On the surface, everything seemed quiet. Beneath the facade of Judaism in the first century B.C., however, other groups were busily pursuing a very different agenda. The Sadducees were doing business as normal, making sure that the Temple establishment was operating smoothly and efficiently while keeping the Roman occupiers satisfied. While this was going on, however, others were deeply troubled about the state of the religion as a whole. The Pharisees, too, went about operating their schools, debating the meaning of Torah and interpreting it to accommodate new situations. But others wondered if they were focusing on the really important issues. We have no name for these “others” who functioned below the radar, but we do know their outlook and forecast for the future. These were the worst of times, they contended, and these searchers for certainty started advancing a doom-and-gloom scenario and developing a plan of action based on this pessimistic outlook. They were small groups, not connected and, from what we can tell, not well organized— virtually cults without much clout. They began to search the ancient scriptures for clues about the truth of the times in which they lived.
These disgruntled individuals were also beginning to move beyond the Model of the Two Ways, promoting a highly activist agenda. For them, what it meant to be Jewish in Hellenistic times had taken a radical new twist. They favored different writings, entertained much higher expectations, and above all, approached life with a fierce mind-set. They wanted change … and they believed that God was just about to act. These were never mainstream movements—most of the Judaisms of the time did not endorse their thoughts— and so it is not surprising that their ideas and writings did not make it into the Hebrew Bible in a major way when it became fashioned by the Pharisees. Nonetheless, these cults developed a significant body of literature alongside the growing, more accepted, canon of the Torah, Prophets and Writings. Their titles included 1 Enoch, Jubilees, Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Psalms of Solomon, Testament of Moses, Apocalypse of Zephaniah, and dozens of other writings.1 All these writings circulated within the two hundred years prior to the destruction of the Temple and survive to this day.
Devout people pored over writings such as these as they tried to discern God’s likely actions during these dreadful times. Readers thought that they were gaining “the inside scoop” on history. Bizarre images, eclectic visions, and strange allusions abound in these works. We hear of weird dreams, opaque visions, various layers of heaven, and strange human-animal beasts. This unfamiliar imagery makes for difficult reading today because the dense language cloaks historical events and personages. We do not know much about the people behind these writings. Who were they? Did they collaborate or meet to discuss these ideas? Did they share a unified outlook on the future? How did they produce these arcane writings? How did these writings circulate and how extensively? How large a group were they and where were they concentrated? Did their subversive outlook boil over into overt anti-Roman activities?
Some contemporary mass media Christian preachers purport to provide followers with a timetable for God’s actions, scanning the Hebrew prophets and the end-time portions of the New Testament for signs of our times. These teachers locate the end-time within our generation. Most view the formation of the State of Israel in 1948 with the return of the Jewish people from around the globe and the resurgence of Hebrew as a living language as indicators that redemption is at hand. They contend that we are about to experience tremendous world tribulation and awful disasters on a scale never before imagined. War will break out and nations from the North, East, and South will descend upon the tiny Jewish State of Israel, an area not much larger than the State of New Jersey. Some speculate on the identity of these marauding nations. Russia to the north and Iran to the east of Israel are among the top contemporary contenders. Some also predict when the armies of the nations of the earth will march on Jerusalem. Then, in the midst of horrible bloodshed, Jesus will return swiftly in glory to establish the Kingdom of God in perpetuity. This is the dramatic future these contemporary preachers envisage will happen on earth shortly.2
Like them, the readers of these ancient underground writings believed they were gaining insight into when God would decisively act to change human circumstances. Their favorite scrolls never entered anyone’s Bible. But in their heyday—200 B.C. to A.D. 100—they were influential among groups of devout Jews who wished for something better than what the Hellenistic world had to offer: nothing less than God’s sovereign rule over the whole earth.
Imagine an interview with a panel of these writers.
“And why do you think these are the worst times ever?”
