Abstract
The case of King Nebuchadnezzar’s animal episode in Daniel 4 has typically been read in ways that pathologize animality. I argue, however, that the Hebrew Bible demonstrates at least two views of animals and knowledge: one which casts them as ignorant and stupid and one which celebrates their knowledge, especially knowledge of the divine. Rather than reading Nebuchadnezzar’s experience through the former tradition, I offer an alternative reading in which nonhuman animals are seen as having knowledge, even a special knowledge of the divine. Nebuchadnezzar’s animalization need not be read as punishment or madness, but rather it is meant to educate him. When Nebuchadnezzar is given the ‘mind of an animal’ (4.13), the goal is to reach a better knowledge of God through this animal mind. Finally, I conclude with thoughts about how this interpretation avoids the pitfalls of conflating animality with madness and its relevance for animal ethics today.
Introduction
The animal transformation of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon in Daniel 4 has inspired much speculation about its origins and what it means to say. Interpretations of the king’s transformation have tended to fall into three categories: medicalizing, historicizing, and contextualizing. First, some of the earliest modern scholarly works on Daniel 4 medicalize the story by diagnosing the king with various medical illnesses, for example, lycanthropy, suggesting that he is something like a werewolf. 1 With the aid of a number of important archaeological finds in the past couple of centuries, this interpretation has declined in popularity, 2 although it lives on in other ways, as we shall see. Second, more recent scholars have tended to historicize Daniel 4 by attempting to find the real historical kernel of this tale. Historicizing interpretations most frequently point to Nabonidus, a king of Babylon (and the son of the historical Nebuchadnezzar II), who took a leave of absence from the throne for a number of years, perhaps laying a rough historical foundation for the king’s fictional seven-year animal sojourn. 3 Finally, recent interpreters also contextualize the text by explaining how the motifs in Daniel find parallels with other ANE literature. Among the most commonly argued parallels are various ‘wild men’, especially Enkidu of the Epic of Gilgamesh (see Coxon, 1993; Henze, 1999: 93–99). 4
Many of these readings offer a lot of explanatory value, and I am not here arguing against these historical or contextual perspectives. However, I am concerned with an aspect of the medicalizing view that has prevailed despite that view’s overall declining utility. Significantly, regardless of whatever their own individual understanding of the text may be, the vast majority of scholars continue to uncritically employ the medicalizing language of ‘mental illness’ (Cason, 2014: 97), 5 ‘insanity’ (Hartman and Di Lella, 1978: 168), and especially ‘madness’ (Montgomery, 1927: 220; Collins, 1993: 209; Meadowcroft, 1997: 34; Newsom, 2013: 277; Stökl, 2013: 261; Avalos, 2014: 497; Newsom, 2014: 141, passim; Koosed and Seesengood, 2014: 185). No matter whether they invoke Nabonidus or Enkidu or some other text to explain Daniel 4, most scholars still describe Nebuchadnezzar’s animal transformation as a type of madness. This association of animality with madness concerns me, both for the dangers this animalizing logic poses to real people with mental disabilities and for the anthropocentric hierarchy that this logic assumes, in which humans are mentally superior to nonhuman animals. 6
In this article, I argue that a close reading of Daniel 4 reveals that Nebuchadnezzar’s animal transformation is not a descent into a medicalized condition of madness. Rather, I propose that the king is transformed into an animal in order to educate him. He receives an animal mind so that he may know what animals know, that is, so that he may know the divine, which is a reading of Daniel 4 that coheres well with certain other HB texts and with recent works in animal studies. My argument will proceed as follows. First, I show that the HB has contradictory viewpoints regarding cognition among nonhuman animals, but a significant strain highlights their cognitive capacity and even their awareness of the divine. Second, I read Daniel 4 closely in order to demonstrate that this positive view of the animal mind found in other HB texts can be seen in this one as well. Finally, I show the relevance of this reading in modern religious discourse by tying it to contemporary animal studies.
