Abstract
This article offers a comparative approach to political history in ancient Israel. It focuses on political refugees and prétendants to thrones (kaltū) documented in the cuneiform tablet collection from Mari and demonstrates how the careers of kaltū transpired at the nexus of domestic and international politics. Thereafter, it treats the Absalom narrative and argues that Absalom's political aspirations, which led him to become a political refugee in Geshur, precipitated a waning in the relations between Israel and Geshur. The clearest evidence of the deteriorating relations between Israel and Geshur, it is argued, comes from the narrative concerning Absalom's revolt against David.
Introduction
The present study is a comparative approach to political history in ancient Israel. It is comparative in that it investigates the Absalom narrative (2 Sam. 13–20) in tandem with the eighteenth-century BCE history at Mari. The benefit of the comparative method is that it sensitizes historians to new readings of old data. Jürgen Kocka and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt nicely summarize the advantages of such a method, observing that it
can help to de-familiarize the familiar. When examined in light of observable alternatives, a specific development can lose the ‘matter of course’ appearance it may have possessed before. Comparison opens our eyes for other constellations; it sharpens … our Möglichkeitssinn (sense of the possible) … Comparison leads to the de-provincializing historical observation. 1
The present study, then, will show how an understanding of second-millennium political refugees who were prétendants to thrones opens up new possibilities for interpreting Absalom's political career as well as Geshur's relations with Israel.
In addition to being comparative, this article focuses on the topic of politics. In particular, I am interested in the interplay between domestic and international politics. As Robert Putnam has noted, domestic and international politics are inextricably intertwined with one another, thus ‘It is fruitless to debate whether domestic politics really determine international relations, or the reverse. The answer to that question is clearly “Both, sometimes”. The more interesting questions are “When?” and “How?”’ 2 In the next section of this article, therefore, I sketch the interplay between domestic and international politics at Mari by focusing on a nexus between the two: the kaltum. The kaltum was a figure who was both an aspiring king and a political refugee. Then, after introducing the socio-political group known as kaltū, explaining why they most often operated as political refugees and how they affected politics—both domestic and international—during the eighteenth century BCE, I turn to the Absalom narrative. The careers of ‘Amurrite age’ kaltū accentuate what is otherwise oblique (and often unnoticed) in the Absalom narrative, namely, the matter of international politics and how it was interconnected with concerns of statecraft. The history of the kaltum sensitizes the reader to the fact that Absalom's three-year stay in Geshur 3 marked a cooling of relations between Geshur and Israel as well as catalyzed Geshur's subsequent support for Absalom's coup against David.
The ‘Amurrite Age’ Kaltum
The kaltū documented at Mari embodied the complex domestic and international processes required to achieve and maintain legitimate political authority in the ancient Near East. The word kaltum, which is unknown outside the documentation from Mari, was a discursive designation for individuals who actively competed to be kings. As might be expected, individuals who bore this label possessed the socio-political capital of being members of royal families. The importance of the traditional claims of kinship for politics is by no means exceptional in the ancient Near East, but it is nicely illustrated at Mari in a letter written by one of its kings, Yasmah-Addu (ARM 1.3). In this letter, which he dispatched to the god Nergal, Yasmah-Addu requested a son to succeed him on the throne. In the process of requesting an heir, Yasmah-Addu took it upon himself to recount the history of the struggle for kingship at Mari that had transpired between his own family and another family over the two previous generations.