They would probably have cited many indicators that the social environment had changed for the worse. The prevalence of Hellenization and its “in your face” presence reinforced daily the degree to which non-Jews were running the country. The threat of cultural assimilation was everywhere, from the ideas that were current to the food one ate. For many it meant having to speak or at least understand a different language, interfacing with foreign government officials or talking or socializing with people who shared a radically different perspective on life. These “superior” people did not follow—or understand— the mores of Jewish law and were contemptuous of it. The demands of Hellenization were part of the fabric of everyday life, annoying and causing dismay for those who thought that the world should be dramatically different.
“And why does this bother you so much?”
They might very well have pointed to the sacred Temple, with officials running this establishment with the connivance of foreigners whose troops were less than a block away, ready to put a quick end to any dissent. Gentiles fresh from the worship of other deities were evident in the sacred precincts, offering their sacrifices to God. This dripped with sacrilege, for they were equating the Jewish God with Zeus, Dionysus, and other deities.
In addition, in the background of their minds there lurked the constant underlying dread of yet another bout of enforced Hellenization that would ban the practice of Judaism. The specter of Antiochus Epiphanes had not been forgotten. Could it happen again? they asked. Would it happen again—to us, here, now?
“Is it just a matter of foreigners on your soil? If they were all to leave, would things improve for you?”
Probably not. It was not just a matter of foreign rule. There were also internal concerns, how to interpret the law correctly. A cold war between Sadducees and Pharisees had not helped the situation either, with members of these factions at one another’s throats. Real civil war, of course, had occurred early in the first century B.C., in the time of Alexander Jannaeus. He massacred Pharisees and they had had their payback revenge during the time of Queen Salome. Times were brutal and far from what God intended for his people. The threat of enforced Hellenization had unleashed a powerful dynamic within Judaism: vigorous religious debate over the meaning of Torah.
“Is the solution, then, to follow Torah strictly?”
If this were to occur on a community basis, with everyone obeying all of the law all of the time, then perhaps everything would eventually be fine. A community of righteousness was a vision that some, like the members of the Dead Sea Scroll community, entertained. They recognized, however, that for all Jews everywhere, this solution was highly unrealistic. There had to be a different solution, and these underground biblical activists thought they had detected what it was. God needed a hand. There had to be a catalyst, something that would push God over the edge. They thought they had identified this catalyst: the period of time in human history when evil had reached its zenith— the absolute worst of times. Surely, they speculated, this would represent the tipping point. God would have cause to act. Moreover, they were confident that they were living at just that period in human history: the time of the greatest evil imaginable. There had been Antiochus Epiphanes’ assault on Judaism and massive persecution of devout Torah-observant people. Then there had been brutal foreign occupation, political subjugation, religious confusion, behavioral compromises, and apostasy away from the covenant and the law. The catalyst had occurred, they speculated, and they would be front-row witnesses to world transformation. This gave them the inside track on understanding the era in which they lived. They knew what was about to happen.
“And what do you think the future holds?”
Terrible times, they would have answered—horrible wars, disease, famines, plagues, devastation, enormous pain and suffering on an unimaginable scale. But this was not cause for despair but for hope, that this was the catalyst for divine intervention. After this dreadful time, there would be a marvelous future for the truly righteous. God, they thought, would set things right.
This was their hoped-for solution, that God himself would re-create the world. These ancient activists rummaged around in the ancient sacred texts and found passages that they thought shed light upon their plight. They seized on these to discern the true nature of the times in which they were living and what it presaged. Here are some of the texts they would have found insightful.
Portions of the Isaiah scroll would probably have leapt off the pages. Writing toward the end of the Babylonian Exile, probably around 539 B.C., there was a prophet we now call Second Isaiah. His words are found in our present Book of Isaiah, chapters 40—55.3 This prophet proclaimed a return of exiles from Babylonian captivity where they had been ever since the deportations some fifty years earlier. Declaring that Babylonian rule was about to end, he roused the exiles into action. A “Messiah,” he declared, Cyrus the Great, was about to conquer the Babylonian Empire and allow captive minorities to return to their homelands, Jews included. He thought that the Jewish exiles would be overjoyed at the news and would leap into action, ready to pack their bags and return.
