‘Where Are the Gods of Hamath?’ (2 Kings 18.34 // Isaiah 36.19): The Use of Foreign Deities in the Rabshakeh's Speech *

1. Introduction

2 Kings 18.34 (// Isa. 36.19, in the second part of the Rabshakeh's speech) has long confronted translators and interpreters with a series of problems. These include, for example, the fact that Sennacherib (through the Rabshakeh, his official) appears to take credit for the conquests of his predecessors (e.g. Samaria, conquered by Shalmaneser V and Sargon), and the puzzling suggestion that the gods of foreign cities (in Syria) failed to rescue Samaria from the Assyrians. Another baffling element is the reference to ‘Hena and Ivvah’ in the list of cities. Modern scholars have sometimes dismissed the presence of these two cities as a later insertion that crept in from the list of kings in 2 Kgs 19.13 (// Isa. 37.13). ¹ However, even their status as cities has sometimes been questioned. In the nineteenth century, for instance, Luzzatto and Hommel suggested that Hena and Ivvah are the actual names of the gods of Sepharvaim. ²

Perhaps the most radical interpretive solution appears in Targum Jonathan. There, Hena and Ivvah are understood not as proper names at all, but as verbs. They are taken to be the Hiphil of the root ‭עונ‬ (‘to move [in different directions]’) and the Piel of the root ‭הוע‬ (‘to cause to stray’). ³ The passage is thus rendered:

Could the Targum's understanding of this verse be correct? Could this verse refer to the literal removal of deities? In this study, I will argue that such a literal reading of the question is in fact correct. To address this and other interpretive questions relating to the Rabshakeh's speech, I will apply a range of critical approaches. Most discussion of the passage has involved traditional analyses such as source criticism and text criticism. I will integrate these with newer approaches of literary analyses, including narrative and rhetorical criticism, treating the text holistically in order to try to capture more of the cluster of meanings inherent in this passage. In particular, I will suggest that the use of foreign gods can be seen as an interpretive key, with a focus on v. 34 providing this often-discussed narrative with fresh insights. I will demonstrate that the Rabshakeh's speech is an integral part of both the Hezekiah–Sennacherib narrative and the wider 2 Kings narrative as cohesive literary units—in particular in suggesting a detailed contrast between the treatment of Samaria in 2 Kings 17 and Jerusalem in 2 Kings 18–19—and that the speech should be read not as masterful, threatening rhetoric, but as humorous irony.

2. Historical Approach

Discussion of the historical background of the Hezekiah–Sennacherib narrative has usually begun with the identification of two accounts of Sennacherib's campaign, A (2 Kgs 18.14–16) and B (2 Kgs 18.13 + 18.17–19.37), and the further subdivision of B into B₁ and B₂. ⁵ Account A has widely been viewed as historical and in general agreement with the account in Sennacherib's annals. ⁶ On the other hand, assessment of the amount of historical information in Account B has varied immensely, with no movement towards a consensus over time. ⁷

Addressing this interpretive impasse, a new dimension to the historical approach was contributed by the school of Hayim Tadmor, starting in the 1970s, which attempted to place Sennacherib's campaign within a broader ancient Near Eastern context, especially the possible Neo-Assyrian historical background behind the Rabshakeh and his speeches. Thus, Tadmor himself elaborated on the titles and roles of the Rabshakeh and other Assyrian officials. ⁸ Chaim Cohen identified a series of elements in the setting and speech of the Rabshakeh with Neo-Assyrian parallels: the use of messages for persuasion, in a form of psychological warfare; the titles of the king; the use of the verb ‘to trust’; the phrase ‘broken reed’; as well as more general thematic parallels in the speech, such as failed reliance on Egypt. ⁹ Peter Machinist, meanwhile, identified a series of idioms and themes from Assyrian royal inscriptions throughout First Isaiah, including the Hezekiah–Sennacherib narrative. ¹⁰