Two views on animal cognition
Negativity toward animal cognition
The HB is not univocal on the issue of the minds of nonhuman animals. One major stream of thought depicts animals as the paradigm of ignorance and stupidity. In Job 18.3, for instance, the character Bildad asks, ‘Why are we thought of as a beast? / Why are we stupid in your eyes?’; 7 in Job 35.11, Elihu says that God ‘teaches us more than the animals of the land / and he makes us wiser than the birds of the sky’. 8 Ps. 73.22 also demonstrates a view of nonhuman animals that sees them as ignorant. The psalmist addresses his lament to Yahweh, saying, ‘I am stupid, and I do not know. / I am a beast (בְּהֵמוֹת) with you’. Here, the psalmist assumes animals have no knowledge of God, and he remembers his own similar ignorance. For this author, knowing God makes a person more human and less animal. 9
Perhaps most relevant for the book of Daniel, later in the apocalyptic section of the book, various chimerical animals stand for enemies of God. These empires are ‘bestial and savage’ opponents of the divine: regarding Daniel’s visions in chapters 7–12, Koosed and Seesengood (2014: 188) remark, ‘The text is explicit in its symbolism: Human kings and empires are not just symbolized by the animal; they are bestial and savage. […] These kings are at war with God and destined to lose’. Against these beasts stands the Most High’s representative, the ‘one like a human being (or son of man)’ (כְּבַר אֱנָשׁ, 7.13; cf. כְּמַרְאֵה־גָבֶר, 8.15) who will conquer these imperial monsters who challenge God’s sovereignty.
Thus, in this rather negative strand in the HB, the nonhuman animal is a symbol of stupidity with regard to intelligence and a symbol of ignorance or even opposition with regard to knowledge of God.
Positivity toward animal cognition
However, alongside—and even in the midst of—these negative texts exist statements that are remarkably positive toward nonhuman animals and their intelligence. In the Prophets, the understanding of animals is often set as an ironic foil to a lack of understanding in humans. For example, Isa. 1.3 proclaims, The ox knows (יָדַע) its owner And the donkey the crib of its master. Israel does not know. My people does not have understanding.
Jer. 8.7 has a similar sentiment: Even the stork in the heavens knows (יָדְעָה) its appointed times And the turtledove, swallow, and crane watch the time of their coming But my people does not know the judgment of Yahweh.
Here, animals can possess knowledge (the word ידע will be important in Daniel 4) even when humans do not. Wisdom literature also recognizes the mental capacity of animals. Prov. 30.24–28 lauds the wisdom of the ant, the hyrax, the locust, and the lizard. Even the smallest of animals can possess ingenuity, skill, and wisdom. In Job 38.36, Yahweh asks, ‘Who puts wisdom in the ibises? / Or who gives the rooster understanding?’ 10 Birds in this verse are capable of possessing knowledge.
Animals’ knowledge does not merely occur with regard to intelligence in general; rather, we also see throughout the HB that many creatures have some specific perception of the divine. 11 For instance, the nature imagery of Psalm 148 includes the ‘Creeping thing and winged bird’ in its invitation to praise Yahweh. 12 In the prophet Joel, the animals cry out to Yahweh in their suffering (Joel 1.18, 20) and the prophet answers them with comfort (Joel 2.22; cf. Ps. 104.21; see also Job 38.41, in which animals seek God for their food).
Animals’ knowledge of the divine appears in narrative texts as well. Balaam’s donkey in Num. 22.23 sees ‘the messenger of Yahweh’, so the donkey has an ability to perceive the supernatural even when Balaam (at least initially) does not. 13 In Jon. 3.7–8, when the human inhabitants of Nineveh repent, the nonhuman animals are commanded to fast and wear sackcloth with them. Animals here are participants with humans in devotion to Yahweh.
Finally, wisdom literature attests to animal knowledge of God as well. 14 In Job 12.7–10, Job instructs his friends to ‘ask the animals (בְהֵמוֹת), and let them 15 teach you. […] Who among all of these does not know (יָדַע) / That the hand of Yahweh has done this?’ Here, animals have a knowledge (v. 9) of God, and the poet imagines that they can even share this knowledge with humans.
Thus, two perspectives on animals in the HB exist side by side, often within the same book. One denies intelligence to animals, and one gives animals knowledge that extends even to knowledge of the divine, a knowledge from which humans can learn. I argue that Daniel 4 does not constitute an instance of animal madness or stupidity but rather falls within this latter perspective: King Nebuchadnezzar is forced to take on an animal mind and see from an animal perspective in order to gain the knowledge about the Most High that an animal can possess.
