Abstract
Before Wright published the first two volumes of his Christian Origins and the Question of God series (1992; 1996) the discussion concerning late Second Temple Jewish concepts of exile was a quiet one. Since then, however, more and more scholars have begun to weigh in. Champions of the theory contend that Second Temple texts convey a matrix of concerns that together demonstrate a Jewish consciousness of being in a state of ongoing exile, notwithstanding the residency in the land of a significant population and a functioning temple. Dissenters argue that these scholars are illegitimately privileging one motif within a highly complex ancient religion, and assigning it a metanarrative role it never truly had. Others contend that ‘ongoing’ exile is too narrow of a description to account for the diversity of attitudes across several sects. Only recently, though, have major works been produced that thoroughly examine the primary texts in question. In the process, a growing chorus of voices is supporting, with various levels of enthusiasm, the thesis that a significant number of late Second Temple Jewish groups indeed understood themselves to be languishing in some form of exile: ongoing exile since the sixth century
Keywords
Introduction
All literature is both creation and creator. Texts are the creation of their authors and audiences’ historical experiences. Yet, at the same time, those very texts are also able to create new horizons of imagination. Thus, literature both reflects and shapes its time; it is the creation of history and the creator of future possibilities. The New Testament is no different. As an historical artifact of the first-century thought-world the
In the last fifty years a controversial answer has been offered to the question of late Second Temple Jewish (ca. 200
Until recently exile in the late Second Temple Jewish thought-world has received little sustained focused, mostly confined to footnotes, excursuses and subchapters in books otherwise aimed at different questions. If these interpretations of the
1. The Idea of Exile: The Influence of Steck, Ackroyd and Knibb
Steck, Ackroyd and Knibb are clearly the source waters. Steck (1967) is primarily concerned with the prophetic use of the Deuteronomic view of history: Deuteronomy 27–30 lays down a cycle of sin–exile–repentance/return (often called the ‘SER pattern’). Its frequent deployment for theological interpretations of history in the later Old Testament, intertestamental literature and the
Working independently of Steck, Ackroyd (1968) makes the case that the events of the historic exile, ‘themselves necessitating rethinking, have provoked the development of new lines of thought’ (1968: 233), resulting in ‘the “idea” of exile’ continuing beyond the historic return (1968: 237-47). He remarks, ‘The handling of the exile is not therefore solely a problem of historical reconstruction; it is a matter of attempting to understand an attitude, or more properly a variety of attitudes, taken up towards that historic fact’ (1968: 237-38). To demonstrate this Ackroyd gives extended attention to Dan. 9.24, where the 70 years of Jer. 25.11 and 29.10 are adapted to become 70 weeks of years. He writes, It is in effect an exile lasting 490 years, and with this we reach an understanding of exile and restoration which takes us well beyond the consideration of the sixth century. Here the exile is no longer an historic event to be dated in one period; it is much nearer to being a condition from which only the final age will bring release. Though bound to the historical reality of an exile which actually took place in the sixth century, the experience of exile as such has become the symbol of a period, viewed in terms of punishment but also in terms of promise (1968: 242; all italics original throughout).
Kratz praises Ackroyd—and he is not alone—for his ability to look beyond historical events to ‘the thought of a period as a historical factor’ (2009: 160) and to give attention to the way different genres interpret the present and create expectations for the future (2009: 161-62).
Mosis (1978) also seems to be working independently from Ackroyd and Steck when he points out two significant realities that would not have escaped postexilic Jews’ attention: large portions of Jews did not return to the land in the sixth century
To summarize so far, Steck, Ackroyd and Mosis set the course for future developments in seven ways. (1) Steck’s emphasis on the singular Deuteronomic sin–exile–return pattern of history becomes influential for organizing the diversity among Second Temple Jewish ideals. For some, the prevalent reflection on Deuteronomy 27–30/32 in Second Temple Jewish literature is enough evidence that a dominant sin–exile–return rubric of history dominated the thinking of the time. (2) Like Ackroyd, several subsequent scholars draw out the significance of Daniel’s reinterpretation of Jeremiah’s 70 years until the end of the exile. Daniel 9 is a key window into postexilic understandings of what started in the sixth century
Yet, it is with Knibb (1976) that we move from incipient suggestions to a more confident and precise thesis. In turn, it is to him that subsequent scholars all defer (though less noticed, see also Gowan 1977). His approach is to examine the way
Second, Knibb examines the way Ezek. 4.5-6 is also taken up by subsequent writers. For this he turns to CD 1.5-11. As in the Apocalypse of Weeks, Knibb sees in the Damascus Document a community that understands history in terms of stages, where the exilic stage is pushed right up against the eschaton (1976: 262-64). More on Knibb’s view of Qumran below.
Third, Knibb furthers the argument regarding sin–exile–return passages with the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Jub. 1.9-18 and Tob. 14.4-7 (1976: 264-68). In these texts the exile is not portrayed as a demarked period of time. Rather the eschatological restoration from the exile is a conditional future prophesy: the people must (and will) repent. Insofar as these texts are still calling for that repentance, the return from exile is still future to their second-century
Finally, Knibb rounds off his argument by examining Baruch, 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch, three works he contests ‘were based entirely on the assumption that Israel was in a state of exile’ (1976: 268).
Knibb concludes by saying, Despite many differences in presentation the writings that we have been considering all seem to share the view that Israel remained in a state of exile long after the sixth century, and that the exile would only be brought to an end when God intervened in this world order to establish his rule (1976: 271-72).
It has been necessary to give Knibb so much attention because these same arguments, with varying degrees of nuance, appear throughout the subsequent scholarship, and these texts have now become the loci classici of the debate (Dan. 9; 1 En. 85–90; 93; 91; CD 1; Jub. 1; Tob. 14).
