each leading to a statement of Jesus, introduced by a repeated “amen” (3:3, 5, 11). The 1st phase states the precondition of seeing the kingdom of God: being born anew and/or from above (the Greek word anōthen having both meanings; 3:3). The 2d statement specifies the 1st: in order to enter the kingdom of God one must be born of water and Spirit (3:5). In the 3d and prolonged statement, the conditional clauses of the 1st and 2d phases are changed into a semantically equivalent construction: “Whoever believes in him (i.e., the Son), will … have eternal life” (3:15). Thus, the basic question is how to attain eternal life, which puts this term in its specifically Johannine context, i.e., it is owned already in this life (cf. 3:36; 5:24; 17:3, etc.). It is not this-worldly, limited and conditioned by “flesh” (3:6; cf. 6:63) or death (the implicit background of 3:14), but has its ultimate source in God (3:3, cf. 1:13) and depends on God’s loving initiative (3:16–17). It has come to this world through the Son, whose life-giving activity in word and deed culminated in his “exaltation” on the cross (3:14) and his ascension (3:13). This “going to the Father” was the presupposition for the giving of the Spirit, which pursues the work of the Son. Thus, though in its own way, the 4th gospel works out the Christ-connection of baptism. Christ’s death-exaltation makes its life-giving “possible” (3:9), viz., through the activity of the inscrutinable Spirit (3:8). On the other hand, faith on man’s side is the necessary disposition for accepting this life (3:15–18; cf. 1:12; 3:36; 5:24; 11:25; 20:31, etc.).

There is no clear mention of baptism in 1 John, although 5:7–8 (the witnesses, Spirit, water, blood) may refer to it as one testimony to the life-giving death of Jesus. At the same time, ideas which occur in baptismal contexts in other NT books are so numerous that there have been suggestions that the epistle cites parts of a rite of initiation, including baptism; that it reflects a baptismal homily; or, less specifically, that it contains echoes from instruction in connection with entrance into the Christian community. In any case, a central concept is the one of being born of God (2:29; 3:9; 4:7; 5:1, 5, 18; cf. John 3:5) and this out of his love (3:1; 4:9, 10, 16). Thereby Jesus Christ is of central importance (3:5; 4:9–10, 14). Sinless, he took away sin (1:7; 2:2; 3:5; 4:10). When the Christian life of the addressees “began” (2:24; 3:11), they received the remission of their sins (2:12) and obtained life in the name of Jesus Christ (3:14; 4:9; 5:12); they were instructed not to love the world but to overcome it (2:15–17; 5:4–5) and to live under the Spirit (3:24; 4:13) in love for one another (2:7–11; 3:18, 23; 4:7–11, 17–21), confessing Jesus as Christ, God’s Son (3:23; 4:2, 15; 5:1). This complex is the frame of reference for the warnings and the admonition of the epistle: Being pure and holy they should live accordingly (2:1, 5–6; 3:3). It is quite likely that it reflects essential features in the author’s thought on baptism.

7. Other NT Writings. Heb 10:19–25 probably contains an allusion to baptism and baptismal practice: Using priestly imagery, the author summons his audience to “draw near,” “with the hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and with the body washed with pure water” (v 22). This should refer to the remission of sins as a gift of baptism. In 9:9–10, 13–14, etc., the remission is brought about by Christ’s self-sacrifice, which, then, would be “applied” in baptism. There is a homology connected to baptism, a confession to Christ which gives hope (10:23; see further 3:1; 4:14). A 2d conversion for the one who willfully turns away, is declared to be impossible in 6:4–6 and 10:26–29. The idea is probably also associated with baptism, which meant “enlightenment,” “tasting a heavenly gift,” “partaking of the Holy Spirit,” and of “the power of the coming age” (6:4–5). Given the short eschatological perspective of the author (10:37), he has no hope for the renegade. The same Hebrews 6 seems to start with a reference to the instruction given to the catecumens (v 1–2).

If 2 Pet 1:9 refers to baptism, it represents a widely spread early Christian conviction in its understanding of it, when it mentions cleansing from previous sins.

Mark 16:16 does not belong to the original gospel of Mark, but to a secondary, though canonical ending, dating from the 2d century (16:9–20). Verses 15–16 contain a commissioning of the disciples to preach the gospel to the whole world. This proclamation is received in belief or unbelief, and as usual belief is combined with baptism. As in Tit 3:5 and 1 Pet 3:21, it means salvation. Here it means the salvation at the eschaton and is contrasted to condemnation, the lot of those who have not accepted the proclamation.

8. “One baptism”—Many Interpretations? The presentation above has investigated the different ways in which some early Christians have thought about baptism. The differences are great enough to justify the conclusion that one can hardly add all the views together, call the result “The NT Doctrine of Baptism,” and assume that one has done justice to the NT authors by doing so. This is so, even when taking into consideration that Paul is the author who beyond comparison delivers the most material on the topic and easily may dominate such an additive presentation. Given the differences, there are, however, more resemblances between the different witnesses than one might expect in view of the foregoing exposition. It may therefore be justified to conclude with a few words on this aspect.

At the very beginning of Christian baptismal practice there were some aspects and circumstances pertaining to it which seem, somehow, to have been determinative for the ways in which different theologians and traditions in early Christianity came to think of baptism. In all probability, the rite was taken over from John the Baptist, which has an important implication: that eschatological expectations similar to those of the Baptist were associated with Christian baptism. Another decisive element was the conviction that Jesus had risen from the dead and that his resurrection meant a new situation in man’s relationship to God, notably as seen in the (short) eschatological perspective. Furthermore, baptism was connected with the Christian preaching to Jews and Gentiles; it had the Christ-event at its center and demanded conversion and/or faith. Lastly, the ones who believed were baptized “into the name of the Lord Jesus” (etc.), which presumably meant that Jesus the Lord—his person and his work—was the fundamental reference for the rite.

NT interpreters of later times easily overlook the constancy with which the eschatological outlook reappears in baptismal passages in the NT. It is realized in different ways: in demand for ethical responsibility in view of the approaching judgment; in references to the hope which looks forward to the final salvation or to the promised heritage; in the question how one enters the kingdom of God or receives eternal life.

But the eschatological perspective does not only mean looking forward. It also means an inaugurated eschatology, in that the salvific gifts of the eschaton are regarded as already present, although in varying degrees and in different ways by different authors. The Christ-event, especially the resurrection of Christ, is the beginning of this inaugurated eschaton; the preaching of the gospel continues this inauguration; and baptism is the door through which men enter it in connection with faith and/or conversion. It means leaving behind sin, alienation from God, etc., and entering a new, trusting, and sound relation to God. The remission of sins and the activity and presence of the Holy Spirit thus belong to the gifts of this inaugurated eschaton. These radically new life-conditions are described in different ways, often in terms from Jewish eschatological expectations. They imply a duty to lead a Christian life which deserves this designation. The degrees in which one believes eschatology to be “realized” vary, and we encounter a relatively wide range of views. On the one hand, there is the eschatology behind 2 Tim 2:18 which is “over-realized” according to Pauline standards, and several scholars suggest that the case is the same with some enthusiasts in Corinth. On the other hand, there are the more tempered views of the authors of Acts or of the Epistle to Titus.

When baptism is performed “into the name of the Lord Jesus” (etc.), this indicates the key position held by Christ in relation to this inaugurated eschaton. It was inaugurated through his life, death, and resurrection. And though he was also the extramundane guarantee and point of orientation of the new life-conditions, he was nevertheless not distant.

It seems fair to suggest that the general ideas concerning early Christian baptism, intimated in the preceding few paragraphs, form what appears to be a common ground on which different theologians and traditions of the early Church have developed their understandings of baptism in keeping with their respective theological outlooks. This is not to say that this common ground should be something like an abstraction or generalization of NT statements on baptism which one could call the NT doctrine of baptism. But in so far as such a “doctrine” is to have a basis that is historically motivated, it should do justice to the general aspects of baptism found on this common ground. However, such a statement already means starting to ask hermeneutical questions which need to be dealt with when wrestling with such a “doctrinal” problem, but which cannot be taken up here.

Bibliography

Ȧland, K. 1972. Zur Vorgeschichte der christlichen Taufe. Pp. 1–14 in Neues Testament und Geschichte, ed. H. von Baltensweiler and B. Reicke. Zürich.

Barnikol, E. 1956–57. Das Fehlen der Taufe in den Quellenschriften der Apostelgeschichte und in den Urgemeinden der Hebräer und Hellenisten. WZ 6:593–610.

Barth, G. 1981. Die Taufe in frühchristlicher Zeit. Biblisch-Theologische Studien 4. Neukirchen-Vluyn.

Beasley-Murray, G. R. 1962. Baptism in the New Testament. London.

Bieder, W. 1966. Die Verheissung der Taufe im Neuen Testament. Zürich.

Böcher, O. 1972. Christus Exorcista. BWANT 96. Stuttgart.

Böcher, O. 1970. Wasser und Geist. Pp. 197–209 in Verborum Veritas, ed. O. Böcher and K. Haacker. Wuppertal.

Boismard, M.-E. 1961. Quatre hymnes baptismales dans la Première Epître de Pierre. LD 30. Paris.

Chevallier, M.-A. 1986. L’Apologie du Baptême d’Eau à la Fin du Premier Siècle. NTS 32:528–43.

Cullmann, O. 1950. Baptism in the New Testament. Trans. J. K. S. Reid. SBT 1. London.

Cuming, G. J. 1980–81. epotisthēmen (1 Corinthians 12.13) NTS 27:283–85.

Delling, G. 1961. Die Zueignung des Heils in der Taufe. Berlin.

———. 1963. Die Taufe im Neuen Testament. Berlin.

Dinkler, E. 1972. Die Taufaussagen des Neuen Testaments. Pp. 60–153 in Zu Karl Barths Lehre von der Taufe, ed. Fr. Viering. 2d ed. Gütersloh.

Dunn, J. D. G. 1970. Baptism in the Holy Spirit. SBT n.s. 15. London.

Edsman, C.-M. 1940. Le baptême de feu. ASNU 9. Uppsala.

Flemington, W. F. 1948. The New Testament Doctrine of Baptism. London.

Frankemölle, H. 1970. Das Taufverständnis des Paulus. SBS 47. Stuttgart.

Frid, B. 1986. Römer 6.4–5. BZ 30:188–203.

Halter, H. 1977. Taufe und Ethos. FTS 106. Freiburg.

Hartman, L. 1973–74. “Into the Name of Jesus.” NTS 20:432–40.

———. 1985. La formule baptismale dans les Actes des Apôtres. Pp. 727–38 in A cause de l’ évangile. LD 123. Paris.

Haufe, G. 1976. Taufe und Heiliger Geist im Urchristentum. TLZ 101:561–66.

Heitmüller, W. 1903. Im Namen Jesu. FRLANT 1/2. Göttingen.

Jeremias, J. 1960. Infant Baptism in the First Four Centuries. Trans. D. Cairns. London.

Kaye, B. N. 1973. baptizein eis with Special Reference to Romans 6. Pp. 281–86 in SE 6, ed. E. A. Livingstone, = tu 112. Berlin.

Kirby, J. C. 1968. Ephesians, Baptism, and Pentecost. Montreal.

Kretschmar, G. 1970. Die Geschichte des Taufgottesdienstes in der alten Kirche. Leiturgia 5:1–348, esp. 1–58.

Kuss, O. 1963. Zur vorpaulinischen Tauflehre im Neuen Testament. Vol. 1, pp. 93–120 in Auslegung und Verkündigung. Regensburg.

Lamarche, P., and Le Dû, C. 1980. Épître aux Romains V–VIII. Paris.

Larsson, E. 1962. Christus als Vorbild. ASNU 22. Lund.

Leipoldt, J. 1928. Die urchristliche Taufe im Lichte der Religionsgeschichte. Leipzig.

Lentzen-Deis, F. 1970. Die Taufe Jesu nach den Synoptikern. Frankfurter theologische Studien 4. Frankfurt am Main.

Lindeskog, G. 1983. Johannes der Täufer. ASTI 12:55–83.

Lorenzi, L. de, ed. 1974. Battesimo e Giustizia in Rom 6 e 8. Serie Monografica de “Benedictina,” sezione biblico-ecumenica 2. Rome.

Pedersen, S., ed. 1982. Dåben i Ny Testamente. Teologiske studier 9. Aarhus.

Pokorný, P. 1980–81. Christologie et Baptême à l’ Époque du Christianisme Primitif. NTS 27:368–80.

Quesnel, M. 1985. Baptisés dans l’Esprit. LD 120. Paris.

Rissi, M. 1962. Die Taufe für die Toten. ATANT 42. Zürich.

Rudolph, K. 1981. Antike Baptisten. Sitzungsberichte der sächsischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Leipzig, phil-hist Kl. 121/4. Berlin.

Schille, G. 1965. Frühchristliche Hymnen. 2d ed. Berlin.

Schnackenburg, R. 1964. Baptism in the Thought of St. Paul. Trans. G. R. Beasley-Murray. New York.

Schnelle, U. 1983. Gerechtigkeit und Christusgegenwart. GTA 24. Göttingen.

Segelberg, E. 1958. Maṣbutā. Uppsala.

Tannehill, R. C. 1966. Dying and Rising with Christ. BZNW 32. Berlin.

Thiering, B. E. 1979–80. Inner and Outer Cleansing at Qumran as a Background to New Testament Baptism. NTS 26:266–77.

———. 1980–81. Qumran Initiation and New Testament Baptism. NTS 27:615–31.

Thomas, J. 1935. Le mouvement baptiste en Palestine et Syrie. Gembloux.

Thyen, H. 1970. Studien zur Sündenvergebung im Neuen Testament und seinen alttestamentlichen und jüdischen Voraussetzungen. FRLANT 96. Göttingen.

Wagner, G. 1967. Pauline Baptism and the Pagan Mysteries. Trans. J. P. Smith. Edinburgh.

Wedderburn, A. J. M. 1983. Hellenistic Christian Traditions in Romans 6? NTS 29:337–55.

Wedderburn, A. J. M. 1987. Baptism and Resurrection. WUNT 44. Tübingen.

Ysebaert, J. 1962. Greek Baptismal Terminology. Graecitas christianorum primaeva 1. Nijmegen.

Lars Hartman

LXX Septuagint

Joseph. Josephus

Ant. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (= Antiquitates Judaicae)

1 QS Serek hayyaḥad (Rule of the Community, Manual of Discipline)

Sib. Or. Sibylline Oracles

Joseph. Josephus

Ant. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (= Antiquitates Judaicae)

Joseph. Josephus

Life Josephus, Life (= Vita)

b. Babylonian (Talmud) = “Babli”

Yebam. Yebamot

Joseph. Josephus

Life Josephus, Life (= Vita)

1st first

Ant Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (= Antiquitates Judaicae)

Joseph. Josephus

Ant Josephus, Jewish Antiquities (= Antiquitates Judaicae)

Jub. Jubilees

1 QS Serek hayyaḥad (Rule of the Community, Manual of Discipline)

Mek. Mekilta

1 QS Serek hayyaḥad (Rule of the Community, Manual of Discipline)

Jub. Jubilees

Ps. Clem. Pseudo-Clementines

Q Qere; “Q”-source; Qumran texts (e.g., 4QTestim)

1st first

b. Babylonian (Talmud) = “Babli”

Yebam. Yebamot

LXX Septuagint

Zebaḥ Zebaḥim

. Zebaḥim

Zebaḥ Zebaḥim

. Zebaḥim

ʾAbot ʾAbot

Zebaḥ Zebaḥim

. Zebaḥim

Ḥul Ḥullin

ʿAbod. Zar ʿAboda Zara

. ʿAboda Zara

Nid. Niddah

LXX Septuagint

ʿAbod. Zar ʿAboda Zara

. ʿAboda Zara

b. Babylonian (Talmud) = “Babli”

ʿAbod. Zar ʿAboda Zara

. ʿAboda Zara

Herm. Sim. Hermas, Similitude

b. Babylonian (Talmud) = “Babli”

Pesaḥ Pesaḥim

. Pesaḥim

lit. literally

b. Babylonian (Talmud) = “Babli”

Yebam. Yebamot

Did. Didache

1st first

2d second

1st first

2d second

1st first

3d third

1st first

2d second

2d second

2d second

WZ Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift

BWANT Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament

LD Lectio divina

NTS New Testament Studies, Cambridge, MA

SBT Studies in Biblical Theology

NTS New Testament Studies, Cambridge, MA

2d second

SBT Studies in Biblical Theology

n.s. new series

ASNU Acta seminarii neotestamentici upsaliensis

SBS Stuttgarter Bibelstudien

BZ Biblische Zeitschrift, Paderborn

FTS Freiburger Theologische Studien

NTS New Testament Studies, Cambridge, MA

LD Lectio divina

TLZ Theologische Literaturzeitung

FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments

SE Studia Evangelica I, II, III (=tu 73 [1959], 87 [1964], 88 [1964], etc.)

tu Texte und Untersuchungen

ASNU Acta seminarii neotestamentici upsaliensis

ASTI Annual of the Swedish Theological Institute

Rom Ignatius, Letter to the Romans

NTS New Testament Studies, Cambridge, MA

LD Lectio divina

ATANT Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments

phil-hist Kl. Philosophische-historische Klasse

2d second

GTA Göttinger theologische Arbeiten

BZNW Beihefte zur ZNW

NTS New Testament Studies, Cambridge, MA

NTS New Testament Studies, Cambridge, MA

FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments

NTS New Testament Studies, Cambridge, MA

WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament

Lars Hartman Professor, Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden

Hartman, L. (1992). Baptism. In D. N. Freedman (Ed.), The Anchor Yale Bible Dictionary (Vol. 1, pp. 583–594). New York: Doubleday.

[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Reciprocity ” tab_id=”1479994259078-5e3d345e-188a”][vc_column_text]

 

Patronage &
Reciprocity

The Social Context
of Grace

People in the United States and northern Europe may be culturally conditioned to find the concept of patronage distasteful at first and not at all a suitable metaphor for talking about God’s relationship to us. When we say “it’s not what you know but who you know,” it is usually because we sense someone has had an unfair advantage over us or over the friend whom we console with these words. It violates our conviction that everyone should have equal access to employment opportunities (being evaluated on the basis of pertinent skills rather than personal connection) or to services offered by private businesses or civic agencies.¹ Where patronage occurs (often deridingly called nepotism: channeling opportunities to relations or personal friends), it is often done “under the table” and kept as quiet as possible.²

We tend to get what we need or want by means of buying and selling, where exchange is precisely measured out ahead of time. You do not leave a department store owing the sales person a favor, nor does the cashier at a restaurant owe me a good turn for the money I gave after dinner. When we seek employment, most often we are hired on the basis of our skills and experience by people we do not know. We prepare for employment not so much by cultivating connections (although this is still useful!) as by equipping ourselves with the knowledge and skills that, we hope, a potential employer will recognize as giving us the necessary resources to do the job well. When we fall into hard times, there is a massive public welfare system in place, access to which is offered not as a personal favor but as a bureaucratized right of the poor or unemployed. If an alien wants citizenship and the rights that go along with it, he or she applies and undergoes the same process as every other naturalized citizen—it is not a favor granted personally by an individual in power.

The world of the authors and readers of the New Testament, however, was one in which personal patronage was an essential means of acquiring access to goods, protection or opportunities for employment and advancement. Not only was it essential—it was expected and publicized! The giving and receiving of favors was, according to a first-century participant, the “practice that constitutes the chief bond of human society” (Seneca Ben. 1.4.2). To enter their world and hear their words more authentically, we have to leave behind our cultural norms and ways of doing things and learn a quite different way of managing resources and meeting needs.

Patronage and Friendship

For everyday needs there was the market, in which buying and selling provided access to daily necessities. For anything outside of the ordinary, the person sought out the individual who possessed or controlled access to what the person needed and received it as a favor. The ancient world from the classical through the Roman periods was one of significantly limited access to goods. The greater part of the property, wealth and power was concentrated into the hands of the few, and access to these goods was through personal connection rather than bureaucratic channels. The kinds of benefits sought from patrons depended on the needs or desires of the petitioner. They might include plots of land or distributions of money to get started in business or to supply food after a crop failure or failed business venture. Other benefits might include protection, debt relief or an appointment to some office or position in government. “Help one person with money, another with credit, another with influence, another with advice, another with sound precepts” (Seneca Ben. 1.2.4, LCL). If the patron granted the petition, the petitioner would become the client of the patron and a potentially long-term relationship would begin.³ This relationship would be marked by the mutual exchange of desired goods and services, the patron being available for assistance in the future, the client doing everything in his or her power to enhance the fame and honor of the patron (publicizing the benefit and showing the patron respect), remaining loyal to the patron and providing services whenever the opportunity arose.

Sometimes the most important gift a patron could give was access to (and influence with) another patron who actually had power over the benefit being sought. For the sake of clarity, a patron who provides access to another patron for his or her client has been called a “broker”⁴ (a classical term for this was mediator). Brokerage was commonplace and expected in public life. Sophocles (Oed. 771–774) provides a fictional example of this in the words of Creon, who defends himself with these words against Oedipus’ charge of conspiracy to usurp the kingship:

I am welcome everywhere; every man salutes me,
And those who want your favor seek my ear,
Since I know how to manage what they ask.

Creon enjoys high esteem and displays of public reputation on the basis of his ability to grant or withhold his primary resource: access to King Oedipus and thus to royal favors.

Numerous examples of brokerage can be found in the letters of Cicero, Pliny the Younger and Fronto, correspondence providing windows into public policy from the late republic through the second century of the empire.⁵ Pliny’s letters to the emperor Trajan (dating from a.d. 111–113, the time during which Pliny was governor of Bithynia) contain attempts by Pliny to procure imperial favors for his own friends and clients. In one such letter (Ep. 10.4), Pliny introduces a client of his, named Voconius Romanus, to Trajan with a view to getting Voconius a senatorial appointment. He addresses Trajan clearly as a client addressing his patron and proceeds to ask a favor for Voconius. Pliny offers his own character as a guarantee of his client’s character, and Trajan’s “favorable judgement” of Pliny (not Voconius, whom he does not know) would become the basis for Trajan’s granting of this favor. Should the favor be granted by the emperor, Voconius would be indebted not only to Trajan but also to Pliny, who will, in turn, be indebted further to Trajan.⁶ The broker, or mediator, at the same time incurs a debt and increases his own honor through the indebtedness of his client. Brokerage—the gift of access to another, often greater patron—was in itself a highly valued benefit. Without such connections the client would never have had access to what he desired or needed. This is especially apparent in the case of Pliny’s physical therapist, Arpocras, who gains both Roman and Alexandrian citizenship by means of Pliny, who petitions Trajan on his behalf (Ep. 10.5–7, 10). Pliny gives this local physician access to the emperor, the fount of patronage, which he would never have enjoyed otherwise. Brokerage could even intervene in the judicial process. Both Cicero⁷ and Marcus Aurelius (Ad M. Caes. 3.2) use their connections of friendship with a judge to secure favorable outcomes for their clients, on whose behalf they write.

