Abstract
The current issue of Interpretation addresses the category of works known in Protestant circles as “the Apocrypha.” This designation usually refers to a set of ancient Jewish books that includes Tobit, Judith, the Additions to Esther, the Additions to Daniel (the Prayer of Azariah and the Three Young Men, Susanna, and Bel and the Dragon), the Wisdom of Solomon, Sirach/Ecclesiasticus (also known as the Wisdom of Ben Sira), Baruch (also called 1 Baruch), the Letter of Jeremiah, and 1–2 Maccabees. Within this corpus are historical (or historiographical) books, wisdom texts, romantic stories (or historical romances), and liturgical texts/psalms. The works in this collection were not ultimately included in the Jewish or Protestant canon. They are, however, part of sacred Scripture in Catholic and Orthodox tradition, but usually with the “deuterocanonical” designation.
The title, “Apocrypha,” comes from a Greek word (apokryphos) meaning “hidden things,” and the designation often carries a negative connotation in English parlance. We often refer to a dubious story, perhaps an urban legend, as “apocryphal.” Consequently, the very title associated with these texts implies a lesser status. The books of the Apocrypha are often categorized as bizarre, secondary, and unimportant. Many believers and more than a few scholars view these works as incidental to the salvation history of Judaism and Christianity and therefore not worthy of serious engagement.
The legacy of dismissive responses to such a fascinating and significant body of texts is highly problematic for several reasons. First, such a position is disrespectful to the status of these works among many believers, especially Catholic and Orthodox persons, who view them as Scripture. Moreover, from a historical perspective, the Apocrypha are of immense importance for understanding the centuries after the Babylonian exile, both in Jerusalem and among diasporic populations. These books address how various Jewish persons/groups negotiated the complex interplay between the demands of their tradition and Hellenistic culture. The Apocrypha also provide valuable insight into the cultural landscape that the first Christians had to negotiate. To ignore them is to overlook critical witnesses to the development of Jewish identity during a foundational period.
The subtitle for Interpretation is “A Journal of Bible and Theology” (emphasis added). The journal makes no apology for this label: vigorous and creative engagement with the books most of our readers identify as Scripture is a fundamental goal of this publication. Interpretation has a rich legacy of devoting entire issues to different biblical books and wrestling with the complexities of Scripture. This type of approach is critical to the journal’s mission: a legacy of the Reformation is that the task of careful biblical interpretation lies at the heart of our common purpose. Biblical exegesis in the pursuit of deeper understanding is one of the more admirable features of Protestantism, a pursuit that is unencumbered by doctrinal norms.
Yet this journal and many Protestants have been remiss in fully engaging the multitude of ancient texts that can inform our historical understanding of Judaism and Christianity, put us in deeper conversation with believers around the world, and inform our shared faith. “Scripture” and “Bible” have more expansive definitions for many Christians, and those who identify as Protestant have an unfortunate legacy of minimizing this larger corpus of sacred texts. Dismissive attitudes have contributed to greater dividing walls between Protestants and those in the Catholic and Orthodox families. Moreover, on a historical level, the Apocrypha demonstrate the creative and diverse approaches to sacred stories during the Second Temple period. Modern readers can broaden their understanding of foundational stories, such as the colorful narratives in Genesis, by looking at how some of the earliest interpreters understood them. The current issue represents an intentional effort by the journal to engage the pivotal works of the Apocrypha as part of our tradition and as an essential repository for understanding the cultural landscape of early Judaism and Christianity.
“Intertestamental” Period and Early/Late Judaism
Because of the unfamiliarity of the Apocrypha to our readers, it is instructive to offer background on the frequent terminology surrounding these books and the period in which they were written. Some of the terms used in relation to the Apocrypha are inaccurate and patronizing. One common designation for the books of the Apocrypha is that they comprise “intertestamental literature” and date from the so-called “intertestamental period,” which many interpreters have taken to mean the centuries between Malachi in the fourth-century BCE and the coming of John the Baptist.
