The Ancient Mediterranean Social World: A Sourcebook

9.12

Introduction

Social-scientific criticism takes as its first principle that readers and writers are conditioned to create, read, and interpret by their social environment and that this applies as much to ancient writers as to modern readers. Traditional historical-criticism, as practiced by biblical scholars, has always sought to situate the reader in the ancient past and to provide the means for interpreters to interrogate texts, and to this end, social-scientific critics see their enterprise as an important extension of that approach.¹ But social-scientific criticism takes the position that it is not enough merely to understand the past; one needs simultaneously to enter the world of one’s ancient subjects (like in historical criticism) and to filter out one’s own (modern and anachronistic) enculturation. Put differently, readers from one culture must, to a certain extent, enter the culture of another in order to understand its discourses, rhetoric, arguments, and humor.

This is the benefit of models, though few critics understand this.² Models are not meant to be perfect or to reveal everything. Far from it; models are intended to filter out some data, some that might be interesting and enriching, in order to highlight the data pertinent to the model, like lenses constructed to filter certain kinds of light in order to show particular things and obscure others.³ The use of models is also intended to produce results that are, in true scientific spirit, replicable. Since we all make assumptions when reading—that is, we all read from within models—it is better to be explicit about one’s interpretive assumptions and models. The modeling enterprise allows for this; anything else pretends we are objective readers, which is impossible. We all use models when interpreting: the options available to us as readers are either to do so explicitly by presenting the model up front or to do so implicitly and risk projecting our modern assumptions onto ancient Mediterranean texts.⁴

Thus, over the history of social-scientific criticism, much effort has been placed on defining and defending the use of particular models and the modeling enterprise more broadly.⁵ This history has been summarized many times, as has the variety of criticisms of the approach, and neither needs to be summarized again. Only one of these criticisms is pertinent here, namely, that the models used by social-scientific critics were developed in the modern world and imposed anachronistically on ancient texts and subjects, and by extension that this was done not only in the absence of data but in fact that the models themselves generate the data.⁶ Far from generating the data, however, the models used by social-scientific critics are built on tremendous amounts of ancient data. Thus, this work seeks to depart from the practice of presenting and defending the models (as well the modeling enterprise) and focus on the data.

One of the strengths of models and indeed a measure of their appropriateness is their heuristic capacity: What do they succeed in explaining? This analytical component of the modeling enterprise might be foreign to the actors themselves; the very process of analysis is generally an outsider’s prerogative. The anthropological language for this is etic: The analyst’s explanation is etic by virtue of being foreign to the world being analyzed. As valuable and necessary as the etic perspective in the modeling enterprise is, the emic perspective—or language the subject would recognize—is, and always has been, valuable as well. This is not new; the models used in biblical studies were never constructed in the absence of data. They were sometimes developed in the absence of biblical data, but cross-cultural analysis has proven useful for explaining social transcripts that are easily accessible to insiders, but not always easily accessible to the scholars who study them. Most other social-scientific models have been constructed from ancient data, even as they sometimes help to illuminate in a passage the dynamics that might go unnoticed by a modern reader. Nonetheless, the nature of a sourcebook, and this one in particular, is that its focus is entirely emic, even while the nature of categories sometimes reflects the presence of a model. The passages and references in the chapters below, about which more will be said shortly, are ancient productions in their own words. The categories might be model based and our own, but the evidence is theirs.

If this book serves in any way to address the criticism that social-scientific models anachronistically generate data that cannot be found in antiquity, then that would be a beneficial contribution to the debate. Nonetheless, it would also be a secondary goal of this book. The primary goal of this work is to serve as a resource for teaching or research: to provide easy access to a vast and representative array of texts relating to many topics of social-scientific interest to scholars of antiquity. The sourcebook has a long and rich history in the field of biblical studies, and there is a good variety of fine ones still in circulation. None of them, however, prioritize exclusively social-scientific categories (though some of them touch briefly on some of these topics). Thus, we have deliberately avoided some topics that are socially interesting but that are covered well in these other sourcebook collections, such as education, marriage, or slavery. Instead, we have sought a balance of recently emerging areas of social-scientific scholarship (e.g., dress, alternate states of consciousness, space, gossip, and secrecy) and traditional social-scientific categories (e.g., honor, patronage, shame, evil eye, and friendship).

