The previous chapters have considered a variety of religious currents in Judaism before 70 of the Common Era. The metaphor of ‘current’ is useful because it suggests several features about the Jewish religion of the time which we need to ponder at greater length. Currents refer to smaller fluxes and flows in a broad stream of water. In a stream or river, many different currents can be found. Some will form a part of the general movement of the mass of waters, but there will also be currents independent of that flow, perhaps forming eddies or even crosscurrents which impede or redirect the main flow. A current may flow separately for a time, then join with another current or currents to form a unity for a while but then branch off once again to go its own way.
Similarly, when applied to electricity, a current may complicate the whole. A flash of lightning has a core of electric current which flows from a negative source to a positive one. Yet this flow is not in a straight line, as one might expect, but follows a crooked and devious path, going first one direction then another before finally reaching its goal. That destination is not necessarily foreordained, however, since there are various positive poles attracting the negative charge. Speed photography has shown that many partial branches radiate off the main path of the current, showing attractions from other sources which never complete the circuit. In some cases, though, the current splits up and connects with more than one positively charged object.
So the implications of using ‘current’ are those of diversity, interaction, and movement. An expression which became popular some years ago in biblical studies was ‘trajectory’. This implied a similar picture. Rather than thinking of a static entity, called Christianity or Judaism, with the odd heresy splitting off at the edges, the phenomenon was seen as made up of a set of many moving parts, each following its own path but influenced by the paths of other movements contemporary with it. The picture of Judaism as a monolith or ‘orthodoxy’ or church is belied by the enormous diversity evidenced by the many movements at the time. My subject is Judaism, of course, but it is important to be aware that recent studies in early Christianity also envisage a similar state of affairs.
None of the currents described here constitutes the Judaism of that time, any more than a single current makes up the entire stream. Each of the currents formed an important element within first-century Judaism; each was a constituent of the whole. But they also flowed, collided, eddied, and ebbed – intermixing, joining, dividing – in a whirling confused mass of constantly changing movement. It is this, rather the common image of a static ‘orthodoxy’ with a few deviant elements, which represents the Judaism in the time of Hillel, Jesus, and Herod. Judaism at the turn of the era was a pluralistic, multi-faceted entity with great diversity and complexity.
Each of the currents described here – textual, revolutionary, apocalyptic, Gnostic – represents a single moving force in the Jewish society of Palestine at that time, but this does not mean that each was separate and distinct. On the contrary, an individual might belong to more than one stream. The currents overlapped and complemented each other in some cases; in other cases, they opposed one another and collisions between them produced great turbulence in society. These currents are not, in general, to be identified with specific sects.
These religious and social streams have a long history. If we ignore the period of the monarchy, which is a separate study in itself, we can already see divisions within the Jewish community as early as the beginning of the Persian period. Although the reliability of the information in the book of Ezra is debated, some of the issues in it are paralleled in the book of Nehemiah; together they already suggest differences of opinion in the Jewish community on some major issues. One important issue was the relationship between the Jewish community and the outside world. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah exhibit a certain xenophobia, whereas some members of the community wished to embrace the surrounding culture. Some – including various priests – went so far as to marry outside the community.
This might give the impression that this ‘pious’ stance was the standard one, but subsequent history shows that this was not at all the case. The book of Nehemiah itself indicates that there were many Jewish leaders who were willing to work with Nehemiah but also saw no reason to cut their friendly relationship with Tobiah (cf. Neh. 6.17–19). The breaking up of legitimate marriages – many of them probably involving wives from among the Jewish population that had not been deported – would not have gone down well. In the following centuries the Tobiad family continued to be important and respected in the region. We also have evidence that many Jews were not adverse to establishing contacts with the outside world – indeed, that such contacts were unavoidable, in any case. The vision of the Jewish community in Ezra and Nehemiah was not the one that prevailed in the short term.
The apocalyptic stream may also have its roots in the Persian period. Some have seen evidence of it in the literature of such books as Zechariah and Third Isaiah (Isaiah 56–66). Certainly Zechariah 1–8 is very similar to later apocalyptic literature, and many would classify it as an apocalypse. There are cogent arguments that prophecy had a strong input into apocalypticism. Even if full-blown apocalypticism had not developed already in the Persian period, most would be comfortable at least with the term proto-apocalyptic. Although scholars have long distinguished apocalyptic from prophecy, it can be argued that there is a close relationship: many of the characteristics of prophecy can be found in apocalyptic writings and vice versa. In both cases, the intent is to communicate God’s will – often obtained by special revelation – to the reader.