Kinship's importance for kingship is confirmed by another interesting episode at Mari that focuses on a young child, the son of a deceased king, who is designated as a kaltum. The diplomatic exchange in question took place in the course of a war, in which a king from eastern Syria had reportedly been dethroned and decapitated. 4 One observer reported on the fate of this king, noting that his body had been ‘abandoned in the [Euphrates] river’, 5 while his head had been recovered for a proper burial. This brutal fate, however, not only befell the king, but a flurry of correspondences reveal that his entire family was murdered as well, except for one very young child who had been smuggled to Mari for safety. The episode in question, then, focuses on the lone, surviving child of this dead and decapitated king after a new dynast had secured kingship in the place of his predecessor. At this moment, a letter was sent to Mari that requested the extradition of this surviving child, who is designated a kaltum. The letter insisted that, ‘The boy is protected and my lord at Mari (himself), keeps him (within his) gates. [Now, my lord should decide to keep or] to release the kaltum of my husband’. 6 Unfortunately, the episode is not reported upon again and the fortune of this young boy is not known, although it requires little imagination to arrive at what his fate might have been if he was extradited. Yet, whatever became of this young child, the historical episode indicates that one important part of a kaltum's identity was his kinship with a royal family. 7
At the same time, it is not the case that traditional claims to kingship predicated on one's kinship were sufficient, in and of themselves, to warrant being designated a kaltum. Royal family-ties could only serve as a prerequisite to being a kaltum. Rather, in order to bear this designation one needed to be raised (našûm) to this status (kaltūtum) by those with the capital to do so. 8 In the sources from Mari, foreign kings were the most common patrons who would raise (našûm) aspiring dynasts to the status of kaltūtum. Thus, not only did kaltū, themselves, anticipate political payoff should they succeed in their ambition, their patrons, too, had much to gain from supporting successful kaltū. And as in the case of the young prince whose father had been decapitated and who had sought refuge at Mari, kaltū were typically political refugees who had left their homelands. They often resided in a city or land other than their ancestral one, having fled their homeland under duress and taken up residence elsewhere. This pattern is evinced by several historical examples documented in the sources from Mari and is, furthermore, consistent with the term's etymology, which connects it to the Hebrew term miqlaṭ (‘city of refuge’). 9
The dual nature of the kaltū as aspiring kings and political refugees put them as well as their patrons at risk of great loss should their maneuverings fail. For example, diplomatic exchanges at times negotiated the extradition of kaltū, 10 making them bargaining chips in the conduct of international politics. 11 Likewise, harboring kaltū angered the enthroned kings that kaltū rivaled. The dynamics of the kaltum for international politics is nicely illustrated by the history of one king in particular, Ibal-Addu. Ibal-Addu perceived the potential advantages of supporting political refugees as kaltū. Being exceedingly ambitious and eager to expand his sphere of influence, Ibal-Addu had elevated and was harboring not one but two kaltū, who rivaled his neighboring kings. Ibal-Addu's support for these kaltū amounted to a wager that he would be able to use them to expand his sphere of influence in international politics by installing them as kings in their home cities, effectively creating a network of vassal kings.
Ibal-Addu's political ambitions were clear for all to see and they created great anxiety for the already enthroned kings these kaltū rivaled. The kings whose kaltū Ibal-Addu was harboring, therefore, complained to Zimri-Lim, the king of Mari and Ibal-Addu's suzerain, insisting that he intervene on their behalf. Ultimately, the suspicions concerning Ibal-Addu proved persuasive to the king of Mari, Zimri-Lim, who took action against Ibal-Addu. Zimri-Lim agreed to the repeated requests by Ibal-Addu's opponents and he insisted that Ibal-Addu extradite the kaltū whom he was harboring. And while the sources do not provide a clear picture of the immediate outcome of Ibal-Addu's political calculations, it is significant that just a few years after Zimri-Lim was made aware of the concerns regarding Ibal-Addu, there was a falling out between Ibal-Addu and Zimri-Lim. Ibal-Addu had exhibited increasing defiance against Zimri-Lim's authority and he ultimately provoked the Mariote king to take military action against him, to deport Ibal-Addu's family members, and to ransack Ibal-Addu's capital city. 12 The example of Ibal-Addu illustrates, then, that the political choice to be elevated as a kaltum as well as the decision by a foreign king to support a kaltum was a high-stakes game that involved both domestic and international politics during the ‘Amurrite age’.