The instruction of King Nebuchadnezzar
Keeping in mind this positive strand of biblical thought, I now turn to the text of Daniel 4 itself. The text of this chapter is complicated by differences between versions. Because it is not entirely clear what is original among these versions, I have opted to compare the Aramaic text of the Masoretic Text (MT) and the Greek texts of the Old Greek (OG) and Theodotion (Th.). 16 In all of these versions, the king’s transformation includes changes of three types: social, physiological, and psychological.
First, the dream foretells that the king will undergo a social relocation, finding a new home among ‘the animals of the field’ (חֵיוְתָא חֲלָקֵהּ, 4.12 MT; cf. θηρίων τῆς γῆς, OG/Th.). In 4.20, 22, the figure of Daniel repeats this prediction as he interprets the dream, adding in v. 22 that he will be expelled ‘from human society’ (NRSV; Collins, 1993: 210; cf. מִן־אֲנָשָׁא MT; ἀπὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων Th.). Later, when the dream is fulfilled, a voice from heaven reinforces this exclusion from other humans using the same wording (4.29–30 MT/Th.); the OG, rather than describing expulsion in general, says that the king ‘will not speak with any human’ (οὐ μὴ λαλήσῃς μετὰ παντὸς ἀνθρώπου, 4.29) and that he will be naked (γυμνὸς, 4.33b) during his animal sojourn. The reason for this social exclusion from the human domain is to show that ‘the Most High is ruler over the kingdoms of humanity’ (שַׁלִּיט עִלָּיָא בְּמַלְכוּת אֲנָשָׁא, 4.22). 17 The earthly sovereign who merely claims to rule over humans is expelled from society by God, the true ruler of humans. 18
Second, Nebuchadnezzar experiences a physiological change. At a general level, the OG states that ‘his body’ (τὸ σῶμα αὐτοῦ, 4.13) and ‘flesh’ (σάρξa, 4.30b) will be modified. Elsewhere in the ancient versions, his physical appearance dramatically changes as he takes on the attributes of specific nonhuman animals. In the Aramaic version of the text, his hair grows like a bird’s feathers and his nails like a bird’s talons (4.30 MT; so also the Vulgate). The Greek versions add lions to the mix: the OG compares the king’s hair to eagle feathers and his nails to a lion’s claws (4.30b), and Th. reverses these, giving him a lion’s mane and bird claws (4.30). Besides growing hair and talons, the king’s diet shifts away from typical human omnivorous practice to an exclusive diet of grazing (יְטַעֲמוּן, 4.22, 29 MT; βοσκηθῇ, 4.13 OG). A number of times, his new feeding practice is said to be ‘like oxen’ (כְתוֹרִין, 4.22, 29, 30 MT; ὡς βοῦς, 4.12, 29, 33a [ὡς βοῦν] OG; 4.29, 30 Th.), as he now eats ‘grass’ (χόρτον, 4.22, 29 Th.; 4.12, 14a OG).
Most significantly for my purposes here, the third change that Nebuchadnezzar experiences is a psychological one. In 4.13, as he recounts his dream, he tells of hearing the watcher demand that a change take place in his ‘mind’ (לְבַב, MT; καρδία, Th.). 19 His current mind—a ‘human’ one (אֱנוֹשָׁא, MT; 20 τῶν ἀνθρώπων, Th.)—will transform, and he will be given an ‘animal mind’ (וּלְבַב חֵיוָה, MT; καρδία θηρίου, Th.). 21 Let us pause here to consider this metamorphosis, the importance of which is missed by most commentators. This verse is almost universally read as a descent into madness, as a complete loss of rationality. 22 What is clear in this verse is that Nebuchadnezzar’s loss of his human mind does not mean that he is left with no mind at all—rather, this is a substitution, not an elimination. 23 The animal mind he is given is of utmost importance, as it will provide him with a different perspective to correct his arrogant human mind.