Judaism is often seen in terms of the various sects – the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes. Although this way of understanding the religion is misconceived, these sects were important. Josephus, the source of most information on the sects, first mentions them during the Hasmonaean period. If their roots go back earlier, we are not told so. However, some have argued that the Qumran community begins its history already in the early post-exilic period, though this is a disputed issue.
Thus, regardless of the precise origins of the sects, the diversity demonstrated in the preceding chapters has a long history. As noted in Chapter 2, the three main sects (according to Josephus’ reconstruction) were all a part of textual Judaism. The Sadducees, Pharisees, and Essenes all three gave weight to the written Torah and made use of the scribal skills of study, interpretation, and composition. Each had absorbed a good deal from the wisdom stream which flowed from ancient Israel to rabbinic literature, picking and choosing those elements which they found compatible and useful or perhaps just unconsciously assimilating them as time went on.
It would be a mistake to see Judaism as only a religion of the written books which became canonical as the Hebrew Bible or the Old Testament, as is sometimes assumed, because each element within this assumption is problematic. First of all, Judaism could not become a ‘religion of the book’ until the books were edited or written and then became accepted as authoritative. Instead, Judaism began as and remained a temple religion until the temple was destroyed for good in 70. The cult was the main form of worship, and for Jews in Palestine within relatively easy reach of Jerusalem to neglect worship at the temple would have been regarded as a grave omission.
Secondly, the canon as we think of it was not in existence before 70. Many or perhaps all of the books which went to make up the later Jewish canon were already extant and most of them had become authoritative in some sense to many Jews. Nevertheless, we have no evidence that the later Hebrew canon was accepted as a standard. The Qumran community apparently accepted a variety of sacred books beyond those of the Old Testament and also did not use some in our present Hebrew Bible (e.g. Esther); other Jewish communities (e.g. Alexandria) may have had a different estimate of the various biblical books. Even in rabbinic literature there is discussion of such books as Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs.
Yet sacred writings developed and became increasingly important as time went on. With the acceptance of some literature as having special character came the practice of interpretation and exegesis. We have many examples of the use of literature as the source of authority and inspiration and as having a message for the contemporary generation. It has been proposed that examples of interbiblical exegesis are already found within the biblical text. Although many of these are debatable, Daniel 9 clearly refers to Jeremiah. Likewise, Ben Sira draws heavily on traditions which seem to correspond closely to our present biblical text much of the time (though he does not know about Ezra and Daniel, for example). It is when we come to Qumran that we find many examples of commentaries on biblical passages. Similarly, in first-century Alexandria, Philo comments on large sections of Genesis and Exodus and also cites passages from elsewhere in the Bible (though it is not clear that his ‘canon’ included any books beyond the Pentateuch).
Emphasis on the text seems to have developed especially in the Diaspora where most Jews did not have ready access to the temple. Since the focus of worship had been and remained the temple and its cult until it was destroyed in 70 CE, it was a central symbol to most Jews, whether or not they lived near Jerusalem. Yet the lack of opportunity to worship at the temple by large numbers of Jews living outside Palestine meant the need for some other religious centre in their daily lives. This led first to a concentration on sacred writings and then to a community institution where these religious writings could be read and studied: the synagogue. The synagogue is first attested in the Diaspora about the middle of the third century BCE, during the early Greek period. It was also about this time that the Pentateuch was translated into Greek, suggesting a need for the Greek-speaking community to have the scriptures in their own vernacular. Judaism as a ‘religion of the book’, and the synagogue as the focus of the community, seem to have developed first in the Diaspora and were only imported into Palestine from there.
Some Jewish groups evidently regarded the Jerusalem temple as polluted, which meant that they kept it at arm’s length. Sacred writings thus assumed considerable importance to them. The Essenes studied sacred scripture in whatever form it took with them. If the Qumran commentaries are Essene in origin, it is here that we have the most detailed biblical exegesis of a pre-70 Jewish sect. But even those groups accepting the temple were also interested in the written word by the time of the later Greek and Roman periods. According to Josephus and the New Testament, the Sadducees claimed to confine themselves to the written text, though we must assume that they developed their own tradition of interpretation – scripture does not automatically interpret itself. The Pharisees are alleged to have had traditions not found in the written text. To what extent this tradition was based on exegesis and to what extent it was really para-biblical (that is, separate from the biblical tradition but parallel to it) is a matter of debate, especially since it is not clear that any Pharisaic traditions have survived (apart from a few brief ones in the New Testament and possibly in Josephus). However, if many of these traditions were taken up into rabbinic literature (albeit in revised, edited, and recontextualized form), as often argued, then some of them seem to be closely connected with the text of the Pentateuch while others appear to be quite different and independent.