Well, not so fast. Cyrus the Great did issue a proclamation allowing the Jewish captives to return to Jerusalem. But some fifty years had passed. The exiles had made a life for themselves in the new land. Two generations had come and gone and very few old folks remained who could remember and reminisce about the “good times” back there in Jerusalem. Moreover, the exiles had not been slaves in Babylonia. They earned a living and had formed their own social institutions. We know from ancient Babylonian records—the Murashu texts— that some, in fact, had become wealthy by becoming involved in banking and financial institutions. The Babylonian authorities had placed no restrictions on their livelihood, just their movement. Up until the conquest of Cyrus, they were not free to return to Jerusalem. But did they really want to return to the land of their grandparents, or possibly even great-grandparents? How many Americans today would like to return to the land of their ancestors? Second Isaiah probably got the same reaction. Disinterest.
Nonetheless, Isaiah painted a marvelous picture of a great destiny, and it represents one of the most magnificent public relations releases in history. All nations, he said, will see the glory of the Jewish God. The desert will blossom, blessed by the Lord. People will return from all directions—from the East, the West, even from Egypt. Dispersed groups will eagerly wend their way back up to Jerusalem. It will be rebuilt, he said, its Temple, homes, and walls. It will be a glorious and prosperous time: the wealth of nations, he confidently predicted, will flow into Jerusalem. And, best of all, the whole world will come to acknowledge the supremacy of God.
Some exiles did return, and the Book of Psalms records a moving song as they euphorically approached Jerusalem: “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream” (Psalm 126:1). This was a glorious time, the first sight of Jerusalem high on its hill for the returning exiles who had spent many weeks or even months in transit from Babylonia. They were undoubtedly overwhelmed by emotion as they beheld the city their grandparents had romanticized. The returning exiles faced tremendous problems, however: a temple in ruins, protective walls and towers in shambles, former properties confiscated and used by those citizens of Jerusalem who had not gone into exile, a ruined economy, agriculture in disarray, and little by way of centralized authority to plan rebuilding. Tensions must have run high between the returning exiles and those who had remained in Jerusalem during this period. They had undergone different experiences for several generations, and those who had remained in Jerusalem probably did not welcome an influx of families who had been gone for decades. Many exiles, moreover, chose not to return but stayed in Babylonia and Egypt. They had made a life for themselves, albeit as resident aliens, and they probably could not envisage any compelling reason to abandon it for Jerusalem, much in the same way many Jews today in the Diaspora—in the United States, Canada, or Britain—cannot conceive of leaving their established lives to move to an uncertain future in Israel.
Slightly later, another prophet would look toward a new era in human history and a re-creation of the universe. His words are also attached to the Book of Isaiah (chapters 56—66) and scholars refer to him as Third Isaiah. On behalf of God, he speaks movingly of better times:
For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight.… They shall not labor in vain, or bear children for calamity; for they shall be offspring blessed by the Lord—and their descendants as well.… The wolf and the lamb shall feed together. (Isaiah 65:17—25)
Some four or five hundred years later, people could well wonder what happened to these confident predictions. Where was this transformed world they had been led to believe would come? Where was the peace with “wolf and lamb feeding together”? Where were the promised blessings that Third Isaiah had so eloquently envisioned? What had gone wrong? The times were not as promised. There were still Jews dispersed in other lands, probably in many more places in the first century B.C. than at the time of the Babylonian Exile—not just in Babylonia but also in Turkey, Greece, Italy, Spain, the northern shores of Africa, and Egypt. They had been lured there by jobs, trade, and diplomatic ties. The wealth of nations had not flowed into Jerusalem. More to the point, the world had not seen the glory of God. In Hellenistic times, with its array of religious choices, the world seemed farther away than ever in acknowledging the supremacy of the one God. Political independence did not exist, and Jewish religious institutions were carefully monitored by the occupying foreign forces.
