Albertz, Rainer - Schmitt, Rüdiger - Family and Household Religion in Ancient Israel and The Levant-Eisenbrauns (2012) PDF
Albertz, Rainer - Schmitt, Rüdiger - Family and Household Religion in Ancient Israel and The Levant-Eisenbrauns (2012) PDF
Albertz, Rainer - Schmitt, Rüdiger - Family and Household Religion in Ancient Israel and The Levant-Eisenbrauns (2012) PDF
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The illustrations used on the cover of this book were supplied by the
Semitic Museum, Harvard University, from an exhibit entitled The Houses
of Ancient Israel: Domestic, Royal, Divine.
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for
Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984. †Ê
Contents
v
vi Contents
Fig. 3.47.╇ Tel Masos, House 314: Pottery assemblage and “collectibles“
from Room 307 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . .128
Fig. 3.48.╇ Tel Masos, House 314. Pottery assemblage and ivory lion’s head
from Room 331 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . .129
Fig. 3.49.╇ Tel Masos: Animal figurine and pottery from Locus 609 . . . . . . . . .130
Fig. 3.50.╇ Tel Masos: Figurine base and pottery from Room 708 . . . . . . . . . . 131
Fig. 3.51.╇ Tel Masos: Model Chair and cup from Room 758 . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 .132
Fig. 3.52.╇ Tel Masos: Animal figurine, zoomorphic spout, and pottery
from Room 718 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . .133
Fig. 3.53.╇ Tel Michal, Stratum XIV–XIII: Sanctuary with findspots of pottery . . . 134
Fig. 3.54.╇ Megiddo, Locus 2081: Cult corner proper with objects in situ . . . . . .135
Fig. 3.55.╇ Megiddo, Locus 2081 with adjacent structures . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 . . . 136
Fig. 3.56.╇ Megiddo, Locus 2081: Pottery assemblage as reconstructed by
Zevit (2000: fig. 3.55) . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . 137
Fig. 3.57.╇ Megiddo, Palace 338: General plan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
Fig. 3.58.╇ Megiddo, Locus 340 . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 . . . . . . 139
Fig. 3.59.╇ Megiddo: Content of Room 340 . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 . . . . . . . . . . . 140
Fig. 3.60.╇ Distribution of ritual objects from Megiddo courtyard
House 00/K/10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Fig. 3.61.╇ Megiddo, Sratum VI, Area AA: Pottery shrine and
selected pottery from eastern quadrant of Locus 2159 . . . . . . . . . .143
Fig. 3.62.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Objects and selected pottery
from Locus 1727 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144
Fig. 3.63.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Stand associated with Locus 1729
and selected pottery from Locus 1729 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . .145
Fig. 3.64.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Objects and selected pottery
from assemblage of Room 1732 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . 146
Fig. 3.65.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Zoomorphic spout and pottery
from Locus 1737 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
Fig. 3.66.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Stand with figurative appliques
from Locus 1731 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148
Fig. 3.67.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Stand and selected pottery
from Locus 1735. Photograph of Locus 1735 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . .149
Fig. 3.68.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Selected pottery and photography
from Locus 1736 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150
Fig. 3.69.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Top of stand with selected pottery
and cymbals from Locus 1740 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ 151
Fig. 3.70.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Stand and selected pottery
from Locus 1744 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
Fig. 3.71.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Amulets, bone figurine fragment,
and selected pottery from Locus 1741 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . .153
Fig. 3.72.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Cult stand and goblet
from Locus 17 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . 154
xii List of Figures
Fig. 3.73.╇ Stand, censer, and zoomorphic vessel from Megiddo, Level H 3,
Unit 94/H/8, with sample of selected pottery . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . .156
Fig. 3.74.╇ Distribution patterns from Tell en-Naṣbeh . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . .158
Fig. 3.75.╇ Tel Qashish: Pottery from pit Locus 253 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
Fig. 3.76.╇ Tell Qiri, Area D, Stratum VIII C: Pottery and objects
from Loci 1065 and 674 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Fig. 3.77.╇ Tell Qiri, Area D, Stratum VIII B: Pottery from Loci 690 and 1044 . . . 162
Fig. 3.78.╇ Tell Qiri, Area D, Stratum VIII A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Fig. 3.79.╇ Tell es-Saʾīdīyeh, Stratum VII, House 64 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . .166
Fig. 3.80.╇ Tell es-Saʾīdīyeh, Stratum VI, House 37 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . .167
Fig. 3.81.╇ Shiloh: Pottery and Objects from Locus 623 . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 . . . .168
Fig. 3.82.╇ The so-called Cultic Structure SW 2-7 at Taanach and
selected pottery from Loci 27 and 61 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . .171
Fig. 3.83.╇ Tell Abu al-Kharaz: Tripod incense burners and cooking pot
from Area 7 house . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Fig. 3.84.╇ Irbid, Area C: Ritual Vessels from Room 1 . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 . . . . .178
Fig. 3.85.╇ Tell Jawa, Building 102 with model shrine fragment
from Room 110, proto-Aeolic capital and figurine head
from Room 105 and stone figurine from Room 217 . . . . . . . . . . . 179
Fig. 3.86.╇ Tell Jawa, Building 300: Figurine base and miniature tools
from bench Locus E54:24 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . 183