The general outlook of the Sadducees, Pharisees, and Essenes on revolution and opposition to foreign rule may have varied and taken different forms. Nevertheless, all three groups were involved at some time or other in attempts to rid the country of foreign domination. Along with blatantly revolutionary groups such as the Sicarii and the Zealots, important Pharisees and Essenes are identified as taking part in the 66–70 revolt against Rome, and we can infer that Sadducees were also among the rebels. It has been asserted that the Pharisees and the Essenes did not actively fight against Roman rule. We do not know enough to be sure whether there was a ‘group policy’ on the question, but we know of specific individuals from those groups who were high up in the revolutionary council. Simon ben Gamaliel, the son of Gamaliel I (apparently the same as Gamaliel the Pharisee mentioned in Acts 5), was a part of the Jerusalem leadership in the early part of the war. As the revolt got underway, the ‘notable Pharisees’ were part of discussions of how to react to those pushing the country into war. Similarly, John the Essene was a leader killed early in the war. There are also some indications that members of the Qumran community were among the defenders at Masada. Assuming this is so, and assuming Qumran was Essene (both substantial assumptions), the Essenes as a whole were willing to fight under certain conditions.
At this distance from the events, it is difficult to distinguish what was political and what was religious in the various revolutionary movements. Indeed, they may have been so conjoined that they could not be separated. In any case, it seems clear that religious ideology lies behind some of the revolutionary movements, if not all. The ‘Fourth Philosophy’ (of which the Sicarii are possibly the heirs) is said to have opposed Roman rule on specifically religious grounds: only God should be the ruler of the Jewish people (3.5). We also know of one group waiting for divine deliverance even as the Romans were breaking through into the temple itself in the last day of the war (3.6). Other groups seem to have some sort of ideology behind them simply because of their behaviour, even when the historical sources are hostile and present them only as common bandits. High ideals can of course be used as a cloak for base motives and actions, so we must be careful not to read religious motives into every riot and example of agitation. What can be said is that many of the opposition movements claimed – whether sincerely or not – to be serving God, and the revolts they instituted an example of laying their lives down as an act of worship.
Opposition to foreign rule did not have to take the form of violent action or outright rebellion. There were those who believed that ‘they also serve who only stand and wait’. In many apocalyptic and related writings, the emphasis is not on what men do but what God does. They describe a history which is more or less foreordained. Israel may do certain things, and the Gentiles may do certain things, but none of their actions ultimately affect the divine plan. Exactly how that plan unfolded varied from writer to writer. For many, all history would be leading to a period of troubles and even cosmic cataclysm that would immediately precede the intervention of God and the creation of ‘new heavens and a new earth’. Others saw a more gradual and less tumultuous ushering in of God’s kingdom, without the cosmic upheaval found in many apocalypses. But in all these scenarios, it is God who takes the action, not the people. In a book such as Daniel (11:33–35) and the Testament of Moses (9), the righteous do their bit by giving themselves up to martyrdom, but they do not take up arms against the oppressor.
In various writings, both apocalyptic and otherwise, a messianic figure or figures appear(s). In some cases, this is a warrior figure who will destroy the enemies of Israel, with God’s help, and bring the nations into subjection to Israel and the true God. This sort of messianic figure seems to be modelled on the Old Testament passages which talk of a king like David whom God will raise up to bring an idealized state to Israel (Jeremiah 33:14–22). Yet it must be recognized that there was no single ‘Messiah’ or ‘messianic expectation’ among the Jews of this time; on the contrary, the concept and also the importance of the Messiah seems to have varied considerably. Some texts envisage a heavenly figure who comes to earth. Some Qumran texts mention two messianic figures, one from Israel and another from Aaron (a ‘secular’ and a priestly Messiah). There were also circles for whom the idea was completely absent, judging from the texts which give no hint of the concept (even when it might have been expected if it was important to the writer).
Like the more particular ‘messianic expectations’, eschatological views in general were also diverse in conception and significance. Eschatology covers a range of sub-topics, including endtime events, life after death, and indeed Messianism itself. What stands out is the wide range of views on the subject, seemingly extending from one extreme to another. On the question of life after death, much of the Hebrew Bible seems not to have had such an idea. Death brought the end of the person as such, though there was something which survived in Sheol in a shadowy way. This was also the position of Ben Sira about 200 BCE. To the best of our knowledge, this seems to have been the position of the Sadducees, as well, though our sources are rather vague. Some texts envisage a resurrection, but even this takes more than one form. Some think of a restoration of the original physical person to life, but others clearly think of a ‘resurrection of the spirit’. Widespread in Jewish texts is the concept of the immortality of the soul which leaves the body at death and is rewarded or punished. This belief in the soul may or may not be combined with the idea of a resurrection and final judgement.