Something clearly had gone wrong. To what could Second and Third Isaiah be referring? Did they have in mind the time immediately following the Babylonian Exile? Or, as these detectives from the first century B.C. suspected, could these writings be referring to later times? This insight provided a startling clue.
More scriptures had to be searched. Some found enlightening passages toward the end of Deuteronomy. Here Moses urged the people of Israel to remain faithful to the covenant by following the Torah, not only those present at his time of speaking but also “those who are not here with us today” (Deuteronomy 29:15), that is, those who will come in the future and who are similarly bound by the agreement. He warned the people that if they failed to follow the laws, dire consequences would come upon them. He cautioned them against heeding what he called “a root spouting poisonous and bitter growth … who think we are safe even though we go our own stubborn ways” (Deuteronomy 29:18—19). Whatever he meant by this “bitter root,” Moses’ point was clear. An ignorant attitude that condoned laxness in Torah observance would only bring about calamity, devastation, and afflictions. Abandoning the covenant was not a solution, he cautioned.
Reading back into this text, some saw in the terrible events of the second and first centuries B.C. the consequences of this bitter root. Leaders of society had led them astray, bringing about the loss of political sovereignty and the threat of cultural assimilation. These leaders were the bitter root Moses had spoken of. For these dissidents, the threats of Hellenization imperiled their very existence and their future as inhabitants of a re-created world. The cozy compromising policy of the Sadducees was not the right tactic, they thought. Nor were the sound teachings of the Pharisees the only effective strategy for shielding people from the consequences of their own folly. They found comfort in Moses’ words, which assured them that “the secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the revealed things belong to us and to our children forever, to observe all the words of this law” (Deuteronomy 29:29).
Maybe the Babylonian Exile had not truly ended, even though biblical historians today consider the exile to have ended after Cyrus the Great assumed the throne, allowing minorities to return, some people in the second and first centuries B.C. wondered if this really was the case. The signs were not really there: universal return of the exiles, the exalted international status for Israel, and worldwide acknowledgment of the God of Israel. None of these events had occurred. So maybe, they thought, the exile was ongoing.
These texts raised exciting new possibilities for these biblical detectives. Maybe they were referring to future events. Could they, in fact, be referring to the times in which they lived? Were they themselves living in the end-times?
What is to be made about Deuteronomy’s references to “secret” and “revealed” things? Where were these to be found? What “revealed things”? What was God’s timetable for human history?
Further clues could be found toward the end of the Book of Zechariah. We don’t know much about this visionary, but the latter chapters of the book that bears his name appear to come from Hellenistic times. Whoever he was, his views became tremendously influential as he staked out the end-time scenario. In a series of powerful pronouncements in chapters 12, 13, and 14, his voice thunders about what will happen “on that day” (Zechariah 12:3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 13).4 Over and over he repeats that phrase, referring to that tremendous earth-shaking time when God will truly make good on his promises to Israel and bring about a dramatically changed world. Zechariah envisaged warfare that would eventually culminate in triumph for the forces of righteousness. Nations will come against Jerusalem: “On that day I will make Jerusalem a heavy stone for all the peoples… And all the nations of the earth shall come together against it” (Zechariah 12:3). These nations will ultimately be destroyed, but not without significant cost in Jewish lives. Through this process, Jerusalem will be cleansed. Then the Lord God himself will appear on the Mount of Olives, just east of Jerusalem across the Kidron Valley from Temple Mount: “On that day, his feet [God’s] shall stand on the Mount of Olives … and [it] shall be split in two from east to west by a very wide valley” (Zechariah 14:4). Fresh water will flow out of Jerusalem toward the East down to the shores of the Dead Sea and to the West, out toward the Mediterranean. All the mountains will be flattened except for the two hills on which Jerusalem is built.