Moving forward, Daniel reveals to Nebuchadnezzar the purpose behind his animal transformation—it is to educate him. He will remain in an animal state up to the point that he gains the appropriate knowledge of the divine: ‘until you know’ (‘until you have learned’, NRSV) that God is sovereign (עַד דִּי־תִנְדַּע, 4.22 MT; ἕως οὗ γνῷς, 4.22 Th.; cf. the similar wording in 4.23 MT Th.). Later, this purpose is repeated verbatim by the heavenly voice to Nebuchadnezzar (4.29 MT Th.; cf. ὅπως ἐπιγνῷς, 4.31 OG). The king who thinks himself sovereign must learn that only the Most High is truly in charge. In addition to this expectation of acquiring knowledge, the OG adds that his animal experience is meant to be curative not only for his sins but also for his ‘ignorances’ (τῶν ἀγνοιῶν μου, 4.30a, 30c). 24 Meyer (2018: 102), writing in a theological register sensitive to nonhuman animals, observes, ‘Nebuchadnezzar’s animal sojourn seems to function rehabilitatively’ (see his full discussion of Daniel 4 on pp. 98–103). An understanding of the divine is precisely what the king lacks, and it is only by seeing through animal eyes that he will acquire knowledge of God. This stands counter to views like that seen in Ps. 73.22, in which being a ‘beast’ (בְּהֵמוֹת) is correlated with ignorance (לֹא אֵדָע) of God. In the more positive view of Daniel 4, living as an animal will teach him to recognize the sovereignty of Daniel’s God. Here, animality provides access to this divine knowledge.
At the end of Nebuchadnezzar’s time living as an animal, he looks to the sky, praises God, and proclaims, ‘[M]y reason [or ‘knowledge’] returned to me’ (4.31, 33 MT Th.). The word ‘reason’ or ‘knowledge’ (מַנְדְּעִי, MT; αἱ φρένες μου, Th.) is typically understood in one of two ways. 25 First, it is possible to read the Aramaic מַנְדַּע as ‘knowledge’, implying that this is information that he regains, that is, knowledge of a fact that comes back to him. For instance, Kirkpatrick (2005: 128) takes this view, commenting, ‘The “knowledge” that returned to Nebuchadnezzar is the knowledge that God has the power to remove and establish kings, just as God has done with Nebuchadnezzar himself’ (cf. Seow, 2003: 72–73). But I suggest this misses the point—this regained ‘knowledge’ cannot refer to re-learning God’s sovereignty because this is not a fact that Nebuchadnezzar previously knew. 26 The entire point, I argue, is to teach him what he didn’t already know.
Rather than taking מַנְדַּע as information content, I follow those interpreters who take it as a faculty, namely his reason. 27 Most commentators juxtapose this faculty of ‘reason’ with his supposed prior ‘insanity’ (Hartman) or ‘madness’ (Henze). However, it is important to note the specificity of the ‘reason’ that comes back to him—it is not simply ‘reason’ in an abstract sense but rather ‘my reason’ (מַנְדְּעִי, MT; αἱ φρένες μου, Th.; emphasis mine). The first-person pronoun here must make this a personal rationality, a particular rationality, one rationality among many. I take ‘reason’ here to refer to the ‘human mind’ in 4.13 that was replaced by an ‘animal mind’. It is the mind that he previously possessed prior to his animal experience. I suggest once more that he did not lack rationality during his time as an animal; rather, he had an animal rationality. Now, at this point in the narrative, however, his specific ‘human mind’ has been restored to him.
Nebuchadnezzar’s time spent in animality has thus served its purpose. His human mind is taken, and he receives an animal mind in order to learn; he looks to heaven, demonstrating that he has in fact learned, and his human mind returns. At no point has he succumbed to madness. Rather, his animal experience provides him with an understanding of the divine he otherwise would not have known.
Animal cognition and madness in context
While I do not claim that the reading I have proposed here is the only valid interpretation of Daniel 4, it is important to note that the many scholars who have read Nebuchadnezzar as ‘mad’ have not done so from within a vacuum. Rather, these interpreters write from within a Western cultural context that has long associated mental disability with animality, and, given the frequently violent treatment of nonhuman animals, this association places people with mental disabilities in precarious or even dangerous situations. As Price (2011: 9) notes, ‘Aristotle’s famous declaration that man is a rational animal (1253a; 1098a) gave rise to centuries of insistence that to be named mad was to lose one’s personhood’. Readers without mental disabilities should thus take care to avoid problematic assumptions so as not to reproduce this dehumanizing rhetoric.