Therefore, the question of what happens at the endtime varies from text to text. Indeed, some texts seem to think of an endtime only in the sense of the death and post-mortem reward or punishment of the individual but do not suggest any cosmic eschatology. But in many of the texts which expect the end of the present age and a new, changed age to come, there are attempts to calculate when that end will come. Some of these sources divide history up into discreet periods, though these are not usually sufficiently specific to allow the exact calculation of when the end will come. Some texts discuss the age of the world, however, and explicitly or implicitly suggest that the world will last for only a certain specific period of time. Therefore, if one can know how old the world is now and how long its total age is supposed to be, the time remaining can be worked out. Other texts give other sorts of figures, such as the 70 years of Jeremiah and its reinterpretation as the 70 weeks of years in Daniel. Assuming that the world would come to an end, there was an understandable desire to know how long before that happened. Many texts, such as those from Qumran, assume that the readers are living at the end of the age.
The pluralistic nature of Judaism is exemplified by considering elements of it which some may find incompatible with their views on ‘orthodoxy’. This includes elements like magic and the other esoteric arts (astrology, divination, exorcism, healing), ‘miracle-working’, and Gnosticism. It is not easy to get at the place of these elements in Judaism because of the nature of the sources; this makes discussion of them speculative to some extent. Nevertheless, there is enough evidence preserved to suggest that these were important constituents of the mosaic we call pre-70 Judaism. The Gnostic texts, though much later than 70 in their present form, still have many early Jewish traditions in them – traditions which are not just borrowed from the Hebrew Bible but represent Jewish interpretations of the OT text. The source of these traditions seems to be Judaism itself, yet the Gnostic texts in their present form are generally hostile to Judaism. This suggests a portion of Judaism which reinterpreted the Old Testament and Jewish traditions in such a way that it finally led – no doubt, through various stages – to a world view which was anti-Jewish. Those who argue that at least a portion of Gnosticism grew out of Judaism seem to have the weight of the argument on their side, though how and when is more difficult to answer.
I have been focusing on streams to illustrate the diversity of Second Temple Judaism. But it should not be assumed that these were completely independent streams: as already noted, they might run parallel or even merge, as well as flow contrary to one another. For example, there are good arguments that a strong priestly input went into apocalypticism. Members of all three of the main sects contributed to revolution at some point. In some areas of religion, there was a good deal of common belief and thought among the various Jewish groups; in others, much diversity. In the matter of worship, the centrality of the temple cult meant a good deal of shared practice. Although the current priesthood might be criticized, even severely, by some groups (such as Qumran), it is difficult to find more than one or two examples of people who rejected the Jerusalem temple outright.
This is why the destruction of the temple in 70 was such a crucial event. The trauma is well illustrated in such writings as 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch. The pre-70 Jewish groups which survived were those who carried within their religious system the means to transcend the loss of the temple. The apocalypticists, the temple-based groups, and various others disappeared after 70, not always straight away but with time. The Christians had Christ and did not need a temple. They survived and eventually flourished, first as a stream within Judaism but ultimately becoming a separate religion. Rabbinic Judaism was a post-70 development. It probably contained a synthesis of several pre-70 elements, but the one factor which allowed it to survive was making study of the Torah central to its religious practice. This replaced the temple. A functioning cult was no longer necessary, though discussion and debate about it formed a prime subject of study. Study was an act of worship. Study had taken the place of the sacrificial cult. Any religious movement develops diversity, and rabbinic Judaism was no exception. It also took time – centuries – for the rabbis to establish their authority and impose their views on the Jewish community.
Rabbinic Judaism developed its own currents and variety. Yet the new situation seemed in many ways much more monolithic when compared to the enormous variety and plurality of forms existing in the Second Temple period. Too often the stereotyped image of ‘orthodox’ Judaism or Christianity has been used to construct Judaism before 70. The many different currents becoming apparent in recent scholarly study belies that model. This book has drawn attention in a brief way to the variety of differences and the pluralism of pre-70 Judaism. Study in greater depth confirms this diversity. The complexity of the religious phenomenon we call Second Temple Judaism forces itself more and more upon us, the more we study it.