Israel, Geshur and International Politics
Having discussed the kaltum at Mari, I will now address the role of international politics and its connections with statecraft in the Absalom narrative. The narrative begins with the rape of Absalom's sister, Tamar, by his half-brother, Amnon. In response, Absalom staged an honor killing of Amnon, his older brother. 13 That Absalom's motive for killing Amnon was not solely vengeance may be inferred from the fact that Amnon's death left him the natural successor to David. 14 Thus Absalom's killing of Amnon brings to the fore the initial and most obvious connection between the ‘Amurrite age’ kaltū and Absalom: both possessed the requisite social, kin-based capital for kingship.
With Amnon dead, Absalom was the most likely claimant to his father's throne. Yet Absalom was forced to flee Jerusalem to Geshur, the land of his maternal grandfather, where he stayed for three years. It is in explaining Absalom's flight to Geshur that an emphasis on the text's formal and literary features has often occluded inquiry into international politics in the Absalom narrative. Formally, the story of Absalom is often considered to belong to a so-called succession narrative consisting of 2 Samuel 9–20 and 1 Kings 1–2. 15 As such, this narrative addresses questions of legitimacy and politics as they accompany the theme of succession. Literarily, the ‘succession narrative’ cultivates the reader's interest in who is going to follow David as king of Israel and how it will happen. The inclusion of the history of David's son, Absalom, within this larger ‘succession narrative’, then, naturally serves to focus the reader's attention on the matters of legitimacy and statecraft. For example, the narrator foregrounds domestic politics through his not-so-subtle interjections regarding Israelites' perceptions of Absalom, such as, ‘In all Israel there was not a man so highly praised for his handsome appearance as Absalom. From the top of his head to the sole of his foot there was no blemish in him’ (2 Sam. 14.25), and how ‘Absalom … stole the hearts of the people of Israel’ (2 Sam. 15.6).
Yet the emphasis in the ‘succession narrative’ on legitimacy and politics in Jerusalem—that is, domestic politics—has too often led modern scholars to ignore altogether or overlook the subtle details concerning international politics that are present in the narrative. Steven L. McKenzie, for example, notes the ‘curious’ mention of Absalom's flight to Geshur, but does not consider if, or how, it might provide a glimpse into the international relations during the period. Rather, he seems to suggest that David's domestic concerns animated the whole affair. For McKenzie, David ‘was involved in the conspiracy against Amnon, [the son of Saul's former wife Ahinoam], [so] we may assume that he sent Absalom to Geshur for safekeeping and for appearances’ sake'. 16 Halpern, too, takes a similar position in his provocative biography of David. He reasons that Geshur ‘was within the ambit of David's domination or, certainly, menace … [So] Absalom could have been extradited readily enough.’ 17 Thus, while Halpern pauses to observe that Absalom's stay in Geshur can be considered from the perspective of international politics, he quickly glosses over this possibility and prefers the conclusion, like McKenzie, that David and domestic politics were the real factors behind Absalom's stay in Geshur. 18
The supposition that David orchestrated Amnon's death has arisen, in part, from the narrative's emphasis on domestic politics, yet I believe this conclusion is not warranted and that it obscures the subtle role that international politics plays in this narrative. The explanation that David was complicit in the murder of Amnon and that he sent Absalom to Geshur for protection is not parsimonious. Had David been behind the killing of Amnon, there is no satisfying explanation for Absalom's flight to Geshur. Amnon's death had already been framed as an honor killing precisely so that he could avoid the perception of wrong-doing. If David, too, had been an accomplice in the successfully devised and executed murder of Amnon, then there was scarcely a reason for Absalom to flee to Geshur. It stands to reason, rather, that given the details of the narrative the simplest historical explanation is that Absalom possessed the means, motives and opportunity for the crime and that he fled to Geshur because he feared a reprisal from the king.