As the primary goal of this work is as a teaching and research resource, the structure of each chapter is largely uniform. The chapters each have five sections. They begin with a short introduction to the topic; then twenty passages are offered in translation, each with a brief introduction to the writer and the context of the passage. These translations were selected to highlight particular features of each topic, and thus the translations are grouped together into subunits. In addition, the passages were selected to show the prevalence of these data: These topics can be found in texts and material remains from the iron age to the period of the rabbis and church fathers, in Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Assyrian, and other languages, in historical writings, philosophical writings, poetry, satire, drama, oratory, inscriptions, letters, moral essays, and of course, biblical writings. In other words, the twenty passages are not exhaustive, but rather representative of the circum-Mediterranean and southwest Asia. Following the twenty translated passages, one finds a list of ancient vocabulary related to each topic (with the exception of a couple of topics that do not have a discrete vocabulary) followed by a very brief scholarly bibliography. Finally, each chapter ends by offering usually hundreds of additional citations where the topic can be found, and these citations are grouped together in the same subunits as used for the translations.

All of the topics in this book revolve around a shared theme: they all speak to the lived experience of people in the ancient Mediterranean. Honor (chap. 4, Honor: Richard Rohrbaugh) has been called the pivotal value of the ancient world. This can be expanded in two ways: Honor is that value around which everything else revolves; or honor is what explains the dynamic and the nature of so many other values. For instance, a concern for honor explains shame, deviance or labeling, the construction of gender, kinship, space, and so on. The concern for honor explains much of the lived experience of ancient people. Shame (chap. 5, Shame: Ron Roberts), which is not the opposite of honor, is the concern people have to show appropriate honor to others. Thus, men must have shame, too; shame is gendered, but it is not gendered in only one direction. The worst kind of person in this world is the shameless person, that is, the person who cannot be shamed into falling in line with the group.

Honor and shame are such powerful social values because the world was collectivistic (chap. 6, Collectivism: Dennis Duling and Richard Rohrbaugh). What others thought of you was extremely important to many people; their opinion not only mattered, but it also shaped and constrained people’s options. Of course, there were some who rejected the peer pressure that inheres in collectivistic culture; in those cases, the charge that they were deviants (chap. 18, Deviance: Giovanni Bazzana) was a threat of expulsion, often intended to encourage them to correct their behavior and uphold group expectations. Talking behind the backs of others (chap. 7, Gossip: Dietmar Neufeld and John Daniels) was another way that charges of deviance could be disseminated. Gossip was a key means of maintaining group boundaries and enforcing group expectations. Publicly making fun of others and lying to or withholding information from them (chap. 19, Mockery and Secrecy: Dietmar Neufeld and Zeba A. Crook) were additional ways to exercise power over others. And one very common way of coming into possession of secrets was through revelatory dreams and visions (chap. 13, Alternate States of Consciousness: Colleen Shantz). In this world, information and experience derived from alternate states of consciousness were taken very seriously.

Another feature of ancient life that affected daily living was whether one was born male or female. This determined the rules (chap. 9, Gender: Alicia Batten) by which one was expected to live. Gender expectations also affected the ways in which one was expected to show shame and influenced the ways one could gain honor. It also affected the rules relating to where one could go (chap. 8, Space: Eric Stewart), for different spaces (home, temple, public square) were governed by different expectations. In public places, one needed to be aware of protecting and projecting honor. But one also needed to be wary of those who were envious of you, whether it was because you were wealthy, healthy, Roman, male, the mother of a baby boy, and so on. These things could provoke the evil eye (chap. 20, Evil Eye: John H. Elliott). Evil Eye beliefs and practices are explained not only by the ancient understanding of how vision worked, but by the belief that envy (chap. 17, Limited Good and Envy: John H. Elliott, Zeba A. Crook, and Jerome Neyrey) was natural, unavoidable, and utterly destructive.