In response to this association between mental disability and animality, one common tactic is ‘to challenge animalization and claim humanity’ (Taylor, 2017: 20), that is, to double down on one’s status as a human while leaving unexamined the category of ‘animal’ and along with it the multitude of horrors inflicted on the beings contained under that category. Instead, disability studies and animal studies scholar Sunaura Taylor suggests that we ‘need to challenge the devaluing of animals and even acknowledge our own animality’ (2017: 20). If the lives and well-being of nonhuman animals truly matter, then any dehumanizing perspective founded upon viewing animals pejoratively should therefore lose its rhetorical force. As a result, there is much to be gained from re-examining how we see nonhuman animals.
I have shown that the HB, while diverse in its views toward animals, contains a strand that may help with just such a re-examination. The HB’s positive view toward animal intelligence, which I have argued also appears in Daniel 4, coheres well with recent discoveries in nonhuman animal cognition and behavior. Marc Bekoff has written at length of many animals’ thoughtful behavior, self-awareness, emotional capacity, and even morality. He opines, ‘Many animals are extremely clever, creative, and smart, perhaps even smarter than we will ever know! Our own intelligence will be challenged as we forge ahead to learn more about what other animals can do and what they know’ (2002: 91–92). Cattle, for instance—the animal to which Nebuchadnezzar is most frequently likened—are surprisingly intelligent (Gregoire, 2015), enjoy learning (Hagen and Broom, 2004), and experience rich emotional lives (Bates, 2014).
In addition to this intelligence, some scholars have proposed that some nonhuman animals even have a sense of spirituality. Jane Goodall (2005), in describing a chimpanzee ‘waterfall dance’, remarks that displays like this dance could be ‘precursors of religious ritual’ (2005: 1304). She goes on to ask, ‘Is it not possible that these performances are stimulated by feelings akin to wonder and awe?’ (2005: 1304). I also wonder whether the nonhuman animals around us share a similar awareness of something beyond themselves, just as the animalized Nebuchadnezzar lifts his eyes to the sky and acknowledges God. Scenes like these are why Patton (2000: 402–403) encourages us to see nonhuman animals as ‘theological subjects rather than mediated objects’. 28 A reading of Daniel 4 that values animality may thus have implications not simply for that text alone but also for the ethical consideration of all animals, both human and nonhuman.
Conclusion
The so-called ‘madness’ of King Nebuchadnezzar is anything but. This medicalizing characterization associates mental disability with animality, and considering the ways Western societies often treats animals, this association is a dangerous one. Instead, the story of Nebuchadnezzar’s animal transformation relies on one of the HB’s various perspectives, the particular one in which nonhuman animals are intelligent and have a knowledge of the divine. By becoming an animal, Nebuchadnezzar can tap into this knowledge and repair his human arrogance. Perhaps these ancient texts can pose a challenge to us today in our own relations with nonhumans.
Footnotes
1.
Harle (1729: 117) mentions the lycanthropic interpretation (disapprovingly) early on (‘The stories told of Lycanthropi, or men turned into wolves, I take to be nothing but the effect of a vitiated imagination’). However, Pusey (1864) is widely credited with popularizing it in biblical studies. To make his case regarding the possibility of a case of medical lycanthropy in the ancient world, he draws on the Greek physician Marcellus, who witnessed people ‘who imagined themselves changed into wolves’ and names later Greek writers who experienced similar phenomena (425). Pusey also notes that because Nebuchadnezzar’s behavior and appearance are more cow-like than wolf-like, perhaps ‘boanthropy’ is a better term (427). For a similar view, see Smith (1886: 166); cf. ‘insania zoanthropica’ (Cobern, 1901: 353).
This diagnosis has continued in various ways. Wilson (1917: 287–288) believes the lycanthropy diagnosis (loosely interpreted to include animals other than wolves, evidently) is accurate, but he has problems accepting that the condition lasted for seven years (וְשִׁבְעָה עִדָּנִין, 4.29 Masoretic Text [MT]; ἔτη ἑπτά, 4.30a Old Greek [OG]). Montgomery (1927: 220) concludes that Nebuchadnezzar has a ‘mild case’ of clinical lycanthropy. LaCocque (1979: 80), while drawing on other explanations as well, also takes up the defense of boanthropy/lycanthropy: ‘It becomes clear that the king will be struck by lycanthropy, a disease sadly illustrated by King George III of England and by Otto of Bavaria. Here the superstition about werewolves finds its material basis. Nebuchadnezzar, to boot, is here reduced to a bovine state’. He goes on: ‘V. 30 describes him struck by lycanthropy. On this subject—beyond the examples already mentioned from modern history—parallels have been noted with the “Babylonian Job” and the “Story of Aḥikar”. Bevan, Montgomery, Jeffery, and Porteous all draw attention to the resemblance to the Bacchant queen in Euripides (Bacchae, 1265ff.). They note that the Bacchants are assimilated to animals, clothed with the skins of beasts and suckling young fawns and wolves’ (86). Grelot (1994: 12) mentions ‘zoanthropy’ but decides the label of the king’s ‘mental perturbation’ doesn’t matter. More recently, 
: 111–112) references a 1946 clinical case of boanthropy as proof of the disease’s existence and argued that even if Dan. 4 is folkloric, there still may be a medical explanation behind the folklore.