The influence of this line of thought was immediately evident, especially in discussions of Jewish hopes for restoration. Nickelsburg (1981) is bold when he states that the exile was the decisive force in shaping Second Temple literature (pp. 10-18). He writes, The destruction of Jerusalem and the Exile meant the disruption of life and the breaking up of institutions whose original form was never fully restored. Much of post-biblical Jewish theology and literature was influenced and sometimes governed by a hope for such a restoration: a return of the dispersed; the appearance of a Davidic heir to throw off the shackles of foreign domination and restore Israel’s sovereignty; the gathering of one people around a new and glorified Temple (1981: 18).
E.P. Sanders sees in this quote an affirmative to the question whether the complex of eschatological themes in the prophets and the subsequent noncanonical literature constitute ‘a known and identifiable unity in the post-biblical period’ (1985: 79). For E.P. Sanders (1985: 79-88, 95-98, 106-108; 1992: 290-98) these recurring themes are the building of the eschatological temple, the restoration of the dispersed twelve tribes, the rule of ‘David’, the submission of the Gentiles, and the prevalence of righteousness (cf. e.g. Isa. 40–66; Ezek. 34–48; Tob. 13–14; 1 En. 24–25; 89–90; 91; Jub. 1; 23–25; 33; T. Benj. 9; T. Mos. 3–4; 10; Pss. Sol. 8; 17; CD; 1QM; 11QT). Though E.P. Sanders recognizes there was variation within this eschatological complex of hopes, he has nonetheless been convincing that ‘the restoration of Israel’ was the constant anchor to all hopes. ‘In general terms it may be said that “Jewish eschatology” and “the restoration of Israel” are almost synonymous’ (1985: 97). Notably, outside of the Nickelsburg quote, E.P. Sanders says little of exile per se. But subsequent scholars in favor of the ongoing exile thesis have been quick to invoke him for their case. When they read E.P. Sanders on ‘restoration’, they conclude his findings specifically attest to a hope for restoration from exile (see e.g. Brunson 2003: 67-68). Nonetheless, it should be clear that release from an ongoing exile is but one of the meanings of ‘restoration’ to contemporary scholars (see Scott 2010: 1140).
2. Serious-Thinking Jews: Wright and Those Who Say he is Wrong
To this point no detractors have voiced their opposition. This could be because no one had really used the ongoing exile thesis as a platform for further work (but see Neusner 1987). Even E.P. Sanders’s more central theses would still stand were the latent suggestions of an ongoing exile excluded from his discussion of restoration. All this changes with Wright (1991; 1992; 1996). He uses the ongoing exile thesis in a manner crucial for his larger work, and draws both dissent and support from the field.
In his 1992 volume, The New Testament and the People of God, Wright expounds a number of Israel’s beliefs with the ongoing exile motif carrying a lot of freight (cf. 1996; 2013). To Wright, ‘exile’ is far more than a geographic concern; rather it encompasses all the fortunes of Israel, that which was lost in the exile and still yet to be restored (1992: 268-72, 299-301; 1996: xvii-xviii, 203-206, 246-51, 576-77). He argues for the persistence of exile ‘in all sorts of senses’ (1996: xvii). He asks, [W]ould any serious-thinking first-century Jew claim that the promises of Isaiah 40–66, or of Jeremiah, Ezekiel, or Zechariah, had been fulfilled? That the power and domination of paganism had been broken? That YHWH had already returned to Zion? That the covenant had been renewed, and Israel’s sins forgiven? That the long-awaited ‘new exodus’ had happened? That the second Temple was the true, final and perfect one? Or—in other words—that the exile was really over? (1996: xvii-xviii).
In short, the historic sixth-century
To make his case, Wright adduces biblical and nonbiblical sources. Nowhere in any Second Temple literature is a description of God’s return to Zion akin to what is described in 1 Kgs 8.10-11; so the promises of texts such as Isa. 52.7-10 and Ezek. 43.1-7 were still outstanding (1992: 269). And later writers saw this as well; Wright offers Neh. 9.36-37, CD 1.3-11, Tob. 14.5-7, Bar. 3.6-8, 2 Macc. 1.27-29 (1992: 269-70), Ezra 9 (1996: 248-49) and Dan. 9.24-27 (1999: 257-60) as his main lines of evidence.
Though Wright acknowledges that ‘there must have been a full spectrum of first-century Jews’ (1999: 252), he is nonetheless insistent upon the prevalence of a self-understanding marked by ongoing exile: ‘for the bulk of first-century Judaism, the exile was simply not yet over’ (1996: 576). In what has now become an oft-quoted statement, for those both favorable and critical, Wright says, Most Jews of this period, it seems, would have answered the question ‘where are we?’ in language which, reduced to its simplest form, meant: we are still in exile. They believed that, in all the senses which mattered, Israel’s exile was still in progress. Although she had come back from Babylon, the glorious message of the prophets remained unfulfilled. Israel still remained in thrall to foreigners; worse, Israel’s god had not returned to Zion (1992: 268-69).
Those ‘senses which mattered’ are Zion’s vacancy (1992: 269; 1996: 205-206), the imperfect temple (1992: 269-70; 1996: 204-205; 1999: 259-60), the dominance of the pagans (1992: 269-70; 1999: 254-57), and theirs as an age of wrath (1992: 270) until there be repentance (1996: 246-50) and national forgiveness (1992: 272-79; 1996: 276-77). All told, Wright sees these elements comprising a dominant first-century Jewish worldview: a current state of exile and hope for restoration (1999: 252-61). And that dominant worldview, creating the auspices under which all this works, is governed by an understanding that the covenant God has but one plan for the ages, and Jews themselves were living within ‘a story in search of a conclusion’ (1992: 215-23; quote from 217), much of which takes its cue from Daniel 9 (1999: 257-61).