Fig. 3.87.╇ Tell Mazar, Mound A: Pottery assemblage from Room 101 . . . . . . . . 185
Fig. 3.88.╇ Tell Mazar, Building 300 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
Fig. 3.89.╇ Pella: Pottery and stands from Plot IV E . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188
Fig. 3.90.╇ Tall al-ʿUmeri, Building A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191
Fig. 3.91.╇ Tall al-ʿUmeri: Room A2 with supposed cultic stele . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ 192
Fig. 3.92.╇ Typology of Philistine terra-cotta figurines . . . . . . . . . . . .尓 . . . . .194
Fig. 3.93.╇ Ashdod, Area H: Pottery and objects from Rooms 5032 and 5033 . . . . 196
Fig. 3.94.╇ Ashdod: Figurines and pottery from Loci 4133 and 4109 . . . . . . . . . 197
Fig. 3.95.╇ Ashdod, Locus 5361 with musician’s stand and shrine
model fragment . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . 200
Fig. 3.96.╇ Stand and pottery from Ashdod, Area H, Locus 6212 . . . . . . . . . . .201
Fig. 3.97.╇ Distribution of finds from Ashdod, Building 5337 . . . . . . . . . . . . 202
Fig. 3.98.╇ Ashdod: Potter’s quarter in Area D with figurine and
pottery assemblages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
Fig. 3.99.╇ ʿAin Dara: Figurine plaque fragment from Sq. 4, Loc. 24, Level 2,
Phase XIV . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . 213
Fig. 3.100.╇ ʿAin Dara: Animal figurine from Sq. 4, Loc.15, Level 1, Phase VII . . . 214
Fig. 3.101.╇ ʿAin Dara: Horse-and-rider fragment from Sq. 4,
Loc. 12 (not specified), Level 2, Phase V . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . .215
Fig. 3.102.╇ Tell Afis, Area E1, Level 3: Limestone figurine and pottery
from Loci 803 and 806 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . 217
Fig. 5.1 . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . . . . . . . .å°“ . . . . . 371
List of Figures xiii
After being neglected for a long time, the topic of family and household religion in
ancient Israel and its surroundings has during the last few decades moved more directly
into the focus of religious-historical, gender-oriented, and archaeological research. In re-
cent years, several international conferences, sessions, and workshops have taken place in
which the subject has been discussed from a variety perspectives: in Providence, Rhode
Island (U.S.A., 2005), in Piliscaba (Hungary, 2006), Vienna (Austria, 2007), and in Mün-
ster (Germany, 2009). The present volume collects as much material as possible from the
archaeological, iconographic, epigraphic, and biblical sources in order to present a com-
prehensive picture of family and household religion in ancient Israel and in the neigh-
boring cultures from the 11th through the 7th centuries b.c.e. In this book, we intend
to demonstrate that this specific religious dimension actually existed in the region of the
Levant and show how it functioned in discontinuity and continuity with other aspects of
life—namely, local and state religion. Our goal is to provide a compendium for studying
the ancient religion of Israel and of its Levantine environment from a specific analytical
perspective.
This monograph is the result of cooperation between the authors that began in 1998.
Actual work on the book began when we started a research project on family religion
funded by the German Research Fund (DFG—Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft) in
2006 (Project no. AL 141/7-1). Both of us had been working on the topic earlier: Rainer
Albertz published his Habilitation on “Persönliche Frömmigkeit und offizielle Religion” in
1978 and Rüdiger Schmitt his study on “Philistine Terracotta Figurines” in 1994, and the
topic of family and household religion has been a part of our research for many years. To-
day, we are glad to present the fruit of many years’ work, and we are deeply thankful to all
who have contributed to our research in one way or another. First, we thank the DFG for
funding our research project and for financially asisting in its publication. Second, thanks
go to many friends and colleagues who have discussed the topic with us at conferences
and elsewhere; we mention here only Susan Ackermann, Beth Alpert Nakhai, William S.
Dever, and Saul Olyan. Third, we owe many thanks to Mark Padgham, Bruce Wells, and
Beverly McCoy for polishing our English and editing the manuscript; Ruth Ebach, Philipp
Baumberger, and other student assistants constantly helped to supply us with books, ar-
ticles, and photocopying. The readers have Ruth Ebach and Philipp Baumberger to thank
for creating the indexes. Last, but not least, our special thanks go to the publishing firm of
Eisenbrauns for accepting the book for publication.
xv
Abbreviations
General
Arab. Arabic/ian
Aram. Aramaic
bib. bibliography
cat. category
cat. no(s). catalog number(s)
DN divine name
Dtr Deuteronomist(ic)
DtrH Deuteronomistic History
ed(s). editor(s), edition, or edited by
Egyp. Egyptian
fem. feminine
fig(s). figure(s)/figurine(s)
frag(s). fragment(s)
H Holiness Code
Idum. Idumean
JPF Judean pillar-figurine
K. tablets in the Kouyunjik collection of the British Museum
LB(A) Late Bronze (Age)
LXX Septuagint
masc. masculine
MB(A) Middle Bronze (Age)
Moab. Moabite
MT Masoretic Text
Myc Mycenaean
n(n). note(s)
no(s). number(s)
P the Priestly writer/source
Phoen. Phoenician
pl. plural
pl(s). plate(s)
PN personal name
p(p). page(s)
rev. reverse
sing. singular
Str. stratum/a
Tg. Targum
xvi
Abbreviations xvii
transcrip. transcription
zoom. zoomorphic
Reference Works
AASOR Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research
AB Anchor Bible
ABD Freedman, D. N., et al., editors. Anchor Bible Dictionary. 6 vols. New York:
Doubleday, 1992
ABL Harper, R. F., editor. Assyrian and Babylonian Letters Belonging to the
Kouyunjik Collections of the British Museum. 14 vols. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1892–1914
ADAJ Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan
AfO Archiv für Orientforschung
AJA American Journal of Archaeology
AMM Hübner, U. Die Ammoniter: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte, Kultur
und Religion eines transjordanischen Volkes im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr.
Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästinavereins 16. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz,
1992
ANEP Pritchard, J. B., editor. Ancient Near Eastern Pictures Relating to the Old
Testament. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1954
ANET Pritchard, J. B., editor. Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old
Testament. 3rd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969
AOAT Alter Orient und Altes Testament
AoF Altorientalische Forschungen
ARI Schwiderski, D. Die alt- und reichsaramäischen Inschriften, vol. 2. Fontes et
Subsidia ad Biblica pertinentes 2. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004
ATD Das Alte Testament Deutsch
BA Biblical Archaeologist
BAR Biblical Archaeology Review
BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research
BBB Bonner Biblische Beiträge
Benz Benz, F. L. Personal Names in the Phoenician and Punic Inscriptions. Rome:
Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1972
Bib Biblica
BKAT Biblischer Kommentar: Altes Testament
BN Biblische Notizen
BPHB Deutsch, R. Biblical Period Hebrew Bullae: The Josef Chaim Kaufman
Collection. Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center, 2003
BPPS Deutsch, R., and A. Lemaire. Biblical Period Personal Seals in the Shlomo
Mousaieff Collection. Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center, 2000
BWANT Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament
BZAW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
CAD Oppenheim, A. L., et al., editors. The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental
Institute of the University of Chicago. Vols. A–Z. Chicago: Oriental Institute,
1956–2011
CAI Aufrecht, W. E. A Corpus of Ammonite Inscriptions. Ancient Near Eastern
Texts and Studies 4. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 1989
xviii Abbreviations
Introduction
This book focuses on the religious beliefs and practices of ancient Israelite families and
their households. This subject has been largely ignored throughout much of the extensive
history of Old Testament research.â•›1 Bernhard Duhm first defined the people of Israel as
the carrier (or, in German, the Subjekt) of Israelite religion in 1875, and denied that there
was any direct relationship between the individual and the divine prior to the period of
the great prophets (1875: 95). This thesis of so-called collectivism shaped the view of the
Wellhausen school until the beginning of the 20th century. In his history of the people of
Israel, Bernhard Stade (1887: 1.507) wrote that “Israel’s religion is a religion of a people.
. . . [O]nly via his affiliation to the people of Israel as a cult community of Yhwh did the
individual Israelite enter into a relationship with Yhwh.”â•›2 According to this view, a reli-
gion of the individual—and by extension, the religion of the members of a family—would
have been impossible, at least in the earlier periods.
This thesis of collectivism has been disputed a number of times. Ernst Sellin main-
tained in 1893 that a variety of social entities simultaneously promulgated—or carried for-
ward—the cultural practices of many ancient religions, be they the religion of the state, the
family, or the individual (1893: 445). With regard to ancient Israel, he suggested that, while
the legal sections of the Hebrew Bible primarily focused on Israel as a collective entity, the
Psalms, the wisdom literature, and the personal names all verified a variety of individual
relationships with the divine. A similar position was adopted by Harold H. Rowley (1956).
It was Johannes Hempel (1936) who first attempted to distinguish two circles of belief in
the religion of ancient Israel: belief in the power of Yhwh throughout history and nature
(in his chaps. 2–4), which was primarily held by the people and their sacral institutions;
and belief that Yhwh’s primary area of concern was the lives of individuals and their fami-
lies (in his chap. 5). Hempel hypothesized that the religious experiences of this second
circle were focused on central dates in the lives of each individual, such as dates of birth,
illness, or death.
However, these concepts did not greatly influence the course of scholarship within
this field. A new kind of collectivist thesis came to the fore following World War II—influ-
enced particularly strongly in Germany by the experiences of the confessional church—
that was focused on the collective beliefs of the people of Israel. This thesis presumed
1
2 Chapter 1
these collective beliefs to have positively effected the overall form and nature of Israelite
religion, while relegating the variety of individual beliefs to marginal, subsidiary, or even
detractive positions. In his theology of the Old Testament, Walter Eichrodt (1964: 2.117)
stressed that every “individual life was embedded in the large organism of overall life” and
declared that “the individual could dare to trust in God’s power, wisdom and kindness in
his life only as a member of the people to whom Yhwh had revealed himself and given
his promises” (1964: 3.162). Gerhard von Rad (1962: 1.399) similarly spoke of a “nearly
somatic affiliation of the individual with the community” during the earlier periods, while
casting the process of individualization that occurred following the 7th and 6th centu-
ries b.c.e. in a rather negative light, as having reflected a crisis of belief in Yhwh (1962:
1.403, 406). In his theology, he therefore dealt with the Psalms under the heading “Israel
in front of Yhwh (The Answer of Israel)” (1962: 1.366) and regarded most of the indi-
vidual prayers to have been rather late contributions that reflected a perceived isolation
of individuals from their supporting community and that, in turn, confronted them with
the possibility of radical desertion by God (1962: 1.410–11). This view carried a great deal
of influence; almost none of the various Old Testament theologies written in the second
part of the 20th century considered in any great detail the beliefs of individuals or of the
members of individual families or the roles of such beliefs in their daily religious lives (see,
for example, Westermann 1978b; Childs 1985;â•›3 Preuss 1991–92; Brueggemann 1997). The
first person to write an Old Testament theology granting familial religion a place within
a larger depiction of ancient Israelite religion and society was Erhard S. Gerstenberger
(2001), who reflected ongoing developments in attempting to understand the nature of
ancient Israelite religion.