I would like to extend this approach to the verse in question (2 Kgs 18.34 // Isa. 36.19)—specifically to the Rabshakeh's use of foreign gods. In this vein, I want to consider the possibility that the Rabshakeh's question ‘Where are the gods?’ is not an abstract, metaphysical question but a very concrete one: ‘Where are the divine statues (i.e. the cult images of the gods)?’ In this case, the Rabshakeh would merely be reflecting the common Mesopotamia (and, more broadly, ancient Near Eastern) view of cult images. The divine statue was not a mere symbol of the deity; instead, the statue was the physical presence of the deity, its manifestation (on earth). ¹¹ Thus inscriptions often refer to cult images not as statues but simply as ‘gods’. Especially relevant is the use of divine statues in warfare and foreign affairs: Assyrian inscriptions and reliefs tell of a long series of occasions where cult statues are among the spoils carried off from conquered cities. ¹² Given that the statue was seen as the embodiment of the deity, this act was phrased mythologically as the god departing from the city—but understood, of course, in a very concrete way. ¹³ Thus, the Rabshakeh's question ‘Where are the gods?’ can be answered literally: the gods (i.e. the divine statues) have been carried off, and are now in the possession of the Assyrians! ¹⁴ Such a question, of course, would be an obvious blasphemy in the minds of the Judeans, comparing the ‘kingdoms of the idols’ with Jerusalem and its god without image.

We can expand the interpretation further by considering the official Assyrian view of warfare. Briefly, warfare and hunting were parallel acts, both involving the imposition of order over chaos. I would argue that, in the process of this imposition, the conqueror (or hunter) takes on characteristics of the conquered; it could be said that the conquered becomes his emblem. This holds on both divine and earthly levels, as the king is the divine representative or agent. This process is clear in the treatment of hunting and warfare in the inscriptions and reliefs of Assurnasirpal II: while the inscriptions of Assurnasirpal refer to the king's hunting a large array of animals, only two animals are depicted as being hunted in his reliefs—bulls and lions. ¹⁵ These are, not coincidentally, the same two animals depicted in colossal, winged form in his palace (and other Assyrian palaces)—the šēdu and lamassu. ¹⁶ On some level, the hunted animals (or the forces they represent) have become his emblems. Similarly, the Akkadian adjective ekdu (‘ferocious’) appears in inscriptions (especially of Assurnasirpal II) as describing wild bulls and animals that the king hunts, enemies in the process of being conquered, and as a modifier of the word ušumgallu (which Winter convincingly argued refers to Assurnasirpal himself as ‘predator’, specifically as vanquisher of bulls and lions). ¹⁷ Thus we have an equation of sorts of the king, the animals he hunts, and the enemies he conquers. Beyond these cases, ekdu has a limited but revealing set of uses: to describe gods and kings, in both battle and hunt (particularly Ninurta, patron of the hunt, in the inscriptions of Assurnasirpal); to describe gods and kings as metaphorical animals (in both hunting and war); and to describe animals as divine symbols. ¹⁸ Thus we may also have an equation of king and god (as the divine hunter or warrior). On the divine plane, this equation is reflected in the relationship between the storm god (Ninurta or Adad) and a lion-griffin, the Anzu bird. This latter figure has a long history in Mesopotamian art, sometimes appearing as the enemy of the storm god—as in the relief of the Ninurta Temple of Assurnasirpal II—and sometimes as his emblem. ¹⁹ On a group of Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian seals, a god (likely Ninurta) is also depicted as hunting a lion-griffin (probably the Anzu bird) while mounted on an almost identical-looking animal. Again, the hunted creature becomes the emblem of the hunter/conquerer, this time the deity. ²⁰

The same process may also apply to cult images. Assyrian inscriptions record several cases where foreign rulers requested the return of their cult statues. In a few instances, the Assyrian rulers complied—but only after the statues were inscribed with the text ‘might of Assur’ (the god), and in one case with the name of the Assyrian king (Esarhaddon) as well. ²¹ Meanwhile, it appears that, when gods were invoked as witnesses in treaties, divine statues were in fact to be present when the treaty was sealed, at least in theory. ²² The use of foreign gods in these treaties does not seem to be merely the representation of the foreign contracting party by its own deities. For one thing, the treaties were usually very one-sided, and invoked curses especially on the other contracting party and not the Assyrian king. ²³ Besides this, in a few preserved treaties we have gods invoked who were not the native gods of either party. ²⁴ In addition to use in treaties, Assyrian and Babylonian inscriptions refer to the use of divine statues for protection. An excellent example involves the actions of Nabonidus when facing the advance of Cyrus on Babylonia. The Nabonidus Chronicle (col. III, ll. 9–11) describes how gods from throughout Babylonia ‘entered’ Babylon. ²⁵ Cogan concluded, in part on the basis of similar language in other inscriptions, that cult statues were brought to Babylon both to prevent the statues from being taken by the Persians and to use their power to protect Babylon and Nabonidus himself. ²⁶ The Cyrus Cylinder (VAB 3, 2–3, ll. 9–10), however, reinterprets the incident, suggesting that the gods were angry at being removed from their shrines and therefore supported Cyrus. ²⁷ Foreign gods, through their cult images, can thus be seen as becoming instruments of imperial power. ²⁸