Other major changes will occur. Jews from the Diaspora—from Egypt, Lebanon, Babylonia, and from around the Mediterranean Basin—will return. Zechariah confidently predicted that when this happens—“on that day”— human history will culminate in the universal worship of the one God: “the Lord will become king over all the earth; on that day the Lord will be one and his name one” (Zechariah 14:9). Survivors of the nations of the world, he asserted, will trek annually up to Jerusalem, “to worship the King, the Lord of hosts, and to keep the festival of Booths” (Zechariah 14:16). The festival of Booths refers to Succoth. It commemorates the wanderings of the Israelites in the desert after the escape from Egypt, a time when they were vulnerable to forces of nature as well as hostile tribes. In essence, it celebrates God’s protection against overwhelming odds, and this theme ties in with Zechariah’s depiction of the gratitude of the people for divine deliverance “on that day.”
Zechariah’s powerful vision established the main parameters of Israel’s eschatological or end-time vision. As he presented the scenario, there were three phases to the time of the end. This established the agenda for divine intervention. First of all, there had to be a period of extraordinary evil—enormous pain and suffering with massive bloodshed and political turmoil. It would have to be a time when things had become so dreadful that there was absolutely no alternative other than God intervening directly in world history. After this, in the second phase, God would act decisively to bring about a dramatic transformation of the world. In Zechariah’s vision, there was no provision for a Messiah: God himself would act directly, with evil defeated and swept away from earth. Finally, a new regime would emerge: the righteous would be rewarded, evildoers punished, and the righteous dead restored to life. This final “just desserts” phase would represent the high point of human history, a whole new chapter in our development. The glorious outcome would be that humanity would live in universal peace under one God, with Jerusalem and its Temple preeminent. This threefold end-time model surfaces time and time again as people in many generations—both ancient and modern—look for insider information.
So when will all this come about? Certainly for some living in Israel during Hellenistic times, it would appear as if the nations of the world had come to Jerusalem. Moreover, there had been significant bloodshed, persecutions, sexual immorality, and loose observances of the Torah. Clearly these were enormously evil days. Surely these signs pointed to the time of “the end,” some speculated, along with imminent world transformation.
An influential writing that lies outside the canon of the Hebrew Bible or Old Testament was 1 Enoch. Again, like Zechariah, we know nothing about the author of this influential work. Dating from sometime in the second century B.C., after Antiochus Epiphanes’ persecutions, Book II of this work looks forward to the appearance of a “congregation of the righteous” (1 Enoch 38:1).5 This was an important sign, for the appearance of this unique community would trigger significant world events.
As Enoch saw it, this will be a great time for the righteous. They will triumph over the wicked and be rewarded with eternal life. The righteous dead will be resurrected. The wicked will be punished, forfeiting eternal life. So justice will be done. More than that, Israel will become the preeminent state, with Jerusalem the predominant city. God will be worshipped by all humanity. This is the redemption long awaited. Enoch’s vision was consistent with that expressed by Zechariah and reinforced the expectation that God was about to intervene.
For some outside mainstream Judaism, the appeal of having access to secret information was vital. In the first century B.C., members of the Dead Sea Scroll community, for instance, thought that they, and they alone, possessed precisely this. Their Teacher of Righteousness, they contended, possessed true insight into the times. He alone knew God’s clock. Of that they were confident as the members of this reclusive society went about their daily routine of work, study, and prayer. In the midst of uncertainty and great temptations, these people knew what would happen. Their insider perspective on the scriptures gave them the clue, and this provided them with a firm anchor for daily living.