2.
See Collins’s (1993: 228) assessment: ‘Conservative scholars have argued that Nebuchadnezzar’s transformation can be understood as an example of the disease zooanthropy or lycanthropy. In view of the tradition history of the story and its original association with Nabonidus, such arguments are beside the point’. : 93) also argues that finding a medical explanation for Nebuchadnezzar’s story makes it ‘a concrete historical incident’ when the story is increasingly seen as ahistorical (see, however, my discussion of historicizing interpretations below).
3.
Nabonidus’s leave of absence is recorded in the Nabonidus Chronicle (Pinches, 1882; see also Pritchard, 1969: 305–307; Beaulieu, 1989: 149–185). The connection to Nabonidus was first proposed by a number of German scholars (Winckler, 1893: 200–201, 213–214; Riessler, 1899: 43; Hommel, 1902). Nabonidus’s absence was supported by further discoveries in subsequent decades (Smith 1924: 27–97 [cf. Pritchard, 1969: 312–315]; Gadd, 1958). In addition, the discovery of the Prayer of Nabonidus (4QPrNab) (first published in Milik, 1956) among the Qumran material showed that Dan. 4 was not the only Jewish text to reimagine Nabonidus’s absence from a theological angle. Collins (1993: 218) comments, ‘The stories may be different developments of a common tradition’. Similarly, Wills (1990: 91) argues that parts of Dan. 4 and 4QPrNab both originate in the ‘Danielic School’. For more on this connection to Nabonidus, see Newsom, 2013, : 127–133.
4.
Enkidu’s story is the inverse of Nebuchadnezzar’s (Garrison, 2012)—rather than a civilized man arising out of nature, Nebuchadnezzar descends from civilization into nature. Besides this Enkidu parallel, a number of other parallels have been offered. Wills (1990: 99) suggests that the king’s boasting in Dan. 4.26–30 is similar to the narrative about Nebuchadnezzar in the Wall Pronouncement of Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.41.456d–457b (a citation of Abydenus, who in turn cites Megasthenes), in which the king himself (rather than a voice from the heavens) prophesies from the wall that a ‘Persian mule’ will come, signaling the end of Babylon. Grelot (1994: 14) takes the inspiration of the Dan. 4 story to be found in curses from ancient vassal treaties. For instance, one treaty relating to Esarhaddon proclaims, ‘May Sin, the luminary of heaven and earth, clothe you in leprosy and (thus) not permit you to enter the presence of god and king; roam the open country as a wild ass or gazelle!’ (‘The Vassal-Treaties of Esarhaddon’ 39 [in Pritchard, 1969: 538]). Furthermore, Collins (1993: 231) mentions (in addition to the Nabonidus parallel), that the description of Nebuchadnezzar’s appearance in 4.30 bears similarities to the story of Aḥiqar. Hays (2007) argues that Nebuchadnezzar’s animality connects him to demons and death, and his subsequent deliverance from animality makes Dan. 4 something similar to the lament genre of Hebrew poetry. Bunta (2009) believes the tree in Dan. 4 is not so much the world tree that many scholars argue for but is instead the mēsu-tree, a tree that is an icon to be worshipped; when the tree in the dream is cut down and Nebuchadnezzar becomes like an animal, God is relegating him from the position of an object of worship to the position of a worshipper, making him one of the animals that gathered under the tree in his dream. Avalos (2014) argues that the motif of a deity humbling a human has a parallel in the Sumerian dingir.šà.dib.ba incantations, giving further support to Coxon’s and Henze’s arguments. : 99) argues that ‘Daniel 4 follows the structure of a male rite of passage as the masculinity of the initiated (i.e. Nebuchadnezzar) is thoroughly degraded in order to bolster the masculinity of the initiator (i.e. God)’.