Relationships and social interaction would also obviously affect one’s lived experience in the world. One’s first point of contact with the world was one’s family, but family also shaped one’s interaction with that world (chap. 2, Kinship: Erin Vearncombe), in terms of marriage practices, inheritance, and genealogy, which of course overlaps with honor. Kinship was such a basic social institution that it offered the foundational metaphor for other social relationships. Antiquity was a vertically structured world, in which power was expressed by controlling access. Whoever has access—to money, goods, gods, or other people—has power. People in need must approach those with access (chap. 3, Patronage: Zeba A. Crook). Kinship also provided the foundational metaphor for friendship, as the truest friends share as if they are family (chap. 16, Friendship and Gifts: Zeba A. Crook and Gary Stansell). Thus, both patronage and friendship were forms of what has been called fictive kinship. What connected clients to patrons, friends to friends, and manumitted slaves to their former masters was a bond of loyalty (chap. 15, Loyalty: Jason Lamoreaux).

Lived experience in the ancient world also involved ritual. Sometimes these rituals were located primarily in the home (chap. 10, Ritual, Domestic: Jason Lamoreaux), in which case they involved childbirth, marriage, death, festivals, and meals, and sometimes they were primarily public in nature (chap. 11, Ritual, Public: Amy Marie Fisher), in which they might be directed at the well-being of the emperor or the placation of the gods. Both types of ritual could be called politico-religious, as religion did not exist in a sphere all its own, separate from and independent of politics. Ritual was also sometimes governed by expectations of purity (chap. 12, Purity: Ritva Williams), so one had to be aware of the various ways in which one came into contact with impurity. Sacrifice was a common feature of ritual, including rituals one might undertake in the pursuit of healing (chap. 14, Healing: Agnes Choi). Illness and disease had social and cosmic, as well as personal, ramifications and implications. Being healthy was very important; being sick might be interpreted as disfavor with the gods or blamed on outsiders and deviants.

And last not because it is least, but because of how all-encompassing it too is, nothing affects one’s lived daily experience more than economy (chap. 1, Economy: Douglas Oakman). Economy covers issues such as taxes, rents, tributes, agrarian life, labor, hunger, self-sufficiency or dependence, and livelihood.

It is also worth noting that not only do the topics of each chapter relate together, but also many of them relate to each other. Thus, while reading one entry, you will commonly be directed to a related entry. For instance, social expectations governing who can go where (chap. 8, Space) overlaps with gender, honor, purity, healing, deviance, and shame. The social construction of properly masculine or feminine behavior (chap. 9, Gender) overlaps with honor, deviance, mockery, patronage, kinship, purity, and space. The worry that being in possession of that which others lack can bring withering, damaging, or even fatal looks from people (chap. 20, Evil Eye) and overlaps with envy, honor, gender, space, economics, and patronage.

This book does not claim that these topics encompass the whole of lived experience in the ancient Mediterranean, but merely that an understanding of these topics (among others) deeply enriches our sense of their lived experience and of the ways in which our own lived experiences are to varying degrees different. It is not that we share nothing in common with these people, but that what we do not share in common is extremely important. In addition, this book does not claim that these topics were experienced in the same way by ancient Mediterranean people. While some generalization is possible, generalization is not necessary for understanding ancient experience.

Another feature of this book that I hope will contribute to current conversations relates to religion. Unlike most other sourcebooks, this one is not divided into categories, like politics, literature, philosophy, religion, economy, and culture. Such an approach imagines that religion exists in a sphere of its own, separated from other institutions by a set of concerns or by an intrinsic nature that is uniquely and essentially (in the philosophical sense of the term) its own. There is no category for religion in this book. Rather, religion (practices and ideas relating to superhuman beings) is a component of nearly every topic in this book, as it should be. Every chapter in some way demonstrates how ancient notions of any topic (e.g., honor, economy, loyalty, etc.) help explain how they interacted with their gods, and vice versa, their understanding of the gods informs each one of these topics. We have attempted, in other words, to reflect in our categories the now common notion that religion was embedded in antiquity, not a stand-alone institution. The one section that makes reference to the gods and God exists solely in the service of arranging the chapters, not for reflecting (or constructing) reality. Those happen to be topics that focus more explicitly on superhuman beings than do the other topics, but this does not lessen their social significance.