Interpreting some of the psalms from the Dead Sea Scroll community as autobiographical, Michael O. Wise points out that the Teacher of Righteousness claimed to understand the dynamics of world history.6 This inspired leader knew that the time when God would establish his sovereign rule over all humanity was at hand. In one hymn, the Teacher of Righteousness talked about his role as a “banner” to the righteous, a seer who could discern “marvellous mysteries.” In the Community Rule, the inspired leader of the movement sang a song that affirmed,
My eyes have gazed on that which is eternal
On wisdom concealed from men,
On knowledge and wise design
(hidden) from the sons of men.7
He was surrounded by enemies who wanted to kill him, because he upheld the covenant. He criticized the Pharisees for leading the people astray, saying that they speak “smooth things” to the people. Jesus, too, in time would also criticize the Pharisees for their convenient interpretations of the law, making exceptions where none should exist. The Teacher of Righteousness had nothing but contempt for them: as he says, he will have “no pity on those who depart from the way.”
A number of groups within Israel found comfort in this eschatological vision, holding out hope that the world would soon be a dramatically different place. They shared a common dream. Hellenization would disappear. The wicked would be gone and everyone would worship the one God in peace. Most importantly, they, the righteous ones, would live eternally. Such was the vision of the members of the Dead Sea Scroll community. Several fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls make clear that they thought they owned the key to understanding history. These writings refer to knowing “the secret of the way things are” (4Q417 Fragment 2 + 4Q418, column 1). This secret refers to the time when evil will vanish and the righteous will be established forever, when those who are truly righteous will inherit eternal joy without end.8
But there were others as well who reveled in this great end-time dream. This included devout Jews unaligned with any faction who delved into this underground literature, savoring its insights. Zealots shared these expectations, and for them, insights had to give way to actions, to force God’s hand in getting rid of the Roman colonizers. Others who entertained the end-time dream included John the Baptist, Jesus, Jesus’ brother James, as well as he members of the early Jesus Movement in Jerusalem. For all these people, the reign of God was just around the corner. What’s more, many confidently expected they would live to see it all happen.
There was a catch, however. For most groups, everything depended on keeping the law. That explains why the members of the Dead Sea Scroll sect left Jerusalem and relocated to the Judean wilderness, down by the shores of the Dead Sea. They went there partly to escape the contamination of Hellenization in Jerusalem so that they could keep all of the law all of the time. They also went out into the wilderness, in fulfillment of the command through Isaiah “in the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God” (Isaiah 40:3). This highway they interpreted as the study of the Torah.9
I think, too, that they went out to the shores of the Dead Sea in literal fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophecy that “on that day,” the Mount of Olives will be split in two and water will flow from Jerusalem toward the West and East. The hills of Judea are best imagined as a sheet of corrugated cardboard. The two hills on which Jerusalem sits are the highest points, with other rolling mountains tapering off as one descends eastward into the Jordan Valley. If the Mount of Olives were to split in half and water were to flow out of Jerusalem, then going east, this river would cascade down the slopes toward the shores of the Dead Sea hundreds of feet below sea level. This would have the effect of creating a new Garden of Eden. Perhaps the members of the Dead Sea Scroll community thought that they had snagged the best address outside Jerusalem in the world to come.
One law was of overriding importance. Quoting the prophet Malachi (Malachi 1:10), the Damascus Document of the Dead Sea Scroll community urged members not to “enter the Temple to light his altar in vain.”10 Better to have no sacrifices than ones that were improperly offered. Because members of this community had a solar calendar, unlike the Sadducees who followed a lunar one, every sacrifice in the Temple in Jerusalem was being offered improperly. Nothing was being done right. Of special importance in this connection were the observances of Yom Kippur, the solemn Day of Atonement, when collectively the sins of Israel against God would be forgiven by him. With this festival celebrated on the wrong day (as the members of the Dead Sea Scroll movement maintained, due to the wrong calendar the Sadducees followed), the whole community was mired in sin, to its utter detriment. Hence they charged members to “take care to act according to the exact interpretation of the Law during the age of wickedness.”11
So, this truly was “the age of wickedness.” That was how these people viewed the world in which they lived. And that triggered fantastic expectations. From selected passages in their ancient writings, they knew what was about to happen. The pressing question, however, was when. When would these events take place? Zechariah had simply said “on that day.” Enoch looked for a “congregation of the righteous” to appear. The Dead Sea Scroll community, perceiving themselves to be in the vanguard of history, thought that world transformation was just around the corner. Jesus said “soon.” Everybody wanted a timetable.