5.
For Cason, the text’s author views the king’s animalization as a ‘disability’ in need of ‘repair’.
6.
For instance, Collins (1981: 54) asserts that Nebuchadnezzar is ‘reduced to a bestial state’, and : 122) argues that the king ‘even descends to an animal state’ (my emphasis).
7.
Unless otherwise noted, translations from original languages are my own.
8.
In addition, many later Jewish and Christian texts in Greek emphasize animals’ irrationality (ἀλογία, i.e. the lack of λόγος). For example, the Wisdom of Solomon frequently uses ‘irrational’ (ἄλογος) animals as a negative point of comparison with mute, unthinking cult statues. Wis. 11.15 condemns the worship of ‘irrational snakes and worthless animals’ (ἄλογα ἑρπετὰ καὶ κνώδαλα εὐτελῆ) and ‘irrational creatures’ (ἀλόγων ζῴων). Wis. 13.14 compares a cult statue to ‘some worthless creature’ (ζῴῳ τινὶ εὐτελεῖ). This trope recurs in 4 Macc. 14.14, 18 (τὰ ἄλογα ζῷα, τῶν ἀλόγων ζῴων, respectively) and appears in the NT as well, as seen in 2 Pet. 2.12 (ἄλογα ζῷα) and Jude 10 (τὰ ἄλογα ζῷα). Instances of this trope are plentiful after this point; see Prot. Jas. 3.2 (τοῖς ἀλόγοις ζώοις) and Augustine, Conf. 13.32 (inrationabilibus animantibus).
9.
Cf. 4 Ezra 8.29–30, which disparages ‘those who have the conduct of cattle’ (qui pecorum mores habuerunt) and ‘those who are judged worse than beasts’ (qui bestiis peius sunt iudicati) over against ‘those who gladly teach your law’ (qui legem tuam splendide docuerunt) and ‘those who always trust in your glory’ (qui semper in tua gloria confiderunt), thus setting animals’ activity and faithful worshippers’ activity in stark opposition.
10.
This verse is complicated by a major translation issue. The words that I have translated as ‘ibis’ (טֻחוֹת) and ‘rooster’ (שֶׂכְוִי) have caused no little confusion for translators. Generally speaking, there are two possibilities, and it is not clear whether they refer to 1) human interiority or 2) birds. The Vulgate mixes these possibilities with visceribus (‘bowels’) and gallo (‘rooster’), and Wycliffe follows this trend, translating them as ‘entrailis’ and ‘cok’. The KJV, however, went purely with words relating to the human mind (‘inward parts’ and ‘heart’), and most English translations have continued in the KJV’s steps: ‘inward parts’ and ‘mind’ (ASV, ESV, NRSV), ‘heart’ and ‘understanding’ (HCSB), ‘innermost being’ and ‘mind’ (NASB), ‘mind’ and ‘heart’ (NCV), ‘heart’ and ‘mind’ (NLT), and ‘hidden parts’ and ‘mind’ (NJPS). The RSV stands out with ‘clouds’ and ‘mists’, but it seems translators are beginning to move to bird imagery, with the CEB being halfway there (‘remote places’ and ‘rooster’) and the MSG and the NIV embracing bird imagery completely (‘ibis’ and ‘rooster’). This change seems to come from more recent Hebrew lexicons that open up this possibility, such as DCH, which has possibilities of ‘viscera, innards’, ‘darkness’, and ‘ibis’ for טֻחוֹת, and ‘cock, rooster’, ‘mind’, and ‘mists’ for שֶׂכְוִי. The LXX is of no help in this discussion, with translations relating to garments: γυναιξὶν ὑφάσματος and ποικιλτικὴν. I have chosen to translate the two Hebrew words in question as ‘ibis’ and ‘rooster’ because these seem to fit with the direction in which some modern translations are going, and these words go well with the context of nature imagery in Job 38.
11.
12.
‘Praise Yahweh from the earth, / Monsters and all depths. […] Animal and every beast, / Creeping thing and winged bird’ (Ps. 148.7, 10; cf. Isa. 43.20). On this topic, see Johnson, 2019.