This project had more than its share, I think, of bumps along the way. With the exception of the chapter on collectivism, the essays were originally assigned to individual authors, but over the course of the project, Jerry Neyrey retired and changed careers, Gary Stansell fell ill, and most shocking of all, Dietmar Neufeld passed away. All four essays of these colleagues had to be completed in their absence, and it is my hope that justice was done to their contributions.

Professor Dietmar Neufeld was a longtime member of the Context Group, a devoted teacher and mentor, a rigorous interlocutor at meetings, and a dear friend to many. He was my MA thesis director at UBC, and it was a wonderful experience having him contribute two chapters to a book I was editing. He will be missed by all the contributors to this volume, by other members of the Context Group, and by many members of the international biblical studies guild. This book is dedicated to his memory. We miss you, Diet.

Select Bibliography

Carney, T. F. The Shape of the Past: Models and Antiquity. Lawrence, KS: Coronado, 1975.

Elliott, J. H. What Is Social-Scientific Criticism? Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993.

Esler, Philip Francis. Models in New Testament Interpretation: A Reply to David Horrell. JSNT 78 (2000): 107–13.

Herzfeld, Michael. Honour and Shame: Some Problems in the Comparative Analysis of Moral Systems. Man NS 15 (1980): 339–51.

Horrell, David. Models and Methods in Social-Scientific Interpretation: A Response to Philip Esler. JSNT 78 (2000): 83–105.

Horsley, Richard A. Sociology and the Jesus Movement. New York: Crossroad, 1989.

Lawrence, Louise Joy. An Ethnography of the Gospel of Matthew: A Critical Assessment of the Use of the Honour and Shame Model in New Testament Studies. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003.

Malina, Bruce J. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology. 3rd ed. Atlanta: John Knox, 2001.

Neyrey, Jerome H. Social Science Modeling and the New Testament. BTB 16 (1986): 107–10.

Rodd, Cyril S. On Applying a Sociological Theory to Biblical Studies. JSOT 19 (1981): 95–106.

Rohrbaugh, Richard L. Methodological Considerations in the Debate over the Social Class of Early Christians. JAAR 52 (1984): 519–46.

———. Models and Muddles: Discussions of the Social Facets Seminar. Forum 3.2 (1987): 23–33.

1. J. H. Elliott, What Is Social-Scientific Criticism? (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 11–15.

2. David Horrell, Models and Methods in Social-Scientific Interpretation: A Response to Philip Esler, JSNT 78 (2000): 83–105.

3. Elliott, What Is Social-Scientific Criticism?, 42.

4. Philip Francis Esler, Models in New Testament Interpretation: A Reply to David Horrell, JSNT 78 (2000): 107–13.

5. See Jerome H. Neyrey, Social Science Modeling and the New Testament, BTB 16 (1986): 107–10; T. F. Carney, The Shape of the Past: Models and Antiquity (Lawrence, KS: Coronado, 1975); Richard L. Rohrbaugh, Methodological Considerations in the Debate over the Social Class of Early Christians, JAAR 52 (1984): 519–46; Richard L. Rohrbaugh, Models and Muddles: Discussions of the Social Facets Seminar, Forum 3.2 (1987): 23–33; Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology, 3rd ed. (Atlanta: John Knox, 2001); Elliott, What Is Social-Scientific Criticism?, 42.

6. Louise Joy Lawrence, An Ethnography of the Gospel of Matthew: A Critical Assessment of the Use of the Honour and Shame Model in New Testament Studies, WUNT 2.165 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); Cyril S. Rodd, On Applying a Sociological Theory to Biblical Studies, JSOT 19 (1981): 95–106; Michael Herzfeld, Honour and Shame: Some Problems in the Comparative Analysis of Moral Systems, Man NS 15 (1980): 339–51; Richard A. Horsley, Sociology and the Jesus Movement (New York: Crossroad, 1989).

PART I

Institutions

1. Economy

DOUGLAS E. OAKMAN

Introduction

It is difficult to read anywhere in the Bible without coming across social institutions and practices shaped by economics. The economies of the biblical periods were a mix of commercial and agrarian dimensions. But while elites might enjoy long-distance commerce in luxuries, and even some bulk goods, most biblical traditions were shaped under exploitative conditions characteristic of agrarian societies where the majority had limited material security. The details vary by locality and period, but the general economic picture is fairly static over the time the Bible was being compiled.