Along these same lines, Werline (1998) follows Steck and Knibb in observing how several groups placed their own second-century
One of the first to object is Seifrid (1994). He is skeptical of how widespread the self-perception of being in a continual exile was, as well as Wright’s sweeping application of the thesis (1994: 86-89). He writes, ‘The abstract pattern of the same “text” or worldview behind virtually all the traditions of second-temple Judaism obscures the distinction between literature and life’ (1994: 86). He points to texts such as Bar. 4.37, Tob. 14.5-7 and 2 Macc. 1.27-29; 15.37 (as well as Pss. Sol. and the
Yet, it is with the publication of Wright’s 1996 Jesus and the Victory of God that the ongoing exile thesis attracts the most attention. Though one of Wright’s stated goals is to help cure westerners of anachronistic readings of the
Wright’s retort to Marsh and Casey is brief. As to his method, Wright defends his holistic understanding of first-century Judaism over against piecemeal approaches, stating, ‘Loose ends are a sign of weakness, not of strength’ (Wright 1998: 106-107). Concerning the ongoing exile itself, Wright seems to think Casey has misread him. He does not speak of exile in an exclusively geographic sense, but uses the term as a shorthand for ‘the time of desolation begun by the Babylonian destruction. “Exile” in this sense is a period of history with certain characteristics’ (Wright 1998: 111-12).
But it is exactly this kind of shorthand that Johnson (1999) says opens Wright up to the fallacy of ambiguity, using a term with multiple meanings in an unspecified way (pp. 210-12). In Johnson’s estimation, Wright over-employs the term and then draws too many equations and inferences from it. Moreover, to Johnson Wright has elided ‘from the literary to the empirical’ (1999: 211) and committed several more fallacies of historiography; among them, the aesthetic fallacy (if something fits the evidence and has explanatory power, it must have occurred so), the generalization fallacy (if some thought in certain patterns, everyone must have) or the black and white fallacy (seeing things in terms of only two options or false alternatives). Finally, in response to Wright’s insistence that
Evans, however, has a different assessment of Wright’s project. Far from seeing an over-application of the thesis, Evans contends there is even more evidence to be brought to light. He agrees that ‘many Jews did view Israel as in a state of exile and bondage’, but concedes that Wright’s presentation of the theory is vulnerable ‘because he focuses on covenant and offers little direct evidence’ (Evans 1999: 78). To fill the lacuna Evans examines the actions of various revolutionaries (Evans 1997a//1997b; 1999) in the accounts of Theudas (Ant. 20.97-98) and the Jew from Egypt (J.W. 2.258-263; Ant. 20.167-172). Evans sees in these rebels, who both called themselves prophets, an attempt to hurry along the second exodus (i.e. the return from exile) by gathering people east of the Jordan with their possessions, and promising wonders and signs such as pulling down the walls of Jerusalem (1999: 78-82). Wonders and signs in the wilderness, the rise of a prophet, taking possessions across the Jordan, and the fall of Jericho’s walls were all, of course, integral parts of the exodus tradition (Lev. 25.10-16; Num. 14.22; Deut. 4.34; 6.22; 7.19; 11.3; 13.3; 18.15-22; Josh. 3–6). For Evans, these actions, together with the common desire for freedom, exemplified in 1 Macc. 14.26 and coinage minted during the revolt of 66–70
Additionally, Evans expands the list of texts that envision Israel’s enduring exile (4Q504–506; Tg. Isa. 52–53; T. Jud. 23.5; Rewards 164–70). And more than Wright, Evans emphasizes the idea of a regathered nation as a key component of Israel’s hopes for an end to the exile (1999: 77-91).
Pao also looks to Targum Isaiah, particularly 66.9 and 57.17b, saying, ‘The task of interpreting the Isaianic texts naturally provided a setting for the development of this exile theology’ (Pao 2000: 145). He sees in Targum Isaiah—which he and Evans both, following Chilton (1982; 1987), date to the first century
While Wright was justified in 1999 to say he was in the company of ‘much mainstream scholarship’ (1999: 252), with the turn of the millennium came a shift in ratios. Jones (2001) questions Knibb as to how common reinterpretations of Jer. 25.11-14; 29.10-11 and Ezek. 4.4-8 were. He suggests, instead, that texts representing a reinterpretation strand such as Dan. 9.24-27, CD 1.3-11 and the Testament of Levi may have been isolated to specific groups and produced only in light of particular historical situations, and thus not a general and pervasive, consistent and diachronic phenomenon (2001: 401-402; see also Adler 1996: 203-204, 208-10). This calls into question the notion that a theology of ongoing exile was widespread.
Jones also addresses the use of Tob. 14.5-7, 2 Macc. 1.27-29 and Bar. 3.6-8 to establish the thesis. He contends that when these passages are returned to their original literary contexts they do not help (2001: 402-403; see also Gruen 2002: 235-38). Tobit is a novel set in the past, which makes seeing any theology contemporary to its author(s) in 13.5 or 14.5-7 very difficult. Nonetheless, Brunson (2003: 66-67) still employs it in support of the thesis because in Tobit the return from exile is to be immediately followed by the conversion of the nations and regathering of the Diaspora (Tob. 14.5-7), which its historic author(s) had still not witnessed. But Jones also turns his focus to 2 Macc. 1.27-29, which he avers actually hurts the thesis when read with 2 Maccabees 2. Taken together, these letters form a celebration of a realized theocratic order, a dedicated altar, and divine approval and appearance. To Jones, the theocracy, altar and divine approval/appearance strike three blows to Wright’s ‘senses which mattered’ (but see Goldstein 1987: 83-85). And Baruch assumes an operationally effective temple.
Finally, Jones contends that Wright downplays the significance of Israel’s many minor deliverances over the ages (2001: 403). Oppression (sometimes described as exile) followed by deliverance was commonplace throughout Israel’s volatile history, and each event made ‘end of exile’ subject to adjustment and re-expression. Can such a long and tumultuous history be totalized under one heading: ongoing exile?
In short, Jones sees the end of the exile as a far more complex event, operating ‘not as a movement on a single temporal line to a single set of events but on different levels, in different modes and at different times’ (2001: 402). The way the ongoing exile thesis has been presented so far is too simplistic and too quickly applied all over the first century. Jones’s only concession is that the hope for a climax to history was prevalent despite time or circumstance (2001: 402-403).