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This designation suggests that the literature from these centuries represents a hiatus between inspirational periods, rendering the books irrelevant or at best secondary. The following is representative of this perspective:
When the prophet Malachi stepped off the earthly stage around 450 B.C., no genuine prophetic voice was heard again for about 500 years. We know this period as the intertestamental period—the gap between dispensations in the Old and New Testaments. Without a prophet, people in the land began to divide into parties and groups, each claiming the right to interpret the scriptures and lead the people. The true understanding of Jehovah diminished among these groups. A long night of confusion followed, which ended when God sent a new prophet, John the Baptist, to begin a new dispensation.
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Even if others who hold a similar view might not express the inspirational hiatus in such stark terms, such an interpretive approach is highly problematic on several levels. First, it is demonstrably false, since many authors responsible for the books of the Hebrew Bible wrote during these centuries. Just to take one example, the book of Daniel in the form we have it, especially the apocalyptic sections in chapters 7–12, dates from the persecutions of Jews under Antiochus IV (Epiphanes) in the second-century BCE. 3 This date is later than some of the books now in the Apocrypha, such as the Jewish sage Ben Sira, whose reflections are from the period prior to the Maccabean revolt (late third/early second-century BCE). So it is not possible nor is it desirable to draw chronological boundaries between the books of the Hebrew Bible and those that comprise the Apocrypha (and the Pseudepigrapha). 4 The process of identifying, interpreting, and writing sacred texts continued after the exile and rebuilding of the temple, and a number of works in the Jewish/Protestant canon were not only edited, but composed during the centuries inaccurately labeled as the “intertestamental period.” 5
Another reason this “intertestamental” label is problematic is because of the unfortunate tendency in biblical studies to categorize post-exilic developments as movements towards legalism, sectarian divisions, and a growing obsession with purity laws. These developments are often seen as indicative of a corruption of the more pristine faith exemplified in the narrative works of the Old Testament and the passionate oracles of the prophets. Some of the German scholarship of the nineteenth century inaccurately identified this period as “Late Judaism,” reflecting a decline of Israelite tradition into legalism and squabbles among different sects. 6 Even if “intertestamental period” is not as problematic as “Late Judaism,” this chronological designation does reflect a uniquely Christian perspective and the erroneous, anti-Jewish proposition that an emphasis on social justice and God’s enduring covenant with the people gave way to legalism, only to be redeemed by the coming of another wave of authentic servants (John the Baptist, Jesus, Paul).
One important way of correcting some of these unfortunate and in some cases dangerous categorizations is to refer to the centuries after the exile as the “Second Temple period,” when those who lived in Judea and outside of it continued to develop sacred traditions and texts they considered authoritative for their common life. Their ongoing conversation was a rich and diverse one, as they reinterpreted earlier laws and stories and sought to maintain their faith and cultural identity in the midst of a succession of foreign rulers. The influence of Hellenistic culture in particular led to transitions, challenges, and opportunities for those who professed a belief in Israel’s God. As the lucid essays in this issue demonstrate, the books of the Apocrypha demonstrate the richness and diversity of Second Temple literature in the wake of seismic cultural shifts. From colorful figures like Tobiah and Sarah in the book of Tobit to the fusion of neo-Platonism with the ethical requirements of the Torah in the Wisdom of Solomon, this diverse collection is an invaluable treasury, and it forces readers to accept the fact that there was no monolithic interpretation of sacred stories or events.
Reinterpretation
Before introducing the essays, it is useful for us to consider the manner in which reinterpretation and cultural negotiation occur in the Apocrypha. Many examples exist, but two will have to suffice for present purposes. First is the engagement with the primeval Genesis stories in various books of the Apocrypha, including Sirach. One noteworthy illustration is the understanding of the garden story in Genesis 2–3. Many if not most Christians have read this account as a “fall” from a prelapsarian state, due to the disobedience of the first man and first woman by eating the fruit. Because they sought to discern the knowledge of good and evil and fell prey to the manipulative tactics of the snake, they caused great anguish for all subsequent persons. The Apostle Paul’s perspective has undoubtedly contributed to this understanding (e.g., Rom 5:12–14) and the supreme importance placed on the garden story.