3.╇ Childs (1985: 97–103) presumed that the individual functions as only a representative of
either humanity or Israel. He suggested that a “rugged individualist,” “in the modern post-Enlight-
enment sense,” did not exist in ancient Israel and that “the individual is always viewed in relation
to a larger society and a group” (1985: 97). He gave no consideration at all to the fact that the family
necessarily constituted the closest social group for the individual in ancient Israel.
4.╇ See especially Jacobsen (1976: 146–64), who dealt with the “Gods as Parents: The Rise of
Personal Religion.”
Introduction 3
the expression ilu + suffix to denote a specific type of deity: a personal, protective god.
This god was considered “to stand in a close relationship to an individual and his family
as their specific god” (1975: 3). Vorländer considered the main functions of this type of
deity in Mesopotamia and Israel to have included the protection of its devotees from evil
powers and the safeguarding of their well-being. A third function, intercession on behalf
of a devotee to a higher god, seemed to have been absent from Israel. He believed that
the personal gods were venerated at familial cult places (Judges 17) following private cult
practices (Vorländer 1975: 171–75). These familial cult places existed until the Josianic re-
forms. Private cults were distinct from the general cult activities of the people as a whole.
Although Vorländer did not clarify the kinds of sociological, form-critical, or material
criteria that may have been used to distinguish between the private cult of a personal god
and the public cult of Yhwh, he did emphasize a central feature of family religion and
offered previously unacknowledged possibilities for further exploring the history, nature,
and importance of family religion in the Near Eastern environment.
In investigating the creation motifs in the Psalms, Deutero-Isaiah, and Job, I noted
(Albertz 1974) that the creation of human beings was originally affiliated with the indi-
vidual complaints (and the corresponding oracles of salvation) and thus belonged to a pri-
vate ritual, while the creation of the world was a very common motif of the hymns, which
were used to praise Yhwh in the official cult. A subsequent broader investigation (Albertz
1978a) of the individual laments considered the personal names and the patriarchal nar-
ratives and the extent to which they may have given rise to material and structural differ-
ences from typical features of the Yhwh religion (1978a: 23–96). Religious statements in
private letters from Babylonia along with expressions found in Kassite seal prayers were
compared with old Babylonian royal inscriptions (1978a: 96–158). Considerable differ-
ences were noted in both cultures between personal piety as expressed within the family
realm and within the official religions of the state institutions. Official traditions of Israel’s
national history or of its political and sacral institutions are not mentioned in familial re-
ligious beliefs and practices—not in individual laments, personal names, or the Proverbs.
Although Israel’s relationship with the divine was conceptualized according to the official
Yhwh religion as having had an indisputable historical basis, constituted and proved by
decision and conditioned by the obedience of the people, the personal piety of individuals
was regarded as having its origin in their creation and was thus predetermined, uncon-
ditional, and essentially indissoluble. Thus piety in familial environments was analogous
to the close, indissoluble social relationships in a family, while the official religion was
shaped more by political analogies (1978a: 94). Therefore, the differences between the two
religious levels were attributed to the sociological differences between two societal groups
(family versus the collective people of the society). I labeled these manifest differences
(with all respect to the former scholar of religious studies in Heidelberg, Lanczkowski
1981: 50–55) “internal religious pluralism” (Albertz 1978a: 2–3).
In an article on syncretism and monotheism that was originally published 1990,
M. Weippert (1997: 9) modified and expanded this model by distinguishing three levels
of religious beliefs and practices in Israel: family religion, local religion, and state religion.
He inferred from the patriarchal narratives that the familial god ensured the survival of
the family group in situations of everyday life. He was the first to consider archaeological
4 Chapter 1
evidence for domestic cults (from Hazor, Tell Qiri, and Tell Mazar). The animal bones
found at Tell Qiri even suggested to him the possibility of blood sacrifices (1997: 12).
Although the family cult would have had a place in house shrines in the private dwellings,
families would also have participated in the cult rites and rituals of local and regional
sanctuaries (1997: 13).
In his introduction to biblical monotheism, Stolz (1996: 114–34) developed a similar
tripartite model. He distinguished between state, local, and domestic cults and regarded
the latter to have been a part of family religion. But according to Stolz, there would have
been a fluid transition between family cults and local cults, and he warned of the danger
of ascribing rigid distinctions to these levels. Regarding familial conceptions of religion,
he briefly considered the work of Vorländer and Albertz but considered rites of passage
to have been of potentially greater significance, even though the only potential rite of
passage that he considered was circumcision (1996: 124–25). He expressed reservations
about the use of personal names for the reconstruction of popular religion, because of
their potential for waxing and waning with fashion or given the momentary mood of
a mother (1996: 125–26). Stolz also discussed cults of the dead and the Moloch cult in
relation to family religion (1996: 128–32). He conceived of a domestic cult as having had
physical sites represented by niches or altars in a house and functions that included ritual
preparation of food, caring for ill members of the family, and the exorcism of demons
(1996: 132–33).