Advanced agrarian societies are characterized by manual and animal labor and the use of the iron plow. Approximately 90 percent of the population is engaged in direct agricultural work, the purpose of which is consumption and not sale for profit. Minimal labor-saving devices are at the disposal of village or small-town peasantry, and annual crops are always at the mercy of environmental (e.g., drought) and social (e.g., exploitation by land owners, taxes, rents) variables; the cumulative effect often results in tense social relations between those who own the land and those trying to survive on it. Elites, for the most part, live in cities and on estates. Elite-controlled commercial ventures, whether by land or sea, add further stresses on the subsistence bottom line, because they send local agrarian wealth elsewhere without adding to food security. Elite building programs and corvées siphon labor away from peasant village agriculture. Because of the significant level of coercive relations and means, biblical economies were always political economies.

The agricultural year is very important in the biblical traditions. For instance, three major festivals were aligned with agricultural harvest times—Festival of Passover with the early grain harvest, Festival of Weeks with the full grain harvest, and Festival of Booths with the vintage (Deut 16). Deuteronomy 8:8 envisions agrarian riches in seven kinds: wheat, barley, fig, pomegranate, grape, olive, and honey. Preindustrial agrarian production is more restricted by natural and sociopolitical factors, thus giving rise to distinctive cultural values, like disdain of manual labor among elites, mistrust of money (including those who handle it), reciprocity, generosity/stinginess, Patronage (chap. 3), Limited Good and Envy (chap. 17), Evil Eye beliefs (chap. 20), self-sufficiency, and peasant wantlessness (being content with very little).

Labor was organized by family units at the lowest level of agrarian societies. Villages were ordinarily comprised of extended families (relatives); towns and cities were expressions of state-level formations and nonagricultural labor organization. Large estates, for instance, could depend upon slave or free labor. Tenancy was often disadvantageous to the peasant, and estate stewards (oikonomoi) were carefully watched by landlords. Town and urban artisans might be made up of surplus village children or declassed elites, but landless laborers were also needed for estate harvest times. Tax or rent collectors were ordinarily bonded or indentured in some way, so as to remain under control of the major collectors and elites.

In addition to agricultural work, a limited number of the population, perhaps 5–10 percent, engaged in some specialized productive pursuits. These would include merchants, weavers, potters, stone masons, metal workers, and the like. Such specialization was again pursued by families (see chap. 2, Kinship), normally involving trade secrets, and possibly controlled by elite interests in organized workshops (see chap. 19, Mockery and Secrecy).

While Solomon (1 Kgs 9:26–28) and Herod the Great (building of Caesarea Maritima) respectively attempted to control transit trade and establish seaborne commerce, the major tribute takers of this region over the millennia were indigenous monarchies or the kingdoms or empires of Egypt and Mesopotamia, and later Rome. In other words, integration of the biblical lands into commercial networks (overland luxury caravans or seaborne products) primarily benefited the elites and put stresses upon traditional domestic production and the peasantry. It is possible to attribute unrest and revolt occasionally seen in the biblical traditions to such agrarian stresses and crises (1 Kgs 12:18–19). From time to time as well, pestilence (Joel 1:4) and famine (Acts 11:28) brought on crises. Honi the circle-maker was famous for his prayers for rain (m. Ta’anit 3:8). In straitened circumstances, familial solidarity and sharing ensured survival; ordinarily, then, family economy was characterized as sharing without expecting immediate return (generalized reciprocity), and such values came to symbolize healing and salvation in various places in biblical traditions.

The New Testament was written during the first century and a half of the Roman Empire, when Syro-Palestine again came to be firmly integrated into the mixed agrarian-Mediterranean commercial economy of the urban-based imperial elites. The canonical Gospels thus speak about money, economy, markets, large absentee landlords, and a host of exploited landless who are addressed as honored in Jesus’s vision of the kingdom of God that will upend all imperial relations. This picture gives way in the later New Testament literature to the appearance of urban artisans, laborers, and commercial agents who move more naturally within the commercial economy of Rome (Acts 18:1–3; Jas 2:2–7). For some New Testament writers, who straddled the divide between city and country, the social tensions could evoke great anger (Jas 5:1–6; Rev 18:9–20).