Bryan (2002) presses the opposition further. He contests that Wright’s prooftexts demonstrate an awareness that many Jews lived outside of the land (namely Tob. 14.5-7 and Bar. 3.6-8), but reveal nothing about the worldview of those living in the land (2002: 12-14). He also agrees with Snodgrass (1999: 62) that the realities to which Wright and Evans refer (mainly the absence of national freedom) are correct, but do not warrant a sweeping and suggestive label like ‘exile’. The desire to be released from foreign oppression is not the same thing as a belief in an ongoing exile (2002: 13-14, 20). In fact, first-century Jews did not often describe their situation in terms of exile, but ‘texts in which exile language occurs are rare’ (2002: 13).
In turn, Bryan offers three lines of counterevidence. First, he argues that there are ample texts that speak of Israel’s captivity to foreign nations without referring to the exile. Instead, associations are more often made with the exodus and conquest (2002: 14, 26-34). Second, Wright depends too much on the storyline of the The conclusion to be drawn from these texts which reflect on Israel’s state of bondage appears, then, to be exactly the opposite of that reached by Wright and Evans: not an expansion of exile to allow its use in an extended sense, but a reduction of the exile’s significance in order to ameliorate the difficulty created by the prophets’ close association of exile and redemption (2002: 19).
Carson agrees precisely with these three points (2001: 546).
How then does Bryan suggest Jews did understand their situation? Their suffering could be explained in terms of God’s mysteries (1QpHab 7.6-13), punishment for waywardness (1 En. 89.59-66; 90.17), eschatological distress (1QH 3.7-10), or as atonement (1QS 8.3-10). Still, Bryan also suggests that not everyone felt the oppression of foreign rule and therefore did not need to reinterpret history (2002: 14, 20). Again, in his words: Though…it was possible to regard the time between the exile and the Maccabaean revolt as uniformly negative, it is difficult to imagine that in the heady days of Hasmonean success, people still widely perceived themselves to be in exile. Foreign domination had been shrugged off and national borders were expanding, so even if there was still a longing for the fulfillment of certain restoration promises such as a glorified Temple and a gathered Diaspora, Hasmonean hegemony could scarcely have felt like or been understood as continuing exile (2002: 15).
In sum Bryan’s contribution is to challenge the idea that Second Temple Jewish texts that speak of current frustrations must necessarily mean the exile was viewed as still in effect. Rather, the Babylonian exile presented a ‘monumental theological difficulty’ and needed to be ‘matched by a similarly complex [set of] theological response[s]’ (2002: 16). One explanation—ongoing exile—does not suffice.
Similarly, and also using Wright as his primary foil, Dunn argues that Second Temple Judaism was too diverse to be reduced to one motif (2003a: 3-10, 13-26; 2003b: 470-77). Instead, scholars ‘should heed postmodernism’s warning against uncritical dependence on grand narratives, against the superimposition of a unitary meta-narrative on much more complex data’ (2003b: 477; see also 2003a: 7-26). And, particularly, the theory that those in the land thought of themselves in exile simply goes beyond the evidence (2003a: 21-23//2003b: 473-75). Instead, texts such as Sirach 50 and 2 Macc. 2.17 that give great praise to the priesthood and altar, and the semi-daily Tamid do not ring of exile. Surely Paul’s comments about himself in Phil. 3.6 do not reflect an exilic self-consciousness either (similarly Pss. Sol.). Dunn also contends that the Dead Sea Scrolls, Jubilees and Josephus’s ‘sign prophets’ (Ant. 20.97-98, 167-172) are just too complex in their views of exile and restoration to be adequately explained under a solitary banner (2003a: 22//2003b: 474).
Finally, Pitre (2005) and Dennis (2006) bring one more objection. Pitre claims that Wright’s fundamental mistake is his failure to delineate between the two exiles: that of ‘Israel’ and that of ‘the Jews’, the Northern Kingdom and the Southern Kingdom (2005: 31-40). Texts such as Isa. 11.10-16, Jer. 23.5-8 and Ezek. 37.15-28 demonstrate this distinction. Thus, while the northern tribes indeed remained in exile in the first century, the Judean exile had come to an end in 539
Wright’s 1992 and 1996 volumes certainly have stirred up fruitful dialogue, bringing the ongoing exile thesis to a place of more regular engagement. While many applaud the advancements and are eager to supplement Wright’s work, significant voices are also skeptical of just how prevalent the idea was across the late Second Temple Jewish landscape. Still others concede that Wright has truly accentuated an important
3. New Lines: Scott and Downing
Sometimes the intellectual environment is fertile enough to produce separate lines of thought on the same trajectory. Working independently of Wright, Scott (1993a) makes a strong case for his own ongoing exile thesis on the basis of Second Temple reflections on the Deuteronomic sin–exile–return pattern. Scott contends that the ‘curse’ and the ‘wrath’ of Deuteronomy 27–32 are refracted through Dan. 9.11, 15-19 into subsequent penitential prayers (Bar. 1.15–3.8; Pr. Azar. [
But it is Scott’s 1997 edited volume, Exile, that has drawn the most attention and forged the newest paths. The contributors consistently come to the same general conclusion: in some manner the exile has persisted in the Second Temple thought-world. This, however, does not go unchallenged.
a. Sectarianism
Carroll (1997) simply states, ‘The Hebrew Bible is a book of exile’ (p. 64; see also Klein 1979; J. Sanders 1997). Exile serves as the grand metanarrative. Yet the point of view expressed in the Hebrew Bible may only reflect that of the Jerusalem community, and not so much those abroad (1997: 79-84). It is interesting that they should be the ones so concerned with the Diaspora and its future. Biblical texts, which are ‘significantly missing…any sense of the permanence of the diaspora experience’ (1997: 83), ‘may well represent sentiments or textual constructions of writers living in Jerusalem and imposing (imagining) them on imagined groups elsewhere’ (1997: 80). This would, ironically, locate the hope for a release from exile more in those already/still living in the land than those abroad. Similarly, noncanonical texts from the second century
b. Apocalyptic Literature
VanderKam’s and Halpern-Amaru’s contributions bring focused attention to apocalyptic texts near the center of the debate, and in turn provide much-needed definitional nuance to the several conceptions of exile during the late Second Temple period. VanderKam (1997) argues that exile is a ‘multivalent concept’ used for various purposes in Jewish apocalyptic literature (p. 90). In the Sibylline Oracles 3 and Testament of Moses 3–4 it is used to mean the clearly demarked historic event that has ended (1997: 91-94). But in 1 Enoch 85–90; 93.1-10; 91.11-17; Testament of Levi 16–17 and Jub. 1.7-18 it connotes an unfinished experience that continues up to the authors’ day and beyond (1997: 94-104). VanderKam’s main point is that in each of these texts the age of the exile runs right up to the eschaton, the return either nowhere mentioned (also Werline 1998: 120-26) or minimized, and the historical span between the geographic exile and the writers’ own day viewed very negatively. Thus, the general Second Temple apocalyptic outlook (which is always concerned with demarking history) positions the era of the exile and the still-future eschaton right up next to each other, the writers placing themselves and their communities in the former (see also Gowan 1977: 215-16, 218-20).