In my description of the history of Israelite religion, I attempted to reconstruct a his-
tory of Israelite familial piety from its beginning to the Hellenistic period (Albertz 1994;
[German orig., 1992]). This study was based on the tripartite model of official religion,
local cults, and familial piety. In contrast to the former study, of 1978, which attempted
to elaborate the differences between family and official religions and to establish the for-
mer as having been a distinct phenomenon in its own right,â•›5 this later study focused to a
much greater extent on the intersections and mutual influences between family, local, and
official religious beliefs and practices. Aspects of this work relevant to the present study
include the insight that the family religion of Israel was not greatly influenced by local or
national cults prior to the late 7th century. One influence from local cults was probably the
veneration of Asherah in family environments, while the inclusion of Yhwh among other
family deities would have reflected the influence of the national cult. Familial religious
beliefs and practices were only brought under tighter official control during the time of
King Josiah (1994: 1.210–16), after they had been heavily influenced by Syrian and Baby-
lonian religious practices during Assyrian dominion (1994: 1.186–95). Following these
changes, the sacrificial meals that had been celebrated by families at local sanctuaries were
only allowed at the central Temple in Jerusalem (Deuteronomy 12), private veneration of
deities other than Yhwh was strictly forbidden (Deut 13:7–12), and the family offering of
firstlings was combined with a commemoration of Israel’s official salvation history (Deut
26:1–11). Thus, the family religious beliefs and practices of Israelites from the late 7th
century on was shaped to a much greater extent by specifically Israelite characteristics—to
5.╇ It was never my intention to isolate familial piety from other segments of the religion of
Israel, as Conrad (1980: 486–88) suspected.
Introduction 5
such an extent that even the official religious document of early Judaism, the Torah, be-
came a central element of personal piety in the Hellenistic period (1994: 2.556–63). My
second work placed much greater emphasis on the ritual dimension of family religion
and attempted to distinguish between the rituals performed by family members inside
their houses and rituals that would have been celebrated at local, regional, or even na-
tional sanctuaries (1994: 1.99–103). In the context of the present book, however, I must
acknowledge that my earlier work probably undervalued the significance of the cult of the
dead (1994: 1.37–39).
The first monograph explicitly devoted to the topic of family religion was that of van
der Toorn, published in 1996 (b). He also adopted my original model of internal religious
pluralism in relation to “distinct social groups” but rejected the terms “personal piety” and
“official religion,” preferring instead to differentiate between “family religion” and “state
religion” (1996b: 2). This division was preferred over a tripartite model because, accord-
ing to his conception of a family as including the wider clan, any distinct category of a
local cult became superfluous. In his words, “Once it is acknowledged that the category
of personal religion should be abandoned in favor of the notion of family religion . . . the
phenomenon of local religion merges with the latter” (1996b: 3). Difficulties arising from
attempts to differentiate domestic, urban, and royal religions are not insurmountable in
van der Toorn’s view, and in fact, “all these ‘religions’ are aspects of a single religious sys-
tem; they are not separated entities, but hold together” (1996b: 2).
Van der Toorn included in his study, as did Vorländer and Albertz in theirs, an ex-
tended investigation of the family religions of Mesopotamia (van der Toorn 1996b: 11–
147) and Syria or Ugarit (1996b: 151–77). He describes the development of Israelite family
religion in middle and northern Palestinian hill country from the 11th century b.c.e. until
the end of the Northern State (1996b: 181–332). The functionaries of the Northern State
religion, the king, the priest, and the prophets, were alleged by him to have fiercely fought
against family religion in order to weaken local identities and to strengthen national co-
herence. With the loss of local shrines and traditional burial places, the families who fled
to the south following the destruction of the Northern Kingdom created a new kind of
family religion within the Judean Diaspora, that of “personal devotion,” which in turn
heavily influenced the emergence of the new national religion of Judah through its accord
with—and consequent support by—the piety of each individual (1996b: 339–72).
Among the rich insights offered by van der Toorn’s study is his critical contribution
to the study of family religion by emphasizing the importance of the cult of the ancestors.
He used Old Babylonian material to demonstrate the important role played by the cult
of the dead in the family religion of Mesopotamia. In great detail and through very care-
ful analysis, he distinguished daily wheat offerings and libations given for the ancestors
during meals (kispu ginû) from monthly banquets hosted during the new moon period
(kispu), when entire families were gathered, and both of these from a kind of annual “All
Soul’s Day” for the underworld deities and spirits of the dead (1996b: 42–65). However, al-
though van der Toorn’s assertion about the significance of the cult of the dead for Israelite
family religion may have been accurate (1 Sam 20:6; Deut 26:14), the issue of whether the
teraphim were regarded as statues of ancestors themselves or merely represented personal
gods remains unresolved.
6 Chapter 1
One conceptual problem of van der Toorn’s study is reflected in his sometimes encom-
passing use of the term “family religion,” particularly through occasional references to a
combined and implicitly undifferentiated “family or clan religion” (1996b: 246). He also
occasionally identified “the patron god of the clans” with the local deities (1996b: 246).