Ben Sira’s take on the narrative is significantly different, primarily because this Jewish sage views human discernment and the bestowal of it by God as positive developments. The primary engagement with the creation accounts appears in Sirach 17:
The Lord created human beings out of the earth, and makes them return to it again. He gave them a fixed number of days, but granted them authority over everything on the earth. . . . Discretion and tongue and eyes, ears and a mind for thinking he gave them. He filled them with knowledge and understanding, and showed them good and evil. (Sir 17:1–7)
In this striking interpretation, Ben Sira cites the knowledge of good and evil as a desirable trait that the Deity bestows as a special gift to humanity. The dual creation stories of Genesis 1 and 2–3 are brought together, with no mention of a fall or expulsion from the garden. In another surprising move, Ben Sira declares that human mortality was part of the divine plan from the beginning, which is markedly different from what we read about in the second creation account (3:19). The figure of Adam does not receive harsh rebuke, nor does this section even mention the disobedient action that so many subsequent interpreters have taken as the paradigmatic sin. 7 Ben Sira’s understanding of Genesis 2–3 is not necessarily the “correct” one, but it does show that the cryptic creation accounts were read in more than one way and that the understanding of the garden story as “punishment” was not universally held in the Second Temple period. One of the benefits of greater interaction with the Apocrypha is that books like Sirach invite us to read foundational narratives with fresh lenses.
Another illustration addresses the tension between piety and participation in the larger Hellenistic culture. In 2 Maccabees, the recklessness of the high priest Jason (175–171 BCE) comes under sharp review. Not only does this figure use ruthless tactics, including bribery, to gain power, but he is willing to forego the law in favor of assimilation to Greek culture. This includes abandonment of many Torah requirements around the temple in order to build a gymnasium where athletic events and the training of young men in the ways of Hellenism can occur. According to 2 Maccabees, some of the leading priests follow Jason’s lead: “Despising the sanctuary and neglecting the sacrifices, they hurried to take part in the unlawful proceedings in the wrestling arena after the signal for the discus-throwing, disdaining the honors prized by their ancestors and putting the highest value upon Greek forms of prestige” (2 Macc 4:15–16). 8 The tension between orthodoxy and cultural assimilation is apparent in this chapter, as are the dangers of leaders whose opportunism threatens longstanding religious practice. Episodes in the Apocrypha such this one shed light on difficult cultural dynamics and are highly relevant for understanding the atmosphere of Jesus’s own time. Moreover, this narrative demonstrates cultural/religious tensions that are characteristic of all eras, including our own.
Essays in this Issue
The four main essays in this issue demonstrate the enduring value and significance of the Apocrypha. Eva Mroczek has done penetrating work on the status of sacred writings, and in this article she raises considerable doubts about a closed corpus of definitive works during the Second Temple period. Using the Dead Sea Scrolls as a test case, she argues persuasively that the number and content of sacred texts differed across sects and geographical areas. For example, the texts found at Qumran, along with other evidence, reveal that no identifiable book of Psalms existed. There were different collections of psalms among various communities. Mroczek also examines the book of Jubilees to demonstrate the creative reinterpretations of earlier stories in the Second Temple period, especially from Genesis and Exodus. This is a prominent feature of the Apocrypha. Her essay points to the tendency of Jewish writers during this period to engage sacred narratives and legal traditions and apply them in interesting and at times unexpected ways.
David A. deSilva has done a great deal of work over the last decade in demonstrating the importance of the Apocrypha for understanding the Jesus movement and early Christianity, and the essay in this volume is an informative example of his approach. The works of the Apocrypha were written and shared during the centuries leading up to Jesus’s public ministry and the response of his first disciples, and to ignore the Apocrypha is to neglect vital witnesses. In addition to providing a helpful overview of the content of the Apocrypha, deSilva shows how certain texts had an influence on Jesus, even if indirectly. For example, Ben Sira produced elaborate reflections on almsgiving, kindness to the poor, and financial corruption, all central topics for Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount and elsewhere. The same is true for the Letter of James. DeSilva successfully shows with this example and others that Jesus and James located themselves far more within “the stream of Jewish wisdom instruction than would otherwise be recognized by the person who looks only to the Protestant Old Testament for an inventory of the traditions available to them” (p. xxx). With this and other examples, deSilva encourages Protestants to recapture the Reformers’ original interest and appreciation for the books of the Apocrypha, rather than being dismissive or hostile.