Halpern-Amaru (1997) takes a more thorough look at Jubilees in particular. She sees a concerted attempt by the author to include his generation in the cycle of covenantal history (1997: 128, 139). Genesis connects the land to covenantal promises, and Deuteronomy projects the exile and return to the land to complete the cycle of God’s dealings with Israel. This places the author of Jubilees and his contemporaries in a peculiar position: they live after the return to the land, and thus outside the cycle of covenantal history (1997: 132-39). Thus, the writer has to reinterpret both the exile and the covenantal significance of the land in order to fit himself and his postexilic community within that historical cycle. To this end, Jubilees has a ‘double-tiered restoration’: Repentance ends the exile. But repossession of the Land no longer is the culminating point. It is followed by a more thorough-going repentance, by a spiritual regeneration that reflects the relationship between God and Israel decreed at Creation (1997: 140).
In this way, ‘Jubilees inverts the sequence [of repentance and return] and places the physical return before the wholehearted spiritual return’ (1997: 141). Since that repentance is still outstanding, the cycle is still open and exile persists. ‘The quality of Israel’s relationship with God, not possession of the Land, is the gauge for interpreting covenantal history’ (1997: 143). (For more on apocalypticism, see also Aune and Stewart 2001 and Berner 2006 below.)
c. Diaspora Judaism
Scott’s 1997 volume also emphasizes this considerable nuance: Diaspora Judaism and Palestinian Judaism, while not hermetically sealed, were nonetheless distinct phenomena. Palestinian and Diaspora Jews had different historical circumstances and in some cases different texts, and thus understandably perceived their situations distinctly. Kraabel (1987) had argued that the Diaspora gradually took on a positive connotation, facilitated by the synagogue which provided a connection to the past as well as ideological and social organization apart from land and temple. Diaspora, thus, was not ‘exile’ (1987: 57-58). Van Unnik (1993) had made the case, however, that while the Diaspora in the late Second Temple period was not viewed as an ‘exile’ per se, it was nonetheless the judgment of God (pp. 108-47). In fact, based on van Unnik’s philological study, diaspora (never used in the
Scott (1997) is doubtful, however, that van Unnik’s philological study has produced such sure results, and disagrees with Kraabel’s sweeping claims; there was surely diversity among Diaspora Jews. In turn, he argues that at least some likely saw their situation indeed as an (ongoing) ‘exile’. His primary evidence from the late Second Temple period comes from the
Focusing specifically on Josephus, Feldman (1997) demonstrates how the Roman employee had to walk a ‘deliberately ambiguous’ (p. 166) path between two views of exile. Writing to Jews of the Diaspora Josephus could hint at hopes of a return for those biblically literate enough to catch the allusions (1997: 162-63, 166-72). Yet, in simultaneously writing to his primary audience, pagans and those Jews as content as he was living in the larger Greco-Roman world, Josephus promotes a positive view (1997: 148-61) and avoids explicitly calling the dispersion a form of judgment which would not have been very flattering to his benefactors (1997: 162, 166, 172). Philo, on the other hand, had no such political tightrope to walk and considered exile worse than death (1997: 146), even expressing hope for a return (1997: 172 n. 52; see Rewards 165, 168).
Gruen (2002) could not disagree more. While Diaspora Jews had great esteem for the traditions and theological significance of the land and temple (2002: 239-40, 243-47), it is a non sequitur to conclude that they also pined to return there. Rather, texts such as Sirach, Tobit, Judith, 2 Maccabees, the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Jubilees and the Psalms of Solomon only reflect biblical expressions of the first generation’s experience of exile and dispersion; to see in them ‘a reflection of [these authors’] present circumstances is a simplistic leap’ (2002: 235). The point of the reflection is not to propagate a theology of ongoing exile, but to warn against future apostasy. ‘Colonies’ abroad had no stigma (2002: 240-43; see esp. the Letter of Aristeas); paying the temple tax and regular pilgrimages were enough to maintain the desired solidarity with Jerusalem (2002: 246-52).
In sum, the contributors to Scott’s 1997 edited volume demonstrate (though not unchallenged) how exile was understood in a variety of ways under different circumstances, and expressed in unique terms depending on the genre employed. The constant theme across a large swath of diverse literature, nonetheless, is that the historic exile caused a sort of cognitive dissidence that still affected writers (particularly apocalypticists) centuries later (see also Hanson 1975; Carroll 1979: 204-13; Albertz 1994: 454-58).
But Downing (2000) has a problem with all of these conclusions, and issues a full-scale challenge to Wright and Scott. While scholars can agree on a great deal concerning the historical events surrounding the exile and its aftermath (2000: 150-54), Downing contends that an ongoing exile thesis drawn from second-century It is incredible that 2 Baruch and 4 Ezra (both often cited for the ‘ongoing exile’ thesis) should see the events of 67–70
If there was a Jewish self-understanding of being in a state of punitive exile, it was only among the fringe Qumran community and ‘precisely unrepresentative of the majority view’ (2000: 159-60; so too Hays 1999: 147-48; but see Werline 1998: esp. 157-59).