Interpreted in this way, the speech of the Rabshakeh reflects more than simply the spoliation and ownership of divine statues, and the use of the statues (as emblems of Assur and the Assyrian king). It reflects more than the blasphemy of the Assyrians (in comparing the divine statues of the ‘kingdoms of the idols’ to Yahweh), as well as their lack of understanding that Yahweh has no cult image. It also reflects the arrogance or hubris of the Assyrian king who states that it is Yahweh who has called him to attack Jerusalem. Usually the expression of this call (like the departure of the divine statues) is an ex post facto (re)interpretation, offered only after the city and its gods are safely in Assyrian hands. Here the Assyrian king has ‘jumped the gun’, as it were. In several ways, then, we can see that this interpretation of an Assyrian background for the speech highlights the flaws in the Assyrian argument and, ultimately, the inevitability of Jerusalem's deliverance.

Unfortunately, this discussion of the gods of the speech as divine statues—as with the suggestions of Cohen and others concerning the Assyrian background of other elements of the speech—shows only that this interpretation is plausible, not that it is necessary. Turning to the Hezekiah–Sennacherib narrative, however, we find textual support for this interpretation, if we read the Rabshakeh's speech together with the following chapter. In 2 Kgs 19.18 (// Isa. 37.19), Hezekiah remarks that the foreign gods are ‘the work of human hands, of wood and stone’ (and thus not actual gods). It appears, at least at first glance, as if the biblical text provides further evidence that the Rabshakeh's speech contains a literal reference to divine statues.

However, reading 2 Kgs 18.34 // Isa. 36.19 and 2 Kgs 19.18 // Isa. 37.19 together raises a question. The theme of foreign gods as mere statues, made of wood and stone, is found throughout the Hebrew Bible. So, are these themes Neo-Assyrian, or are they biblical?

3. Literary Analysis: Language and Themes

One method of approaching this problem is to look at the Rabshakeh's question ‘Where are the gods?’ Close variants of this question (‭-הלא יא/היא‬) appear in two other passages besides 2 Kings 18 // Isaiah 36:

In addition, as Tigay points out, ²⁹ the theme of this question is also closely related to Judg. 10.14 (cf. Jer. 11.12):

In each case, we have the association of three elements or themes: the question itself; the suggestion that these are false gods; and the failure of these gods to provide deliverance. In the Rabshakeh's speech, the last theme, that of lack of salvation, is found in the surrounding verses, 2 Kgs 18.33, 35 // Isa. 36.18, 20. Meanwhile, the theme of false gods is pointedly missing from the Rabshakeh's speech, distinguishing it from the other cases; in 2 Kings and Isaiah, this theme appears only in Hezekiah's prayer in the following chapter. ³⁰

Thus I would suggest that the question ‘Where are the/your gods?’ is a Deuteronomistic trope. The close relationship between Jeremiah and Deuteronomy, interpreted by scholars as ranging from a Deuteronomistic redaction of Jeremiah, to Jeremiah as a member of the Deuteronomistic circle, to Jeremiah as the Deuteronomist (at least Dtr1) himself, ³¹ reinforces the view that the question should be seen as another example of classic Deuteronomistic language. ³² My results are in line with more recent analyses of the Rabshakeh's speech, which have focused on literary analysis of the passage. ³³ Most of these studies, looking at the 2 Kings 18–19 and Isaiah 36–37 passages holistically, have concluded that the Rabshakeh's speech is largely a reflection of either Deuteronomistic outlook or Isaianic prophecies, not of a historical Rabshakeh. Thus Ben Zvi, for instance, identified clear biblical parallels for a series of key words and themes of the speech: trust (‭חטב‬), especially trust in Yahweh, which recurs especially in Psalms; failure of reliance on Egypt, elsewhere in Kings and various prophets; removal of the high places and their association with altars, common in the Deuteronomistic History; the call of Yahweh to the Assyrian king to destroy Jerusalem, paralleled especially in Isa. 10.5–6; the call to bring the people of Jerusalem to a prosperous land, an inverted Deuteronomistic theme, with Deuteronomistic language; and so on. ³⁴ The current study, then, adds to the evidence gathered by this approach, in suggesting the question ‘Where are the gods?’ as another Deuteronomistic element.