So far we have been discussing personal patronage as it occurred between people of unequal social status: someone of lesser power, honor and wealth seeks out the aid of a person of superior power, honor and wealth. The kinds of benefits exchanged between such people will be different in kind and quality, the patron providing material gifts or opportunities for advancement, the client contributing to the patron’s reputation and power base. Relationships of reciprocity also occur between social equals, people of like means who can exchange like resources, neither one being seen by the other or by society as the inferior of the other. Such relationships went by the name of “friendship.”⁸ The basic ethos undergirding this relationship, however, is no different from that of the relationship of patrons and clients; the same principle of reciprocity and mutual fidelity is the bedrock of both. Moreover, because patrons were sensitive to the honor of their clients, they rarely called their clients by that name. Instead, they graciously referred to them as friends, even though they were far from social equals. Clients, on the whole, did not attempt to hide their junior status, referring to their patrons as “patrons” rather than as “friends” so as to highlight the honor and respect with which they esteemed their benefactors.⁹ Where we see people called “friends” or “partners,” therefore, we should suspect that we are still looking at relationships of reciprocity.

Patronage Among the Poor

The greater part of the ancient population has left no written legacy for us to study. Observation of modern agrarian societies leads scholars to believe that all classes participated, in their own ways, in forming relationships of reciprocity. One such cultural anthropologist, Julian Pitt-Rivers, studied the rural communities of southern France,¹⁰ noting that neighbors are always ready to help one another at harvest or sheep-shearing time, not for money or for specific returns. While the helper would even publicly deny that he or she has placed the helped party under obligation, should the latter refuse to help others, it would be remembered and become a blot on that farmer’s reputation as a good neighbor:

Great prestige attaches to a good reputation as a neighbor. Everyone would like to be in credit with everybody and those who show reluctance to lend a hand when they are asked to do so soon acquire a bad reputation which is commented on by innuendo. Those who fail to return the favor done to them come to be excluded from the system altogether. Those of good repute can be sure of compliance on all sides.¹¹

Even in the rural areas, there are those who do more favors than receive favors, and these become local patrons of a sort. This situation bears remarkable resemblance to the discussion of reciprocity among farmers in Hesiod’s Works and Days, written in the sixth century b.c.¹²

Pitt-Rivers advances that another motive for helping when help is needed is as “insurance” against the time when one might need to rely on the neighbors to get through a difficult crisis, to which “a single family farm is particularly vulnerable.”¹³ Seneca had seen this as an essential aspect of the system of reciprocity two millennia before: “How else do we live in security if it is not that we help each other by an exchange of good offices? It is only through the interchange of benefits that life becomes in some measure equipped and fortified against sudden disasters. Take us singly, and what are we? The prey of all creatures” (Ben. 4.18.1). We may conclude then, that those who left us no direct testimony—namely, peasant farmers and local artisans—also entered into relationships of reciprocity and sought to fulfill their part of the relationship nobly as the means both to local honor and security.

Public Benefaction

Personal patronage was not the only form of beneficence in the ancient world. Most public entertainments, whether religious festivals and feasts or local celebrations of athletic competitions, were “given” to the inhabitants of the city by wealthy benefactors. Moreover, most civic improvements, whether temples or theaters, pavements or porticoes, were also the gifts either of local elites or wealthy persons abroad who wished to confer benefits on a famous city (as Herod the Great provided the money for buildings not only in Jerusalem but also Rhodes, Athens and Sparta).¹⁴ In times of crisis, wealthy benefactors would come to the aid of the public, providing, for example, famine or disaster relief. Public benefaction was an arena open to both men and women of means.¹⁵

Such public gifts did not make every recipient a client of the benefactor,¹⁶ for lines were drawn between personal patronage and public munificence, but the public as a whole was nevertheless still indebted to that benefactor.¹⁷ In general, the response of the grateful city would consist of the conferral of public honors (like crowning at a prominent public festival, special seating at games) and the provision for a permanent commemoration of the generosity of the giver in the form of honorary inscriptions or, in special cases, statues. Inscriptions across the Mediterranean from North Africa to Greece, Asia and Egypt bear witness to the phenomenon of both personal patronage and public benefaction.¹⁸

The most powerful figures in the ancient world, namely, kings and emperors, frequently granted public benefactions to cities or even whole provinces in addition to the numerous personal benefactions by which they bound to themselves their client base. Relief from oppression, whether from an extortionate local official, from pirates on the sea or from a hostile force from outside would be a benefaction especially well-suited for an emperor to give. Pardon for crimes committed was reserved for kings and emperors to grant, who were also credited with doing the broad public a great service if peace and stability characterized their rule. The extreme form of response to benefactions from rulers was the offering of worship—those who gave gifts usually besought from the gods were judged to be worthy of the honors offered the gods. When the Athenians greeted their general, Demetrius Poliorketes, who had just freed them from foreign domination in 307 b.c., they used cultic language: “Other deities are far away, or have no ears, or are not, or have no care for us at all: but you we see here present—not shaped by wood or stone but in reality. And so to you we pray: First bring us peace, for you possess the power.”¹⁹

A similar picture emerges from the first-hand observations of Nicolaus of Damascus concerning the origin of the cult of Augustus: “All people address him [as Augustus] in accordance with their estimation of his honor, revering him with temples and sacrifices across islands and continents, organized in cities and provinces, matching the greatness of his virtue and repaying his benefactions towards them.”²⁰ The “peace of Augustus” was viewed as relief of divine proportions, and the return of thanks must be equal to the gift. Augustus thus succeeded in the East to the tradition of according divine honors to benefactors, generals and, during the Roman Republic, governors. The imperial cult also provided people in the province with a bridge of access to their ultimate patron. Provinces sought imperial aid (benefactions) through the mediation of the priests of the imperial cult, who both officiated in the province and became the official ambassadors to Rome on behalf of the province. Sending the priests of imperial cultic honors to Rome put the province in the most positive light. The priest was an image of the province’s uncompromising loyalty and gratitude, so that the province could be assured of ongoing favor.

Patronage in Greek and Roman Settings

Patronage is not strictly a Roman phenomenon, even though our richest discussions of the institution were written by Romans (Cicero in De Offic. and Seneca in Ben.). Both public benefaction and personal patronage are well-attested in both Greek and Roman cultures. Only during the time of the Athenian democracy is there an attempt to move away from patronage as the basic model for structuring society.²¹ From before the democratic revolution of 462 b.c., we have the example of Cimon of Athens, whose provision of personal patronage to needy suppliants as well as gifts to the city in general win him the status of “first citizen” and result in his election to the generalship for seventeen consecutive years.²² Throughout the period of the democracy itself, the avoidance of open patronage applies only between citizens, whose freedom should not be compromised out of a need to gratify a potential or past benefactor. The noncitizens (called “metics,” or “resident aliens”) are required to have a sponsor or patron (a prostatēs) who would provide access to the institutions of the city for the noncitizen.²³

By the time that Philip of Macedon and his son, Alexander, rise to prominence, however, personal patronage is once again openly spoken of in Athens. Demosthenes, an orator who died in 322 b.c., speaks openly both of his public benefactions (fortification of the city walls), which he deems worthy of gratitude and public honor, and his private acts of patronage to the distressed and financially challenged (De Corona 268–69, 299). Aristotle speaks in his Nicomachian Ethics (1163b1-5, 12–18) of the type of friendship in which one partner receives the larger share of honor and acclamation, and the other partner the larger share of material assistance—clearly a reference to personal patronage between people of unequal social status. By the first century a.d., the attempt at Athens to restrict personal patronage is but a distant memory, an exception to an unobjectionable rule.

Greek and Latin authors from the Hellenistic and Roman periods express a shared ethos where friendship, patronage and public benefaction are concerned. Aristotle and Seneca, Dio Chrysostom and Cicero, agree concerning what guidelines the giver and recipient should follow. Moreover, as the Greek world is transformed into the provinces of the Roman Empire, Greek cities become acquainted with patronage as the means by which the whole city gets connected with the center of power and resources, namely, the emperor and Senate of Rome. A Greek statesman like Plutarch, instructing aspiring politicians, discusses the advisability of having well-placed friends who can support and advance one’s political agenda (Mor. 814C). The main difference between personal patronage in the Greek and Roman cultures is the formalized etiquette surrounding the latter in the morning greeting of the patron by his or her clients. The salutatio displays the relationship of patron and clients visibly and publicly, a display that would continue throughout the day as some number of clients accompany the patron in public places, displaying the patron’s prestige and power with a visible entourage at home and in the public spaces.²⁴ With this one difference (a difference that disappears as Roman customs spread throughout their empire), patronage and benefaction proceed in Greek and Roman circles with much the same ethos and expectations.

The Social Context of Grace

We have looked closely and at some length at the relationships and activities that mark the patron-client relationship, friendship and public benefaction, because these are the social contexts in which the word grace (charis) is at home in the first century a.d. Today, grace is primarily a religious word, heard only in churches and Christian circles. It has progressed through millennia of theological reflection, developments and accretions (witness the multiplication of terms like “justifying grace,” “sanctifying grace” and “prevenient grace” in Christian theology, systematizing the order of salvation). For the actual writers and readers of the New Testament, however, grace was not primarily a religious, as opposed to a secular, word. Rather, it was used to speak of reciprocity among human beings and between mortals and God (or, in pagan literature, the gods). This single word encapsulated the entire ethos of the relationships we have been describing.

First, grace was used to refer to the willingness of a patron to grant some benefit to another person or to a group. In this sense, it means “favor,” in the sense of “favorable disposition.” In Aristotle’s words (Rhetoric 2.7.1 [1385a16-20]), “Grace [charis] may be defined as helpfulness toward someone in need, not in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the helper himself [or herself], but for that of the person helped.”²⁵ In this sense, the word highlights the generosity and disposition of the patron, benefactor or giver. The same word carries a second sense, often being used to denote the gift itself, that is, the result of the giver’s beneficent feelings.²⁶ Many honorary inscriptions mention the graces (charitas) of the benefactor as the cause for conferring public praise, emphasizing the real and received products of the benefactor’s goodwill toward a city or group.²⁷ Finally, grace can be used to speak of the response to a benefactor and his or her gifts, namely, “gratitude.” Demosthenes provides a helpful window into this aspect in his De Corona as he chides his audience for not responding honorably to those who have helped them in the past: “But you are so ungrateful (acharistos) and wicked by nature that, having been made free out of slavery and wealthy out of poverty by these people, you do not show gratitude (charin echeis) toward them but rather enriched yourself by taking action against them” (De Corona 131).²⁸ Grace thus has very specific meanings for the authors and readers of the New Testament, meanings derived primarily from the use of the word in the context of the giving of benefits and the requiting of favors.

The fact that one and the same word can be used to speak of a beneficent act and the response to a beneficent act suggests implicitly what many moralists from the Greek and Roman cultures stated explicitly: grace must be met with grace; favor must always give birth to favor;²⁹ gift must always be met with gratitude. An image that captured this for the ancients was the picture of three goddesses, the three “Graces,” dancing hand in hand in a circle. Seneca’s explanation of the image is most revealing:

Some would have it appear that there is one for bestowing a benefit, one for receiving it, and a third for returning it; others hold that there are three classes of benefactors—those who receive benefits, those who return them, those who receive and return them at the same time.… Why do the sisters hand in hand dance in a ring which returns upon itself? For the reason that a benefit passing in its course from hand to hand returns nevertheless to the giver; the beauty of the whole is destroyed if the course is anywhere broken, and it has most beauty if it is continuous and maintains an uninterrupted succession.… Their faces are cheerful, as are ordinarily the faces of those who bestow or receive benefits. They are young because the memory of benefits ought not to grow old. They are maidens because benefits are pure and holy and undefiled in the eyes of all; [their robes] are transparent because benefits desire to be seen. (Ben. 1.3.2–5; LCL, emphasis added)

From this and many other ancient witnesses, we learn that there is no such thing as an isolated act of grace. An act of favor and its manifestation (the gift) initiate a circle dance in which the recipients of favor and gifts must “return the favor,” that is, give again to the giver (both in terms of a generous disposition and in terms of some gift, whether material or otherwise). Only a gift requited is a gift well and nobly received. To fail to return favor for favor is, in effect, to break off the dance and destroy the beauty of the gracious act.

In what follows, we will look closely at how Greek and Roman authors conceived of well-executed grace exchanges, first in relation to the giver and then in relation to the recipient.

Showing Favor (Grace)

Generosity was a highly valued characteristic in people in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Most public works, public festivals and entertainments, and private aid to individuals or groups came through the willingness of generous people of means to spend their wealth on others. Because their assistance was essential in so many ways, there were strong social sanctions against violating the expectations of gratitude (see below), violations that threatened to cut off the source of aid or redirect that aid in more promising directions.

There were also clear codes of conduct for the giver as well, guidelines that sought to preserve, in theory at least, the nobility and purity of a generous act. First, ancient ethicists spoke much of the motives that should guide the benefactor or patron. Aristotle’s definition of grace in its first sense (the generous disposition of the giver), quoted above, also underscores the fact that a giver must act not from self-interest but in the interest of the recipient.³⁰ If the motive is primarily self-interest, any sense of “favor” is nullified and with it the deep feelings and obligations of gratitude (Aristotle Rhetoric 1385a35–1385b3). The Jewish sage Yeshua Ben Sira lampoons the ungraceful giver (Sir 20:13–16). This character gives not out of the virtue of generosity but in anticipation of profit, and if the profit does not come immediately, he considers his gifts to be thrown away and complains aloud about the ingratitude of the human race. Seneca also speaks censoriously of this character: “He who gives benefits imitates the gods, he who seeks a return, money-lenders” (Ben. 3.15.4).³¹ The point is that the giver, if he or she gives nobly, never gives with an eye to what can be gained from the gift.³² The giver does not give to an elderly person so as to be remembered in a will, or to an elected official with a view to getting some leverage in politics. Such people are investors, not benefactors or friends.

Gifts are not to be made with a view to having some desired object given in return, but gifts were still to be made strategically. According to Cicero, good gifts badly placed are badly given (De Offic. 2.62). The shared advice of Isocrates, Ben Sira, Cicero and Seneca is that the giver should scrutinize the person to whom he or she is thinking of giving a gift.³³ The recipient should be a virtuous person who will honor the generosity and kindness behind the gift, who would value more the continuing relationship with the giver than any particular gift. Especially poignant is Isocrates’ advice: “Bestow your favors on the good; for a goodly treasure is a store of gratitude laid up in the heart of an honest man. If you benefit bad men, you will have the same reward as those who feed stray dogs; for these snarl alike at those who give them food and at the passing stranger; and just so base men wrong alike those who help them and those who harm them” (Ad Dem. 29, LCL). An important component in deciding who will be a worthy recipient of such gifts is the person’s track record of how he or she has responded to other givers in the past.³⁴ Has the person responded nobly, with gratitude? He or she will probably be worthy of more favors. A reputation for knowing how to be grateful was, in effect, the ancient equivalent of a credit rating.

Giving without advance calculation of a return and selecting one’s beneficiaries carefully may appear to be contradictory principles. When Seneca writes that gifts given to the ungrateful are “thrown away” (Ben. 1.1.2), he may appear to intensify this contradiction. Aware of this potential misunderstanding, he writes: “I choose a person who will be grateful, not one who is likely to make a return, and it often happens that the grateful man is one who is not likely to make a return, while the ungrateful man is one who has made a return. It is to the heart that my estimate is directed” (Ben. 4.10.4). The noble giver evaluates his or her potential beneficiaries not in light of any actual return they might make—not in terms of the value of the gifts or services they might give in exchange in the future—but in light of the disposition of the recipient’s heart toward feeling gratitude, appreciating and remembering the gift and making whatever return the person is able, given his or her means. The patron’s motive must be kept pure, that is, not sowing benefits for the sake of material gains or other temporal advantages, but looking only for the grateful heart irrespective of the means possessed by the potential recipient to be of service in the future.

The benefactor’s favor was not, however, to be limited by the potential beneficiary’s virtue (or lack thereof). Even while advising his readers to channel their resources first toward the deserving (that is, those who have given signs of a grateful character),³⁵ Seneca urges givers to remain as free as the gods in terms of their generosity. Benefaction was the initiation of the dance of grace, an action rather than a response, a perfect and self-contained act rather than an act that depended on anything beyond the virtue and goodwill of the giver. Therefore, Seneca advises his readers, the human benefactor should imitate the gods, by whose design “the sun rises also upon the wicked” and “rains” are provided for both good and bad (Ben. 4.26.1, 4.28.1), who follow the leading of their own generous and kind hearts in their dealings with human beings, both the grateful and the sacrilegious (Ben. 1.1.9).

A virtuous human patron or benefactor, then, will be willing to grant public benefactions even though he or she knows that the ingrates will also derive enjoyment from the games, the public meals, the construction of a new theater. Seneca’s lofty code for givers, however, applies also to personal patronage. A generous-hearted patron may even choose a known ingrate—even someone who has previously failed to show gratitude for a previous gift granted by this same patron—to receive a favor (Ben. 1.10.5; 7.31.2, 4). Repeated acts of kindness, like a farmer’s ongoing labor over difficult soil, may yet awaken a slow heart to show gratitude and respond nobly (Ben. 7.32).

Responding with Grace

As we have already seen in Seneca’s allegory of the three Graces, an act of favor must give rise to a response of gratitude—grace must answer grace, or else something beautiful will be defaced and turned into something ugly. According to Cicero, while initiating a gift was a matter of choice, gratitude was not optional for honorable people, but rather an absolute duty (De Offic. 1.47–48). Receiving a favor or kindness meant incurring very directly a debt or obligation to respond gratefully, a debt on which one could not default.³⁶ Seneca stresses the simultaneity of receiving a gift and an obligation: “The person who intends to be grateful, even while she or he is receiving, should turn his or her thoughts to returning the favor” (Ben. 2.25.3). Indeed, the virtuous person could seek to compete with the giver in terms of kindnesses and favor, trying not merely to return the favor but to return it with interest like the fruitful soil that bears crops far more abundant than the seeds that were scattered on it.³⁷

Gratitude toward one’s patrons (or toward public benefactors) was a prominent example in discussions of what it meant to live out the cardinal virtue of justice, a virtue defined as giving to each person his or her due. It ranked in importance next to showing the gods, those supreme benefactors, the proper honor and services.³⁸ Failure to show gratitude, however, was classed as the worst of crimes, being compared to sacrilege against the gods, since the Graces were considered goddesses.³⁹ It was censured as an injury against the human race, since ingratitude discourages the very generosity that is so crucial to public life and to personal aid. Seneca captures well the perilous nature of life in the first-century world and the need for firm tethers of friendship and patronage to secure one against mishap:

Ingratitude is something to be avoided in itself because there is nothing that so effectually disrupts and destroys the harmony of the human race as this vice. For how else do we live in security if it is not that we help each other by an exchange of good offices? It is only through the interchange of benefits that life becomes in some measure equipped and fortified against sudden disasters. Take us singly, and what are we? The prey of all creatures. (Ben. 4.18.1, LCL)⁴⁰

The ingrate committed a crime against the gods, humanity and ultimately himself, while the person who returned grace for grace embodied the highest virtues of piety and justice and was valued for contributing to the forward movement of the dance of grace on which so much depended.

Responding justly to one’s benefactors was a behavior enforced not by written laws but rather “by unwritten customs and universal practice,” with the result that a person known for gratitude would be considered praiseworthy and honorable by all, while the ingrate would be regarded as disgraceful.⁴¹ There was no law for the prosecution of the person who failed to requite a favor (with the interesting exception of classical Macedonia), but, Seneca affirmed, the punishment of shame and being hated by all good people would more than make up for the lack of official sanctions.⁴² Neglecting to return a kindness, forgetfulness of kindnesses already received in the past, and, most horrendous of all, repaying favor with insult or injury—these were courses of action to be avoided by an honorable person at all costs.⁴³ Rather, gifts were always to be remembered, commemorated first of all in the shrine of one’s own mind, and always to be requited with gratitude. The social sanctions of honor and shame, therefore, were important bulwarks for the virtue of gratitude and exerted considerable pressure in this direction.

Practically speaking, responding with gratitude was also reinforced by the knowledge that if an individual has needed favors in the past, he or she most assuredly will still need favors and assistance in the future. As we have seen already, a reputation for gratitude was the best credit line a person could have in the ancient world, since patrons and benefactors, when selecting beneficiaries, would seek out those who knew how to be grateful. Even though benefactors might be moved to risk giving to a person whose reputation had been marred by ingratitude, since most benefactors’ resources were limited, they would seek out the worthy recipients first.⁴⁴ The person who “requites favors,” then, is commended by Ben Sira for his foresight, since he will not fail to find aid when needed in the future (Sir 3:31).

An extreme yet surprisingly common example of showing gratitude with an eye to future favors came to expression in honorary inscriptions. Several inscriptions proclaiming honors to public benefactors contained in Danker’s collection make explicit the motive behind the inscription, namely, “that all might know that we express appropriate appreciation to those who…make us the beneficiaries of their philanthropies,” and that other benefactors may confer their benefits in the assurance that “they shall receive appropriate gratitude” as well.⁴⁵ Seeing that these cities or groups provided for the honor and remembrance of their benefactors, other benefactors would be encouraged to channel their resources in their direction as well (even as the honored benefactor would be positively inclined to continue his or her beneficence).⁴⁶ The opposite would also be true, namely that those who have shown ingratitude to their patrons or benefactors should expect to be excluded from future favors, both by the insulted benefactor and by other potential patrons as well. Just as no one goes back to a merchant who has been discovered to cheat customers, and as no one entrusts valuables to the safekeeping of someone who has previously lost valuables entrusted to him or her, so “those who have insulted their benefactors will not be thought worthy of a favor (charitos axious) by anyone” (Dio Chrysostom Or. 31.38, 65).

As we consider gratitude, then, we are presented with something of a paradox. Just as the favor was freely bestowed, so the response must be free and uncoerced. Nonetheless, that response is at the same time necessary and unavoidable for an honorable person who wishes to be known as such (and hence the recipient of favor in the future). Gratitude is never a formal obligation. There is no advance calculation of or agreed on return for the gift given.⁴⁷ Nevertheless the recipient of a favor knows that he or she stands under the necessity of returning favor when favor has been received. The element of exchange must settle into the background, being dominated instead by a sense of mutual favor, of mutual goodwill and generosity.⁴⁸

Manifestations of Gratitude

“Returning a favor” could take on many forms, depending on the nature of the gift and the relative economic and political clout of the parties concerned. Cities or associations would show their gratitude for public benefactions by providing for the public recognition (honoring and increasing the fame) of the giver and often memorializing the gift and the honors conferred by means of a public inscription or, in exceptional cases, a statue of the giver or other monument.⁴⁹

Even in personal patronage (in which the parties are not on equal footing), however, public honor and testimony would comprise an important component of a grateful response. An early witness to this is Aristotle, who writes in his Nicomachean Ethics that “both parties should receive a larger share from the friendship, but not a larger share of the same thing: the superior should receive the larger share of honor, the needy one the larger share of profit; for honor is the due reward of virtue and beneficence” (Nic. Eth. 8.14.2 [1163b1-5]). Such a return, though of a very different kind, preserves the friendship. Seneca emphasizes the public nature of the testimony that the recipient of a patron’s gifts is to bear. Gratitude for, and pleasure at, receiving these gifts should be expressed “not merely in the hearing of the giver, but everywhere” (Ben. 2.22.1): “The greater the favour, the more earnestly must we express ourselves, resorting to such compliments as:…‘I shall never be able to repay you my gratitude, but, at any rate, I shall not cease from declaring everywhere that I am unable to repay it’ ” (Ben. 2.24.4). Increasing the fame of the giver is part of the proper return for a benefit, and a gift that one is ashamed to acknowledge openly in the hearing of all, one has no business accepting in the first place (Ben. 2.23.1).