Strict Torah observance mattered. Nothing less than the end of Hellenization and experiencing world transformation was at stake. Nothing could be of greater consequence.
How would these times come about? Zechariah thought that God himself would intervene in human history to create world transformation. Enoch attributed change partially to a heavenly being he called “the Lord of the Spirits” (1 Enoch 38:4; 39:7—10). Others thought that a human leader would emerge, a Messiah, who would play a role in God’s liberating people both politically and religiously. The Dead Sea Scroll community looked either for one leader or possibly two Messiahs—one priestly and one military—who would work with God in bringing about the new world order. Still others thought that angels rather than a Messiah would be involved in leading the transition team.
The Jewish belief in a Messiah grows out of this vision of what will happen when God establishes his rule over all humanity. The focus, however, is on what will happen during this great new era in human history, not on the instrument by which it would be achieved. This means that hope for a Messiah represents a marginal issue for Judaism. The concept of the Messiah is clearly subordinate to eschatology, that is, to what will transpire at the end-time when God will intervene in human history to re-create the world. The what was the important component of the expectation, not who would bring it about or how it would occur. Whether by God acting alone, through the agency of one or more Messiahs or with the assistance of angels, these devout Jews expected world transformation within their lifetime. Nothing less.
There is perhaps no clearer exposition of the Jewish idea of the Messiah than in the work from the first century B.C., the Psalms of Solomon. This document is not the Book of Psalms found within the Bible, but a separate and later writing. Written sometime after the Roman invasion of Israel in 63 B.C., this moving document takes us through an eyewitness account of the dreadful happenings that occurred in Jerusalem. Terrible events—that, you will recall, triggered the first phase of the end-time scenario. The awful events of the Roman conquest stirred up bitter remembrances of the great persecutions of Antiochus Epiphanes a hundred years earlier. The Romans had broken down the walls of Jerusalem with a battering ram. They had invaded the Temple, arrogantly trampling upon sacred ground. They did “in Jerusalem all the things that gentiles do for their gods in their cities” (Psalms of Solomon 17:14). Even worse, some Jerusalemites followed their example and desecrated the Temple. Some people became enslaved, and everywhere sexual immorality was evident as young Jewish women cavorted with Roman troops. Rape, prostitution, looting, stealing food, begging, famine—disruption to the social fabric was the norm. Obviously these were evil times. Having documented that these are the worst of times, we know where the story is headed.
In a time such as this, the writer of the Psalms of Solomon went on to say, echoing Zechariah and 1 Enoch before him, surely God can be relied on to act. His vision was that the Lord Messiah will appear and become the Davidic king over Israel. He will assist God in purging Jerusalem of Gentiles. The world will be rid of unrighteous rulers, thus ending the problem of Hellenization. The righteous who have persevered will be vindicated. They will live to see God worshipped in a place high above the earth, and nations will flock to Jerusalem to see God’s glory. This represents a familiar refrain for those who know the end-time clues from 1 Enoch, Zechariah, and Isaiah.
What a Messiah must accomplish is formidable. He must help overthrow foreign authority, establish an independent Jewish state, be the Davidic king and, with God’s help, usher in an era of universal peace, establishing the universal rule of God, the Kingdom of God. During this time, the wicked will be eradicated and the righteous will be rewarded. The righteous dead will suddenly reappear. The world will experience a peace never before realized, and all humanity will acknowledge and worship the one true God. This was the messianic dream of ancient Israel, and it had fantastic appeal. It represented a way out of truly dreadful times, bringing an end to all the social pressures of Hellenization and giving people a reason to hope … and be righteous.