The early church engaged in elaborate allegorical readings of sacred works, as did the rabbinic tradition. Jennie Grillo provides an insightful probe into allegorical approaches through an exploration of the tale of Susanna. This text comes from the Greek versions of Daniel, and Grillo looks at how early Christians applied figurative meanings to the protagonist in the story. Some interpreters took the elders’ mistreatment of Susanna in the garden as representative of early persecutions of the church. For other early Christian exegetes, including Hippolytus, Susanna in the garden is a typology of Eve and the temptation in the garden. Yet Grillo also explores the figurative readings that liken Susanna to Christ. While this may be a more provocative and therefore less comfortable approach, Grillo encourages the modern reader to join her in exploring the intriguing parallels between Susanna’s persecution and the arrest of Jesus in the garden (note again the preoccupation with Genesis stories in the Apocrypha). She argues that a christological allegory is effective for sparking our artistic imagination, just as it was in the early church. Creative, figurative reinterpretation is a primary feature of the Apocrypha, and Grillo shows that allegorical readings can deepen one’s engagement with a text and by extension his or her faith.
Finally, Stephen D. Ryan provides a timely essay on how the Apocrypha (or the deuterocanonical books) have shaped Catholic liturgy and doctrine. As a priest, Ryan demonstrates the more recent openness to these books in Catholic circles, particularly after Vatican II (1962–1965). Rather than getting hung up on the historicity of stories like Tobit, Judith, and Esther, recent papal encyclicals have emphasized the value of these didactic stories to inculcate virtue and kindness. The spirit of generosity in the book of Tobit, the focus on charity and care for the earth in Sirach, and the prayerful tone of the additions to Esther can be very instructive for believers. Rather than just being “summer reading” for the pope, Ryan demonstrates the benefits of more widespread engagement with the deuterocanonical works, including a more textured understanding of the ancient context for the Bible: “What has seemed to some Christian readers to be a chasm between the testaments is seen differently in the light of a larger canon” (p. 429).
Conclusion
Many modern readers of the Bible have little or no familiarity with the books of the Apocrypha. They might have vague knowledge of passages like the one from Wisdom of Solomon (3:1–9) that promises eternal life and is often read at funerals. Yet a large number of believers, especially Protestants, have no interest in these books, because they are not “divinely inspired” and date from the “intertestamental” period. This frequent perspective closes off fruitful exploration of the actual context for early Jewish identity and Jesus’s ministry. Moreover, it assumes that a closed body of authoritative works existed long before it actually did. While the books of the Apocrypha did not make it into the Jewish and Protestant canons, they are a fascinating example of how certain figures in the Second Temple period responded to foundational narratives of the past and shaped Jewish and Christian tradition in indelible ways.
Footnotes
1.
The importance of Malachi in this trajectory lies in his status as the last of the Minor Prophets and the figure whose discussion of the “day of the Lord” and Elijah has been seen by many believers as predictive of the Christ event (Mal 4:5–6).
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3.
John J. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 61–71.
4.
The Pseudepigrapha are another collection of texts from the Second Temple period (and beyond) where the author writes under a pseudonym, usually a figure of great renown from the Hebrew Bible. Examples include 1 Enoch, 4 Ezra, and the Testament of Abarham. All of these works are also critically important for understanding the historical context for early Judaism and Christianity, particularly the creative approaches to earlier figures/narratives.
5.
For example, the vast majority of scholars date the book of Ecclesiastes (Qoheleth) after the exile. The same is true for numerous works in the prophetic corpus. The Pentateuch continued to take shape after the exile. For more on the ongoing development of traditions, see David M. Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
6.
See John J. Collins, “Early Judaism in Modern Scholarship,” in The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism, ed. John J. Collins and Daniel C. Harlow (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 1–23.
7.
There is a famous statement in Sirach: “From a woman sin had its beginning, and because of her we will die” (25:24). Most commentators have taken this statement to be a reference to the woman/Eve of Genesis 2–3 and her culpability in introducing sin into the world. This is clearly the intent of the declaration, although some interpreters doubt whether it is original to the sage.
8.
For more background on this episode and what we can say about it historically, see Robert Doran, 2 Maccabees: A Critical Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012), 94–11.