Even domestic and local cults merged in his description. He seems sometimes to have be-
come so fixated with the notion of joint families or clans as the carriers of family religion
that he denied any religious role for the nuclear family: “There is neither archaeological
nor literary evidence for a domestic cult performed by single nuclear families” (1996b:
254). Much of the ensuing discussion of the present book implicitly focuses on the accu-
racy or inaccuracy of this statement.
In his history of the religion of ancient Israel, Miller (2000) again followed the tripar-
tite model of distinguishing the family religion, local cults, and official state religion (2000:
xix). According to Miller, the family included two dimensions: “Family religion and cult
has to do with what went on in domestic households and in the larger circle of clan” (2000:
62). The family cult was therefore enacted in two sacred areas, both “within the domestic
center or household” (2000: 63) and at “the cultic center of the clan or extended family”
(2000: 64). The latter hosted occasional sacrificial offerings for the family as well as the an-
nual sacrificial feast of the clan (2000: 68–69), while the former was the site of birth rituals,
naming feasts, blessings, and prayers (2000: 71–75). Thus, although Miller recognized the
cult activities of the clan in the realms of family religion, he also placed much emphasis on
the rituals that were affiliated with the nuclear family unit.
After Gerstenberger had already provided fundamental insights into the familial set-
ting of individual petition rituals in Mesopotamia and Israel (1980), he became the first to
consider the role of family religion in a “Theology of Old Testament” (2001), as mentioned
above. Reflecting on its significance in this context, he even labeled it a “theology of the
family,” which he characterized “first and foremost as a theology of the necessities of life”
(2001: 27).â•›6 According to him, domestic rituals could have been performed on roofs, be-
fore niches, at domestic shrines, or in front of open altars (2001: 37). Although women
would likely have played prominent roles in the domestic cult (2001: 39), blood sacrifices
would only have been offered at local or regional sanctuaries under male control and
authority. Among the rituals emphasized by Gerstenberger were the exorcism of demons,
Passover, healing ceremonies for ill family members, birth rituals, circumcision, bless-
ings, and burial rites (2001: 39–44). Goddesses were invoked to ensure fertility, while Bes
amulets were used to protect mother and child. He also emphasized the intimate placing
of personal trust in the family god by family members; in contrast to Stolz, he regarded
personal names as providing a credible source for the reconstruction of familial religious
beliefs and practices (2001: 50–53).
Perhaps reflecting the increasing adoption of the concept of “family religion” in recent
scholarship, one of the more recent books on Religions of the Ancient World, edited by
6.╇ Because Israelite family religion had no great reach beyond its original domain prior to the
exile, it is perhaps not appropriate to conceive of a “family theology” operating throughout the
entire history of Israelite religion. The term instead seems to arise in direct response to the title of
Gerstenberger’s book, “Theologies in the Old Testament.”
Introduction 7
Johnston (2004), included a chapter on “Religious Practices of the Individual and Family”
(2004: 423–37). Following an introductory overview by van der Toorn, this essay pre-
sented a survey of the family religions in Mesopotamia, Syria–Canaan, Israel, Anatolia,
Iran, Greece, Etruria, Rome,â•›7 and Christianity. Insights partially suggested in the prior
works of Vorländer, Albertz, and van der Toorn with regard to Mesopotamia and Syria
were brought into much wider context in this volume. Family religion in Israel and Judah
was but one small part of a much wider religious phenomenon in the ancient Near Eastern
and Mediterranean world.
The issue of commonality and difference between these varieties of family religion
was the central question of a recent international conference on “Household and Family
Religion in Antiquity,” held at Brown University, Providence, during the winter of 2005.
Proceedings from this conference were published by Bodel and Olyan in 2008 (b) and
included not only descriptions of the household and family religions of Mesopotamia,
Syria/Ugarit, Israel, Philistia, Egypt, Greece, and Rome but also a theoretical introduction
by Stowers and an editors’ summary of the general issues.
This volume continues to be a rich resource for ongoing deliberations, including a
number of unique contributions that are of particular relevance to the present study. The
editors of the volume considered the appropriateness of the combined term “family and
household religion” (Bodel and Olyan 2008a: 276–78), as did several individual contribu-
tors (Ackerman 2008: 145; Olyan 2008: 114–15; Ritner 2008: 171–72). The first part of the
term was conceded as referring to the social group that was responsible for the execution
of ritual activities, while the second signifies the domestic locus in which this social group
worked and lived. The ritual activities of the families were not limited to the domestic cult,
as indicated by Olyan (2008: 114–15); Israelite families also celebrated sacrificial meals
in local or regional sanctuaries and performed rites for the dead at family tombs. The
combined term thus serves as a reminder both of the wider circle of family religion—ex-
panded to encompass cult and ritual activities at various places beyond the dwelling and
to include additional kin and neighbors—and of the position of the domestic cult in the
very center of family religion.
Following the observation of Daviau (2001: 202) that many religious activities in the
private dwellings of Tell Jawa seem to have been performed on their upper stories or roofs,
I argued that it would have been possible only for direct members of a nuclear family, and
possibly a select few additional kin, to have participated in domestic cult activities, be-
cause of both the limited size of these upper levels and the narrowness of typical staircases
(Albertz 2008: 96). Tell Jawa thus seems to show the kind of evidence that van der Toorn
(1996b: 256) was unable to find; it serves largely to refute his thesis that family religion was
supported exclusively by either joint families or clans.