I would argue that the Rabshakeh's question is even more crucial for understanding the role of the speech, however. The Deuteronomistic setting of 2 Kgs 18.34 is indicated by more than just the language of the question itself. It is also reflected in the specific gods who have failed to provide deliverance—in the set of named cities. The list of cities in this verse (Hamath, Arpad, Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivvah) is closely related to two other city lists, 2 Kgs 17.24 and 2 Kgs 19.13; the former lists the cities from which persons were deported to settle in Samaria after its conquest, while the latter, from the Rabshakeh's letter to Hezekiah, plays a similar rhetorical role to 2 Kgs 18.34 (but with kings instead of gods). This observation of a close relationship is not new. ³⁵ However, the insistence on source criticism or a historical approach has led to the separate treatment of these passages, and attempts to identify the geographical locations of the cities. In an extreme case, Nadav Na'aman has insisted that the Hamath of 2 Kgs 17.24 is not the same as the Hamath of 2 Kgs 19.13—suggesting one is the famous Hamath in Syria while the other is in Babylonia. ³⁶ These lists have rarely, if ever, been considered in relation to each other in a literary sense, as part of a single, larger unit.

Once we look at these verses in this way, we notice a remarkable parallel: in 2 Kgs 18.34, as in 2 Kgs 17.24, there is an association of the list of cities and their gods with Samaria. Each list has five cities, with three of these five (if we equate Ivvah with Avva) being the same in each list; if we remove Hena and Ivvah (following text-critical analysis), two of the three cities from 2 Kgs 18.34 // Isa. 36.19 are found in 2 Kgs 17.24 (Hamath and Sepharvaim). ³⁷ This association of the cities and their gods with Samaria in these two cases cannot be coincidence. Instead, we should posit a direct relationship between the two lists. The cities of 2 Kgs 18.34 // Isa. 36.19, then, are an explicit reference to the deportees of 2 Kgs 17.24, now making their gods in Samaria. This conclusion solves two longstanding interpretive problems with this verse at once: why foreign gods would have saved Samaria, and why Sennacherib would take credit for the conquests of previous Assyrian kings. Sennacherib (through the Rabshakeh) is not referring to the rescue of Samaria from conquest in the past, but its deliverance from his own rule, in the present. ³⁸ Thus, the verb ‭וליצה‬ should not be translated as a simple past, but rather as a present perfect (‘Have they delivered Samaria from my hand?’). ³⁹ With this interpretation, we can argue conclusively against the often-suggested insertion of the sentence ‘Where are the gods of Samaria?’ before the final question of the verse (‘Have they delivered …?’). ⁴⁰

In other words, the Rabshakeh's speech builds—in a direct, concrete way—off of the 2 Kings 17 narrative. This observation, in my view, suggests that we should consider the possibility that Deuteronomistic elements in the Rabshakeh's speech are not simply redactions, but evidence for the Deuteronomistic composition of the speech. In fact, there are several additional pieces of evidence that support my proposed interpretation: these consist of key words and themes found throughout both parts of the Rabshakeh's speech:

4. Literary Analysis: Tone and Audience

That the Rabshakeh's speech is intimately tied to 2 Kings 17 in several ways, and is an integral part of Kings more generally, encourages us to abandon the idea that certain Deuteronomistic passages are mere ‘redactions’ and to reconsider the speech as a literary whole. In particular, the conclusions above concerning the literary context of the Rabshakeh's speech invite us to reevaluate its tone and rhetorical effect. Generally speaking, scholars have interpreted the speech as, to quote Hyman, ‘a masterful example of rhetorical intimidation’. ⁴⁹ I would suggest, however, that it is better to read the speech differently—to deemphasize the power of the arguments of the Rabshakeh and instead highlight the possible irony and humor of the Deuteronomist. To be sure, the speech has a dramatic effect on the characters in the Hezekiah–Sennacherib narrative, from the request from Hezekiah's officials that the Rabshakeh speak in Aramaic instead of Hebrew so that the people of Jerusalem will not understand, to Hezekiah's rending his clothes, to Hezekiah's worried message to Isaiah. At the same time, on close analysis of the speech, it is difficult to take the arguments of the Rabshakeh seriously within the context of Kings and the Deuteronomistic History.