These dynamics are also at work in Jewish literature with regard to formulating a proper response to God’s favors, that is, with regard to answering the psalmist’s question “What shall I give back to the Lord for all his gifts to me?” (Ps 116:12, my translation). The psalmist answers his own question by enumerating the public testimonies he will give to God’s fidelity and favor. Similarly, after God brings a happy ending to the many dangers and trials faced by Tobit and his family, the angel Raphael enjoins such public testimony to honor God as a fitting response: “Bless God and acknowledge him in the presence of all the living for the good things he has done for you.… With fitting honor declare to all people the deeds of God. Do not be slow to acknowledge him.… Reveal the works of God, and with fitting honor…acknowledge him” (Tob 12:6–7).⁵⁰

A second component of gratitude that comes to expression in relationships of personal patronage or friendship is loyalty to the giver, that is, showing gratitude and owning one’s association with the giver even when fortunes turn, and it becomes costly. Thus Seneca writes about gratitude that “if you wish to make a return for a favor, you must be willing to go into exile, or to pour forth your blood, or to undergo poverty, or,…even to let your very innocence be stained and exposed to shameful slanders” (Ep. Mor. 81.27). Wallace-Hadrill writes that despite the fact that, in theory, clients were expected to remain loyal to their patrons, in practice, if a patron fell into political trouble or if his or her fortunes began to wane, the patron’s entourage of clients would evaporate.⁵¹ Such practice, however, was contrary to the ideal of gratitude, according to which a person would stand by (or under) the person’s patron and continue to live gratefully even if it cost the individual the future favors of others, or brought him or her into dangerous places and worked contrary to self-interest.⁵² The person who disowned or dissociated himself or herself from a patron because of self-interest was an ingrate.

It is worth noting at this point that faith (Lat fides; Gk pistis) is a term also very much at home in patron-client and friendship relations, and had, like grace, a variety of meanings as the context shifted from the patron’s faith to the client’s faith. In one sense, faith meant “dependability.” The patron needed to prove reliable in providing the assistance he or she promised to grant. The client needed to “keep faith” as well, in the sense of showing loyalty and commitment to the patron and to his or her obligations of gratitude.⁵³ A second meaning is the more familiar sense of “trust”: the client had to trust the goodwill and ability of the patron to whom the client entrusted his or her need, that the patron would indeed perform what he or she promised,⁵⁴ while the benefactor would also have to trust the recipients to act nobly and make a grateful response. In Seneca’s words, once a gift was given there was “no law [that can] restore you to your original estate—look only to the good faith (fidem) of the recipient” (Ben. 3.14.2).

The principal of loyalty meant that clients or friends would have to take care not to become entangled in webs of crossed loyalties. Although a person could have multiple patrons,⁵⁵ to have as patrons two people who were enemies or rivals of one another would place one in a dangerous position, since ultimately the client would have to prove loyal and grateful to one but disloyal and ungrateful to the other. “No one can serve two masters” honorably in the context of these masters being at odds with one another, but if the masters are “friends” or bound to each other by some other means, the client should be safe in receiving favors from both.

Finally, the grateful person would look for an occasion to bestow timely gifts or services. If we have shown forth our gratitude in the hearing of the patron and borne witness to the patron’s virtue and generosity in the public halls, we have “repaid favor [the generous disposition of the giver] with favor [an equally gracious reception of the gift],” but for the actual gift one still owes an actual gift (Seneca Ben. 2.35.1). Once again, people of similar authority and wealth (“friends”) can exchange gifts similar in kind and value. Clients, on the other hand, can offer services when called on to do so or when they see the opportunity arise. Seneca especially seeks to cultivate a certain watchfulness on the part of the person who has been indebted, urging him or her not to try to return the favor at the first possible moment (as if the debt weighed uncomfortably on the person’s shoulders), but to return the favor in the best possible moment, the moment in which the opportunity will be real and not manufactured (Ben. 6.41.1–2). The point of the gift was not, after all, to obtain a return but to create a bond that “binds two people together.”

The Dance of Grace

The careful reader may already have observed some apparent contradictions in the codes of grace. Rather than make the system fall apart, these contrary principles result in a creative tension between the mindset that must guide the giver and the mindset that should direct the recipient of favor. As a pair of dancers must sometimes move in contrary directions for the dance to be beautiful (and to avoid crashing into one another), so the patron and client are each given his or her own chart of steps to follow in the dance of grace. Sometimes they move together, sometimes in contrary ways, all for the sake of preserving the freedom and nobility of the practice of giving and receiving benefits. Seneca is especially fond of bringing contrasting rules of conduct together, only to tell each party to forget that it knows, in effect, what the other party is thinking. Clients are advised to think one way, patrons another—and if these mindsets get mixed up or crossed, the beauty of reciprocity, the gracefulness of grace, becomes irreparably marred.

Speaking to the giver, Seneca says that “the book-keeping is simple—so much is paid out; if anything comes back, it is gain, if nothing comes back, there is no loss. I made the gift for the sake of giving” (Ben. 1.2.3). While the giver is to train his or her mind to give no thought to the return and never to think a gift lost, the recipient is never allowed to forget his or her obligation and the absolute necessity of making a return (Ben. 2.25.3; 3.1.1). The point is that the giver should wholly be concerned with giving for the sake of the other, while the recipient should be concerned wholly with showing gratitude to the giver. If the recipient should say to himself, “She gave it for the sake of giving; I owe nothing,” then the dance has turned sour, and one partner has trampled the other’s toes.

Many other examples of this double set of rules exist. The giver is told “to make no record of the amount,” but the recipient is “to feel indebted for more than the amount” (Seneca Ben. 1.4.3); the giver should forget that the gift was given, the recipient should always remember that the gift was received (Ben. 2.10.4; see Demosthenes De Corona 269); the giver is not to mention the gift again, while the recipient is to publicize it as broadly as possible (Ben. 2.11.2). In cases where a recipient has taken great pains to try to return a benefit, being watchful and thoughtful for the opportunity but simply not finding a way to help one who is far greater than himself, “the one should consider that he has received the return of his benefit, while the other should know that he has not returned it; the one should release the other, while the other should feel himself bound; the one should say, ‘I have received,’ the other, ‘I still owe’ ” (Ben. 7.16.1–2).

The most dramatic contradiction exists between the denial that the ingrate can again hope to receive favors (Dio Chrysostom Or. 31.38, 65) and the exhortation of patrons to imitate the gods and give even to the unworthy and ungrateful (Seneca Ben. 1.10.5; 7.31.2, 4; 7.32). What accounts for the contradiction? Simply, the different audience and situation. Seneca speaks to patrons in these passages, discoursing about the loftiest ideals for generosity. Dio speaks to recipients of favor, urging them to cease a specific practice that shows ingratitude toward their benefactors. The recipients of favor should not dwell too long on the possibility (perhaps even the obligation) of benefactors giving even to the ingrate, lest this lead them to excuse themselves from showing gratitude (especially when costly) and to presume on the favor of the giver, favor that is never to be taken for granted. The patron should not, on the other hand, dwell too long on the impossibility of restoring the ingrate to favor, for different considerations are to guide him or her, namely generosity even to the undeserving.

Such mutually contradictory rules (forgetting and remembering, being silent and bearing witness, and the like) are constructed so as to keep the giver’s mind wholly on what is noble about patronage (generosity, acting in the interest of others) and the recipient’s mind wholly on what is noble for the client (namely making a full and rich return of gratitude for favors conferred). They are devised in order to sustain both parties’ commitment to acting nobly within the system of reciprocity. The ultimate goal for these ancient ethicists, after all, was not perfect systematization but virtuous conduct.

Grace, then, held two parties together in a bond of reciprocal exchanges, a bond in which each party committed to provide what he or she (or they) could to serve the needs or desires of the other. Public benefactions were frequent, particularly as a means by which local elites reaffirmed or increased their stature in the public eye. Such graces did not form long-lasting bonds of mutual commitment, but friendship relations and personal patronage did. In the case of social equals, this amounted to an exchange of like goods and services, always within the context of mutual loyalty and commitment. Between a social or political superior and his or her juniors, goods and opportunities were channeled down from above, and respect, public praise and loyal service were returned from below, again within the context of mutual commitment. Giving was to be done for the sake of generosity and bringing another benefit, and not with a view to material profit from returns. Receiving, however, was always to be accompanied by the desire and commitment to return grace for grace. Though often profitably compared to a dance that had to be kept “grace-full” in a circle of giving and receiving, these relationships were far more than ornamental or recreational (as dances are). They formed the bedrock of society, a person’s principal assurance of aid and support in an uncertain and insecure world.

¹ See Halvor Moxnes, “Patron-Client Relations and the New Community in Luke-Acts,” in The Social World of Luke-Acts, ed. Jerome H. Neyrey (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1991), pp. 242–44.

² John H. Elliott, “Patronage and Clientism in Early Christian Society,” Forum 3 (1987): 40.

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³ Bonds of reciprocity (whether between social equals, called “friends,” or between patrons and their clients) could continue across the generations. A child inherits, as it were, his or her parents’ networks of friends and enemies. Ben Sira bears witness: “He has left behind him an avenger against his enemies, and one to repay the kindness of his friends” (Sir 30:6), as does Isocrates: “It is fitting that a son should inherit his father’s friendships even as he inherits his estate” (Ad Dem. 2, LCL). See also Seneca Ben. 2.18.5: “I must be far more careful in selecting my creditor for a benefit than my creditor for a loan. For to the latter I shall have to return the same amount that I have received, and, when I have returned it, I have paid all my debt and am free; but to the other I must make an additional payment, and, even after I have paid my debt of gratitude, the bond between us still holds; for, just when I have finished paying it, I am obliged to begin again, and friendship endures; and, as I would not admit an unworthy man to my friendship, so neither would I admit one who is unworthy to the most sacred privilege of benefits, from which friendship springs” (LCL).

⁴ Jeremy Boissevain, Friends of Friends: Networks, Manipulators and Coalitions (New York: St. Martin’s, 1974), p. 148.

Oed. Oedipus the King

⁵ A fuller analysis of these can be found in Geoffrey E. M. de Ste. Croix, “Suffragium: From Vote to Patronage,” British Journal of Sociology 5 (1954): 33–48.

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⁶ See also Richard Saller, Personal Patronage Under the Early Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), p. 75 n. 194: “That the mediators would have received the credit and gratitude from the ultimate recipient of the favor is clear from the last sentence of Pliny Ep. 3.8, where Pliny secures a tribunate for Suetonius who passes it on to a relative, with the result that the relative is indebted to Suetonius who is in turn indebted to Pliny.”

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⁷ Ad Familiares 13, cited in Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, “Patronage in Roman Society: From Republic to Empire,” in Patronage in Ancient Society (London: Routledge, 1989), p. 77.

Ad M. Caes. Epistulae ad Marcum Caesarem

⁸ See Saller, Personal Patronage, pp. 8–11. Cicero provides this testimony: “Another strong bond of fellowship is effected by mutual interchange of kind services; and as long as these kindnesses are mutual and acceptable, those between whom they are interchanged are united by ties of enduring intimacy” (De Offic. 1.56, LCL).

⁹ Saller, Personal Patronage, pp. 8–11; see also Carolyn Osiek and David Balch, Families in the New Testament World (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), p. 49.

¹⁰ Julian Pitt-Rivers, “Postscript: The Place of Grace in Anthropology,” in John G. Peristiany and Julian Pitt-Rivers, Honor and Grace in Anthropology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), pp. 215–46.

¹¹ Ibid., p. 233.

¹² See especially lines 342–51; 401–4. These are ably discussed in Paul Millett, “Patronage and Its Avoidance in Classical Athens,” in Patronage in Ancient Society, pp. 15–48, especially pp. 19–20.

¹³ Pitt-Rivers, “Postscript,” p. 233.

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¹⁴ Josephus J.W. 1.21.11–12.

¹⁵ Osiek and Balch, Families, p. 50.

¹⁶ In Seneca’s words, “There is a great difference between not excluding a man and choosing him” (Ben. 4.28.5). Personal patronage involves a choice and a commitment to an ongoing relationship with a client.

¹⁷ See Seneca Ben. 6.19.2–5.

¹⁸ See Richard P. Saller, “Patronage and Friendship in Early Imperial Rome: Drawing the Distinction,” in Patronage in Ancient Society, ed. Andrew Wallace-Hadrill (London: Routledge, 1989), pp. 54–55; especially important is the collection of fifty-one inscriptions analyzed in Frederick W. Danker, Benefactor: Epigraphic Study of a Graeco-Roman and New Testament Semantic Field (St. Louis: Clayton Publishing, 1982).

¹⁹ Athenaeus Deipnosophists 6.253e-f; quoted in Danker, Benefactor, pp. 202–3.

²⁰ Quoted in Simon R. F. Price, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), p. 1.

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²¹ See Paul Millett, “Patronage and Its Avoidance in Classical Athens,” in Patronage in Ancient Society, ed. Andrew Wallace-Hadrill (London: Routledge, 1989), pp. 15–48.

²² Ibid., pp. 23–25.

²³ Ibid., p. 34.

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²⁴ Saller, “Patronage and Friendship,” pp. 57–58.

²⁵ See the discussion also in Hans Conzelman and Walther Zimmerli, “χάρις κτλ,” in TDNT 9:373–76.

²⁶ It is in its meaning as “gift” that grace also referred to the qualities of “poise,” “charm” or “beauty” and that the adjective graceful was, and is, applied to “charming, beautiful, skilled” people. In these cases graceful means “graced” or “gifted,” that is, “having received positive endowments from God or nature.”

²⁷ See the frequent occurrence of the plural graces (“gifts,” charitas) in the inscriptions collected in Danker, Benefactor (as well as the discussion on p. 328); Conzelman and Zimmerli (TDNT 9:375) also cite the customary formula: “On account of the gifts, the χάριτας, of so-and-so we proclaim these honors.” The Latin term beneficium is defined by Seneca as the equivalent of these first two meanings of charis (Ben. 2.34.5). The Latin word gratia, moreover, shares the three meanings wedded within the Greek charis.

²⁸ See, further, Conzelman and Zimmerli (TDNT 9:376): “In relation to the recipient of grace χάρις means ‘thanks’ to the benefactor.” The following passages also use the expression “have grace” in the sense of “show thanks”: Luke 17:9 and Hebrews 12:28; on “grace” as “thanks,” see the expression “thanks (charis) be to God” in Romans 6:17; 7:25; 2 Corinthians 8:16; 9:15.

²⁹ Hence the saying of Sophocles (Ajax 522): “Favor (charis) is always giving birth to favor (charin).”

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³⁰ Seneca allows the giving of a benefaction to be profitable both to the giver and the recipient, stressing that the recipient is not released from showing gratitude: “I am not so unjust as to feel under no obligation to a man who, when he was profitable to me, was also profitable to himself…nay, I am also desirous that a benefit given to me should even be more advantageous to the giver, provided that, when he gave it, he was considering us both, and meant to divide it between himself and me.… I am, not merely unjust, I am ungrateful, if I do not rejoice that, while he has benefitted me, he has also benefitted himself” (Ben. 6.13.1–2, LCL).

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³¹ Throughout his book, Seneca stresses that benefactors and friends give “for the sake of giving” and not for the sake of any return (Ben. 1.2.3; 4.29.3).

³² Pitt-Rivers points out that the typical responses to thanks in English, French, Italian and German-speaking countries involve some equivalent of “it was nothing” or “it was a pleasure,” sayings that, in denying that obligation has been incurred, stress the purity of the motive of the giver (without nullifying any obligation—in fact, only making that obligation felt more strongly by the recipient of favor since the motives are seen to have been pure). It is astounding that the moral ideal of giving “purely” for the sake of the recipient has persisted intact across the millennia (“Postscript,” pp. 217–18).

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³³ Ben Sira advises: “If you do a kindness, know to whom you do it, and you will be thanked for your good deeds” (Sir 12:1), advice that was remembered in the early church (see Didache 1.5–6) as a good rule for giving alms (an important form of benefaction, which, though personal, did not initiate the ongoing relationship of patron and client). Cicero affirms that “our love [a common way to refer to beneficence] must be shown to the worthy,” urging his reader to consider the potential recipient’s “character, his regard for us, his closeness to us, his usefulness to us in former services” when weighing the decision to give or not to give (De Offic. 1.45). The need to select beneficiaries and clients with great care is a frequent theme in Seneca (Ben. 1.1.2; 3.11.1; 3.14.1; 4.8.2).

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³⁴ Thus Isocrates: “Make no man your friend before inquiring how he has used his former friends; for you must expect him to treat you as he has treated them” (Ad Dem. 24, LCL).

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³⁵ See Seneca Ben. 1.10.5.

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³⁶ See Seneca Ben. 2.35.3–4; 5.11.5; 1.4.3 (which uses the expression “debt of gratitude”). Aristotle (Nic. Eth. 8.14.3 [1163b12-15]) also speaks of the necessity of repaying a gift, even though the kind of gifts may be vastly different (e.g., a “friend” of lesser means returns intangible goods like honor and fame for material goods received from a “friend” of greater means, i.e., a patron).

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³⁷ Cicero De Offic. 1.48; Seneca Ben. 1.4.3; see also Isocrates Ad Dem. 26: “Consider it equally disgraceful to be outdone by your enemies in doing injury and to be surpassed by your friends in going kindness (tais euergesiais)” (LCL). See also Pseudo-Phocylides (Sentences, 80): “It is proper to surpass benefactors with still more.”

³⁸ Thus Dio Chrysostom Or. 31.7. Ben Sira goes so far as to suggest that the requital of favors counts as an offering to God: “The one who returns a kindness (antapodidous charin) offers choice flour” (Sir 35:3).

³⁹ Seneca (Ben. 1.4.4) and Dio Chrysostom (Or. 31.37) both call ingratitude an assault on the honor of the three Graces, and thus a wicked act of sacrilege.

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⁴⁰ See also Cicero De Offic. 2.63.

⁴¹ Quote from Anaximenes (frequently attributed to Aristotle), Rhetorica ad Alexandrum 1421b3–1422a2. Seneca appeals to unanimity of human opinion in this regard: “What is so praiseworthy, upon what are all our minds so uniformly agreed, as the repayment of good services with gratitude?” (Ben. 4.16.3); “Not to return gratitude for benefits is a disgrace, and the whole world counts it as such” (Ben. 3.1.1).

⁴² Seneca Ben. 3.6.2; 3.17.1–12.

⁴³ On the shamefulness of forgetting benefactions, see Cicero De Offic. 2.63; Seneca Ben. 3.1.3; 3.2.1; on the even greater dangers of insulting one’s benefactors, see Aristotle Rhetoric 2.2.8 and Dio Chrysostom Or. 31. Such courses of action do not only destroy a patron’s benevolent disposition toward one—they can turn benevolence into virulent anger and the desire for revenge (see also Pitt-Rivers, “Postscript,” p. 236).

⁴⁴ See, again, Seneca Ben. 1.10.5; Isocrates Ad Dem. 24, 29. Wallace-Hadrill (“Patronage in Roman Society,” pp. 72–73) suggests, astutely in light of the perception of limited goods that marked the ancient world, that a patron’s power came not from being able to give whatever was needed to whomever asked but from the impossibility of bestowing favors on all who needed them. The finitude of beneficence made jockeying for limited resources all the more intense and enhanced the willingness of clients or would-be clients to vie with one another to attain the patron’s favor through services, honors and the like: “Their success in control lay as much in their power to refuse as in their readiness to deliver the goods.” This certainly played out in the scene of provinces and cities vying for a special place in the emperor’s eye, so that scarce resources would be diverted one way and not another. At this point an important distinction between human patronage and God’s patronage emerges, for the latter is proclaimed as the giver of boundless benefits to whomever asks (Lk 11:9–13; Jas 1:5).

⁴⁵ Five out of fifty-one inscriptions collected and translated by Danker contain these expressions or their near equivalents (see Danker, Benefactor, pp. 57, 77–79, 89–91, 152–53, 283–85). Cicero (De Offic. 2.70) also attests that showing gratitude to present patrons attracts the positive attention of potential future patrons as well.

⁴⁶ Dio Chrysostom bears witness to the truth of these dynamics: “For those who take seriously their obligations toward their benefactors and mete out just treatment to those who have loved them, all men regard as worthy of favour [charitos axious], and without exception each would wish to benefit them to the best of his ability”(Or. 31.7).

Or. Orationes

⁴⁷ Seneca Ben. 3.7.2

⁴⁸ Seneca Ben. 6.41.1–2. Once again, Pitt-Rivers’s observations of reciprocity in the modern Mediterranean (rural) context resonate deeply with their ancient counterpart: “A gift is not a gift unless it is a free gift, i.e., involving no obligation on the part of the receiver, and yet … it nevertheless requires to be returned” (“Postscript,” p. 233); “You cannot pay for a favor in any way or it ceases to be one, you can only thank, though on a later occasion you can demonstrate gratitude by making an equally ‘free’ gift in return” (ibid., p. 231).

⁴⁹ See Dio Chrysostom Or. 31.17, 20; 51.9. The first half of Danker, Benefactor, consists of translations and analyses of such honorary inscriptions. In Oration 66, Dio Chrysostom lampoons the “glory seeker” who spends all his fortune on public benefactions just to receive crowns, special seating and public proclamations—“lures for the simpletons.”

Nic. Eth. Nicomachean Ethics

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⁵⁰ Aristotle regards human patronage and the favor of the gods to be of one kind, different merely in terms of degree, with the result that, in the case of the gods, an individual cannot ever repay their favors and a person “is deemed virtuous if he pays them all the regard he can” (Nic. Eth. 8.14.3–4 [1163b12-18]).

Ep. Mor. Epistulae Morales

⁵¹ Wallace-Hadrill, “Patronage in Roman Society,” p. 82.

⁵² Seneca Ben. 4.20.2; 4.24.2.

⁵³ This is the sense of faith (pistis) in 4 Maccabees 13:13; 16:18–22. Seven Jewish brothers have the choice laid before them by the tyrant Antiochus IV: transgress Torah and assimilate wholly to the Greek way of life or die miserably. The brothers choose to brave the tortures, keeping “faith” with the God who gave the brothers the gift of life.

⁵⁴ See, again, 4 Maccabees 8:5–7, where King Antiochus urges the young Jewish brothers to trust, or have faith in, him for their future well-being and advancement, abandoning their current alliances and associations in favor of a new attachment to him.