Bodel and Olyan’s volume also presents a variety of approaches to the “degree of dis-
junction between the religion of household and family on the one hand, and state, civic
or public cult on the other” (2008a: 278). Some of the contributors emphasized the dis-
continuity (Albertz), some the continuity (Ritner), and others both (Olyan, Schmitt). It
7.╇ Although the book presented no section devoted to Egypt, there is certainly evidence for a
household religion in ancient Egypt, as reflected in the work of Ritner (2008).
8 Chapter 1
remains unclear whether these distinctions have to do with real differences that existed
and operated within the religious cultures of the ancient Near East and Mediterranean or
whether they simply reflect the variety of approaches adopted by researchers in examining
these different cultures. Moreover, disjunction also arises in interpreting cultural prac-
tices depending on whether one examines textual, epigraphic, iconographic, or ceramic
material.
An example of the dependence of interpretation on the nature of source material was
the editors’ questioning (Bodel and Olyan 2008a: 281) whether personal names can be
taken as credible sources for determining the conceptual range of family religion, stating
that “they may simply focus on the personal rather than larger, national concerns” (see
also Olyan 2008: 117, pace Albertz). Dangers always arise in placing undue weight on the
interpretation of single sources. Nevertheless, it is not only Hebrew personal names that
fail to reflect the concerns of official religion but also the individual lamentsâ•›8 and the Prov-
erbs. At least in ancient Israel, a focus on personal concerns seems to have been a general
characteristic of family religion.
Finally, in their summary, Bodel and Olyan (2008a: 279) indicated the existence of
a cross-cultural phenomenon in the realm of family religion—namely, “the avoidance
of meat offerings in domestic cult,” effectively contradicting an earlier suggestion of
M. Weippert (1997: 12). This cross-cultural evidence suggests that it was unlikely that the
archaeological remains at Tell Qiri, where animal bones were found, could be attributed
to the domestic cult.
8.╇ The few exceptions are Ps 22:4–6; 77:14–21; 143:5; the reference to the “trust” of Israel’s fa-
thers in Ps 22:4–6, which constitutes a doublet to the confession of confidence in 22:10–11, was in
fact a literary addition that belonged to a later edition of the psalm in the community of the poor
(22:24–27 or 22:32). Psalm 77 is a special case of individual complaint about the crisis of Israel’s
salvation history during the period of exile. Ps 143:5 seems to be a later gloss influenced by Ps 77:6,
12; see Albertz 1978a: 27–32.
Introduction 9
cult related? What role did women play in family or household cults?” (Bird 1991: 102).
This was the first consideration of the interaction of broader religious history with the
specific roles of women.
In an exemplary social-anthropological study of family households and the roles of
women in ancient Israel, Meyers (1988: 157–58) lamented the state of research at that
time, in that “little attention has been directed to private religion and its cultic expression,
that is, to the ceremonies and rituals that allowed ordinary people to meet their human
need to connect with the supernatural and transcendent power or powers in which they
believed.” She credited one reason for this oversight to an overly narrow and singular ap-
proach of archaeological research, in that “archaeologists have until recently been drawn
to the urban and the monumental” (1988: 158); and another to the influence of orthodoxy
on modern scholars, with the effect that “popular or family religion” as it deviated from
more general religious norms has not been granted sufficient attention (1988: 158). Mey-
ers pleaded for a realignment of research to address the oversight: “Although these archae-
ological and theological barriers to the recovery of popular religion are breaking down,
the material evidence for a private or family religion at any period in Israelite has yet to be
systematically collected and studied” (1988: 158). Meyers’s aim of revealing the roles and
functions of family religion as thoroughly as possible was perhaps frustrated by having to
rely on the few available sources that explicitly mentioned the roles of women. The only
references in her 1988 work were to an alleged girl’s puberty rite (Judg 11:39–40), the har-
vest dances of young women (Judg 21:20–21), and consideration of female pillar figurines,
which she regarded as having been votive objects that somehow reflected or represented
the gendered exclusivity of motherhood (1988: 161–63). Because women were presumed
to have been largely responsible for the preparation of food, they were also presumed to
hold primary responsibilities for ritual offerings of food, as well as for the preparation and
enactment of ritual meals (1988: 163).
In her 1997 study on the family in early Israel, Meyers emphasized the roles of women
in domestic religious practices. She relied, however, on the example of harvest feasts, al-
though they are not typical of domestic rituals because they were celebrated at local sanc-
tuaries. She also interpreted the familial Passover ritual as having been somehow related
to the season during which flocks would give birth (1997: 39). Although Meyers distin-
guished between “cult corners” of households and village “shrines or locales for ritual
events” rather than attempting to clarify the distinction between private and public cult
activities of families, she did emphasize that, “in the early Israelite villages, family reli-
gion extended beyond the nuclear and compound families and included the local com-
munity—the kin group, or the mišpāḥāh” (1997: 39). Some specific rituals may have in-
corporated and been enacted by such an undifferentiated, larger social grouping, but the
ascription of family religion in general to this sort of expanded definition undermines
attempts to clarify and understand social distinctions that were likely of real significance
in determining and reflecting the religious habits of ancient Israel.