If it is admitted that it was Absalom who was ultimately behind Amnon's death, the tersely narrated event of Absalom's three-year stay in Geshur (2 Sam. 13.38) can be reconsidered for its significance to international politics at the time. At a minimum, this detail raises historical questions about the relations between Israel and Geshur. That is, the brevity of the statement invites the reader to entertain the many possible implications this event may have had for David's relationship with his father-in-law. Just as the condensing of historical time raises the reader's attention to Absalom's feelings toward his father during these three years, so to it entreats the reader to consider how this stay affected international politics. 19 From a historical vantage point, Geshur's harboring of Absalom stands in stark contrast to the previous relations between Israel and Geshur. On the one hand, Geshur was an obvious choice for Absalom to seek asylum from David: it was the homeland of Absalom's mother. 20 On the other hand, it is unexpected that Absalom hoped to find asylum in Geshur given the established relations between David and his father-in-law, Talmai. In addition to the diplomatic marriage of his daughter, Maacah, to David (2 Sam. 3.2–5), it should be noted that Geshur supported David's military campaigns that immediately followed this marriage alliance. David repeatedly campaigned into Syria after having conquered Jerusalem, and Geshur is not listed among his enemies (2 Sam. 8; 10). Moreover, what is remembered of the relations between Israel and Geshur elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible seems to reflect a peaceable relationship. For example, a gloss in the book of Joshua offers a tradition of this relationship as largely amicable, noting that ‘the Israelites did not drive out the people of Geshur and Maacath, so they continue to live among the Israelites to this day’ (13.13).
If one compares the Absalom narrative with the careers of ‘Amurrite age’ kaltū, Geshur's harboring of a political refugee like Absalom would have undoubtedly created international tensions. That Absalom's flight to Geshur, in fact, precipitated a souring of the relations between David and his father-in-law, Talmai, is hinted at by additional details in the subsequent narrative. For example, after several years in Jerusalem and a cool reception by the king, Absalom presented himself as David's heir to the throne. Having secured a wide array of domestic support for his coup 21 —stealing the hearts of all Israel (2 Sam. 14.25; 15.6)—Absalom enacted his plan. En route to Hebron, he invoked his need to fulfill a vow he had made while in Geshur. Absalom's invocation of his three-year stay in Geshur at the very moment he left to initiate his rebellion invites the reader to consider retrospectively how this event might have altered Geshur's relations with Israel. Moreover, Absalom's appeal to Geshur hints at the fact that he expected help from his grandfather, the king of Geshur, in his efforts to seize David's throne. The motive for Geshur's support for Absalom was that Talmai would have established a vassal, a son of a princess from Geshur, on the throne in Jerusalem. The means for Geshur's aid to Absalom would have arisen from the solidarity—ancestral, economic, or other—with the populations in Hebron or its vicinity. That there was a connection between Geshur and Hebron is clear from the fact that when David captured Hebron he won Geshur's support and that Absalom's capture of Hebron is connected with a vow he made while back in Geshur. In both cases a linkage between Geshur and Hebron is clear. It may be that Geshur had close connections with the Calebites, to which Nabal of Hebron is said to belong (1 Sam. 25), for 1 Chron. 2.18–23 22 may suggest that there were kinship ties between Calebites and the populations in Gilead, where Geshur was also located. Alternatively, it may be that the connection between the region of Geshur, in the north, and the southern hill country and Negev was a group of mobile pastoralists designated Geshurites, who are said to have traversed the steppe in the south (1 Sam. 27.8). That is, the Geshurite mobile pastoralists may have had tribal solidarities with the polity of Geshur centered in the region of Gilead. 23
Just as ‘Amurrite age’ kaltū were often causes for international tensions, so too the relationship between David and Talmai seems to have been strained by Absalom's three-year stay in Geshur, as well as Absalom's subsequent coup d'état. With motive and means, the breakdown in the relations between Geshur and Israel suggests that Talmai seized the opportunity to support Absalom, his grandson, against David. The extent to which these international relations were damaged immediately after Absalom's return to Jerusalem, yet before his coup, is not certain. What is clear, however, is that the relationship between Israel and Geshur, which was amicable prior to Absalom's rebellion, is not mentioned again in biblical history after this event. Rather, the biblical text only notes Israel and Judah's interactions with Aram, 24 which emerged as a formidable foe immediately after David's reign, 25 as well as during the ninth and eighth centuries. This silence concerning the relations with Geshur concomitant with the biblical text's increased focus on the conflicts with Aram hints at Geshur's role in Absalom's coup, if not to Absalom's time in Geshur, as a turning point in the relationship between Israel and Geshur. As with the kaltū, who were royal dynasts that found political patrons abroad and in so doing stirred up the international political scene, so too Absalom leveraged his social capital and international support in challenge to David's kingship. When Absalom's efforts failed, Israel and Geshur's relationship was left irreparably damaged.