The Bible is acutely aware of agrarian social institutions or conditions that endanger the primary producer. Paramount among dangers are the loss of land (or land access) and the crushing affliction of indebtedness. These two recurring problems are addressed in a number of places in the Bible, notably Deut 15; Lev 25; Neh 5; and in certain traditions associated with Jesus (Matt 18:23–35; Luke 7:41–42; 11:2–4). Indeed, debt forgiveness becomes a major biblical metaphor for salvific healing and release. Jesus speaks of the incompatibility of trusting mammon (wealth in the bank or storehouse) and loyalty to God (Luke 16:13). However, the later New Testament writers, stemming from the urban service strata, indicate that the problem is love of money (Acts 5:1–11; 1 Tim 6:9–10). The conventional ethos (consonant with household economy) among early Christ-followers came to value sharing among members of the household (Acts 4:32–37; 20:35).

Ancient Texts

MEDITERRANEAN/BIBLICAL AGRICULTURE

1. GEZER CALENDAR

The Gezer Calendar is an inscribed piece of limestone with seven lines of writing. It was found near Jerusalem and dates from approximately the tenth century BCE. It describes the annual agricultural cycle and presupposes a Mediterranean climate that allowed grains to be planted in fall and harvested in spring; grapes and olives were harvested in the early fall.

The two months of [olive] harvest; the two months of planting [grain]

The two months of late planting

The month of hoeing up of flax

The month of harvest of barley

The month of harvest and storage

The two months of vine-tending

The month of summer-fruit.¹

2. JOHN 4:35–37

The Gospel of John shows that agriculture serves as an important reservoir of biblical metaphors, in this case harvest.

Do you not say that the harvest is still four months away? I say to you, Lift up your eyes and look at the fields—they are already white for harvest. Indeed, the harvester receives payment and gathers fruit for eternal life, in order that the sower and the reaper rejoice together. For in this matter, the saying is true, One sows, and another reaps.

MEDITERRANEAN/AGRARIAN ECONOMIC VALUES

3. MATTHEW 20:15

The phenomenon of all resources being limited results in envy, which according to ancient science naturally leads to the evil eye (see chap. 17, Limited Good and Envy; chap. 20, Evil Eye). The evil eye was believed to do bodily harm.

Is it not permitted me to do what I want with my wealth? Or is your eye evil because I am good?

4. LUKE 10:35

In an environment of subsistence, generosity was highly valued and stinginess despised. In the parable of the good Samaritan, the Samaritan character treats a foreign enemy like a family member, that is, generously and without the expectation of return.

Drawing out two denarii, [the Samaritan] gave them to the innkeeper and said to him, Take care of [the Israelite victim of robbery]. And whatever additional expense, I will repay you when I return.

5. LUKE (Q) 16:13

Mistrust of money by the non-elite was common.

You cannot serve God and mammon.

POLITICAL ECONOMY:

ELITE CONTROL OF PRODUCTION, ESTATES, AND LAND TENURE

6. GOSPEL OF THOMAS 65

Much economic life took place on large estates worked by tenant farmers. Elites and farmers conflicted constantly, as the former tried to control production and the latter tried to survive. This typically led to conflicted relations between landlord and producer, as is seen in Thomas’s dark version of the parable of the tenants.

A person owned a vineyard and rented it to some farmers, so they could work it and he could collect its crop from them. He sent his slave so the farmers would give him the vineyard’s crop. They grabbed him, beat him, and almost killed him, and the slave returned and told his master. His master said, Perhaps he didn’t know them. He sent another slave, and the farmers beat that one as well. Then the master sent his son and said, Perhaps they’ll show my son some respect. Because the farmers knew that he was the heir to the vineyard, they grabbed him and killed him. Anyone here with two ears had better listen!²

7. P.YADIN 16

Abundant documentary evidence for political control and taxation of agriculture is extant. In this papryus from the second century CE, land is being registered.