As before, I believe the best starting point is with the treatment of foreign gods. I have highlighted the Rabshakeh's false comparison (in the theology of the Deuteronomist) of Yahweh to foreign gods, and the related suggestion that foreign deities are nothing but statues made by human hands (2 Kgs 19.18 // Isa. 37.19). This theme recurs throughout the Hebrew Bible. The phrase ‭ןבאו ץע‬ (wood and stone’) is common in Deuteronomy (4.28; 28.36, 64; 29.16), and echoed in Ezek. 20.32 and (in Aramaic) Dan. 5.4 (see also Jer. 2.27, 3.8, and Hab. 2.18–19, where the words are associated or paired in a couplet instead of this single phrase). ⁵⁰ The general theme, meanwhile, is developed most extensively in the so-called idol parodies or prophetic parodies (Jer. 10.1–6; Isa. 40.19–20; 41.5–14; 44.6–22; Hos. 8.4–6; 13.2–3; Mic. 5.12–13; Hab. 2.18–19), which deserve brief attention.

Michael Dick has conducted a detailed comparison between these passages and Mesopotamian texts, especially the mīs pî (‘washing of the mouth’) and pit pî (‘opening of the mouth’) rituals, whereby divine statues are officially consecrated and become the manifestation of the deity. ⁵¹ On the basis of these comparisons, he concludes that the prophetic parodies fail as convincing counterarguments against these foreign practices. While the comparisons are apt, I cannot follow Dick's conclusions here. These conclusions fail to appreciate the proper function of the prophetic parodies. Rather than functioning as logical arguments meant to convince believers in divine statues, they instead ridicule these beliefs (more to the effect of ‘preaching to the choir’). Through the exaggeration of certain features in order to ridicule them, the parodies (and the biblical view of foreign gods generally) engage in caricature—or, what we can alternatively label as the genre of burlesque.

In fact, these parodies are only one of several ways in which the Hebrew Bible engages in ridicule of foreign deities. For example, the Deuteronomistic History in particular seems to be full of wordplay that denigrates other gods: personal names in which the divine element ‭לעב‬ (Baal) is replaced by ‭תשב‬ (‘shame’); the replacement of Astarte with Ashthoreth, apparently using the vowels of ‭תשב‬; and Baal-zebub (‘lord of the flies’), likely a play on Baal-zebul (‘prince Baal’?). ⁵² This wordplay is one of several examples of what Judith Hadley has called ‘de-deification’ of foreign gods. ⁵³ Hadley's concept of a process of ‘de-deification’ is helpful but not quite accurate, especially the idea that these ‘“other deities” are in the process of becoming “de-deified”, or reduced to common objects’. ⁵⁴ This is a teleological explanation, looking at the issue merely from the post facto viewpoint of the outcome, rather than addressing what it was to the Deuteronomists and their audience at the time. It also fails to consider how the Deuteronomist and the Deuteronomistic History accomplish ‘de-deification’: not simply through reduction to household objects, but through ridicule, caricature, burlesque (i.e. how can these household objects be your deities?). By categorizing them under the genre of burlesque, we gain, in my view, a greater insight into the biblical viewpoint on foreign deities. It is not a failed attempt at logical arguments against polytheism, as Dick would have it. It is not a failure to understand the polytheistic mindset, as Yehezkel Kaufmann concluded. ⁵⁵ Nor is it an attempt at suppressing references to foreign deities in Israel, contra William Dever. ⁵⁶ Instead, it is one of ridicule. To understand it properly, we need to be sensitive to issues of tone in the text, and acknowledge the biblical use of humor and irony.