Conclusion
At the outset I indicated that this study was interested in attempting a comparative history that yielded insights into the interplay between domestic and international politics. A comparative approach, it was suggested, could sensitize historians to new perspectives of an event and had the potential to open interpretive possibilities that are not otherwise immediately apparent. Therefore, after treating the ‘Amurrite age’ kaltum, I sought to demonstrate that Absalom's flight to Geshur affected the latter's relationship with Israel. In particular, reading the Absalom narrative in tandem with the histories of ‘Amurrite age’ kaltū calls attention to Geshur's cooling towards Israel and its subsequent support for Absalom against David. It should be added that if this historical reconstruction is correct, international opposition to David is inextricably intertwined with the narrative's more obvious emphasis on concerns of statecraft and domestic politics. Thus a complex interplay between domestic and international politics was at work in ancient Israel in much the same way it was in the careers of ‘Amurrite age’ kaltū in eastern Syria. 26
Footnotes
1.
J. Kocka and H.-G. Haupt, Comparative and Transnational History: Central European Approaches and New Perspective (New York: Berghahn, 2009), p. 4. It should be added that comparative history does not seek to use one data set to argue something that is not otherwise demonstrable in the other. Ian Morris has noted in his own juxtaposition of the Greek response to Phoenician economic imperialism in the western Mediterranean with others subject to economic imperialism: ‘Comparative reading does not prove anything about the Greek case, but it suggests something of the range of psychological, sociological, and cultural factors we need to keep in mind’ (I. Morris, Archaeology as Cultural History: Words and Things in Iron Age Greece [Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 1991], p. 251). The present case study, at the same time, assumes commonalities that characterized ancient Near Eastern society and politics—shared durative mentalities such as traditions of statecraft and international politics—and that these commonalities provide a warrant for comparison of second-millennium politics at Mari with history of ancient Israel.
2.
R. Putnam, ‘Diplomacy and Domestic Politics: The Logic of Two Level Games’, International Organization 42 (1988), pp. 427–60 (427).
3.
It must be noted that not a great deal is known about Geshur from textual sources other than the Hebrew Bible. The identity of KUR ga-ru (EA 156:13) with biblical Geshur in a letter from Tel el-Amarna seems unlikely. (See N. Na'aman, ‘The Kingdom of Geshur’, SJOT 26 [2012], pp. 88–101 [91–92]; cf. B. Mazar, ‘Geshur and Maacah’, JBL 80 [1961], pp. 16–28.) It is true that not a great deal can be said about the history of Geshur (J. Pakkala, ‘What Do We Know about Geshur?’, SJOT 24 [2010], pp. 155–73 [156]). For example, how Geshur related to Aram-Zobah is simply not clear given the present data. At the same time, the archaeological evidence from et-Tell does offer a window into the geo-political landscape of Geshur during the Iron Age. For a maximal history of Geshur, not all of which is certain, see R. Arav, ‘Towards a Comprehensive History of Geshur’, in R. Arav and R.A. Freund (eds.), Bethsaida: A City by the North Shore of the Sea of Galilee, III (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2004), pp. 1–48. E. Lipiński has also addressed the issue of Geshur, in particular its connection with the biblical personal name Maachah in The Arameans: Their History, Culture and Religion (OLA, 100; Leuven, Peeters, 2000), pp. 334–37.
4.
See D. Charpin, ‘Une decollation mystérieuse’, Nouvelles Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires (1994), §59.