At the time of the census of Arabia under Titus Aninius Sextius Florentinus, legate of Augustus pro praetore, I Babatha daughter of Simon of Maoza of the Zoarene region of Petra, dwelling on my own property in Maoza itself, have recorded the things that I own . . . a date plantation within the boundaries of Maoza called Bethphaaraia, the area of sown barley seed of twenty sata, paying three kors of Syrian and Noaran [?] dates, two kors from those struck down, for the crown tax eight lepta forty-five adjacent to the property of Tamar daughter of Thamous and the road.³

POLITICAL ECONOMY: ORGANIZATION OF LABOR

8. SIRACH 38:24–30

This second-century BCE apocryphal work called Sirach (also called Ecclesiasticus, and the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach) illustrates the relationship between labor and leisure. Scribes in service of power elites played important roles in tax and rent accounting; they also inscribed the biblical traditions. The commoner lived life in service of the elites as well, but subject to the heavy labor demands of agriculture, trades, or elite-requisitioned labor (for instance, as a requirement of a patron).

The wisdom of the scribe lies in the opportunity of leisure, and the one who decreases his business activity will become wise. How shall one who grasps the plow become wise? Or who drives cattle at the point of a goad? Or turns back and forth as they draw? Or whose conversation is about bulls’ male calves? He will devote his heart to plowing straight furrows, and he is sleepless over heifer’s feed. Likewise is every craftsman and master craftsman who labors night and day—those who engrave engravings on signets, and the carefulness of him who effects intricate designs—he will give his heart to craft a lifelike portrait, and he is sleepless to complete the work. So is the smith sitting near the anvil and carefully observing his work; a vapor of fire will melt his flesh; he will contend with sound of hammer in the heat of a furnace, and he will devote himself to perfection of product and concern himself to effect a beautiful ornamentation. Similarly, the potter sits with his vessel and turns the wheel with his feet. He reclines in worry every night over his work, and all his work aims to fulfill a number. He will mold clay with his arm, and he will shape its strength before his feet. He is devoted to a perfect glaze, and he is careful to clean the oven.

9. CICERO, ON DUTIES 1.69

Naturally, elites preferred leisure, and they associated busyness with the poor and non-elite. Leisure allows the cultivation of wisdom, naturally not the domain of the laboring masses. This passage comes from Cicero, a wealthy first-century BCE philosopher, politician, and lawyer. In this work, he discusses at length the best lifestyles and proper moral obligations.

Moreover, there both are and were many who, seeking that tranquility that I spoke of, are the sort to have withdrawn themselves from public business and fled to leisure.⁴

10. SUETONIUS, VESPASIAN 18

Labor-saving devices were rarely accessible to non-elites and, in this passage, were avoided even by the elite. In this passage from Suetonius—a first-century CE Roman biographer—even the emperor recognizes the deleterious effects that a labor-saving device would have on the non-elite.

To a mechanical engineer, who promised to transport some heavy columns to the capitol at small expense, [Vespasian] gave no mean reward for his invention, but refused to make use of it, having prefaced the deed by saying that it would not allow the commons to feed themselves.⁵

POLITICAL ECONOMY: TAXATION, RENTS, AND SO-CALLED SURPLUSES

11. 1 KINGS 4:7, 22–23

Solomon, the third king of Israel, is renowned in Israelite tradition for his wealth. This wealth was substantially derived from the agriculture of his kingdom, but he also benefited from some commercial dealings.

Solomon had twelve revenue officers over all Israel, and they supplied the king and his house for one month out of the year, each in charge of one month’s supply. . . .

This was the provision of Solomon for one day: thirty kors of fine flour, and sixty kors of meal; ten fattened oxen and ten pasture-fed cattle; one hundred sheep, in addition to deer and gazelle; and fattened fowls.

12. 1 MACCABEES 10:29–31

Taxation, which in antiquity amounts to elite extraction of produce from the producers, could take the form of coin or produce. Either way, it was exorbitant, as reflected in this second-century BCE apocryphal work, which in part reflects the existence of multiple forms of taxation.

I [Demetrius] now set you free and release all the Judeans from the tributes and the honor tax and the salt tax and from the crown taxes. I release the land of Judah and the three districts added to it from Samaria and Galilee, from this day and henceforth, from the collection of the third of the grain and the half of the fruit of the trees that I should receive. From this day and for all time, Jerusalem and its environs, its tithes and its revenues, shall be inviolable and free from