Downing summarizes his argument well by responding to Wright’s rhetorical challenge regarding whether ‘any serious-thinking first-century Jew [would] claim…that the exile was really over?’ (Wright 1996: xvii-xviii; see above): Perhaps only an imaginary Jew who agrees with Wright qualifies as serious, etc. But one would have to answer, prophecy fulfilled to the letter? Of course not completely fulfilled. Pagan power broken? Undermined but of course, not abolished. YHWH had returned? Not everyone thought he’d left, and of course it’s in the Temple that we’ve gone on praying to him, maintaining the cult. Covenant renewed? He never reneged on his covenant (Rom. 9.4), and many of us think we’ve been keeping to its terms pretty well, certainly we’ve meant to. Our sins awaiting forgiveness? Of course he forgives; why else do you think we all share in yom kippur (even if it’s the only day in the year some observe)? The final ingathering (your ‘new exodus’!), of course not. The final Temple? (before 70
In all, Downing’s complaint is with how quickly proponents of the thesis infer more than the data allows, while overlooking generally positive attitudes toward Jewish institutions. He consistently emphasizes the punitive nature of the historic exile while observing the lack of such language in the primary sources from the late Second Temple period.
Undeterred, Scott’s 2001 companion volume is titled, of course, Restoration. To Scott (2001) and Talmon (2001) ‘exile’ and ‘restoration’ are inseparable concepts in several strata of Jewish tradition, not the least of which being the Second Temple period. As with its predecessor, the contributors to this volume employ many different methods in an attempt to address an array of topics. For our specific consideration Aune and Stewart (2001) are helpful. Whereas E.P. Sanders (1985; 1992) was more global in his summary of Jewish hopes of restoration, Aune and Stewart narrow their focus to Jewish apocalyptic literature. They argue that while texts of this genre can seem inconsistent and disordered, there are nonetheless six recurring themes in most apocalyptic texts. These are the restoration of the land, the kingship, the regathered and reunified twelve tribes, Jerusalem and the temple, paradise, and all creation itself. The rise of this overarching rubric of restoration was occasioned by nothing less than the events of the Babylonian exile (2001: 150; so too Gowan 1977: 212-20). The strength of their essay is in the demonstration of how interrelated these themes are (frequently found in combination), suggesting a consistently unifying motif between them.
With Scott’s edited volumes (1997; 2001) apocalypticism rises to the top of the list for consideration. To some, it is as though dealing with the exile is the raison d’être of apocalyptic literature. Downing, however, raises significant points that are not easily ignored. Moreover, variegated views of exile emerge when attention is given to the experience of Diaspora Jews and the continual rise of sectarianism—to the clearest case of which we now turn.
4. A Point of Consensus: The Specific Case of the Qumran Community
The little consensus that does exist—though still not unanimity—concerns the composers/compilers of the Dead Sea Scrolls, who most take as the Qumran community. Again, Knibb (1976; 1983; 1987) leads the way. He argues that in CD 1.1–2.1; 2.14–4.6a; 5.14–6.11a there is a common ‘theological pattern’ shared with Dan. 9.24-27 and 1 En. 93.9-10: the condition of exile lasts beyond the sixth century
A slight nuance comes from Talmon (1987) in regard to CD 1.3-13. He argues, rather, that the covenanters saw themselves as more of an advanced guard of the restoration. That is, exile does not end with them, but it is starting to. The 390 years of Ezek. 4.5 may have expired, but the community is still living in the final 40 years of Ezek. 4.6 (1987: 117-21). A significant point remains, nonetheless: there had been no restoration between the sixth and second centuries
And beyond the Damascus Document, the literary witness across the Qumran corpus ‘consistently attests to a community that saw itself in exile in some sense’ which was ‘climaxing in its own day’ (Perrin 2013: 33-34): 1QS 8.12-14; 9.18-20; 1QHa 12.8-9; 1QM 1.3; 4Q177; 4Q258-259; 4Q390 1.7-8; 4Q504 2.7-17 (see also Knibb 2000: I, 276-77; Schiffman 2001: 217-18; Schofield 2010: 616-17). As Abegg puts it, ‘meditations on the exile to Babylon were incorporated into nearly every historical movement of the sect and even formed the framework for their understanding of God’s future dealings with Israel’ (1997: 118). And yet ‘allusions to and mentions of [the sixth-century
While even dissenting voices like Downing (2000: 159-60) agree on some level, Dunn can both concede and demur. He observes that the covenanters ‘made use of the exile-restoration motif, but in different ways’ (2003a: 22//2003b: 474), concluding that the complexity is not adequately explained by just saying the sect thought of itself in exile. In fact, it is hard to harmonize Qumran’s theology of all of history (Berner 2006: 457-65). For example, even Werline points out that 4Q504 is different than the Damascus Document (1998: 147-48, 153-57). He observes that 4Q504 5.9-13, while still employing the Deuteronomic cycle, ‘collides with the idea of the return in other Qumranic texts’ (1998: 154) in that the sixth-century
Abegg nonetheless contends that a consistent theological position in the scrolls can still be found (1997: 115-25). He accounts for the diversity by describing a belief that a new cycle of exile began with the origins of the group (4Q390; CD 1) which will be repeated in the eschaton (4QMMT; 4Q169). Thus, an historical pattern of recycling exiles and returns governs the sect’s theologizing. For a sort of combination of Talmon’s and Abegg’s views see Schiffman (2001: 208, 220).
In all, even the group that shows the highest proclivity for understanding history and themselves in terms of an ongoing exile still seems to mirror some of the diversity across the rest of the Second Temple landscape, which takes us to the final part of this survey.
5. Complexity and Diversity: Most Recent Developments
Scholarship is an exercise in nuance. And the last decade has seen helpful contributions to just that end. Kiefer (2005) and Fuller (2006) have produced the most detailed and thorough studies to date in an attempt to redress the insufficient recognition of the diversity and complexity of Second Temple concepts of exile and the hope for restoration.