5.
See W. Heimpel, ‘More Light on the Dark Fate of Qarni-Lim’, Nouvelles Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires (1996), §47.
6.
4) aš-šum dIM-LUGAL ša be-lí iš-pu-ra-am 5) TUR šu-ú na-ṣi-ir ù be-lí-ma 6) a-bu-ul-la-tim ik-la-šu 7) [wa-ar-ka-nu-u]m* ke-le-et be-lí-ia 8) [ka-la-am ù-lu] wu-úš-šu-ra-am 9) [be-lí li-pu]-úš* (ARM 10 85; collations and restorations by J.-M. Durand, Les documents épistolaires du palais de Mari [LAPO, 18; Paris: Éditions du Cerf], n. 1231). The possessive construction used in this letter to identify Addu-Sharrum as Atamrum's kaltum is paralleled elsewhere in unambiguous contexts to identify whom the kaltum rivaled. For example, the abstract form of this noun is used in construct with a personal name in a similar fashion in ARM 28 44. For the logogram TUR at Mari, see J.-M. Durand, ‘Trois études sur Mari’, MARI 3 (1984), pp. 127–80 (133).
7.
For additional discussion of kaltū who may be identified as royal family members, mādarū in particular, see A. Miglio, ‘“Amurrite Age” Politics: An Intelligence Report on a Potential Rival to Zimri-Lim’, Aram Periodical 26.2 (forthcoming), n. 6. For other helpful discussions of the kaltum, see J. Sasson, ‘Scruples: Extradition in the Mari Archives’, in Festschrift für Hermann Hunger, zum 65. Geburtstag gewidmet von seinen Freunden, Kollegen, und Schülern (WZKM, 97; Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik, 2007), pp. 453–73; D. Charpin, ‘Extradition et droit d'asile dans le Proche-Orient ancien: le cas du dieu de l'Orage d'Alep’, in C. Moatti et al. (eds), Le monde de l'itinérance en Méditerranée, de l'antiquité à l'époque moderne (Ansonius Editions, Etudes, 22; Pessac [Bordeaux]: Ausonius), pp. 621–42.
8.
E.g. ARM 28 44; A.1215; See also D. Charpin and J.-M. Durand, ‘Prétendants au trône’, in J.G. Dercksen (ed.), Assyria and Beyond: Studies Presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut Voor Het Nabije Oosten, 2004), pp. 99–113.
9.
See J.-M. Durand, ‘Peuplement et sociétés à l’époque amorrite (I) les clans Bensim'alites', in C. Nicolle (ed.), Amurru III: Nomades et sédentaires dans le Proche-Orient ancien: Compte rendu de la XLVIe Rencontre Assyriologique International (Paris: Recherche sur le Civilisations, 2004), p. 183 n. 388.
10.
E.g. the kaltum of Haya-Abum in Guichard, Florilegium Marianum 2 128 (cf. also M. Guichard and D. Sevaliè, ‘Akîn-amar, Kabiya et le “guerre de Bunu-Eshtar”’, Nouvelles Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires [2003], §6).
11.
A.1215, recounts a fascinating exchange between Bunu-Eshtar, who was then a claimant to the throne of Kurda, and Zimri-Lim, who had already been enthroned king at Mari: ‘Bunu-Eshtar wrote to the king (Zimri-Lim), saying: “Yamṣi-Malik, the son of Abi-Madar resides with me”. Then, the king replied to him, saying: “Is it proper that you are ra[ising up] Yamṣi-Malik, my servant, [to] support (him) as my kaltum. Now as for me, I am not supporting your kaltum against you, a son of Dairum, [your servant], who dwells with me, even now”’. Bunu-Eshtar's support for Yamṣi-Malik was seemingly an attempt to blackmail Zimri-Lim into supporting his political ambitions. At the same time, Zimri-Lim's response is probably a veiled threat, itself, that was intended to diffuse Bunu-Eshtar's blackmail (for the text and further discussion, see Charpin and Durand, ‘Prétendants au trône’).