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⁵⁵ See Saller, “Patronage and Friendship,” pp. 53–56.

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deSilva, D. A. (2000). Honor, patronage, kinship & purity: unlocking New Testament culture (pp. 94–119). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

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SEÁN FREYNE

GALILEE. The northernmost region of the land of Israel. Culturally and historically it is characterized by its close proximity to the coastal cultures of Canaan-Phoenicia on the W and NW and to the inland Syrian-Aramaean cultures on the E and NE. The character and culture of Galilee and its neighbors changed and developed with respect to their relative strengths, consequently the political and cultural borders between them fluctuated, and the direction and intensity of their mutual influences varied. To understand the culture and history of Galilee, one must first appreciate the interplay of these forces and cultures.
Since Galilee was geographically distant from Jerusalem, the seat of the Judaean palace, temple, archives, and scribes, events occurring there are rarely mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, and its history is therefore difficult to reconstruct. However, throughout the biblical period, and even after Galilee had become part of the Assyrian empire in 732 B.C.E., the beauty of its countryside—particularly the mountains that skirt it: Carmel, Tabor, Bashan, Hermon, and Lebanon—inspired the prophets and poets; there are references to it in similes and metaphors throughout the poetic books of the Bible (e.g., Cant 4:8–15; 7:5–6; Pss 42:7; 89:13; 133:3; Isa 33:9; 35:2; Jer 46:18; 50:19; Neh 1:4). On the other hand, because Galilee was the location for much of the ministry of Jesus, for the military activity of the Jewish historian Josephus, and for post-70 C.E. Palestinian Judaism, it is mentioned prominently in the NT (especially the Gospels), in the writings of Josephus, and in early rabbinic writings.

PREHELLENISTIC GALILEE

A. Geography
1. Name and Borders
2. Regional Subdivisions
3. Topographical Features
B. The Bronze Ages
1. Chalcolithic Period
2. Early Bronze Age
3. Middle Bronze Age
4. Late Bronze Age
C. The Late Bronze-Early Iron Age Transition
D. The Settlement of the Galilean Tribes
1. Written Evidence
a. Primary Documents
b. Biblical
2. Archaeological Data
3. The Galilean Tribes
a. Issachar
b. Zebulun
c. Asher
d. Naphtali
e. Dan in the North
4. Summary
E. The Period of Samuel and the United Monarchy
F. The Divided Monarchy
G. Assyrian and Persian Rule

A. Geography
1. Name and Borders. The name Galilee appears possibly for the first time in Thutmoses III’s town list from the 15th cent B.C.E. as K-r-r (Simons 1937: list I, no. 80). In the OT the name appears as gālı̂l or gālı̂lâ 7 times (including 1 in corrupted state), once as “the land of Galilee” (1 Kgs 9:11), and twice as “Galilee of the Gentiles/peoples” (Isa 8:23; Josh 12:23 LXX B). The name is derived from Heb gll, a root associated with circularity, meaning “cylinder” or “rod” (Cant 5:14; Esth 1:6) or, by extension, “(circumscribed) district” (Josh 13:2; Joel 4:4). With the definite article, however, it always refers specifically to the N region (see Fig. GAL.01).
It is not clear whether Galilee is an abbreviation of “Galilee of the peoples” (cf. also 1 Macc 5:15, which may allude only to part of Galilee) or whether “of the peoples” is a later explanatory addition (Alt 1937: 53–54). In either case, the name almost certainly originated as a description of the N mountain region of the land of Israel encircled by valleys, the coastal plain to the W, the Jezreel to the S, the Jordan to the E, and the Litani to the N. Throughout history, these valleys were usually more densely populated than the central mountain area, often with peoples of diverse character and origin.
The OT references, although few, suggest that Galilee in the Bible coincided with the whole geographical region that the name implies, including “the twenty cities in the land of Galilee” presumably in the coastal plain (1 Kgs 9:11–13); Kadesh in the central mountains (Josh 20:7; 21:32; 1 Chr 6:61); and Ijon and Abel-beth-maachah in the N Jordan valley (2 Kgs 15:29; Alt 1937: 55–56). Zebulun and Naphtali appear as a synonym for “Galilee of the peoples” as a whole (Isa 8:23). From later sources (such as Josephus, the NT, and Talmudic literature) the same geographic picture emerges, although in some cases the surrounding valleys are included in Galilee while in others they are not. On occasion there is similar confusion between Galilee as a geographic region and as a political or administrative province. For instance, the Mishnaic definition of the border between Samaria and Galilee at Kefar ’Otnay (Lejjun; M.R. 167220) (m. Git. 7:7) implies the inclusion of the Jezreel Valley in Galilee, as does Josephus’ definition of this border at Ginaē (Jenin; M.R. 178207) (JW 3.3.4). However, Josephus’ definition of the S border of lower Galilee at Exaloth (Iksal; M.R. 180232) (JW 3.3.1) would exclude the Jezreel Valley from Galilee. Similarly, by placing Ptolemais/Acco on the “coast of the land of Galilee” (JW 2.10.2), Josephus includes the coastal plain within Galilee; yet elsewhere he states that the border of Upper Galilee and “the land of the Tyrians” is Baka (el-Buqeia/Peqein; M.R. 181264) (JW 3.3.1), which would exclude not only the coastal plain but also the hills W of Mt. Meron. Josephus’ definition of the N border of upper Galilee at Mērōth (Marus; M.R. 208272) is again clearly a political, not a geographical, border (Ilan 1984).

GAL.01. Area map of Galilee.

2. Regional Subdivisions. In the OT, the subdivision of Galilee is generally according to tribal territories (see Josh 19:10–48). Joshua 11:2, however, suggests that there were also geographic subdivisions: mountain region (hār), the “Arabah south (negeb) of Chinneroth,” the “lowland” (šĕpēlâ), and “Naphoth-Dor.” The “Shephelah” of Israel is mentioned only one other time in the Bible (Josh 11:16, “the mountain of Israel and its šĕpēlâ”). This division is clearly reminiscent of the traditional subdivision of Judah into hill country, Negeb, and Shephelah (Deut 1:7; Josh 10:14; 12:8; Judg 1:9, and esp. Josh 15:20–63); thus a familiar Judaean topography has been attributed superficially to Galilee. Nevertheless several suggestions have been made as to the position of the “lowland” or “Shephelah of Israel” (Josh 11:2, 16), the most recent (Finkelstein 1981) locating it in the W foothills of upper Galilee (i.e., modern S Lebanon).
In later literature, Galilee was subdivided by Josephus into Upper and Lower Galilee (JW 3.3.1), whereas the Mishnah divides it into Upper Galilee, Lower Galilee, and the valley (m. Šeb. 9:2). The places defining the border, Kefar Ḥananiya (m. Šeb. 9:2; Kafr ʿInan; M.R. 189258) and Beer-sheba (JW 3.3.1; Kh. Abu esh-Shiba; M.R. 189259) are less than 1 km apart, clearly indicating that upper Galilee began with the steep escarpment N of these 2 sites. Upper and lower Galilee as defined in the Mishnah and by Josephus are strikingly different, upper Galilee having a maximum height of 1,208 m above sea level (Mt. Meron) and lower Galilee a maximum of only 598 m (Mt. Kamon). Height is not all: There are also noticeable differences in morphology, climate, vegetation, and agriculture; consequently modern geographers continue to subdivide Galilee into upper and lower regions.
3. Topographical Features. The present morphology of Galilee is mainly the result of faulting and uplifting of tilted blocks of cretaceous rocks associated with the creation of the great Jordan valley rift. The most marked feature of the Galilean landscape is the great escarpment dividing upper from lower Galilee. The highest parts of upper Galilee are at its S extreme near this scarp; gradually it drops off to the N until it reaches the Litani river valley. The Cenomanian and Turonean rock formations exposed in the S of upper Galilee create a rugged landscape, which together with its height makes this one of the most forbidding and isolated regions of the country.
North-south faults in upper Galilee create additional geographical features, primarily the great block of Mt. Meron. The hills W of this block are cut by valleys that flow W to the coastal plain. This W region was the natural hinterland of the coastal plain, whose political centers were Acco and Tyre; when these were politically strong, their E borders extended as far as Mt. Meron. To the E of the Mt. Meron block the valleys flow S and SE, so that this region was always more open to influences from the S. An interesting and anomalous feature in the E region are the 2 small basaltic plateaus of Dalton and Alma (W of Hazor).
The hills of W lower Galilee consist of a series of blocks tilted by tectonic pressures from the N, consequently the S faces of the blocks are more abrupt escarpments, while the N faces gently slope down to the N, just like the main block of upper Galilee. In E lower Galilee the tectonic pressures were from the reverse direction (from the S), so that the abrupt escarpments face N and the gentle slopes extend S.
The Tosephta (t. Nida 3:11; but cf. b. Nida 20a) names from N to S the parallel valleys of W lower Galilee: the valley of Beit Ha-kerem; the valley of Sakhni; the Valley of Yoṭbat; and the valley of Ginosar. Also known in Talmudic literature is the valley of Beit Netofa (Klein 1939: 24), and “Yoṭbat” was either the name of its NW part or 1 of its 2 names. The last valley listed in the Tosephta—Ginosar (on the shore of Lake Kinneret)—is not included in lower Galilee according to m. Šebu. 9:2, and is there called simply “the valley” (note detailed description in JW 3.10.8). Yet another valley apparently S of that of Beit Netofa is called Rimon in y. Ḥag. 3:78d. Of the series of valleys of E Galilee apparently only the name of the northernmost (valley of Arbel) appears in Talmudic literature.
Galilee has the highest annual rainfall of any region of the land of Israel, reaching 1,000 mm in the highest mountains; only in the E region of lower Galilee, where the average annual rainfall is below 400 mm, is there any danger of drought. Consequently, there are several perennial streams and many springs in the region. In the mountains of upper Galilee temperatures reach below freezing point for some period every year, and some snow falls in most years; whereas in the valleys, and particularly in the Jordan valley, the winters are mild and summers hot. These differences allow for a great variety of agricultural crops and for regional variations in harvest times for the same crop or fruit.
A map showing the probable course of ancient routes in Galilee can be drawn based on the location of ancient sites, on the records of ancient military campaigns, and on itineraries and roads of later periods. There were international routes in the Acco coastal plain to the W, in the Jezreel valley to the S, and in the Jordan valley rift to the E of the mountains of Galilee. The main N–S watershed route through the hill country of Judah and Ephraim continued N past Megiddo, ran to the E of Mt. Tabor and of the Beit Netofa valley, and entered upper Galilee near Beer-sheba and Kefar Ḥananiya. Since they were located on the road near where travelers crossed into upper Galilee, it is logical that Josephus and the Mishnah would define the regional subdivision in terms of these 2 towns. This route then continued E of Mt. Meron to Gush Halav and NW to Tyre. A subsidiary of this route branched E to join the Jordan valley road N of Tiberias.
The 3 main E–W routes crossing the Galilean mountains were (from S to N) that associated today with the Way of Hauran from Acco via the Ibelin, Beit Netofa, and Rimon valleys (Oded 1971); the route through the Beit Ha-kerem valley; and the route from Tyre to Dan skirting the N edge of Upper Galilee, possibly associated with the “way of the Sea” (Rainey 1981: 146–48).

B. The Bronze Ages
1. Chalcolithic Period. Until recently it was suggested that the Ghassulian-Beersheba culture typical of the land of Israel in the Chalcolithic period did not penetrate as far N as Galilee, and that in this region the pottery Neolithic culture continued until it was replaced by the EB cultures (CAH 1/1: 530–34). However, recent surveys have recorded some sites with close affinities mainly to the Wadi Rabah culture and others that can be associated with the later Ghassul Beer-sheba cultures (Frankel and Gophna 1980). The presence of Chalcolithic sites on the Dalton basaltic plateau is particularly interesting in light of their close cultural affinities with the Chalcolithic cultures of the Golan Heights (also a region of basaltic rock).
2. Early Bronze Age. The early stages of the EB I (Proto-Urban) period were characterized in the N by grey, burnished pottery (Ezdrealdon ware) associated with intensive settlement in the valleys skirting Galilee; few sites were found in the mountains. In the later stages (characterized in this region by “band slip” [or “grain wash”] ware), settlement penetrated into the hills of lower Galilee. It was, however, only in the EB proper (EB II–III)—the period of urbanization—that the mountains of Galilee as a whole (including upper Galilee) were intensively settled (Broshi and Gophna 1983). Over 70 sites of this period are now known in the mountain regions, some of considerable size. The ceramic vessels typical of the region at this period are jars with everted rims (combed) and large platters, both of fine metallic ware. Also common in the region are seal impressions (Ben-Tor 1978). This first intensive occupation of the Galilean mountain areas came to an abrupt end and did not continue into EB IV, although the circumstances and the exact stage of this break remain a quandary.
In Galilee, as in other parts of the country, the main finds dating to the EB IV period are from burial caves apparently not associated with settlements. However, some small sites have been recorded in SE lower Galilee and in the Jordan and Beth-shean valleys (Zori 1977; Gal 1980), while in upper Galilee the only evidence of actual settlement is in several natural caves. The remarkable finds from the cave at Kedesh would appear to represent a cult center (Tadmor 1978). The ceramic repertoire in Galilee at this time has close affinities to that found in Syrian sites, where urban civilization continued throughout this period; this suggests that during EB IV, Galilee culturally was a peripheral extension of Syria.
3. Middle Bronze Age. In the MB III period of re-urbanization large cities were established in the valleys skirting the mountains of Galilee (Broshi and Gophna 1986), and a comparatively large number of them are listed in the Egyptian execration texts (Helck 1962: 49–66). The absence of Megiddo from these texts has been cited as evidence that this city was perhaps an Egyptian administrative center, while the others were at least potential enemies or rebels. The mountain regions of Galilee were less-densely populated in this period. In upper Galilee more sites have been recorded in the E than in the W, perhaps a result of the influence of the great urban center of Hazor.
4. Late Bronze Age (1550–1200 B.C.E.). The primary importance of the LB Age for biblical studies is that it is the precursor of the Iron Age, the stage during which the Israelites first emerged in Canaan. The cities of the period were the Canaanite cities of the Bible, and the “princes” of these cities the Canaanite kings mentioned in the Bible.
The archaeological evidence suggests a cultural decline in the LB Age. In sites that have been excavated, many structures from earlier periods (particularly fortifications) continued in use, while many others (such as temples and palaces) were rebuilt with only slight modification. Excavations and surveys show a reduction both in the number and size of settlements. The main centers of population remained in the valleys; but LB sites have been recorded in the mountain areas also: 15 in lower Galilee and 6 in upper Galilee (within modern Israel), fewer sites than in the previous period. There are also several cases of burials from this period which cannot be associated with any settlement (e.g. Hanita, Saphet), presumably evidence of a non-sedentary population.
However, Egyptian New Kingdom records provide us with data from which we can gain insight into the political and social structure and pattern of settlement in the region. The description of military campaigns, the topographical lists, and other documents (such as the El Amarna [EA] archives and Papyrus Anastasi A [ANET, 476–78] describing an imaginary journey through the region) allow us to draw up a reliable map of the Canaanite cities (Simons 1937; ANET, 242–43; CTAED). The locations of many places have been established without doubt, and the fact that others also appear in the description of Israelite tribal territories in Joshua 13–19 enables us at least to define the region in which they are situated.
From the Thutmoses III list, 6 cities in the N Jordan valley have been identified: Laish (#31), Hazor (#32), Chinnereth (#34), Beth-shean (#110), Abel (-beth-maachah) (#92), and Ijon (#95). In the Jezreel valley another 6 cities have been identified: Megiddo (#2), Shimron (#35), Geba-Shumen (#41), Taanach (#42), Ibleam (#43), and Jokneam (#113). In the coastal plain only Acco (#47) can be identified with certainty; however, 4 other cities also listed in the territory of Asher (Josh 19:25–26) are probably located somewhere in the S section of the Galilean coastal plain—Mishal (#39), Achshaph (#40), Allamelech (#45), and Helkath (#112). In lower Galilee 3 cities have been identified: Adami-Nekeb (#36), Kishion (#37), and Anaharath (#52). Aharoni (LBHG, 147–52) has suggested that some sites in upper Galilee can be associated with names on the Thutmoses III list, but these identifications are subject to revision. We learn of additional LB cities from other sources: Hannathon, a city in the portion of Zebulun (Josh 19:14), appears in two Amarna letters (EA 8 and 245), while Shunem in Issachar (Josh 19:18) is mentioned in another (EA 365). Yarmuth in Issachar (Josh 21:29) is mentioned on a Stele of Seti I (ANET, 255).
The Amarna letters from the 14th century B.C.E. provide important glimpses into the political and social structure of Galilee at this period. They indicate that the region consisted of city-states whose princes nominally were Egyptian officials; in practice, however, they were vassal monarchs involved in complicated relationships with one another. The ʿApiru mentioned in those letters were social and not ethnic groups, a class outside the law and the urban social structure; their connection with the Hebrews of the Bible remains a moot point. See HABIRU. Letters from some Galilean city-states were found in the Amarna archives, including Ṣur-ri (Tyre), Ak-ka (Acco), Ak-ša-pa (Achshaph), Ma-gid-da (Megiddo), Ta-aḫ-nu-ka (Taanach), Ša-am-ḫu-na (Shimron), and Ha-ṣu-ra (Hazor). In addition, we know that Beth-shean was an Egyptian garrison town. The Amarna archives were not retrieved in their entirety, and from earlier documents we know of other cities that were city-states (e.g., Geba-Shumen; ANET, 247). However, it is unlikely that there were many more than these, and although there could have been some changes in the political structure, it seems unlikely that all the cities in Thutmoses III list were independent city-states.
From the Amarna letters we learn in considerable detail of the activities of the Galilean princes. Zuratu, prince of Acco, and Indaruta, prince of Achshaph, aided Abdu-Heba of Jerusalem with 50 chariots (EA 366). Twice Rib-Addi of Byblos complained to the king of Egypt that Zuratu of Acco was unjustly receiving preferential treatment (EA 85, 88). The Babylonian king Baranburiash complained to the king of Egypt that one of his caravans had been pillaged at Hannathon in the land of Canaan by Sutatna, the son of Zuratu of Acco, and by Shum-Addi, the son of Balumeh, prince of Shimron (EA 8). Aiab of Ashteroth complained to the king of Egypt that the prince of Hazor had taken 3 of his towns (EA 364), while Abimilki of Tyre complained that the prince of Hazor was allied with Abimilki’s enemy, Zimreda of Sidon, and had “joined the ʿApiru” (EA 148). The affairs referred to most frequently in the Amarna letters are those connected with Labayu of Shechem, who, with the help of the ʿApiru, appears to have attempted to expand his influence as far N as Megiddo, as far S as Jerusalem, and as far W as Gezer. He was finally killed under mysterious circumstances in the region of Hannathon on the way to Egypt, but Zuratu of Acco, Biridiya of Megiddo, and Yashdata of Taanach all seem to have been involved in this affair (EA 245).
The picture of Galilee that emerges from the written and archaeological evidence is one of city-states situated in the valleys. Even important towns such as Hannathon and Anaharath (the capture of which is described in detail in the annals of Amenhotep II; ANET, 247), both situated on routes crossing lower Galilee, were apparently not city-states in their own right but dependencies of states located in the valleys. From the Labayu affair we learn of a large political organization in the central hill-country around Shechem, and from the letters of Rib-Addi of Byblos (EA 68–137) we learn of a similar organization (“Amurru”) further N under the control of ʿAbdi-Ashirta and his son Aziru. The fact that Abimilki of Tyre complains of the activities of the prince of Hazor suggests that their respective territories met somewhere in the mountains of upper Galilee. Abdi-Tirshi of Hazor was the only prince to call himself “king” in a letter to Pharaoh (EA 227), and he was also called this by Abimilki of Tyre (EA 148); it is therefore probable that he ruled large parts of the Galilean hill-country (Alt 1966: 155). The widespread influence of Acco beyond the immediate confines of the coastal plain is suggested by the fact that twice we hear of the prince of Acco being at Hannathon, that the king of Byblos regarded him as a competitor, and that on one occasion he sent aid as far as Jerusalem. Megiddo also seems to have enjoyed such widespread influence.