Kiefer’s massive 2005 volume leaves no stone unturned in pursuing an understanding of exile and Diaspora in the
Working independently of Kiefer, Fuller (2006) begins his research observing that an expectation for a greater restoration is set up in Haggai and Zechariah (pp. 15-16), as well as a reinterpretation of restoration in Ezra-Nehemiah (pp. 16-23). From there he understands that postbiblical authors promoted different understandings of what it meant for the exile to persist. He gives four categories. First, some (Tob. 13–14; Sir. 36; 2 Macc. 1–2) long for a physical return of Diaspora Jews (2006: 25-48). To Fuller these texts demonstrate how Jews living in the land felt a sense of solidarity with those abroad (see also Scott 2001: 507-15; Bauckham 2002: 88-92). This is an important contribution: insofar as all Israel had not returned, the exile was not over for those in the land either. Because geography matters to these authors—geography is theological in Jewish thought after all—they envision a ‘return in its most literal sense’ from a ‘literal/geographical captivity’, a ‘captivity [which was] shared in spiritual solidarity by those Jews in the Land’ (2006: 26). ‘Until the return of those outside the homeland, all of Israel, even those already within the Land, remains (theologically) in exile’ (2006: 26; see also Scott 2013: 255). In short, the Jews are ‘one people whose exilic condition is shared’ (2006: 47).
If Jews in the land expressed their solidarity with those of the Diaspora, that does not mean that the various Jewish groups living side by side in the land got along (sometimes it is easier to imagine unity with those one never sees than to actually have it with neighbors). Fuller’s next category, therefore, accounts for texts that press the necessity to regather Israel from Israel (2006: 48-75). These texts display the conflict that existed among those living in the land, where some groups would identify other groups as oppressive or corrupt and claim that joining their sect (true Israel?), and helping in its particular goals, constitutes a true return from exile (CD and 1 En. 85–90). The goal of occupying the land in such texts is subordinated to ‘the conclusion of a particular conflict, a return to power, the formation of a group, devotion to a particular leader or messiah and/or a turning back toward God’ (2006: 49). To this end, a community may utilize the paradigm of exile and return to describe an unsatisfactory predicament and the hope for restoration, even while already dwelling within the borders of the land of Israel. The assertion of exile functions as a symbol or literary trope to express woeful dissatisfaction with the status quo or specific set of circumstances that may or may not be fully disclosed. Ironically, the return may no longer signify the separation of Jews from Gentiles or foreign territories, but Jews from Jews within the territory of Israel. Thus Israel’s re-gathering, in some cases, becomes predominately an inter- or intra- Jewish event (2006: 50-51).
Thus the oppressors creating the context of exile need not be foreign.
A third category belongs to 4 Ezra alone, where hope is expressed for the lost/assimilated ten tribes of the Assyrian exile to reemerge (2006: 75-84). And fourth, Philo, like other Diaspora Jews, adapts Judaism to fit his experience abroad and presents the restoration from exile as that of an eschatological ethical humanity coming to God (2006: 84-100). In other words, Philo is not expecting another exodus to take them home, even in Rewards 164–172 (2006: 94-98). In sum Kiefer and Fuller both accentuate Jewish solidarity, and provide more definitional categories than ever, even while demonstrating how permeable such categories are. Hopefully they will get more attention going forward.
Berner (2006) returns attention to the years, weeks of years, and jubilees in Second Temple literature. Examining a variety of texts (2 Chron. 36.22-23; Dan. 9; 1 En. 10.12; 85–90; 93.1-10; 91.11-17; Jub.; CD; 4Q180; 4Q181; 4Q225-227; 4Q228; 4Q243-244; 4QapocrJerC; 4Q390; 11Q1; 4Q319; 4Q320; T. Levi 17) Berner argues that as time progressed the tradition (taking its cue from Dan. 9) of continually updating the meaning of Jeremiah’s 70 years of exile (or the shepherd motifs from Jer. 23, Ezek. 34 and/or Zech. 11) was motivated by authors’ and their audiences’ hopes for an end to whatever their current situation was. In such theologizing of history, these writers are far less interested in the actual chronology since the beginning of the exile, and instead consistently portray themselves and their audiences to be at the end of the symbolic 490 years of extended exile and at the dawn of the eschaton—particularly in the Apocalypse of Weeks and Vision of the Animals (2006: 501-506). This left writers constantly portraying themselves and their contemporaries as though they are always in exile and always right up against the final border of history (2006: 511-12).
Mbuvi’s particular contribution (2007) consists in describing the relationship between exile and the temple. To be sure, this is not a new consideration, and Mbuvi also comments on the web of other interrelated concepts that comprise the sense of ongoing exile (2007: 16-20). But above all else Mbuvi underscores how ‘the temple remained the central focus of anticipated restoration from exile’ (2007: 21; see also Perrin 2010: 4-13, 17-37). He writes, The general trend in the Second Temple period continued to be one of dissatisfaction or unenthusiastic cultic involvement [Jub. 29; T. Levi 17.8-10; 1 En. 89.73-77]. The result was a predisposition to articulate a future that would abound with God’s action of restoration and blessing culminating with the reestablishment of Zion as the center of the World [11QT; 1QS 8; 11; 4QMMT; 4Q174; Jub. 23.20-23; 1 En. 89.50] (Mbuvi 2007: 15-16).
He goes on: the ‘“failure” of the second temple to live up to expectation only served to fuel the eschatological apocalyptic outlook’, and thus ‘the problem of the exile was still perceived as unresolved’ (2007: 16; see also Willis 2010; Davis 2013). Even in books such as 2 Maccabees, Mbuvi agrees with Goldstein (1987: 83-85) that though the fire from the Solomonic temple was miraculously kept burning in the second temple—allowing for the understanding of a continued presence of God even during the time of the temple’s desecration—the second temple marked only ‘an important abatement of God’s wrath’ but definitely not the end of the exile (2007: 17).
In the Dead Sea Scrolls Mbuvi makes a point that this group ‘appropriated the role of Babylonian exile returnees’ (2007: 18), and necessarily viewed their community as a ‘functional substitute temple’ (2007: 53-59). Yet their restoration was incomplete (2007: 20). They also anticipated a future march on Jerusalem to rebuild the temple and purify the priesthood (1QM 1.2-3; 2.3; 7.11; 4QpIsae 5.6), only then to close the loop of exile and return (2007: 19; see also Talmon 1987: 119-21, 125-28).