12.
The precise date of Atamrum's death is not known, but it was announced at Babylon in the first month of ZL 13 (see Marti, Florilegium Marianum 6 19). That it was suspicious to Zimri-Lim is clear from his request that Shibtum make oracular inquiries into its possible causes (ARM 26 185bis). As for the deportees from the capture of Ashlakka, see B. Lion, ‘Les familles royales et les artisans déportés à Mari en ZL 12’, in C. Nicolle (ed.), Amurru III, pp. 217–24.
13.
Daniel, David's second son, is only mentioned in passing and never emerges as a viable candidate to succeed David. This is the tacit assumption in 2 Sam. 14.
14.
Absalom may have conspired with Jonadab long beforehand to ensnare Amnon in his lust for Tamar so as to justify Amnon's killing. It may be that Jonadab was held culpable for this action while Absalom was in Geshur, permitting Absalom eventually to return to Jerusalem, for Jonadab is no longer around when Absalom returns to Jerusalem (see A. Hill, ‘A Jonadab Connection in the Absalom Conspiracy?’, JETS 30 [1987], pp. 287–90).
15.
For example, this classification was initially argued by L. Rost, The Succession to the Throne of David (trans. D. Gunn; Sheffield: Almond Press, 1982). See also D. Gunn, The Story of King David: Genre and Interpretation (JSOTSup, 6; Sheffield: Sheffield University, 1978); R.N. Whybray, The Succession Narrative. A Study of II Samuel 9–20; I Kings I and 2 (SBT, 2/9; London: SCM Press, 1968); James W. Flanagan, ‘Court History or Succession Document? A Study of 2 Samuel 9–20 and I Kings 1–2’, JBL 91 (1972), pp. 172–81; J. Ackerman, ‘Knowing Good and Evil: A Literary Analysis of the Court History in 2 Samuel 9–20 and 1 Kings 1–2’, JBL 109 (1990), pp. 41–64; G. Keys, The Wages of Sin: A Reappraisal of the ‘Succession Narrative’ (JSOTSup, 21; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996). For a position dissenting from the accepted scholarly view that 2 Sam. 9–20 is part of a succession narrative, see R. Alter, The David Story: A Translation with Commentary of 1 and 2 Samuel (New York: Norton, 1999), pp. xi-xii. Also, in defense of the literary coherence of 2 Sam. 21–24 with the book of Samuel, see H.H. Klement, 2 Samuel 21–24: Context, Structure and Meaning in the Samuel Conclusion (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000).
16.
S. McKenzie, King David: A Biography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 166.
17.
B. Halpern, David's Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003), p. 89.
18.
Some have maintained that Amnon was the son of Ahinoam, Saul's former wife; that is, David's wife Ahinoam ‘of Jezreel’ was the same person as the Ahinoam said to have been Saul's wife. Following this line of thought, then, it has been further deduced that David would not have wanted Amnon, a son from one of Saul's former wives, to be his heir (see J.D. Levinson and B. Halpern, ‘The Political Import of David's Marriages’, JBL 99 [1980], pp. 507–18). At the same time, this hypothesis is heavily predicated on the prophetic statement to David that Yahweh ‘gave your master's house to you, and your master's wives into your arms’ (2 Sam. 12.8) and it might be objected that it is difficult to make this statement bear the same interpretive weight today that it once did. For example, Levenson and Halpern remarked that this text ‘… could be meaningful only if David's acquisition of Saul's wives were well-known …’, adding ‘[t]he implication is, he [David] took Ahinoam to wife from Saul’ (p. 514). That wives (and concubines) were frequently taken by political opponents as a symbolic political gesture is clear from, among other places, the Mari archives (see N. Ziegler, ‘Le harem du vaincu’, Revue d'assyriologie et d'archaéologie oriental 93 [1999], pp. 1–26; also the Absalom story, itself [2 Sam. 16.21–22]). Thus, that David's wife Ahinoam ‘of Jezreel’ was the same person as known by this name to have been the wife of Saul seems to be a less likely inference to be made from the prophetic statement in 2 Sam. 12.8.