I believe that the Rabshakeh's speech, with its employment of foreign deities, partakes in this same ridicule. The comparison to foreign deities, as noted above, highlights the blasphemy and arrogance of the Assyrian king. In particular, it signals to the reader a fatal flaw of the argumentation: the comparison of Yahweh to foreign gods is false, as the foreign gods are not real gods but merely lifeless statues. These themes are common throughout the Deuteronomistic History, and the Bible more generally; moreover, as I discussed above, the specific association of this theme with the lack of salvation and the question ‘Where are the gods?’ figures elsewhere in the Deuteronomistic History (and Jeremiah). I do not believe, then, that the intended audience of the Deuteronomist would find the argument of the Rabshakeh believable. ⁵⁷

These conclusions hold for other parts of the Rabshakeh's speech. In Kings, the reader is continually confronted with statements about the sin of the high places—including in 2 Kings 17 with their role in the fall of Samaria (vv. 9–11). Even when Judah had righteous kings, we continually read: ‭ורס אל תומבה קר‬, ‘but the high places were not removed’ (2 Kgs 12.4; 14.4; 15.4, 35; cf. 1 Kgs 22.44). Now, finally, Hezekiah has removed the high places. It is unlikely that the audience could have believed the Rabshakeh's argument that this reflected badly on Hezekiah or weakened Judah. ⁵⁸ The same is true for the Rabshakeh's reference to a new promised land. More than simply blasphemy or arrogance, the Rabshakeh's arguments reflect a complete misunderstanding of the theology of Kings, and of the Deuteronomistic History more generally: the arguments are not just wrong, but transparently so. ⁵⁹ It is therefore hard to believe that the Deuteronomist or his intended audience would have seen them as ‘masterful rhetoric’. Within the narrative itself the speech is threatening and dramatic to the characters, but to its audience it is little more than superficial bluster. ⁶⁰ The inversions or ‘ironic reversals’ ⁶¹ are better understood not as masterful rhetoric but as rhetorical devices in a burlesque work: the speech caricatures the bombast of Assyrian royal discourse in the same way that it ridicules the worship of foreign gods. In this way, it signals to the reader that the Assyrian threats, while dramatic in the context of the narrative, are ultimately empty. Jerusalem, unlike Samaria, will survive. ⁶²

5. Conclusion

In this study, traditional modes of interpretation (such as source and text criticism) have proven valuable; ultimately, though, they limit the types of conclusions we can reach through their tendency to atomize the text, to try to break it down into its original constituent parts. Reading the text as a single literary unit, then, has served as an essential corrective. The use of an array of critical tools has been successful: we now have windows onto a series of new possibilities for understanding this verse and its wider context, a larger constellation of meanings for study. Further application of these methods in tandem will only help us to appreciate more fully the true literary complexity of the biblical texts.

As we have seen, the use of foreign gods in the Rabshakeh's speech (as with certain other elements) may reflect on one level an underlying Near Eastern reality: the view of divine statues as not simply symbols but as the physical presence of the deity. There may also be a reflection of Assyrian capture and use of divine statues, but this is more speculative. Regardless, the Rabshakeh's speech—as we have it, at least—is wholly a piece of biblical literature, and the figure of the Rabshakeh in Kings is a rhetorical construct of the Deuteronomist. A number of elements are inspired by prophecies of Isaiah. Nevertheless, they are presented in Deuteronomistic language, reflecting both vocabulary and themes familiar from the Deuteronomistic History. The speech is an integral part of the larger Kings narrative, building directly not only off of the introduction to the Hezekiah narrative (2 Kgs 18.1–12) but also off of the narrative of the fall of Samaria (2 Kgs 17). Thus, we should not view 2 Kings 18–19 or 18–20 as an isolated segment; at least on some level, the author(s) appear(s) to have intended a larger unit contrasting the fall of Samaria with the deliverance of Jerusalem. The speech itself is best understood as a burlesque, partaking in the same rhetorical use of caricature that is evident in the description of foreign gods throughout the Deuteronomistic History (and the prophetic parodies). In the end, I believe that the Rabshakeh's question is, in some sense, a literal one. On one level, then, the Targum's interpretation of the question, introduced at the beginning of this study, should be taken seriously. However, it is not in essence the question of an Assyrian Rabshakeh, referring to the removal of foreign cult statues; it is the question of the Deuteronomist's Rabshakeh, shown up by his ignorance of the fact that foreign gods are merely lifeless statues.