In short, ‘the Jews were so influenced by the cosmology of the temple and tabernacle’ that it shaped their worldview and sustained their hopes during the time of exile (2007: 69). In turn, ‘[r]estoration from exile was to be epitomized by the reestablishment of the temple and the cultus (Isa. 11.11-17; Ezek. 29.21-29; Hag. 1.1-5; Jub. 1.15-17; T. Benj. 9.2)’ (2007: 44). See also Alexander (2013) for an argument based on Second Temple Jewish liturgies commemorating the Babylonian destruction of the temple.
So popular has the thesis become, that ‘Exile’ has received its own entry in recent dictionaries devoted to Second Temple Judaism (Schofield 2010) and the The innovations in thinking in interpretation that would lend the Babylonian exile its potency and prolong its reach are thus already evident in the texts considered here… Their interpretation of exile as enduring, both chronologically but also because exile was a situation that could not be overcome by the mundane restoration of the early sixth century, would give rise to a compelling motif within early Judaism (2011: 203).
Exile, thus, had an elasticity and ‘was not only enduring, but enduringly resilient’ (2011: 204). Likewise, Middlemas (2012) emphasizes how in the
Finally for this Forschungsgeschichte we return to Wright, whose fourth volume of his Christian Origins and the Question of God series (2013) redresses earlier criticisms that he had not sufficiently articulated nor defended his understanding in earlier works (cf. esp. p. 142 n. 273). In so doing Wright fully recognizes the impossibility of detailing what all Jews believed and concedes the obvious point that there was diversity (2013: 108-109, 140, 157-60). Nevertheless, he is insistent that ‘despite the danger of generalization, we can and must say that most Jews…perceived themselves, at a deep, worldview level, as living in a story in search of an ending’ (2013: 109). To be clear, this is a very important point to Wright (see also 1991: 140; 1992: 215-23, 241-43, 260-62; 1999: 257-61; 2009: 39-45, 56-58). For all the observable diversity in Second Temple literature, it is organized under the auspices of a consistently singular fundamental story: if Israel sins there will be exile, but then there will be restoration (2013: 139-40). The evidence for this lies in the pervasive use of Deuteronomy 27–30 and common speculative reflection on Daniel 9 (2013: 139-57). Consistently (Dan. 9.11-27; 4QMMT C 10-17; 1QS 5.5, 8-9; CD 1.3-11; 3.10-14; 1QH 11.37-38; 11QT 59.5-9; 4Q504-506; 1QpHab 2.5-10; Bar. 2.24-35; 3.6-8, 14; 3.29–4.4; Tob. 3.3-4; 13.1-6; 14.4-7; 1 En. 89–90; Jub.; 2 Macc. 2.18; cf. also Ezra 9.6-9; Neh. 9.36-37; 4 Ezra 12.10-35; T. Levi 16.1–19.3; T. Jud. 23.1–24.6; m. Yad. 4.4) Jews understood history ‘within the continuing narrative which virtually all Jews believed themselves to be living in…the so-called Deuteronomic scheme of sin–exile–restoration, with themselves still somewhere in the middle age, that of “exile” (which, granted, could itself become quite complicated)’ (2013: 140). But yet the complications are organized as writers expressed ‘the theological awareness of being at a particular stage within the overall continuing narrative, coupled with the exegetical awareness of a large-scale Deuteronomic prophecy being worked out’ (2013: 140). The ‘combination of Daniel’s revised prophecy about the 490 years and the Deuteronomic warning of the curse of exile followed by the blessing of covenant renewal is…at the heart of the controlling story within the worldview…of a great many…second Temple Jews’ (2013: 146). Again, understanding that there was one and only one story of Israel is imperative to appreciating the full weight of the Deuteronomic (and Danielic) language as well as any exilic metaphors. And that one story needs resolution. Hence, Wright does not concede that Second Temple concepts of exile should be understood in generic terms or as repeated cycles, ‘as though this were something that might just happen every so often in miscellaneous fashion’ (2013: 143). But various nuances, metaphors and finely tuned details are all part and parcel of a ‘single historical sequence’ (2013: 143), and themselves ‘constitutive of the underlying narrative framework’ (2013: 162). Thus, it is the combination of Deuteronomy and Daniel, and their regular retrieval in the key sources, that compels us to go on highlighting ‘exile’ as the best controlling metaphor to characterize this continuing moment in the single, though complex, perceived narrative of a great many Jews…in the second-Temple period (2013: 162).
Criticisms that do not engage this ‘underlying narrative framework’ lose their force (2013: 160-62).
Conclusion
In sum, five general positions can be plotted. First, Knibb, Scott and Wright certainly deserve pride of place in this discussion. Their contribution remains that late Second Temple Jews did not perceive their lot as a state of exile, but in the throes of the exile—enveloped within the Deuteronomic curse, unmitigated until the glorious visions of Israel’s prophets are realized. Second, while the voices are few the opposition is strong among those who have expressed wholescale doubt of any sense of ongoing exile (Downing; Bryan; Gruen), or at least the successful articulation of the thesis (Casey; Jones). Still others contend that whatever evidence there might be has been overplayed by champions of the theory and of little use for
Such scholarly diversity notwithstanding, recognition of the crucial place of ‘exile’ in the late Second Temple Judaism thought-world is clearly rising. In a passing comment nearly half a century ago Ackroyd mused, ‘We may also wonder how far it is also an element in New Testament thinking’ (1968: 247). Perrin’s recent comment on the field sums up the progress well: [P]recisely because exile was put to such widespread and wide-ranging use in Second Temple Jewish texts, we have some reason to expect something similar in the texts of the NT. Each NT book should be understood on its own terms and with its own unique theology of exile. At the same time, since the authors of the NT held certain core convictions in common, there is reasonable warrant for teasing out family resemblances between these exilic theologies (2013: 35).
Given the extent to which several