C. The Late Bronze-Early Iron Age Transition
The transition from the LB Age to the Iron Age is undoubtedly the period to be associated with the events portrayed in the books of Joshua, Judges, and the parts of the Pentateuch describing the Exodus and the Israelite entry into the land of Canaan. It was the time in which the Israelites first appear in history. However, the sparsity of extrabiblical (mainly Egyptian) sources, the varying critical interpretations of the biblical texts, and the ever-increasing amount of archaeological data have led different scholars to depict the historical events of the period in extremely different ways. Consequently, although research has reached the stage that the specific biblical texts associated with each site and each region demanded fresh examination in light of the new archaeological evidence, such an examination can only be intelligible within the wider context of the historical problems of the period in the country as a whole, and of the various historical hypotheses advanced to resolve these problems. See also ISRAEL, HISTORY OF.
Albright and others regarded the very marked archaeological and cultural break characteristic of the end of the LB Age (manifested both in the destruction of the Bronze Age cities and in the very different character of the civilization in the subsequent strata) as evidence corroborating the historicity of the conquest narrative (especially in the book of Joshua). Alt (1966), however, pointed out that the Egyptian New Kingdom evidence shows that the important Canaanite centers were located mainly in the valleys, whereas the biblical evidence reflects the Israelite settlement to have been mainly in the mountains. A similar picture is reflected in the list of cities not captured by the tribes (Judg 1:27–36), usually understood as representing the cities that became part of the kingdom only at the time of David. Those cities are also located in the lowlands, mainly in the Jezreel valley and coastal plain. This settlement pattern, when viewed in terms of the analogy of modern bedouin and other nomadic sedentarization, led Alt and others to conclude that the Israelite settlement was primarily a peaceful infiltration of the largely unsettled mountain regions, corroborating their view that the narratives in the book of Joshua were largely etiological, not historical.
Archaeological research in Galilee in the 1950’s brought these two approaches into sharper focus. In 1951–53 Aharoni carried out an archaeological survey in upper Galilee, recording many small hill-country settlements from the first stages of the Iron Age that had not been occupied in the LB Age (Aharoni 1956; 1957). These early Iron Age sites provided, for the first time, archaeological evidence that could be used to support Alt’s hypothesis of peaceful infiltration, a hypothesis that previously had been based only on written evidence. Excavations at Hazor in 1955–58, however, demonstrated that the 175-acre LB city (stratum XIII) was utterly destroyed and that the subsequent Iron Age settlement there (stratum XII) was an extremely meager hamlet (Yadin 1972: 108–9, 129–32). For some, this provided striking archaeological confirmation not only of the biblical conquest narrative as a whole, but particularly of the events as described in Joshua 11. Subsequent discussion of the historical interpretation of the evidence from the Hazor excavations and the upper Galilee survey focused primarily on the chronological problem: Did the foundation of the early Iron Age villages in upper Galilee precede the destruction of LB Hazor or were they established after this destruction (Yadin 1972: 129–32)?
At the same time, other scholars approached the problem of the Israelite “conquest” from a different angle suggesting a completely new approach as to the origins of the Israelite tribes. The picture of social unrest as evidenced in the Amarna letters (e.g., EA 248; 74; 89), and the fact that many aspects of early Iron Age culture were apparently derived from Bronze Age (ceramic, linguistic, and epigraphic) prototypes, led Mendenhall (1962) and later Gottwald (1979) to suggest that people who lived in the early Iron Age villages (such as those discovered in the upper Galilee survey) were not nomads who had come from the far-off desert fringe to settle down, but rather indigenous town-dwellers who had fled from the more densely populated areas controlled by the Canaanite cities into the more remote hill-country area. Finkelstein (AIS) has suggested that these villages were created by the sedentarization of pastoralists who previously had existed in symbiosis with the LB urban population but who found it necessary to create self-sufficient farming villages when the urban structures collapsed.
The ever-increasing archaeological evidence is modifying the picture by showing that the LB/Early Iron transition was much more variegated both culturally and chronologically than previously realized. The crucial question regarding the LB cities is the date of their destruction. Inscriptional remains provide rather precise termini post quem dates for the destruction of several LB cities. At Aphek/Antipatris the final LB occupation can be dated to early in the reign of Ramesses II (see ANTIPATRIS); at Lachish to that of Ramesses III; and at Megiddo certainly to that of Ramesses III and probably to that of Ramesses VI. These exact dates have led to attempts to reappraise the destruction dates of other LB cities. The destruction of stratum XIII at Hazor previously had been dated to ca. 1200 B.C.E. due to the presence of imported Mycenean IIIb vessels and the absence of those of Mycenean IIIc (Yadin 1972: 108–9). However, comparison of the locally made pottery with that from the governor’s palace at Aphek (which could be precisely dated) led Beck and Kochavi (1985: 33, 38) to suggest that the destruction of Hazor XIII should be dated instead to the beginning of the 13th cent. B.C.E. Thus, present evidence suggests that the LB cities were destroyed over an extended period of 150 years.
Early Iron Age sites similar to those Aharoni identified in Upper Galilee have been reported from more recent surveys in the hill-country regions of W Galilee (Frankel 1983: 222–23; 1986) and lower Galilee (Gal 1982a), as well as in the hill-country regions of Samaria and Judah. Just when these sites were established remains unclear, and although early 13th or even 14th century sherds have been found at one or two sites (Gal 1982a: 86), there is as yet no stratigraphical evidence proving that any of these sites were established earlier than the end of the 13th century B.C.E.
Examination of early Iron Age strata from excavated sites shows these to be far from uniform in character. Hazor stratum XII consists of foundations of huts or tents, cooking and similar installations, and stone lined storage pits (Yadin 1972: 129–20). Megiddo stratum VIb is a small village and Tel Abu Hawam IV a village of well-built square buildings divided into 1 large and 2 small rooms. At Beth-shean V we find temples, albeit different from those of previous strata. The diversity of these sites, all in the valleys of Galilee, suggest a variegated population in the region at this period.
The results of current research permit the following conclusions. The archaeological evidence as a whole suggests that the cultural break between the LB and early Iron periods (i.e., the physical change in size, character, and pattern of settlement that took place at this time) was one of the most marked in the ancient history of the S Levant. Examination of the details, however, indicates that the changes took place over a considerable period and that neither the date of the destruction of the LB cities nor the character of the early Iron Age settlements is uniform. This overall picture—and the discrepancies in details between the archaeological evidence and the biblical narratives (esp. concerning, for example, Arad, Jericho, and Ai)—tend to corroborate the nonhistorical character of some of these narratives. From the historical evidence we know of many agents active in the region during the 14th–12th centuries, among these were the Canaanite city-states themselves, the Egyptians (whose military campaigns are recorded throughout the period), the Sea Peoples, the Israelite tribes, and apparently other tribal groups hinted at in the Bible (Jebusites, Perizzites, Hivites, the biblical Hittites, Amorites, Gibeonites, etc.) of whose history we are almost completely ignorant. The destruction levels and the early Iron Age settlements are evidence of the activity of these diverse agents. Scholars continue to be occupied with the important task of unraveling the specific historical details.

D. The Settlement of the Galilean Tribes
1. Written Evidence. a. Primary Documents. The Amarna letters provide an overall picture of the political climate prevailing in the country prior to this period. Several specific events mentioned in these documents have been related to the early history of the Galilean tribes, particularly some activities associated with the ʿApiru. The early date of these events (ca. 1350 B.C.E.) and the clear realization that the term ʿApiru designates a social class rather than an ethnic group, however, raises difficulties as to how these may be related to the Israelite tribes.
Historically, not only did the Egyptian armies pass through Canaan in their campaigns against the N Hittite and Mitanni empires; we also know of punitive campaigns that the pharaohs took against Canaan itself, right up to the end of the 19th dynasty. Seti I campaigned in the N, capturing cities in the Jordan valley, the coastal plain, and the mountains of upper Galilee (LBHG, 166). Ramesses II also both passed through Galilee on his campaigns against the Hittites, and possibly also carried out punitive campaigns in the region itself (Helck 1962:222). The “Israel stele” of Merneptah, after mentioning 3 cities—Ashkelon, Gezer, and Yanoam (in order from S to N)—mentions “Israel” for the first and only time in Egyptian sources, which could be interpreted as evidence for the presence of a people of this name in the north (ANET, 378).
Several references in 19th dynasty texts have been tentatively read as “Asher.” If this reading is correct, it would imply the presence of this tribe in the region at an early date. Albright’s (1954) reservations should, however, be taken into account. The Onomasticon of Amenope, one of the Egyptian sources referring to the Sea Peoples, lists 3 of these groups: Sherden (#268), Tjekker (#269), and Pleset (“Philistines,” #270; Gardiner 1947: 194–201). The Philistine cities are on the S coastal plain. According to the letter of Wen-Amon (ANET, 26), the Tjekker lived further N at Dor in the Carmel coastal plain. Recent archaeological evidence of similar elements at Tel Akko and Tel Keisan (Briend and Humbert 1980: plate 71: 8, 9?; plate 80: 12) have led scholars to suggest that the Onamasticon implies Sherden settlements still further N in the Galilean coastal plain (see ACCO).
b. Biblical. The biblical evidence is more extensive but equally problematical. In recent years it has been suggested that the patriarchal traditions recount activities in this period (Mazar 1969; Naaman 1986: 79–84). Since none of those traditions are connected to places in Galilee, and none of the 5 eponyms of the Galilean tribes figure in any significant patriarchal episode, these traditions clearly all originated in the S. Only the genealogy of these 5 eponyms is possibly relevant, although its date and significance are far from clear. Zebulun and Issachar, the eponyms of the 2 southernmost Galilean tribes, were the 2 youngest of Leah’s 6 sons (Gen 30:18–21), while those of the 3 northernmost tribes were sons of Jacob’s concubines—Asher of Zilpah, and Naphtali and Dan of Bilhah.
On the other hand one of the main conquest stories (Joshua 11) takes place in Galilee, while two of the stories of the book of Judges—Deborah (chaps. 4–5) and Gideon (chap. 7)—take place in the Jezreel valley. The fact that Jabin king of Hazor appears both in Joshua 11 and Judges 4 has led to much controversy. As regards the Song of Deborah, Rabin (1966) has shown that each tribe is there depicted poetically in its traditional geographic setting, so that the historicity of this document as regards the activities of the Israelite tribes at the actual battle is doubtful. In the blessings of Jacob (Gen 40:1–23) and Moses (Deut 33:2–29) there are poetic references to the character, history, and geography of the tribes which cannot be ignored, although the date and significance of these poems are difficult to determine. Although their respective dates are also often uncertain, the genealogical tables (Genesis 36; 46:8–25; Numbers 26; 1 Chronicles 1–9; see LBHG, 221–27) provide evidence for connection between tribes, often incorporating geographical and historical elements of undoubted authenticity.
Our knowledge of the tribes is derived primarily from the description of the tribal territories in Joshua 13–19, the longest and most detailed geographical document in the Bible. Although there is considerable difference of opinion as to the origin of this document, there is no doubt that it originates from several different sources. It is generally agreed that one of these sources is a tribal border description distinguished by the use of verbs to connect various place names. The description, although not completely uniform in character, delineates a map of the country as a whole with neither intervening gaps nor overlapping territories. Some scholars date this source to the period of the judges (Noth 1935; LBHG, 228, 233) while others date it to the United Monarchy (HGB; Naaman 1982a).
The second source used in compiling this description of tribal territories was lists of towns that usually appear after the border descriptions. These are distinguished by the use of the conjunctive waw to connect various place names. These town lists themselves clearly derive from various sources. That of Judah (Josh 15:21–62) originates in administrative lists of the kingdom of Judah, while parts of the town lists of the Galilean tribes derive partly from the cities appearing in Judg 1:27–35 (these always appear in Joshua at the end of the description of the territory of each tribe). It has been suggested that other parts of these lists originated in administrative lists either of the Assyrian province of Magidu (Galilee) (Alt 1927) or of the kingdom of Israel (LBHG, 227). The descriptions of the territories of Ephraim and Manasseh lack town lists, and in the description of Asher town list and border description have apparently been interwoven. On the other hand, Simeon, Dan, and Issachar seem to lack border descriptions and are represented only by town lists. The description of the tribal allotments (Joshua 19) does not indicate the N part of the tribe of Dan, including instead a S Dan to depict an historiographic viewpoint prior to the Danites’ migration north (Naaman 1986: 46).
The territories of the Galilean tribes, far from Jerusalem, are described more cursorily than those of the S tribes. The latter are described independently of each other, and common borders of adjacent tribes are often described twice; whereas the description of the Galilean tribal territories are integrated one with the other. That of centrally located Zebulun is the first to be described (Josh 19:10–16). Issachar follows (vv 17–23), then the portion of Asher with respect to that of Zebulun (vv 24–31), and finally that of Naphtali with respect to both Zebulun and to Asher (vv 32–39). Also, the borders of Zebulun, Asher, and Naphtali are described in a similar manner. In each case the description begins from a fixed starting point, describing the border in one direction, and then, using the phrase “the border returns” (wĕšob haggĕbûl), the description returns to the fixed starting point and continues describing the border in the opposite direction. In spite of the chronological, textual, and geographical problems of Joshua 13–19, this document undoubtedly represents an authentic picture of traditional tribal territories and must be the basis of any attempt to understand early Iron Age Israel.
The lists of Levitic cities (Joshua 21, 1 Chronicles 6) have been regarded as an independent historical source (LBHG, 269–73; HGB, 379–403); however, recent research suggests that the full list of 48 cities is a literary expansion on a core of 13 cities in Judah (Auld 1979). Further it has been suggested that the expanded list was largely based on the tribal descriptions in Joshua 13–19 (Naaman 1986: 203–27). Consequently, all reconstructions based on these lists should be used with caution, especially those connected to the N regions of the country.
2. Archaeological Data. In the valleys skirting the mountains of Galilee a large number of sites have been excavated providing data relevant to the period under discussion: in the coastal plain, Tel Abu Hawam, Tel Acco, and Tel Keisan; in the Jezreel and Beth-shean valleys, Tel Taanach, Tel Megiddo, Tel Beth-shean, Tel Yokneam, Tel Qashish, Tel Qiri, Afula, Tel Kedesh, and a site near Tel Menorah; and in the Jordan valley, Tel Hazor, Tel Dan, and Tel Kinnerot.
Our knowledge of the mountainous areas, however, is based primarily on archaeological surveys. Aharoni’s pioneering survey (Aharoni 1956, 1957) recorded intensive Early Iron occupation in the Peqiin Valley and more sparse occupation on the Meron Range to the E. Similar Iron Age sites were identified in the W slopes of the mountains of upper Galilee (Frankel 1983; 1986). Early Iron sites have been recorded in the Nazareth mountains (Gal 1982a), but the period is apparently not represented in the low hills to the E of Mt. Tabor (Gal 1980).
An important aspect of the material culture of the early Iron Age is the marked regional diversity in the ceramic repertoire. This manifests itself primarily in the large storage jar or pithos so typical of the period. Three main types of this vessel have been identified: the collar-rim jar typical of the S regions; the Galilean jar (first published by Aharoni 1957: fig. 4); and the Tyrian jar (published from excavations at Tyre, Bikai 1978: plate 40). The geographical distribution of these pottery types is significant. The S collar-rim jar is found in the mountains only as far N as the Beit Netofa valley; the Galilean type is found in the mountains of upper and lower Galilee; and the Tyrian type has been found at sites along the present Lebanese border. The Tyrian jar has clear affinities to earlier jars from Tyre (Bikai 1978: plate 46), and the Galilean jar has similar affinities to LB jars at Hazor.
Only a few Iron Age sites have been excavated in the mountains. These include the site of Horvat Avot, a small village at which both Tyrian and Galilean vessels were identified; and the site of Sa’sa, where a cult installation was excavated and a kernos found. Of special significance are 2 Iron Age forts that have been excavated: one on Mt. Adir, where early Iron Age pottery from the 11th century B.C.E. has clear Tyrian affinities, and the other, Horvat Rosh Zait, dating to the 9th century B.C.E., with pottery that included fine specimens of Cypro-Phoenician ware with clear Phoenician affinities (Gal 1984). Several other forts from the Iron Age have been identified in surveys: one on the S edge of the peak of Mt. Merom; one on an E spur of Mt. Canaan; one on Mt. Mitzpeh Yamim, one of the S peaks of upper Galilee; and one on Mt. Gamal on a SW spur of upper Galilee facing Acco.
3. The Galilean Tribes. a. Issachar. This tribe’s allotment is described second in the Joshua 19 list (vv 17–23). Enough place-names there have been clearly identified to determine that the tribal territory consisted of the low, basalt hills SE of Mt. Tabor as well as the E section of the Jezreel valley. Most of the places in the description are connected by the conjunctive waw, leading Alt (1927) to suggest that this description was primarily a town list, and that Issachar originally was not included in the border description. Only the N border is described from Mt. Tabor to the Jordan (v 22), and Alt suggested that this was part of the original description of the border of the tribe of Manasseh. Thus, according to Alt, no allotment was originally assigned to Issachar, and the territory subsequently considered as Issachar’s in Joshua 19 originally belonged to Manasseh. Among the Galilean tribes, Issachar is exceptional not only because it is defined almost entirely by means of a town list but also because Judges 1 does not list any towns that Issachar failed to inherit.
The description of the N border of the tribe of Manasseh states that the border “touches on Asher to the north and on Issachar to the east” (Josh 17:11) and the cities described there as being “of Manasseh in Issachar and Asher” are the same cities that Manasseh failed to inherit (Judg 1:27). It has been suggested that Josh 17:11 be understood as meaning that these cities were on the border of the two N tribes (HGB, 173), but it may also reflect two different historical situations, one in which the hills in the hinterland of Beth-shean, Ibleam, Taanach, and Megiddo were occupied by the tribes of Asher and Issachar, and a later time in which these were incorporated into the territory of Manasseh.
There is much biblical evidence of close ties between the tribe of Issachar and the territory of Manasseh and Mt. Ephraim. The Bible recounts that “Tola, the son of Puah, the son of Dodo, a man of Issachar, dwelt in Mt. Ephraim” (Judg 10:1). Both Tola and Puah are also listed in genealogies as sons of Issachar (Gen 46:13; 1 Chr 7:1). Shimron the son of Issachar is apparently to be associated with Mt. Shomron, on which the city of Samaria was built (1 Kgs 16:24). Jashub, another son of Issachar (1 Chr 7:1), may be connected to Jashub, a place mentioned in the Samaria Ostraca (LBHG, 223, 325).
Issachar is mentioned in the song of Deborah as participating in the battle and described as “on foot in the valley” (Judg 5:15), a clear description of the tribe’s home territory. Surprisingly, Issachar is not mentioned in the Gideon story that is set in that tribe’s territory (Judges 6–7). In Jacob’s blessing (Gen 49:14–15), Issachar is characterized as a corvee-worker through an apparent wordplay on the phrase “a man of hire” (Heb ʾı̂š śakar). In Moses’ blessing (Deut 33:18–19) the tribe’s close association with Zebulun is expressed through poetic parallelism, and both tribes are associated with a mountain of sacrifice, undoubtedly Mt. Tabor. The territory of Issachar is listed 10th among Solomon’s districts (1 Kgs 4:17), and the tribe is rarely mentioned in the Bible in connection with subsequent events.
Egyptian New Kingdom documents describe two incidents occurring within the territory of Issachar. From the Amarna letters we learn that Labayu of Shechem captured Shunem (EA 250) and that its lands were worked by Birdiya of Megiddo with corvee labor (EA 365). On a stele of Seti I from Beth-shean there is reference to a battle with ʿApiru on the mountain of Jarmuth (ANET, 20). Both Shunem and Jarmuth are towns of Issachar (Josh 19:18; 21:29; in Josh 19:21 Jarmuth appears corruptly as “Remeth”). On the basis of these sources, Alt (1924) reconstructed the history of the tribe, suggesting that the Amarna episode was evidence of the early settlement of the tribe among the Canaanites and that the tribal name (“man of hire”) reveals its status at this early time. The lack of a border description in Joshua 19 was, he suggested, evidence that at the time of the formulation of these borders (in his opinion at the time of the judges) the tribe no longer existed as an independent entity, which explains the absence of Issachar from the Gideon story.
The recent archaeological survey, however, has shown that the hill country of Issachar lacked early Iron Age sites. Gal (1980; 1982b) suggests that the tribe of Issachar originally dwelt in the hills S of the Jezreel valley and that only in the 10th century did it settle in the territory ascribed to it in Joshua 19 (the Jezreel valley together with the hills to its N). This earlier situation would then be reflected in the close connection between Issachar and Manasseh in the biblical tradition and perhaps in the references to Issachar in the description of the territory of Manasseh (Josh 17:10–11).
b. Zebulun. In the allotment of Zebulun, the first of the Galilean tribal territories to be described in Joshua 19 (vv 10–16), the distinction between border description and town-list is clear. The starting point is Sarid (Tel Shaddud; M.R. 172229), a vantage point from which all the S border of the tribe can be clearly seen. The border is first described W towards Jokneam (Tel Qamun; M.R. 160230) and then E from Sarid towards Mt. Tabor. It is not clear whether Mt. Tabor is within Zebulun’s tribal territory or is perhaps an extra-tribal area, a “holy mountain” at the point where the territories of Zebulun, Issachar, and Naphtali meet (Deut 33:19; Hos 5:1). The border continued from Mt. Tabor N and W through the valley of Beit Netofa to the valley of Iphtahel, identified either with Wadi el-Malik (Nahal Sippori; Dalman 1923: 35) or with the Ibillin valley (Gal 1982a: 104–5). The W border is not described. Nevertheless, the territory of Zebulun is thus a fairly well-defined area geographically, known today as the mountains of Nazareth bordering on the Jezreel valley to the S and the Beit Netofa valley to the N. Paradoxically, in both Jacob’s and Moses’ blessings there are clear references to Zebulun’s connections to the sea coast and maritime activities (Gen 49:13; Deut 33:18–19). This has been regarded as evidence of trading with and political dependence on the Canaanite coastal cities (NHI, 79), but there is no reason not to see here a reflection of an actual geopolitical situation, albeit a different one from that portrayed in Joshua 19.
Zebulun is the only one of the Galilean tribal territories that was not one of Solomon’s administrative districts. Alt (1913: 14) suggested that Bealot (1 Kgs 4:16) is a corruption of Zebulun (but see Ahlstrom 1979) and that Zebulun was part of the 9th district with Asher, while Kallai (HGB) suggests that the close connections of Zebulun with Issachar make it probable that Zebulun was part of the 10th district with Issachar. There are several cases in the OT where “Zebulun and Naphtali” seem to represent Galilee as a whole (Judg 4:6, 10; Isa 8:23 [—Eng 9:1]; Ps 68:28 [—Eng 68:27]), reflecting a situation in later years when these were the dominant Galilean tribes. Yeivin (EncMiqr 2: 895–900) followed Alt’s premise that Issachar appeared in the Jezreel valley as early as the Amarna period. He explained Zebulun’s absence from the N border of Manasseh (Josh 17:11), the close association of Zebulun and Issachar in Moses’ blessing (Deut 33:18–19), and the genealogies listing them as brothers of the same mother (Genesis 30; 46) by suggesting that Zebulun was originally part of the tribe of Issachar and only later became independent.
Gal’s recent survey of the territories of both tribes (Gal 1980, 1982a) requires a reappraisal of Alt’s and Yeivin’s conclusions. In contrast to the hill country of Issachar, which lacks early Iron Age sites, the hill country of Zebulun yielded several such sites, including some in which were found sherds of imported vessels dating to the early 13th century. The local ware had affinities to that from regions to the S. The mention of Zebulun’s connections to the sea in the blessings of Jacob and Moses reflects a situation later than that portrayed in the territorial divisions in Joshua. At this later time, Asher had declined in importance and Zebulun and Naphtali then appear often representing Galilee as a whole.
c. Asher. Asher is the third Galilean tribe to be described (Josh 19:24–31). The reference to the towns of Achzib, Tyre, and Sidon leaves no doubt that this tribe’s territory includes the Galilean coastal plain. There is, however, considerable difference of opinion as to the exact extent of the tribal territory to the SE and N. The text consists apparently of alternating sections of border description and town list.
The starting point of the border description is Helkath (in the LXX “from Helkath”). This site has been identified with various places to the SE of the Galilean coastal plain: Khirbet Harbaj (Tel Regev; M.R. 158240; Alt 1929: 38); Tel el-Amar (M.R. 159237; Gal 1982a: 107–8); or Tel Qashish (M.R. 160232; Aharoni 1959: 118–20). The precise location of Helkath would determine the extent to which the low hills in this region (the “Shephelah” of Galilee) belonged to Asher or to Zebulun. Shihor-Libnath is undoubtedly a river, and it has been identified with Nahr el-Zarqa (Nahal Tanninim), thus including Mt. Carmel in the territory of Asher (Grollenberg 1956: map 1; Alt 1927: 69, n. 4). However, analogy (with Josh 19:22, 27, 34) suggests that “touching on Carmel” (v 26) means that Mt. Carmel was outside the tribal area proper and that Shihor-Libnath was the Kishon river. The border then “returns” to the fixed starting point (apparently to Helkath) and then continues in the opposite direction N, touching on Zebulun and the Iphtahel valley “going out towards Cabul to the north” and “reaches greater Sidon and the border returns to Ramah and to the fortified city of Tyre.”
It has been suggested that the border actually reached the city of Sidon (HGB) but it is more probable that only the border of the Sidonian territory, the Litani river, was intended (LBHG, 238; Naaman 1986: 54). The mention of the “fortified city of Tyre” (v 29) shows close affinity to the description of the N border in Joab’s census (2 Sam 24:6–7, where MT tḥtym ḥdšy [v 7] should be read tḥt ḥrmn, “beneath Hermon” [Skehan 1969: 46–47]), which in turn is reminiscent of other references to Israel’s N border (Josh 11:8; 13:4–6; Judg 3:3; see Naaman 1982a: 154–55). The border thus skirted a Tyrian coastal enclave S of Tyre. The description terminates with a list of towns clearly based on the same source as Judg 1:31. The territory of the tribe is then the coastal plain, from Mt. Carmel in the S to the Litani river in the N, excluding the city of Tyre and its environs, but including the low foothills E of the coastal plain.
The list of cities that Asher did not inherit (Judg 1:31) is the longest such list. Three of the cities can be precisely identified (Acco, Sidon, Achzib), while Helbah and Ahlab are almost certainly to be read as Mahalab and identified with Khirbet el-Maḥalib (see MAHALAB). The remaining two, Aphik and Rehob, should probably be sought in the N part of the coastal plain of Acco. It is noteworthy that Achshaph, one of the more important of the Canaanite cities in the region, is not included in the list. Asher is mentioned in connection to the N border of Manasseh (Josh 17:10–11), Dor presumably being the town that Manasseh held “in Asher” (Josh 17:11).
It has been suggested that the place-name Khirbet el-Ḥabay (M.R. 170265) is connected to Jehubbah (yḥbh), a descendant of Asher (1 Chr 7:34), and that the Iron Age site nearby was called Ḥbh (Zadok 1988: 45). Similarly, Serah (śrḥ), Asher’s daughter (Num 26:26; 1 Chr 7:30), should perhaps be associated with Khirbet Suruḥ (M.R. 175276), near which an Iron Age site has been identified. There are, however, also several clear connections to the S tribes of Benjamin and Ephraim. Beriah appears as a son of Asher, as a son of Ephraim, and as a descendant of Benjamin (Gen 46:17; 1 Chr 7:23; 8:13). Beriah’s son Malchiel was father of Birzaith (1 Chr 7:31), almost certainly the modern Bir-Zeit (M.R. 169153). Heber, another son of Beriah, was father of Japhlet (1 Chr 7:32), associated with the border between Benjamin and Ephraim (Josh 16:3). Shual and Shilshah, grandsons of Japhlet’s brother Helem (1 Chr 7:35–37), may be associated respectively with “the land of Shual” presumably in Benjamin (1 Sam 13:17) and with “the land of Shalishah” in Mt. Ephraim (1 Sam 9:4).
Asher figures in the Gideon saga (Judg 6:35; 7:23), while in the Song of Deborah Asher is said to have “lingered by the seashore, by its inlets he stayed” (Judg 5:17)—again a clear description of the tribal territory. Asher was the 9th of Solomon’s administrative districts (1 Kgs 4:16) and the only one that combines a tribal name with what appears to be that of a city, Bealoth (A Maalot). This anomaly has been explained by seeing Bealoth either as a corruption of Zebulun (Alt 1913: 14; but see Ahlstrom 1979) or as a city (Mazar 1942: map 16) possibly added to Asher to compensate for territory ceded to Tyre (1 Kgs 9:11), and that can perhaps be identified with Me’ilya (M.R. 174269).
In several Egyptian New Kingdom inscriptions the word i-s-r has been deciphered. Opinions vary as to whether this refers to the tribe Asher, to Assyria, or to an unidentified place name (see discussion in Gardiner 1947: 191–93; CTAED, 73; Albright 1954). The name appears in town lists of Seti I and Ramesses II (Simons 1937: xvii 4, xxv 8). A town by the name of q-t-i-s-r (“Gath-Asher”? Aharoni 1957: 65; but see also Helck 1962: 222) is mentioned with Acco in a description of a campaign of Ramesses II (Wreszinski 1935: plate 55a). In papyrus Anastasia A, dated to Ramesses II (ANET, 477, and n. 42) a king or tribal chief of isr is mentioned in association with a description of a journey through what is undoubtedly the Aruna pass S of Megiddo. In the Onamasticon of Amenope (from the time of Ramesses XI), isr is listed between coastal cities of S Canaan and tribes of the Sea Peoples.
In an archaeological survey of the region, a large number of small, early Iron Age sites have been recorded on the W slopes and foothills of the mountains of upper Galilee (Frankel 1983; 1986). These, however, neither reached the edge of the coastal plain nor do they reach the top of the hills; thus there remained an unsettled area between these sites and those discovered by Aharoni (1956; 1957) in the Peqiin valley and further E. This survey showed a difference in the ceramic repertoire between the northernmost sites (along the present Lebanese border) and those further S, the main difference evident in the pithos. Those found at the N sites have affinities to Tyrian pithoi both from Iron and Bronze Ages (Bikai 1978), while those found at the S sites are similar to those found in upper Galilee (Aharoni 1956: fig. 4; 1957: 22, plate 4:4, 5) and have clear affinities to pithoi from LB Hazor.
On the basis of all these sources, certain tentative historical conclusions can be drawn. The list of Canaanite cities in Judge 1:31 show that most of the coastal plain did not come under Israelite control until the period of the monarchy, whereas Assyrian annals (ANET, 287) show that already in the 8th century this region was Sidonian. There is no proof as to when the region came under Sidonian control; however, the lack of a Solomonic district of former Canaanite cities in the coastal plain (NHI, 213 n. 3) makes it probable that the incident of “the twenty towns in the land of Galilee, the land of Cabul” (1 Kgs 9:11–14; 2 Chr 8:2) reflects Solomon’s surrender of this region. Consequently the coastal plain, the heartland of the territory of Asher as depicted in Joshua 19, was Israelite for little more than a generation, which in turn leads to the conclusion that the small Iron Age sites in the Galilean foothills are evidence as to the character and extent of the tribe of Asher. On the one hand, the close affinities of the Galilean pithos to earlier pottery from the region and its marked differences from S pithoi point to this N tribe’s extended cultural development independent of the S tribes; on the other hand, they suggest that its N culture either was derived directly from the previous LB Canaanite culture or coexisted with it for a considerable period.
A question that remains is the significance of the genealogical tables. Asher and the other 3 tribal eponyms listed as sons of Jacob’s concubines (Dan, Naphtali, Gad) share another common trait: they are geographically peripheral, which implies that they were politically peripheral was well. The question is whether they were also ethnically peripheral. As for Asher’s close connection to Benjamin and Ephraim, the archaeological evidence does not support Asherite families having originated in the S at an early stage. It is possible that, like Dan or Issachar, clans moved N at a later stage. Recently an interesting solution has been suggested (Edelman 1985) connecting this S presence of Asher to the “Ashurite” province of 2 Sam 2:9. However, the most attractive explanation of the connections between Asher and Benjamin and Ephraim is that of Finkelstein (AIS, 299, n. 35). Based on an archaeological survey of the Bir-Zeit region yielding Iron Age remains (almost only from Iron II), he suggests that the Asherite family of Beriah did not originate in the S and migrate N but the reverse—they reached the region of Benjamin and Ephraim at a late period, possibly after the capture of Galilee by the Assyrians.
The territory of the tribe of Asher as described in Joshua 19 (the Galilean coastal plain and adjoining foothills) is a geographical region that throughout history has been to a greater or lesser degree an entity separate from the region to the E. At many later periods this was the territory of the cities of Acco and Tyre, and in the LB Age, too, these were the dominant forces in the region (Meyers 1983: 55). It was within this geopolitical territory that the tribe crystallized.
At various historical periods the exact position of the political border between the coastal plain and the mountain region of upper Galilee to the E has varied. The E border of Asher coincides with a rugged region that is difficult to settle and lacks Iron Age settlements; thus it coincides with a sparsely populated region. The pottery with Tyrian affinities found in the N suggests that this region was largely under the influence of Tyre until a late stage, probably until the Davidic expansion. The written sources hint at changes in the S border of the tribal territory also. The fact that it is implied that Dor belonged to or was on the border of Asher (Josh 17:11) and the possible reference to Asher in the same region in Papyrus Anastasi A (ANET, 477) perhaps suggest that at an early stage the tribal territory included the Carmel. The S border as designated in Joshua 19 is N of the Carmel (an intermediate stage?), and the blessings of Jacob and Moses imply yet a third stage in which Zebulun’s territory reached the sea (see above).
The tribe of Asher, however, in effect never controlled more than the periphery of the well-defined geographic region that was its purported territory. It is perhaps significant that Asher is the only tribe of which it is said that “the Asherite dwelt amongst the Canaanite” without the addition “and they (the Canaanite) became tributaries” (Judg 1:31–32). It was certainly not one of the more important tribes and rarely appears in later episodes.
d. Naphtali. The references to the “mountain of Naphtali” (Josh 20:7) and the “land of Naphtali” (1 Kgs 15:20; 2 Kgs 15:29)—terms rarely used in reference to other Galilean tribes—have been taken as evidence that the name was originally a geographic one (NHI, 67 and n. 1). Naphtali was the largest of the Galilean tribes and, used either in conjunction with Zebulun (Judg 4:7; Ps 68:28; Isa 8:23) or by itself (Deut 34:2; 1 Kgs 15:20; 2 Kgs 15:29; 2 Chr 34:6), “Naphtali” was often synonymous with “Galilee” itself.
The description of the border of this last Galilean tribe is cursory but clear (Josh 19:33–34). First, the S border is described from Heleph (without doubt a site at the foot of Mt. Tabor; v 33) E to the Jordan (the same border is apparently described in Josh 19:22). Then the border “returns” to the fixed starting point (Heleph) to describe the W border in the opposite direction northwards. From Aznoth-Tabor the border “went out towards Hukkok and touched on Zebulun to the S and on Asher to the W …” (v 34). The Jordan is clearly the E border, but the N border is not described nor are the important cities on this border (Dan, Ijon, and Abel-beth-maachah; cf. 1 Kgs 15:20; 2 Kgs 15:29) included in the list of cities that follows (Josh 19:35–38). Naaman (1986: 46) notes that the tribal territories have been compiled to reflect the situation prior to the Danite migration N. On the basis of biblical descriptions of the N territory that “yet remains to be possessed” (Josh 13:4–6; Judg 3:3) and of a geographical line often mentioned in various biblical episodes (Josh 11:8, 17; 2 Sam 24:6), it is possible to speculate about Naphtali’s N border. The joint border with Asher almost certainly extended to the Litani river, and then that of Naphtali followed the river E and N; after the northward bend of the river, the border extended NE to include the valley of Marjayoun (Ijon) and then skirted the foot of Mt. Hermon to the Jordan.
The description of the tribal boundary is followed by a list of towns (Josh 19:35–38). What appears as the first 2 towns (Ziddim and Zer) is apparently a corrupt text (see below). Not all the remaining 14 towns have been identified, but they are clearly listed from S to N. The last 2, Beth-anath and Beth-shemesh, are drawn from the list in Judg 1:33, and their identification remains uncertain.
The reference to “Naphtali on the heights of the field” in the Song of Deborah (Judg 5:18) is again a characterization of the tribe’s highland territory. There is, however, no reason to doubt that Barak the son of Abinoam the Naphtalite was the leader in the battle or that Naphtali was the leading tribe in this war. Naphtali also figures in the Gideon epic (Judg 6:35; 7:23) and its territory was the 8th of Solomon’s administrative districts (1 Kgs 4:15). In Moses’ blessing (Deut 33:23), Naphtali is urged to “possess the west and the south,” implying a territorial expansion, although it is unclear whether this refers to the early stages of settlement or rather (as with most of the other blessings) to a later period. It perhaps implies an expansion at the expense of Asher and Issachar, who are rarely mentioned in later biblical episodes.
The group of early Iron Age sites surveyed by Aharoni (1956; 1957) in the Peqiin valley and on Mt. Meron in the territory of Naphtali were explained by him as evidence of early Israelite settlement in the area. However, as in the territory of Asher so in that of Naphtali, strong Tyrian influence can be discerned. On the 1,006-m-high peak of Mt. Adir overlooking its surroundings, a well-built fort from the early Iron Age has been partly excavated and has yielded pottery of high quality with marked Tyrian affinities. Evidence of Tyrian presence in this region is referred to in the list of cities of Naphtali (Josh 19:35), the first words of which should not be read “the fortified cities are Ziddim, Zer, …” but rather “the fortified cities of the Tyrians: Tyre, …” (Heb ʿry mbṣr hṣwrym ṣwr; cf. Kochavi 1984: 67–68). Kochavi also suggested that the other Iron Age forts situated on peaks in upper Galilee as well as the other early Iron Age sites in this region are all Tyrian, and that the early settlement of Naphtali should be sought only in lower Galilee. However, the exact date and character of the other Iron Age forts has not yet been ascertained; the character of the pottery found at Khirbet el-Tuleil (Tel Harashim; Aharoni 1956: fig. 4) is not Tyrian; and the term Mt. Naphtali (Josh 10:7) clearly suggests an upper Galilee component of the tribe. The LB geopolitical territory in which the tribe of Naphtali settled is that of Hazor, and although the borders are not necessarily identical with those of Hazor, there is every reason to regard the Iron Age sites identified by Aharoni as the early nucleus of the tribe of Naphtali.
The history of Tyre at the end of the LB Age is not clear, but as opposed to the inland region where the Canaanite city-states were replaced by tribal and later national rule, in the coastal region the Canaanite city-state structure continued to exist, in time becoming the flourishing Phoenician kingdoms of the Iron Age. In the early stages of the Iron Age these were clearly dominant in the N, the fort on Mt. Adir probably marking their S border with Naphtali until King David’s expansion N to the Litani river reduced Tyre to a small enclave.
e. Dan in the North. The detailed biblical description of the migration of part of the tribe of Dan northwards (Judges 18; Josh 19:47) is confirmed both historically and archaeologically. That Laish was the city of Dan’s ancient name is confirmed by its appearance both in the Execration Texts and in Thutmoses III’s city list. The identification of ancient Dan with Tell el-Qadi is certain: The Arabic name is a translation of the Hebrew name. Eusebius states that a village named Dan was located 4 miles from Caesarea Phillipi, as is Tell el-Qadi; and recently the name “Dan” has been found in a Gk inscription at the site. Early Iron Age strata have been uncovered in which were found pithoi of the S type (the collar-rim jar) as well as typical Tyrian pithoi, a remarkable illustration of the biblical episode (Biran 1980: 176).
For obvious historiographic reasons (Naaman 1986: 46) only the S territory of Dan is mentioned in the territorial descriptions attributed to the time of Joshua (Joshua 13–19). Moses’ blessing hints that the N area occupied by the tribe reached as far as Bashan (Deut 33:22). Over time, Dan in the N was doubtless absorbed into Naphtali; in fact, Dan and Naphtali appear as the 2 sons of Bilhah (Gen 35:25). The complexity of N Danite identity, however, is suggested in the narrative about Huram-abi, “the son of a woman of the daughters of Dan, and his father was a man of Tyre” (2 Chr 2:14); in the 1 Kgs 7:14 parallel his mother is said to have been “a widow of the tribe of Naphtali.”
4. Summary. The transition from the LB to the Iron Age was characterized by great change but also by much continuity. The continuity manifests itself in language, certain aspects of the ceramic repertoire, and apparently in the geopolitical divisions of the country. The changes are seen in the character and pattern of settlement: in the LB Age, cities were located mainly in the lowlands; in the Iron Age, villages were located mainly in the hill country.
The maps of tribal territories undoubtedly reflect the dynamics of the settlement process. In part the territorial units are a continuation of those from previous periods; but on the other hand the borders between the tribes either are the areas of intensive Canaanite settlement or are the courses of important transportation routes. For example, the border between the Galilean tribes in the N and Manasseh, in the S is the Jezreel valley, an area of Canaanite and Philistine settlement apparently until the time of David. Similarly, the border separating Zebulun and Issachar in the S from Naphtali in the N is the Beit Netofa valley through which passes the “Hauran Route” (Oded 1971), a route of intensive LB traffic and settlement. The territory of Zebulun is the mountain area between these two Canaanite regions—the Jezreel valley to its S and the Beit Netofa valley to its N. The tribe of Asher settled in the mountain areas E of the coastal towns Acco and Tyre, while Naphtali settled in those W of Hazor. The border between these 2 tribes coincides with an area of sparse Iron Age settlement, possibly the border of the area under the control of Hazor in the previous period.
The regional diversity in ceramic typology between the Tyrian, Galilean, and southern cultures appear partly to coincide with the tribal territories. The Galilean pithos is apparently not found S of the Jezreel valley, and the southern collar-rim jar is not found N of the Beit Netofa valley (the border separating Zebulun in the S from Asher and Naphtali in the N); thus, both types are found in the territory of Zebulun.
The cultural continuity from the LB to the Iron Age points to close connections between the periods. The continuity from period to period of the regional diversity in the ceramic repertoire such as that of the Tyrian and Galilean Pithoi is particularly significant when contrasted with the presence of the southern collar-rim jar at Dan. The latter is quite understandable in light of the biblical tradition about the migration of the tribe of Dan to the N. The lack of similar southern ceramic forms elsewhere in the mountains of upper Galilee suggests a lack of connections to the S in these areas, whereas the Iron Age ceramic forms there are quite similar to those found there from the previous LB period, suggesting continuity in population.
In attempting to explain the changes, one must assess the overall historical background. This was apparently a time of general turmoil. Egyptian punitive expeditions were undertaken by all the pharaohs, and the capture of cities is recorded. Violent conflict between Canaanite kings as evidenced by the Amarna letters doubtless continued, while the ʿApiru and the Shusu probably also played a disruptive role. The Egyptian annals record the invasions of the Sea Peoples, while the biblical traditions describe the penetration of the Israelite tribes (whose presence is also attested in the Israel Stele of Merneptah). The Bible hints also at the appearance of other tribes and peoples at this time.
The crucial issue, however, remains the chronology of the changes. The present evidence shows that the destruction of the LB cities took place over a period of more than a century from the early 13th to the middle of the 12th century. The date of the beginning of the Iron Age villages remains a matter of controversy. There is as yet no clear evidence, however, that these existed before the second half of the 13th century.
Therefore we must see the end of the LB Age and the early stages of the Iron Age as contemporaneous. The collapse of the city-states was doubtless the result of a combination of external forces—Egyptians, Sea Peoples, Israelites, and others—and of inner strife between and within the cities themselves. The population of the Iron Age villages in the Galilean hill country was probably variegated, but doubtless included many people who formerly had lived in LB cities before their destruction and abandonment, as well as recent immigrants. The inhabitants of a city the size of Hazor probably later populated many such villages, Hazor’s area being at least as great as that of all the known Iron Age sites in the mountains combined.