In Jewish terms, a Messiah is a leader anointed by God to act as an agent or political catalyst, to assist in bringing about God’s rule. Most messianic expectations were that the Messiah would be human: he would be born and he would die.12 He would not have a special birth,13 and, while a righteous individual, he would not be a divine being. He would have to be a political leader, as a descendant of David, who would help establish the supremacy of Israel. God would work through him in bringing about this wonderful new era in human history. The world would be a dramatically different place as a result of his efforts. Anyone living at the time would be able to detect tremendous changes in the political and religious structures of the world after the Messiah appeared.
The devout people who knew in their hearts that they held the key to world history were uncompromising radicals. They saw the world simplistically, in clear black-and-white terms: the righteous versus the unrighteous, saints versus sinners, good people versus evildoers, true followers of Judaism versus Hellenizers. The growth of a “dualistic” mind-set was significant, for it pitted one segment of the Jewish community against all others. If you are not seriously for the covenant, or understand it differently, then you are its enemy. From this perspective, there was no room for compromise in confronting the perils of Hellenization.
It is a familiar battle, one that we see in our day as people within Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and other world religions become threatened by secularity, modernity, and religious pluralism. For Jews, it can mean shunning the world and becoming holed up in the minutiae of halakhah, that is, interpretations of Jewish law. For Christians, it usually takes the form of biblical literalism and shouting proof texts at nonbelievers without taking into account the social, historical, and literary contexts of biblical writings. For Islam, it expresses itself through a fundamentalist and militant rejection of all that is modern. The root of the crisis is the same, however: an inability to combine one’s religious outlook with modern beliefs and practices in a pluralistic society. This was the plight of many in the first centuries B.C. and A.D. who could not tolerate a multicultural, religiously diverse society.
The spirituality of these ancient and modern groups is absolutist, that is, they hold firmly to the view that there is one and only one correct religion. Furthermore, these dogmatists maintain, there is one and only one correct interpretation of that religion—theirs. Such a spirituality has the effect of locking people into the prison of their own perspective, impervious to the views of others and preventing growth by savoring alternative ideas. The claim to a monopoly on religious truth constitutes an effective defensive position, however, setting up a shield against argument and discussion. But it also impairs the person holding such a view. It shuts down the ability to consider competing claims to religious insight and destiny, hampering a person’s intellectual and spiritual growth.
Tremendous dreams and deeply felt hopes were attached to those who shared the vision of a radically transformed world—all the nameless devout Jewish people who produced these mysterious writings, members of the Dead Sea Scroll community, Zealots, and the Jesus Movement in Jerusalem. So while the Sadducees were plying their trade with the Romans at their side and the Pharisees were running schools, others were busily preparing for nothing less than total world transformation. They knew they were right and that secularism, pluralism, multiculturalism, and alternative religious expressions were wrong. For them, the approaches of the Sadducees and Pharisees were far too accommodating. Accurate Torah interpretation was a matter of ultimate concern. For these true believers, absolutely everything depended on it.
So, for these cult members, God had a plan for Israel and for all humanity. He had conveyed this through the prophets—Moses, Isaiah, Zechariah, and Enoch, among others. It was there for all to see, and they had uncovered it. Maybe, some likely thought, there was a conspiracy. Perhaps the leaders of Jewish society, the Sadducees and the Pharisees, were engaged in a cover-up. Very likely they knew the times—that it was the age of wickedness—but were just not prepared to share this insight with the rest of their society. More likely, the Sadducees and Pharisees just didn’t pay attention to these end-time speculations, which, admittedly, were couched in extremely vague language: “an age of wickedness,” “on that day,” “a community of righteousness,” a new world coming “soon.” If only someone would rise to the fore, to herald God’s Kingdom, they must have dared to dream. Someone who could make these endtime visions more specific and real to people living in the age of wickedness.
But where could such a champion be found?