13.
For more, see McKay, 2002: 138–140; Way, 2011: 184–190; Stone, 2017: 100–106. Cf. also the other famous talking animal, the snake of Gen. 3, who also seems to have some knowledge of the divine, albeit a ‘shrewd’ knowledge.
14.
15.
The MT has a singular verb here (וְתֹרֶךָּ), so most translations follow the LXX’s plural (εἴπωσιν) to match the plural ‘animals’.
16.
Unless otherwise specified, verse references will correspond to the MT’s versification.
17.
Cf. שַׁלִּיט עִלָּיָא בְּמַלְכוּת אֱנוֹשָׁא, 4.14 MT; κύριός ἐστιν ὁ ὕπιστος τῆς βασιλείας τῶν ἀνθρώπων (4.14 Th.); κυριεύει ὁ ὕψιστος τῆς βασιλείας τῶν ἀνθρώπων (4.22 Th.). See also 4.28 OG: ‘The God of heaven has authority among the kingdom of humans’ (ἐξουσίαν ἔχει ὁ θεὸς τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τῶν ἀνθρώπων).
18.
19.
The Aramaic לְבַב (Hebrew לֵבַב) is often glossed as ‘heart’, but the word covers more conceptual territory than ‘heart’ alone. DCH lists ‘mind, thinking, intention, understanding’ as the first definition. For further discussion of this word, see Briggs, 1897; Joüon, 1924; Mitchell, 2005; Boyle, 2005; Leeb, 2008; Krüger, 2009; Newsom, 2012; Janowski, 2015; Lambert, 2016.
20.
This is the ketiv; the qere suggests אֲנָשָׁא.
21.
The OG places the change in his ‘mind’ (ἡ καρδία μου) later in 4.30b, but it lacks the mention of ‘human’ and ‘animal’ minds. On the MT’s וּלְבַב חֵיוָה, cf. the phrase דעת בהמתו (‘the mind of his animal’) in b. Avod. Zar. 4b’s discussion of Balaam.
22.
23.
: 141) is one of few scholars who recognize that this is a replacement of one mind for another rather than simply a removal of Nebuchadnezzar’s human mind, but she sees this replacement as a diminution to a ‘subhuman rank’. As I argue below, however, it is possible to interpret animalization in this passage as educative rather than disparaging.
24.
A stark contrast thus appears between the wise exile Daniel and the ignorant sovereign king. Daniel’s wisdom gives him the knowledge to interpret the dream, and in the king’s own estimation, Daniel possesses a measure of divine understanding: ‘the spirit of the holy gods is in you’ (רוּחַ אֱלָהִין קַדִּישִׁין בָּךְ, 4.6, 15 MT; πνεῦμα θεοῦ ἅγιον ἐν σοί, 4.6, 15 Th.; cf. 4.5).
25.
26.
It would be easy to make an etymological connection between God’s purpose in Nebuchadnezzar’s learning in 4.22 (תִנְדַּע, from ידע) and the ‘knowledge’ (מַנְדַּע, also from ידע) that returns to him (4.31, 33), and thus to conclude, as Kirkpatrick does, that the content of this ‘knowledge’ is what Nebuchadnezzar is meant to have learned. I make a logical argument against this above, but it is worth noting that Th. glosses these without any etymological connection. Nebuchadnezzar’s learning is ἕως οὗ γνῷς, and the ‘knowledge’ (or better, ‘reason’) that he regains is not γνῶσις, as we would expect if these two verses refer to the same ‘knowledge’; rather, he has αἱ φρένες μου, i.e. ‘my mind’, indicating that this ‘reason’ is more likely his human mind (which can be returned), not the learning Nebuchadnezzar has undertaken as an animal (which cannot be returned because it was never possessed to begin with).
27.
See e.g. Bevan, 1892: 96; Porteous, 1965: 65, 73; Hartman and Di Lella, 1978: 170; and Collins, 1993: 212, 231. The Vulgate (sensus meus) and most modern translations (CEB, ESV, NIV, NJPS, NRSV) share a similar interpretation.
28.
Emphasis original. See also Schaefer, 2012; Stone, 2017: 140–163. : 114) also considers ‘a way of thinking a religious actor that is no longer strictly a human (or divine subject)’.