E. The Period of Samuel and the United Monarchy
None of the events the Bible recounts for the period of Samuel and Saul are set in Galilee. The struggles with the Philistines, which was the challenge that led to the consolidation of the tribes and the creation of the Israelite monarchy, took place in the regions bordering on Philistia, primarily in Ephraim and Benjamin.
It has been suggested that the reference to the “Ashurites” in the description of the kingdom Ishbosheth inherited from Saul (2 Sam 2:9) should be read “Asherite” (Alt 1966: 161; LBHG, 255), designating the province of Galilee. In no other cases, however, is Asher used to designate Galilee as a whole, and there is no other evidence of Saul being active in this region. Edelman (1985) suggests that the verse refers to a southern Asher. Jezreel (2 Sam 2:9), presumably a region, was part of the kingdom although it is not clear exactly what region was entailed. Beth-shean remained under Philistine control (1 Sam 31:10) as apparently did Megiddo (stratum VI) and the Jezreel valley as a whole. This is probably the explanation for the battle of Gilboa. Saul apparently attempted to gain control over the Jezreel valley in order to enlarge his domain to central Galilee and the Philistines went to war to prevent him; when Saul failed, David inherited the kingdom. There is no doubt, however, that in the time of David not only the mountains of Galilee up to the Litani river but also the surrounding valleys were incorporated into the kingdom.
There is very little evidence about the attitude of the Galilean tribes to the struggle between the houses of Saul and David, or about their attitude to the later struggle between Israel and Judah. However, in later periods there are hints of special relations between Galilee and Judah (see G. below), the story of the wise woman of Abel-beth-maachah and Sheba the son of Bichri being one of these (2 Sam 20:14–22).
The fact that Issachar and Zebulun are sons of Leah and not of Rachel perhaps also symbolizes such a relationship. In genealogical tables in the Bible, the geopolitical elements are no less significance than the historico-genealogical elements. This is demonstrated most strikingly by the Samaria Ostraca as regards the genealogy of Manasseh (LBHG, 326, map 29). In the genealogy of the tribal eponyms, Jacob’s (Israel’s) sons conform to such a geopolitical reality. The sons of Rachel, Joseph (Ephraim and Manasseh) and Benjamin, are the dominant tribes of the N kingdom of Israel, later known as Samaria. The sons of the concubines (Dan, Naphtali, Gad, and Asher) are the peripheral tribes geographically and also politically. The first 4 sons of Leah (Reuben, Simon, Levi, and Judah) are the tribes of the S kingdom of Judah. The fact that Issachar and Zebulun are the last 2 of Leah’s sons apparently reflects a geopolitical conception by which these 2 lower Galilean tribes had closer relations to S Judah than with the neighboring region of Israel. The questions that remain are: when did this genealogy finally crystalize, and what specific political situation does it reflect?
As regards Galilee during the Solomonic period, there is evidence both in the Bible and from excavations for Solomon’s building activities; there is also evidence for his administrative districts and hints of changes in the political borders during his reign. Megiddo was fortified at this time (1 Kgs 9:15), but there is considerable controversy as to which structures are Solomonic (Ussishkin 1980; Wightman 1985). Hazor stratum X, with its typical 6-chamber gate and casemate wall, was the first city to be built at the site after the destruction of the Canaanite city (stratum XIII), and it is clearly Solomonic. The finds there indicate that Solomon’s administration was capable of building a city at the N extreme of his kingdom, albeit only one-twentieth the size of its Canaanite predecessor. The episode of the 20 cities in the land of Galilee and the land of Cabul (1 Kgs 9:11–14; 2 Chr 8:2) apparently implies Solomon’s surrender of taxable land to Hiram king of Tyre, presumably in the coastal plain up to Cabul. It has been suggested that Cabul should be identified with Horvat Rosh-Zayit (M.R. 171253) 2 km NE of the village of Kabul (M.R. 170252). This early Iron Age site was a fortified town in the 10th century, which was superseded by a fort built in the middle of the 9th century (Gal 1984). Gal suggests that the city is the Israelite Cabul and that the fort is Phoenician, built after Solomon relinquished the area to Hiram.
David’s administration was apparently based on the tribal structure (1 Chr 27:16–22; the fact that Asher and Gad are missing is probably a corruption of the text). Solomon’s administrative districts, however, were only partly tribal; those districts designated by city names were probably Canaanite regions only recently added to his kingdom (1 Kgs 4:7–20; Alt 1913). The Jezreel, Beth-shean, and part of the Jordan valleys constituted the 5th district designated by the names of cities; Naphtali was the 8th; “Asher and Bealoth” (LXXA Maalot) the 9th; and Issachar the 10th. Two anomalies appear in the Galilean districts: the absence of Zebulun and the fact that the 9th is the only district apparently comprised of both tribe and city. Alt (1913) suggested that “Bealoth” was a corruption of Zebulun, thus resolving both problems, but for paleographic reasons this has been challenged (Ahlstrom 1979). It has also been suggested that “Bealoth” be read “in Aloth,” and that Aloth be identified with Me’ilya (M.R. 174269; cf. Mazar 1942: map 16). That two of Solomon’s sons-in-law are listed among the district officers, and that there is no district listed for the Canaanite coastal towns (NHI, 213, n. 3), suggests that the administrative list reflects a situation toward the end of Solomon’s reign, after territory in Asher had been surrendered to Hiram; thus, in compensation, Aloth would have been added to Asher to help strengthen it. It has also been suggested that Zebulun was incorporated as part of the tenth district of Issachar (HGB, 59).