19.
Yet there has been little discussion about the relationship between Geshur and Israel as a result of Absalom's three-year stay with his grandfather, Talmai (see, e.g., P.K. McCarter Jr, II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary [AB, 9; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983]; B. Arnold, 1 & 2 Samuel [NIVAC; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003]; A.A. Anderson, 2 Samuel [WBC, 11; Dallas, TX: Word Books, 1989]). The only sustained reflections on this matter have come from B. Mazar, who, on the basis of what he perceived to be an absence of evidence, concluded that the relationship between Israel and Geshur was not harmed by Absalom's flight to the latter (‘Geshur and Maacah’, JBL 80 [1961], pp. 23–24).
20.
This is noted by nearly all commentators. For example, see Arnold, 1 & 2 Samuel; Anderson, 2 Samuel; McCarter, II Samuel.
21.
Absalom first sought out support from Joab. Joab, after all, had been the one who orchestrated Absalom's return, even going to Geshur to bring him back. Yet Absalom inauspiciously arranged a meeting with Joab by burning the latter's fields, causing Joab to reconsider his support for Absalom as David's heir. That Joab and Absalom had a falling out as a result of the burning of Joab's fields is supported by the fact that Ahithophel is brought in on the conspiracy just after Absalom's meeting with Joab (2 Sam. 15.12) and the fact that Absalom quickly replaced Joab (2 Sam. 17.25).
22.
The Chronicler considered the genealogies of Caleb son of Jephunneh (i.e. the Kenizzite) and Caleb son of Hezron to be two distinct persons (see M.J. Fretz and R.I Panitz, ‘Caleb’, in ABD, I, p. 809; see also W. Beltz, Die Kaleb-Traditionen im Alten Testament [Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1974], pp. 38–46). It is significant that the tradition associated with Caleb son of Hezron (1 Chron. 2.18–24) is thought by some to be a source that reflects the tenth or ninth century (see H.G.M. Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles [NCB; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982]; S. Japhet, I and II Chronicles [OTL; London: SCM Press, 1983]).
23.
A model for the connections forged by mobile pastoralists across stretched spaces, like that from Gilead to the southern hill country and Negev, may be found in the Early and Middle Bronze Age, as described by Anne Porter, Mobile Pastoralism and the Making of Near Eastern Civilization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Porter has also connected this socio-political reality with the phenomenon of ‘toponymie en miroir’ known from the period of the Mari archives. ‘Toponymie en miroir’ was a phenomenon in which geographic and tribal names were duplicated across extensive stretches of landscape as an expression of mobile pastoralist's solidarity which also spanned the spaces that they traversed. See D. Charpin, ‘La “toponymie en miroir” dans le Proche-Orient amorrite’, Revue d'assyriologie et d'archéologie orientale 97 (2003), pp. 3–34; cf. A. Porter, ‘Beyond Dimorphism: Ideologies and Materialites of Kinship as Time–Space Distanciation’, in J. Szuchman (ed.), Nomads, Tribes, and the State in the Ancient Near East: Cross-Disciplinary Perspectives (OIS, 5; Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2009), pp. 201–26. Thus the Geshurites in the southern hill country and Negev may have been connected with the same-named populations located in the region of Gilead. This would certainly explain why the king of Geshur preferred Absalom as king to his father, David (David had raided the Geshurite caravans in the Negev 1 Sam. 27).
24.
For Geshur's later connection with Aram, see 2 Sam. 15.8.
25.
See 1 Kgs 11.25.
26.
It might be added that this interpretation of international politics in the Absalom story further develops the narrative's larger rhetorical strategy regarding the succession of Solomon. Absalom's attempt to secure political power through his Machiavellian efforts—international as well as domestic—ends in tragic failure. This portrait of Absalom, then, stands in even starker contrast to the portrayal of Solomon, or Yedideyah (2 Sam. 12.25), as the heir to David on the sole basis of divine election.