F. The Divided Monarchy
For 200 years, from the revolt of Jeroboam (928 B.C.E.) until the capture of Galilee by Tiglath-pileser III (732 B.C.E.), Galilee was part of the N kingdom of Israel. The history of the period was marked by complicated interrelations between Israel and Judah, as well as between both of these and their neighbors (Tyre, Sidon, and Damascus to the N, Moab and Edom to the E, and the Philistine cities to the SW). In the background loomed the evergrowing Assyrian empire, although, in the S, Egypt was comparatively weak.
Five years after the schism ca. 924 B.C.E., Shishak I conducted a military campaign through Israel. The biblical account focuses only on Jerusalem (1 Kgs 14:25–28; 2 Chr 12:1–12), but Shishak’s inscription at Karnak (Simons 1937: list XXXIX) indicates that the campaign reached as far N as Galilee. Several places in the Jezreel and Beth-shean valleys are listed (Taanach, Shunem, Beth-shean, Hapharaim, Megiddo). A stele of Shishak was found at Megiddo, and Kitchen (1973: 436–37; 447, no. 126) has suggested that the inscription perhaps includes references to campaigns in the N coastal plain and in the N Jordan valley. Opinions differ as to whether Shishak was responsible for the destruction of Megiddo stratum IVa or b (Yadin 1972: 147–164; Aharoni 1972; Ussishkin 1980; Wightman 1985).
About 40 years later, Asa king of Judah made an alliance with Ben-Hadad king of Aram against Baasha king of Israel. Ben Hadad (I) invaded Galilee; captured the 3 border towns, Ijon, Dan, and Abel-beth-maachah (1 Kgs 15:20); then advanced to capture the Jordan valley (“Chinneroth”) and all Galilee (“all the land of Naphtali”). Hazor stratum IX was probably destroyed in this campaign. A short time after this invasion, and probably partly as a result of it, a series of violent political upheavals raised Omri to the throne of Israel (1 Kgs 16:8–22). He and his son Ahab after him carried out a different foreign policy: cooperation with both Judah and Tyre as manifested in marriages with both royal houses (2 Kgs 8:26; 1 Kgs 16:31). However, throughout the Omride dynasty there was continuous struggle with Aram-Damascus. Ben-Hadad (II) seized Samaria, but Israel subsequently defeated Aram at Aphek (1 Kgs 20:26), recently identified with a tell in the valley below Fiq in the Golan (see APHEK). Ahab was killed fighting Aram in Gilead (1 Kg 22:32–38), and the death of his son Joram and Jehu’s revolt that displaced the Omride dynasty was also connected to the war against Aram at Ramoth-gilead (2 Kgs 9:14–27).
At the same time, Assyrian influence began to be felt in the region. In Shalmaneser III’s description of the battle at Qarqar (853 B.C.E.), both Ahab the Israelite and Hadadezer of Damascus are mentioned. According to the usual reading, Ahab’s army consisted of 2,000 chariots and 10,000 foot soldiers (ANET, 279); but it has been recently suggested that this is a scribal error and should be read as 200 chariots (Na’aman 1976: 97–102). The Assyrian campaigns are not mentioned in the Bible, although the alliance with Damascus is perhaps hinted at (1 Kgs 22:1–4; LBHG, 305). The description of the Qarqar battle is without doubt one of the factors that has led scholars to regard Ahab as an important monarch (Yadin ascribed Hazor stratum VIII to him). In this stratum, Solomon’s city (stratum X) was doubled in size and the water system and storehouses were built. Stratum IVa at Megiddo, with massive wall, water system, and 17 pillard buildings (described as stables), has also been ascribed to Ahab (Yadin 1972: 147–78). There is, however, controversy as to the date of both stratum VIII at Hazor and stratum IVa at Megiddo (Kenyon 1971: 106; but see Kenyon 1975: 167–169; Aharoni 1972), and it is possible that neither should be attributed to Ahab. There is similar controversy as to the function of the pillared buildings, which are probably royal storehouses (Pritchard 1970; Herzog 1973; Na’aman 1981: 142–43).
One of the first events to take place after Jehu’s revolt was the campaign of Shalmaneser III (841 B.C.E.), who besieged Damascus and then proceeded to ͅBaʿali Rasi”—the headland, probably the Carmel—to receive tribute from Jehu and from the kings of Tyre and Sidon (ANET, 280). The description of Shalmaneser’s receipt of tribute on Baali-Rasi (Carmel), combined with the fact that the religious struggle between Tyre and Israel was symbolized by Elijah’s sacrificing on Mt. Carmel (1 Kings 18), suggests that this had become the political border between Israel and Phoenicia, although we cannot determine when this border was fixed. The only hint as to a conflict between Israel and Tyre in the written sources is Amos 1:7–10, which presumably refers to a later period. However the violent destruction and abandonment of the fort at Horvat Rosh Zayit (Gal 1984) is evidence of such a conflict in the middle of the 9th century.
The struggle with Aram continued during the reigns of Jehu and his son Jehoahaz, and Hazael king of Aram prevailed over both Israel and Judah (2 Kgs 10:32–34; 12:18; 13:3–4; 22). It was only in the days of Joash the son of Jehoahaz that Israel succeeded in rebuffing the Arameans, the battle once again being fought at Aphek, the gate to Golan (2 Kgs 13:17, 25), and the century-long conflict came to an end. It has been suggested that stratum VII at Hazor was destroyed by Hazael and that from this time on (except for a short interlude) Galilee as a whole was under Aramean rule (Oded 1971: 195–97). The battles described in the Bible, however, took place in Gilead (Ramoth-gilead), in the Golan (Aphek), or in the environs of Samaria and in Judah, and even in the very detailed list in 2 Kgs 10:33 there is no mention of Galilee. The written evidence therefore suggests that the wars between Damascus and Samaria bypassed Galilee. Furthermore, the large degree of continuity at Hazor between strata VIII–V makes it most unlikely that strata VI and V were Aramaean. Several Iron Age forts oriented towards the S and E have been identified in upper Galilee, and although their exact character and date must await excavation these were probably built as a defense against the Aramaean threat.
During the reign of Jeroboam, the son of Jehoash, Israel became a dominant force in the region and succeeded in enlarging its territory N at Aramaean expense (2 Kgs 14:25–28; Amos 6:14). It was a prophet from lower Galilee, Jonah the son of Amittai from Gath-hepher, who encouraged Jeroboam in his program of territorial expansion. Strata V–VI at Hazor, particularly the citadel with houses of the elite at the W end of the town and the residential quarter in the center, provide evidence of the prosperity enjoyed during this period. Stratum VI was probably destroyed in an earthquake (Amos 1:1; Zech 14:5), and the residential quarter was immediately rebuilt, but with some changes that perhaps hint at attempts to adapt the house plan to that of the popular 4-room house (stratum V; Shiloh 1970).
The Assyrian armies of Tiglath-pileser III appeared in the region attacking Philistia in 734 B.C.E. and capturing Damascus and Galilee in 733–732, turning them into Assyrian provinces (Tadmor 1967). The biblical account enumerates the cities captured by Tiglath-pileser at the N approaches to Galilee (Ijon, Abel-beth-maacah, Janoah, Kedesh, and Hazor) and then sums up “Gilead and Galilee, all the land of Naphtali” (2 Kgs 15:29). Janoah is the only town whose identification is uncertain. Identifications with 2 sites whose names resemble Janoah are problematic since the sites are too far distant from the other towns mentioned; one too far to the SW (LBHG, 37a), the other too far to the NW (Rainey 1981). Kaplan (1978), however, has suggested identifying Janoah at Tel Shoquet, situated between Abel-beth-maachah, Kedesh, and Hazor (as the biblical reference suggests). In the Assyrian annals the names of several other places appear: Hi-na-tu-na (Hinatun) and (Ia)-at-bi-te (Jotbah) in the Beit Netofa valley, and “Aruma [and] Merom … fortified cities in the land of Omri [situated] on high mountains” presumably in upper Galilee (Tadmor 1967), although some regard these as being in lower Galilee (Na’aman 1986: 119–34). The Assyrian records also enumerate the number of people exiled from some of the cities, providing data useful in estimating the population of Galilee at this time. Tadmor (1967) has pointed out, however, that there is no evidence of the Assyrians settling people in Galilee from other parts of the empire, as was done in Samaria a decade later (ANET, 284; 2 Kgs 17:24).
Excavations at Hazor revealed dramatic evidence of the preparation for the Assyrian attack. Existing residential structures (stratum Vb) were destroyed to allow for additional fortifications (stratum Va), and alternative housing was constructed. The final destruction itself is also evident, and it is even possible to discern from which direction the attack came.
The material culture in the few sites excavated in Galilee from this period shows a marked similarity to that exhibited in contemporaneous Judean sites, among these are the “pillared buildings” (storehouses/stables) and the “4-room houses.” On the other hand, there are elements found in various sites both in Galilee and in other parts of N Israel showing affinities to the Phoenician cities to the NW and Syrian cities to the NE. Phoenician influence is particularly marked in the ceramics and the ivories, although one ivory found at Hazor shows Syrian influence and a pillar base found at Dan is similar to one found at Carchemish. The proto-aeolic capitals found at Hazor are markedly different from those found at other sites; they are more naturalistic and lack the typical (frontal) triangle (Shiloh 1979). It has been suggested that this difference is due to their earlier date (Aharoni 1982: 216); however, the capitals from Hazor show marked affinities to capitals appearing in reliefs from the N (Frankfort 1954: fig. 89, pl. 121), and thus their unique character is partly regional, apparently also a result of N influence.

G. Assyrian and Persian Rule
The Israelite regions captured by Tiglath-pileser III became Assyrian provinces named after their respective capitals: Dor (Duru, the Sharon coastal plain), Gilead (Galaza, the region E of the Jordan) and Megiddo (Magiddu, presumably Galilee). After Sargon II captured Samaria, the remaining region became a province of that name (Samerina). The prophet Isaiah (8:23—Eng 9:1) was perhaps referring to these provinces in his description of the future exaltation of “the way of the sea [Dor? but see Rainey 1981], the land beyond the Jordan [Gilead], Galilee of the nations” [Megiddo].
Little is known of Galilee at this period. At Megiddo (stratum III) fine examples of courtyard buildings, clearly part of the administrative capital, were found exhibiting Assyrian characteristics (Amiran and Dunayevsky 1958). This, however, was not the last Iron Age stratum of Megiddo; stratum II consisted only of a fort, and Alt (1938: 90–93) suggested that the capital of Galilee had been moved from Megiddo to Acco. At Hazor (stratum III), however, a fort resembling the Megiddo courtyard buildings was built on the ruins of the Israelite citadel (Yadin 1972: 191–194), and a large and impressive building built below the tell has been identified as an Assyrian palace or residence (Reich 1975). Avi-Yonah (1977: 25) has suggested that this, not Acco, was the capital of Galilee that replaced Megiddo. The fine bronze cup in the shape of an antelope’s head found at Kafr Kana is additional evidence of Assyrian presence in Galilee (Frankfort 1954: 103, pl. 118A).
Recent surveys show a marked decline in the size and number of sites during this period (Gal 1982a: 78–79), as opposed to a marked increase in Judah (Kochavi 1972: 85). Also, the ceramics of the N are now stylistically much less similar to that of the S than in previous periods. Nevertheless, there is considerable biblical evidence for ongoing contact between Judah and Galilee during this period, in some ways more than between Galilee and Samaria. At the time of the great Passover, Hezekiah is said to have sent messengers to Ephraim, Manasseh, “and as far as Zebulun.” It is then stated that the people ridiculed the messengers, but that a few people from Asher, Manasseh, and Zebulun (but not from Ephraim) came to Jerusalem (2 Chr 30:10–11). Ephraim’s omission could be the result of a later scribal error; it could reflect the truly special relationship between Judah and Galilee; or it could well be a result of the Chronicler’s historiographical preference for Galilee. Also, 2 Kgs 21:19 records that Manasseh, undoubtedly at Hezekiah’s initiative, married Meshullameth the daughter of Haruz from Jotbah in lower Galilee (2 Kgs 21:19), identified with either Kh. Shefat (M.R. 176248) or Kerem el-Ras (M.R. 182239).
During Josiah’s reign, Judaean influence extended to Megiddo (2 Kgs 23:29) and even farther N (2 Chr 34:6). The fort of Megiddo (stratum II) has been dated to this period. According to 2 Kgs 23:36, one of Josiah’s wives was Zebudah the daughter of Pedaiah of Rumah (Kh. el-Rumeh; M.R. 177243), located in the Beit Netofa valley only a few km from the 2 sites proposed for Jotbah, the hometown of Josiah’s grandmother. Apart from Athaliah the Israelite princess (2 Kgs 8:26), these 2 queens from lower Galilee are the only queens of Judah known not to come from Judah.
During the Persian period there is considerable archaeological and written evidence for the importance and prosperity of the Phoenician towns on the coast. The main source is the Periplus attributed to Scylax of Coryanda, but shown to date to the 4th century B.C.E. and known as pseudo-Scylax (Avi-Yonah 1977: 28–31). The S coastal cities are all described as belonging either to Tyre or Sidon; but Acco and a city to its N (presumably Achzib) were apparently independent, and Acco is known to have been the Persian base for wars against Egypt (Strabo Geog. 16.2.25; Diod. 15.41.3). The archaeological evidence shows Acco to have grown immensely at this period (see ACCO), and the population inland also increased. We have no written evidence as to the administrative divisions of the region, but Hazor was probably capital of the province of Galilee during this period also (Avi-Yonah 1977: 28–31).
A fundamental historical question that has aroused much controversy is the character of the population of Galilee culturally and ethnically in the Persian period—more specifically the degree of continuity between the Israelite presence in Galilee in the First Temple period and Jewish Galilee at the end of the Second Temple period. According to one view (Bar-Kochva 1977: 191–94), the Jewish population in Galilee in the Mishnaic period consisted mostly of descendants of Itureans converted during the Hasmonean period and Jews who migrated from Judea later. The main arguments put forward are: the complete lack of any reference to Galilee in the biblical sources of the Second Temple period; the complete lack of archaeological evidence of a specifically “Jewish” character from this period; and the fact that the situation in Galilee at the time of the Hasmonaean revolt as reflected in the written sources would appear to be one of a predominantly Gentile majority and a small Jewish minority (1 Macc 5:21–23). Archaeologically the material culture in Galilee in the Persian period has been defined as Phoenician in character (Stern 1973: 237), and attempts have been made to show that sites important in later Jewish history had no antecedents in the First Temple period (Meyers, Strange, and Groh 1978).
On the other hand, the same written sources have been interpreted as showing the existence of a Jewish population in Galilee before the Hasmonaean conquest (Alt 1939; Stern 1974: 225–26; Fuks 1981). Further, the deep-rooted Jewish traditions of a distinctly Galilean Judaism (already manifested in early Mishnaic texts) could not have arisen over such a short period or developed in a region that had been previously antagonistic. Furthermore, Samaria came under Hasmonaean rule a generation before Galilee; therefore the schism between Judah and Samaria, as well as the close connection between Galilee and Judah only 2 or 3 generations later, can only be explained as originating in characteristic differences between Galilee and Samaria in previous periods.
There is biblical evidence for connections between Israelite elements in Galilee and Judah after the Assyrian conquest (2 Chr 30:10–11; 2 Kgs 21:19; 23:36), and it has been suggested that the cultural difference between Galilee and Samaria had its origins in the fact that the Assyrians settled people from other parts of their empire in Samaria but did not do so in Galilee (Tadmor 1967). The two remaining questions are whether or not there were differences between Galilee and Samaria prior to this, and in which parts of Galilee a Jewish population survived and continued into the Second Temple period.

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RAFAEL FRANKEL

HELLENISTIC/ROMAN GALILEE

A. Introduction
B. Administrative History
C. Economic and Social Conditions
D. Cultural Ethos
E. Christian and Jewish Sources

A. Introduction
As applied to the N part of Israelite, and later Jewish territory, the name Galilee has been interpreted to mean “the circle” or “the district” (Bosen 1985: 13–17). The former would be indicative of the early Israelite experience, surrounded by Canaanite city-states, and is perhaps echoed in the designation “Galilee of the Gentiles” (Isa 8:23). Whatever about the precise designation, Galilee had become a proper name relatively early, as the repeated description of Kadesh as “a city in Galilee” (Josh 10:7; 21:32; 1 Chr 6:61) indicates. It is, perhaps, significant that the expression “Galilee of the Gentiles” is echoed in the Hellenistic period (1 Macc 5:15) when the predominantly Jewish territory was encircled by Hellenistic city-states.
Josephus gives a detailed description of Jewish Galilee of his own day, defining its boundaries in terms of the surrounding states: On the W lay the regions of Carmel and Ptolemais, with those of Gaba (of the cavalry); Samaria and Scythopolis were to the S; on the E side the territories of Hippos, Gadara, and the Gaulanitis touched the Sea of Galilee; and to the N the territory of Tyre completed the circle (JW 3.35–40). There is some scattered evidence, however, also from Josephus, to indicate that the territory had once been more extensive (Ant 5.63, 89; JW 2.188f; 3.25). Both Josephus and the Mishnah agree on distinguishing between upper and lower Galilee, the latter on the basis of altitude and vegetation including a third division, namely the valley of Gennesar (JW 3.38f; m. Šeb 9.2), but the distinction had also social and cultural implications.

B. Administrative History
We are poorly informed about the administrative divisions of Palestine as a whole in the Persian period, and hence there is no definite information on whether Galilee constituted a separate political region at the beginning of the Hellenistic period. As part of Coele-Syria it was at the center of the struggles between the Ptolemies and the Seleucids during the 3d century B.C.E., and several of the campaigns that ensued between the rival Hellenistic monarchs were conducted in the region (Ant 12.132; Polybius, Hist. V, 62.2; 87.1–7). In the wake of the Hellenistic reform of Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the Maccabean brothers were also involved in struggles there. Simon went to Galilee and rescued the Jews who were being harassed by the gentiles, probably only in the region of the Hellenistic coastal cities (1 Macc 5:14–23), and later Jonathan engaged the Syrian general Trypho at Kadesh in Galilee (1 Macc 11:63; 12:47, 49). Two of the sons of John Hyrcanus, Antigonus and Alexander Jannaeus, are said to have lived in Galilee, and the former may have conducted a military campaign there (Ant 13.304. 322). A third son, Aristobulus, had the Itureans, who had infiltrated into Galilee, forcibly circumcised as part of his consolidation of Jewish-controlled territory, though (HJP² 2:9), this episode cannot apply to the whole of Galilee (Ant 13.318f, on the report of Timagenes, cited by Strabo). At all events the Jewishness of Galilee is recognized by both Pompey and Gabinius, the former making it part of the territory ruled by the ethnarch Hyrcanus II (Ant 14.74), and the latter establishing a sanhedrin at Sepphoris as one of 5 such centers for his administrative reorganization of Jewish territory (Ant 14.91).
After the long reign of Herod the Great, who as a young man had been governor of Galilee, and who encountered stiff resistance there at the beginning of his reign as king of the Jews (40–37 B.C.E.), the province was again detached from the S and, together with Perea, became part of the territory allotted to Herod’s son, Antipas. He ruled as tetrarch (though Mark 6:14 gives him the title basileus, king) from 4 B.C.E.–39 C.E., and it was in this period that Sepphoris was restored as the ornament of all Galilee (Ant 18.27) and Tiberias founded, probably in the year 19 C.E. (Ant 18.36–38). The old kingdom of Herod the Great was briefly restored under his grandson, Agrippa I (41–44 C.E.). Thereafter, Galilee, while clearly retaining some internal administrative separateness (cf. the evidence of Josephus’ Life at the outbreak of the First Jewish War), appears to have been included in an enlarged province of Judea (Ant 20.137; JW 2.247; Tac. Ann. 12.54), even though Nero granted the cities of Tiberias and Tarichaeae with their territories to Agrippa II (Ant 20.159; JW 2.252). After the First War this administrative pattern was further developed, with Galilee incorporated into a reorganized province of Judea. However, a policy of increased urbanization was part of the Roman strategy also, especially after the Bar Kokhba revolt, when practically all of lower Galilee came under the administrative control of Sepphoris and Tiberias (Avi-Yonah 1966: 111). Upper Galilee seems to have remained under direct Roman rule, with its village life-style reflected in the later official Roman name for the area, Tetracomia. About the year 400 C.E. there is evidence concerning a Roman province, one of three in Palestine, called Palestina Secunda. This included Galilee of earlier times, the cities of the Decapolis and the Gaulan, as well as Scythopolis, which served as the capital of this enlarged province (Avi-Yonah 1966: 126).
Galilee, then, is a recognized administrative territory throughout the Hellenistic-Roman period according to the ancient literary sources. We are less well-informed about its internal administration, apart from the city territories, though Josephus speaks of 204 cities and villages when he took over administration of the province in 66 C.E. (Life 235). This strongly suggests a rural way of life, even though some of the places not included in the list of chief cities (Life 123) such as Tarichaeae (presumably to be identified with Magdala), Gischala, and Gamala (in the Gaulan, though closely linked with Galilee) were, on the basis of other evidence, large and thriving centers, each with such hallmarks of a typical city as walls, a hippodrome, and its own adjoining land (JW 2.252, 599; Life 45.188). In addition, Corazin, Bethsaida, Capernaum (Matt 11:20), and Nain (Lk 7:11) are also designated poleis in the gospels. Because of this, it has been suggested (Sherwin-White 1963: 130) that Josephus uses the term “city” to denote a toparchic capital. On that reckoning, there would be 4 such centers in lower Galilee, with upper Galilee—sparsely populated in the early Roman period—constituting a 5th administrative unit in the area (Avi-Yonah 1977: 97f); however, others have argued for as many as 8 toparchic districts in Galilee (Klein 1928: 44–47).
On the basis both of the gospels and Josephus’s Life, the internal administration of justice, as well as aspects of commercial and political activity, were in the hands of locals, presumably elders, but sometimes designated hoi protoi ton Galilaion (Mark 6:21; Life 220). This is similar to patterns of organization in other peasant cultures in antiquity, though we also hear of such local officials as the village scribe (komogrammateus), the leader of the synagogue (archisynagogos), the village chief (archon), the market supervisor, (agoranomos) and the controller of finances (epitropos). Larger centers such as Tiberias, and presumably also Sepphoris, had all the trappings of a polis with a boule (council), a demos (assembly), and an archon (a chief magistrate). Collection of taxes and tolls seems to have been highly organized also, presumably dating from Ptolemaic times, when a bureaucratic network, consisting of locals and foreigners, was established throughout the land on lines similar to Egypt, as we learn from the Zenon papyri (Freyne 1980a: 183–93).

C. Economic and Social Conditions
Galilean economic and social life was largely based on its rural ethos, though there is some evidence of other industrial activity as well. Josephus extols the fertility of the land, and, therefore, the intensity of agricultural activity (JW 3.42f). Elsewhere, he singles out the plain of Gennesar in particular for its fertility and the variety of its foliage based on ideal climatic conditions and a spring (JW 3.518). This picture can be substantiated both by archaeological surveys based on aerial photography, which suggest intense cultivation of the slopes and terraces, as well as by inference from modern climatic conditions (Applebaum 1977). Grapes, figs, and olives are repeatedly mentioned in Talmudic sources as stable produce, but wheat and other cereal crops were also grown, especially in the plains of lower Galilee in the Bet Netofah, Bet Kerem, and Saknin valleys, as well as in the plain of Gennesar. We hear of royal granaries in upper Galilee (Life 71); the underground silos at Sepphoris, reported in recent archaeological probes (Meyers 1986), may be further evidence of the wheat-growing capacity of lower Galilee.
In addition to its soil and climatic advantages, Galilee was also ideally situated on the commercial routes to take advantage of the increased trade and commerce of the Hellenistic age. It provided a natural hinterland for the Phoenician coastal cities, and the important trade routes that operated from Tyre, Sidon, and Ptolemais were the natural outlets for the caravans of traders who followed the Via Maris. This was the road that lead from the E over Damascus to the Mediterranean; it followed the borders of upper Galilee and Tyre, or branched southwards by the lakefront and crossed the great plain to the coast or S to Egypt. The archaeological evidence from upper Galilee has convinced Meyers and his team that despite the religious conservatism of the region, as displayed for example in the synagogues of the Roman and Byzantine periods, strong trading and other commercial links existed between Tyre and the region (Meyers 1985: 123–25; Hanson 1980). Josephus informs us that the Jewish town of Chabulon, on the borders of Ptolemais and Galilee, had its houses built in Phoenician style, thus suggesting similar links between lower Galilee and the coast despite the religious differences (JW 2:504f).
Apart from agriculture, the main industrial activities that can be documented from archaeological and literary sources and glass and ceramic ware and the salted-fish industry; as the name suggests, the latter had its center at Tarichaeae, even though the gospels make clear that other places along the lakefront, like Bethsaida and Capernaum, were also involved in the industry. According to the Meiron team’s archaeological survey, native Galilean fine ware does not appear on any significant scale before the 3d century C.E., though native Galilean bowls with everted lips are found in the 2d century already (Meyers, Strange, and Groh 1978: 10–16). Prior to that, luxury goods would have been the prerogative of a small band of wealthy Herodian aristocracy, whose affluence is exemplified in the wife of Herod’s overseer Ptolemy. Her caravan, comprising of 4 mule loads of apparel and other articles, as well as a large pile of silver and 400 pieces of gold was waylaid as it crossed the great plain (Life 127).
The emergence of large estates in which the peasants were sharecroppers, lessees, or simple day-laborers, was a particular feature of Hellenistic economic policy in Palestine. This is indicated by the 3d-century B.C.E. Zenon papyri, especially PCZ 59004, which deals with a tour of inspection conducted by Zenon that covered estates at Beth Anath and Kedasa, both inland from Ptolemais, where he and his retinue had disembarked. Other papyri help to complete the picture: they deal with the intensification of production, the provision of a proper water supply, and housing for the tenants (Hengel 1968: 12f). The gospel parables of Jesus which are presumed to reflect Galilean social conditions, do suggest a situation of absentee landlordism (Mark 12:1–10; cf. Qoh 2:4–12), yet the same parables know of family farms and small landowners also (Mark 4:2–9; Matt 21:28–30). We should not assume therefore that all Galilean landowners were holders of large estates, and that the peasantry was totally impoverished and in a condition of quasi serfdom. The evidence from Josephus, as well as other Jewish literature, suggests the opposite, while allowing for the fact that some of the better land was held in estates, but often in the less densely populated areas across the Jordan (Life 33). Herod the Great had made allotments of land both in Batanea and in the neighborhood of Gaba, as part of his colonization policy for security reasons, suggesting that small private holdings, rather than large tracts under single ownership, formed the dominant pattern in the area (Freyne 1980a: 156–70). This would have been reinforced by Jewish religious beliefs and continued as the dominant pattern in the post-Bar Kokhba period (Goodman 1983: 27–40).
Since it was the primary resource, social stratification was very much dependent on who did and did not own land. In this regard the gospel parables are also illuminating, since they presume a mixed social world in which the whole spectrum of large landowners, sharecroppers, and day laborers is represented. Debts were a fact of life, it would seem, and one can infer from the exhortations of Jesus about the sharing of goods as well as the blessings of poverty, that the prevailing social attitudes and assumptions were those of a limited goods economy. The basic resource, land, was in short supply, and consequently there was pressure upwards and downwards on the small owner. A bad harvest or some other catastrophe could mean lifelong penury. The poor tended to move to the cities—Josephus mentions the destitute classes at Tiberias (Life 66)—and there is evidence also of banditry, mainly along the borders and well away from the main centers of population (Life 77f. 105–11. 126–31). In view of this information it does not seem to be an accurate profile to suggest that Galilean life in Roman times was in a state of extreme social tension due to the impoverished condition of the population at large. In this regard an interesting contrast can be drawn between Galilee and Judea in the strict sense, where, according to Josephus, the emergence of the sicarii in the pre-Revolt period is to be seen as a symptom of the alienation of the people of the countryside, due to the hardships of direct Roman rule. The long reign of Herod Antipas, while not being without its own problems for the Galilean populace, would seem to have shielded them from the worst features of an insensitive or venal Roman administration.
While the majority of the Galilean population was, we maintain, of peasant stock—that is, private holders of small holdings—there were undoubtedly some representatives of other classes also within the province in the 1st century C.E. These would have comprised both native gentry—the upper eschelon of the Herodian court—as well as military officers of various rank. In fact these 3 categories are mentioned as the guests at Herod’s birthday (Mark 6:21), and this list corresponds to what we know from other sources also (Hoehner 1972: 102, 119f).

D. Cultural Ethos
The current understanding of Judaism’s complex interaction with Hellenism as a cultural force, even in Palestine, makes it impossible to continue with stereotypes such as the epithet “Galilee of the Gentiles” might suggest. Galilee was unmistakably Jewish, at least by the time of Pompey’s intervention; otherwise it would not have been assigned to the territory of the ethnarch, Hyrcanus. See GALILEANS. The question then is: How did their Jewish loyalty affect the cultural affiliations of the natives, given that they were surrounded by Greek-style city-states and their territories? In discussing such a question it is important to recognize that while cultural affiliation and social stratification are intimately interwoven, allegiance to the values of the larger culture at one level need not necessarily mean their acceptance in other more-intimate areas of life. What, for example, are the assumptions of the Markan narrator about cross-cultural contacts in Galilee when we are informed that a Syrophoenician woman, a Greek, came to a Jewish healer, Jesus, in search of a cure for her child? Furthermore one must distinguish between various periods within the Hellenistic-Roman epoch generally for more intense and active hellenization. Thus the reign of Herod the Great would have to be sharply distinguished from the immediate post-Bar Kokhba situation when emigré Jews from the S found upper Galilee a safe haven in the wake of the collapse of the Second Revolt.

There is widespread acceptance of the fact that Aramaic was the lingus franca of Galilee in the 1st century C.E., but that by itself did not mean cultural isolation; it had been for centuries the international language of the whole Syrian region. Greek, had indeed replaced it as the language of trade and commerce as well as of administration since Alexander’s conquests. In Galilee this meant that those who first used Greek would have been non-natives or those who were involved in the bureaucratic structures. Inscriptional evidence suggests that Greek was more common in the region of the lakefront than elsewhere, but even then one has to be cautious in using it as a cultural indicator. In the 1st century Tarichaeae was deeply involved in the international fish industry, we must assume, and it was endowed with a hippodrome; yet its inhabitants refused to accept refugee noblemen from the territory of Agrippa unless they underwent circumcision. Likewise, Tiberias, a city with very strong Herodian associations, had as its governor one Jesus, son of Sapphias, who seems to have been imbued with the xenophobic attitudes of the more nationalistically minded Jews of the period.

These instances may have been exceptions to the rule that the more thoroughly Hellenized Jews, both in terms of outlook and values generally, were to be found in the Herodian cities. Justus of Tiberias, described by Josephus as not unversed in Greek education (Life 40) would be typical of such a Jew in the 1st century (Rajak 1973). Even the earlier colonization of lower Galilee by the Hasmoneans would not necessarily have meant that the Jews of lower Galilee were particularly opposed to all aspects of Hellenism. The continuity of material evidence has suggested to the Meiron team that in fact they were quite open to such technical influences, even in supposedly conservative upper Galilee (Meyers 1985). At the same time it must be emphasized that no clear evidence, with the possible exception of the bilingual inscription from Dan (Biran 1981), has so far come to light to suggest syncretistic attitudes among the Jews of Galilee in the religious sphere—even when the late Roman and Byzantine synagogues, such as Hammath Tiberias and Capernaum manifest a combination of pagan and Jewish motifs in their artwork. A recently discovered mosaic of the wine god Dionysus, from Sepphoris, awaits a definitive interpretation (Meyers, Netzer, and Meyers 1987); but it is unlikely to change the profile of Hellenistic influences at this level being confined to the Herodian nobility, even if identification of Yahweh with the wine god may have been a particular temptation for people in the Galilean region generally (Smith 1975; Freyne 1988a).
Other indicators of cultural change such as art and architecture, the presence of various symbols of the Greek way of life—theaters, baths, gymnasia, and the like—are indeed present in the archaeological remains as well as being mentioned in the literary evidence. “Their acceptance was greatest where it did not affect native traditions at all, as with the use of baths, and least where it affected them the most, as with the insistence on the study of the Greek poets as the basis for education, rather than the Bible” (Goodman 1983: 86). Despite the clear evidence for trading influences with Tyre in upper Galilee, there seems to be reliable indications that it remained culturally more isolated than lower Galilee, as well as being less-densely populated in the early Roman period. On the basis of what we know from elsewhere, some distinction must also be made between the city culture of such places as Sepphoris and Tiberias as well as the larger of Josephus’ densely populated villages and the smaller units among the 204 such places which he claims for Galilee. In many of these, the natural conservatism of the peasant way of life would have been resistant not just to the cultural aspects of Hellenism, but even to its technical advantages. Claims to the contrary, often based on meager and disparate evidence, notwithstanding, there seems to be every indication that such resistance, often supported by Jewish religious values, was quite successful.

E. Christian and Jewish Sources
Galilee’s ongoing significance both in ancient literature and modern scholarship is largely due to its association with Jesus of Nazareth. The different evangelists focus on different aspects of his association with the region. In Mark, Galilee stands in opposition to Jerusalem as the place in which Jesus conducts a successful ministry of healings and exorcisms and where he is to be reunited with his chosen disciples (16:7). Matthew, maintaining the Galilee-Jerusalem tension of Mark, portrays the career of Jesus as messianic and seeks to validate its claims through scriptural allusions (2:21; 4:15–16). Even though he also includes the woes against the Galilean towns for not accepting Jesus’ message (11:20–24), he still locates the final meeting of the Risen One with his disciples and their commissioning for a universal mission on a mountain in Galilee, not in Jerusalem, as might have been expected on the basis of prophecy (28:16; Isa 2:2–4). For Luke, Galilee is the place of beginnings (23:5; Acts 10:37) from which the Jesus movement begins its journey that will eventually lead it to the end of the earth through Jerusalem. In John, Galilee functions as a place of refuge (4:1), but also as a place of revelation through signs (2:11; 4:44; 21:2), even though it receives much less narrative space than it does in the Synoptics.

Because of its treatment in the gospel narratives many different suggestions have been made about the importance of Galilee for the early Christians, ranging from the location of the expected Parousia to symbol of the gentile mission of the church (Stemberger in Davies 1974: 409–38). Despite its symbolic role within these narratives, the importance of Jesus’ historical association with the region must also be acknowledged, since a genuine memory of an actual ministry there undoubtedly underlies the later treatment of the region as the location for his career (Bauer 1927; Freyne 1988a).
By contrast, Galilee does not feature prominently in the Jewish sources, even though such foundational documents as the Mishnah and the Yerushalmi reached their final redaction in the schools of Galilee and the Palestinian Targum must assuredly have originated in its synagogues. In the Mishnah it functions for the most part as a separate region from Judea for the working out of the implication of various case laws, but with little concern for detail beyond a few references to certain local customs and differences from Judea in weights and measures. This absence of concern for geographic setting matches the Mishnah’s neglect of historical particularity in terms of its overall worldview (Neusner 1981). The often-cited dictum of Johanan ben Zakkai about Galilee’s neglect of Torah learning would appear to reflect later Galilean neglect of the authoritative claims of the rabbinic schools, even though the impressive synagogue remains that have been uncovered in upper Galilee suggest an active Jewish faith with a prosperous social base. Despite the revolt under Gallus in the mid-4th century C.E., which was centered on Sepphoris (Diocaesarea) and which may have been prompted in part, at least, by increasing Christian claims on Palestine, Jewish and Christian practice would appear to have coexisted side by side in Galilee down to the Arab conquest, a fact to which the archaeological remains of a Christian church and a synagogue side by side in Capernaum bear striking witness down to the present day (Corbo 1975; Tzaferis 1985).

Bibliography
Alt, A. 1953–64. Galilaische Probleme. KlSchr 1: 363–74; 2: 363–435.
Applebaum, S. 1977. Judea as a Roman Province. The Countryside as a Political and Economic Factor. ANRW 2/8: 355–96.
Avi-Yonah, M. 1977. The Holy Land from the Persian to the Arab Conquests. Grand Rapids. 1st ed. 1966.
Bauer, W. 1927. Jesus der Galilaer. Repr., pp. 91–108 in Aufsatze und Kleine Schriften, ed. G. Strecker. Tübingen, 1967.
Biran, A. 1981. “To the God who is in Dan.” Pp. 142–51 in Temples and High Places in Biblical Times, ed. A. Biran. Jerusalem.
Bosen, W. 1985. Galilaa als Lebensraum und Wirkungsfeld Jesu. Freiburg im Breisgau.
Corbo, V. 1975. Cafarnao I: Gli Edifici della Citta. Publications of the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum 19. Jerusalem.
Davies, W. D. 1974. The Gospel and the Land. Berkeley.
Freyne, S. 1980a. Galilee from Alexander the Great to Hadrian. Wilmington.
———. 1980b. The Galileans in the Light of Josephus’ Vita. NTS 26: 397–413.
———. 1987. Galilee-Jerusalem Relations in the Light of Josephus’ Life. NTS 33: 600–609.
———. 1988a. Galilee, Jesus and the Gospels. Dublin and Philadelphia.
Goodman, M. 1983. State and Society in Roman Galilee, A.D. 132–212 Totowa, NJ.
Hanson, R. 1980. Tyrian Influences in Upper Galilee. Meiron Excavation Project 2. Cambridge, MA.
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———. 1986. Sepphoris: Ornament of All Galilee. BA 49: 4–19.
Meyers, E.; Groh, D.; and Strange, J. 1978. The Meiron Excavation Project 1976: Archaeological Survey of Galilee and the Golan. BASOR 230: 1–24.
Meyer, E.; Netzer, E.; and Meyers, C. L. 1987. Artistry in Stone. The Mosaics of Ancient Sepphoris. BA 50: 223–231.
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SEÁN FREYNE

GALILEE, SEA OF (PLACE). The large expanse of water in the Jordan Valley rift which separates Galilee from the Gaulan and Decapolis regions. There is no consistency in the name that is given to it.

A. Terminology
In the OT, this lake was called “the sea of Chinnereth” (Heb yām kinneret, cf. Heb kinôr, “lyre[-shaped]”), and it is mentioned in connection with the N territorial boundary of the early Israelite settlement (Num 34:11; Josh 12:3; 13:27). Josephus, who gives the most detailed description, usually calls it “the lake of Gennesar (itis)” (JW 2.573; 3.463, 506, 515–16; Ant 5.84; 13.158; 18.28, 36); less frequently he designates it “the lake of Tiberias” (JW 3.57; 4.456) or simply “the lake” (Life 96, 153, 165, 304, 327). Pliny assumes that the usual name is the “lake of Gennesaret,” while observing that some call it “(the lake of) Tarichaeae” from the name of that town on its shore (Nat. Hist. 5.71).

These variant designations are easily explained on the basis of local topography, since Josephus does tell us that natives called it the “lake of Genessar” because a place by that name was situated above the NW shore of the lake (cf. 1 Macc 11:67). In all probability this was the oldest name, since it is clearly a grecized version of “the sea of Kinnereth.” The other designations—lake of Tiberias or lake of Tarichaeae—obviously stem from Roman times when these were established Herodian centers on the lakefront, each with its own territory.

Of the gospel writers, Luke alone retains the more general usage, speaking of the “lake of Gennesar” (Gk limnēn Gennēsaret; 5:1) or “the lake” (5:2; 8:22, 23, 33). Mark and Matthew, on the other hand, never use the term “lake,” but speak of the “sea” (Gk thalassa: Mark 7 times and Matthew 11 times), each employing the fuller expression “sea of Galilee” (Gk thalassan tēs Galilaias) twice (Mark 1:16; 7:31; Matt 4:18; 15:34). John also speaks of the “sea of Galilee” (John 6:1), to which he adds “of Tiberias.” Elsewhere in chapter 6 he speaks of the sea 6 times, and in the later addition to the work, chap. 21, we read “the sea of Tiberias” simply or “the sea” (21:1, 7).

Different proposals have been made to explain this rather distinctive usage. In ancient Semitic and Jewish mythology the sea is associated with evil monsters, of whom Yahweh is lord (Job 38:8, 11; Ps 107:23–25, 28f.). This idea would certainly concur with Mark’s theological point of view in regard to Jesus (Mark 4:35–41; 5:13). Furthermore, within Mark’s gospel the various sea journeys mediate between the oppositions represented by the Jew/gentile portrayals within the work, which Jesus, Lord of the Deep, reconciles (Struthers-Malbon 1984). Alternatively, the case has been made by Theissen (1976) for seeing the terminology of the gospel writers in the light of local coloring, and the proximity of the traditions about Jesus and the lake to their original setting. In this connection the Heb yām can mean either sea or lake (something Jerome had noted against Porphyry who had attempted to discredit the miracles of Jesus). Mark’s constant use of thalassa (followed by Matthew), would, in this view, be partly reflective of this linguistic background, but would also point to local usage by country people, living close to the lake and with a very restricted view of the world. Luke’s constant use of limnē bespeaks a greater distance from the local situation and a much wider horizon, which recognizes that the only proper “sea” in the region was the Mediterranean.

B. Geography
The lake forms part of the rift that is usually called the Jordan valley. The 3 head-streams that eventually flow together to form the river rise in the foothills of Mt. Hermon (JW 3.515; 4.2–3) and enter lake Huleh (Semachonitis). In Josephus’ day this was approximately 7 miles long by 4 miles wide, surrounded by marshes. (Today, due to extensive Israeli irrigation, the whole area has been drained.) From there the river descends rapidly—930 feet in a 9 mile stretch—to the lake of Gennesareth. The lake, then, is part of a deep basin surrounded by mountains on both sides, but opening out on its NW shore into the plain of Gennesareth, the fertility of which Josephus so lavishly extols (JW 3.516–21).

With his accurate knowledge of Palestinian, and in particular Galilean, topography, Josephus describes the lake in detail. His dimensions, 140 by 40 stadia—that is, 16 by 4.5 miles—differ apparently from modern reckoning, which is 12.5 by 7 miles. It may be that the line of the lakeshore at the N end has receded since Josephus’ day, since there seems to be some evidence that the river bed has changed near the point where it flows into the lake, though it could scarcely diverge by as much as 4 miles (Pixner 1985). The width of the lake as proposed by Josephus may have been estimated from Tiberias or Tarichaeae across to the other side, a journey that Josephus must have made more than once (Life 153).

Strabo, Pliny, and Josephus all extol the lake as a natural resource: Its waters were fresh and of a pleasant temperature, unlike the Dead Sea; it had clear, sandy beaches rather than swampy marshes, and in particular it was well stocked with fish (Geog. 16.2; Nat. Hist. 5.15, 71; JW 3.506–8). Two of the towns along the lakefront have names associated with the fish industry: Bethsaida and Tarichaeae. It is generally accepted that the latter is the Gk name for Magdala (Migdal Nunija), a change of name which reflects the techniques for the preservation of fish, and is indicative of the technical advances which Hellenism brought to Palestine. Josephus also mentions that a fish resembling the coracin, a type of black eel normally associated with the Nile in Egypt, was found in a spring near Capernaum. This could indicate a deliberate policy of developing the fish industry by the early Ptolemaic rulers in Palestine also, since we know that they had a virtual monopoly of that industry in Egypt (Freyne 1980a: 174f). The gospels also mention the fish industry on the lake (Luke 5:1–10; John 21:1–11; Mark 1:16–20; Matt 4:18–22; 17:27), though the parables of Jesus do not reflect this to the same extent as farming and other types of commercial activity (cf. Matt 13:47f.).
Partly because of the industry which the lake, as a natural resource, generated, and partly because of its role as a border between Jewish and non-Jewish territories, the lake’s surrounding regions appear to have been quite heavily populated on both sides, with some important settlements in Hellenistic and Roman times. These settlements gave to the lake region a more cosmopolitan character well illustrated by the high incidence of Gk inscriptions in this area of Galilee/Gaulan (Meyers et al 1978: 16). This suggests frequent contacts between the Jewish and non-Jewish communities on either side of the lake, which is further substantiated by the similarity of the material culture of lower Galilee/Golan according to the evidence of the archaeological remains (Meyers 1976: 97).

Bibliography
See bibliography under GALILEE (HELLENISTIC/ROMAN) and GALILEANS.

Hengel, M. 1973. Judentum und Hellenismus. WUNT. 2d edition. Tübingen.
Meyers, E. 1976. Galilean Regionalism as a Factor in Historical Reconstruction. BASOR 221: 93–101.
Pixner, B. 1985. Searching for the New Testament Site of Bethsaida. BA 48: 207–16.
Struthers-Malbon, E. 1984. The Jesus of Mark and the Sea of Galilee. JBL 103: 363–77.
Theissen, G. 1976. Meer und See in den Evangelien. Ein Beitrag zur Lokalkoloritforschung. SNTU 10: 5–25.

Freyne, S. (1992). Galileans. In D. N. Freedman (Ed.), The Anchor Yale Bible Dictionary (Vol. 2, pp. 879–901). New York: Doubleday.[/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][vc_tta_section title=”Introduction to Covenants” tab_id=”1483299494911-93a2fef5-9bbf”][vc_column_text][/vc_column_text][/vc_tta_section][/vc_tta_tabs][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]