The roles of women in relation to household shrines formed the focus of Willett’s Ph.D.
dissertation (1999). Synthesizing gendered and archaeological approaches, Willett inves-
tigated the installations and ritual objects found in the dwellings of Tel Masos, Tell el-
Farʿah (N), Beersheba, and Tel Halif. She interpreted this evidence to indicate dedicated
10 Chapter 1
domestic shrines (1999: 158–64),â•›9 where women revered familial deities, especially the
goddess Asherah. In accordance with Dever, she also regarded the female figurines to have
been representations of the goddess (1999: 77–100). Willett proposed the main function
of this domestic cult to have been the protection of women and their children from mortal
threats in their work and sleep (1999: 146). In this connection, Willett interpreted Ashe-
rah’s role as having been a mediator, in that women “invoked Yahweh’s protection through
his intermediary goddess Asherah before they slept at night” (1999: 458). Thus, although
not attempting a complete description of domestic cult practices, she nevertheless illumi-
nated many aspects of family religion as enacted by and related to the nuclear family unit.
In a substantial article of 2002 that was condensed in 2005 into a smaller monograph,
Meyers defined the term Israelite religion as “an umbrella term for the religions of various
groups with different albeit overlapping beliefs, activities, [and] liturgies” (2002: 281). She
also focused in this article on “rituals surrounding pregnancy, labor, and birth, along with
those securing fertility before pregnancy and those dealing with post-partum lactation,
infant care, and circumcision,” which “constitute[d] the religious culture of women more
than men” (2002: 283). Combining anthropological, archaeological, and ethno-historical
insights, Meyers vividly depicted the important roles that would have been played by Ju-
dean pillar-figurines, Bes-head amulets, and udjat-images in rituals intended to ensure
fertility, safety in childbirth, adequacy of lactation, and general protection from malevo-
lent forces for mothers during and after childbirth, as well as for their newborn infants
(2002: 286–88). She also referred briefly to other ritual items found in the assemblages
of private dwellings (2002: 288–89) and elucidated the support given to mothers during
childbirth by the social network of females within the larger kin groups (2002: 301).
Ackerman attempted in 1992 to rehabilitate the so-called “heterodox” rituals of “popu-
lar religion” (namely, those described in Jeremiah 7, 44; Ezekiel 8; Isaiah 57, 65). Although
this work did not specifically focus on gender roles, she subsequently used some of the
same texts (Jeremiah 7, 44; as well as Judges 17; 1 Samuel 1) to expand consideration of the
cult and ritual activities of women (2008). She supposed (2008: 136, 146, 148) that women
not only were “involved in furnishing of their compound’s sanctuary space” (Judges 17)
but also were responsible for delivering their family’s offerings to their regional sanctuary
(1 Samuel 1) and for “performing [the] primary ritual acts of ancient Israelite household
religion” (Jeremiah 7, 44). The cultic and ritual activities of women were directed at the
very survival of the entire family itself (2008: 148). Ackerman attempted to clarify the dis-
tinction between the ritual activities enacted by families in their domestic cult (“household
religion”) and those enacted at other places (“family religion”; 2008: 145). In considering
both biblical and archaeological evidence, she was able to depict vividly the important
roles played by women in family and household religion. In her conclusion, she indicated
that women were not only practitioners of family rituals but also “theologians who [gave]
voice to some of household and family religion’s most constitutive beliefs” (2008: 149).
These gender-oriented approaches and others like them have clarified the significance
of women, particularly in their roles as wives and mothers, for Israelite family and house-
9.╇ In contrast, the investigation of Schmitt in this book (pp. 224–225) suggests that these are
more likely to have been cooking installations.
Introduction 11
hold religion, in stark contrast to their restricted roles in the official cult of Yhwh. In order
to redress previous imbalances brought about by the exclusion of females from general
consideration of the ancient Israelite religious traditions, many of these gender-oriented
approaches have had to concern themselves primarily with the previously unacknowl-
edged roles of women. The proper field of a gender-oriented approach must be consider-
ation of the differences between the roles of women and men, and the social and religious
origins and implications of these differences. Ancient Israelite families naturally depended
on the ritual cooperation of both males and females, particularly in their roles as mothers
and fathers, with both playing vital yet distinct roles in ensuring the biological, economic,
and cultural survival of their families.
In his monumental work on the religions of ancient Israel, Zevit (2001) attempted a
subsequent classification of cult places. Aiming for a more accurate and precise descrip-
tion of cult locations, he employed and defined the diagnostically useful terms “cult room,”
“cult corner,” “cult cave,” “cult complex,” “cult center,” “temple,” “temple complex,” and
“shrine” (2001: 123–24). He also distinguished two primary classes of cult places: “those
whose construction is well integrated into a much larger plan attributable to centralized
planning and control” and “those whose construction does not demonstrate this feature”
(2001: 654). To the first class, Zevit ascribed ʿAjrûd, Arad, Dan, Hazor, Jerusalem, La-
chish Room 49, and Megiddo Room 340, among others, most of which were probably
connected with the official cult. To the second class, he attributed Ai, Beit Lei, Bull Site,
Ebal, the Jerusalem Cave I, Megiddo Locus 2081, and the cave from Tell ʿĒtūn, among
others. According to him, these latter sites addressed the “particular concerns of the local
population,” and “they do not constitute evidence for the domestic cult,” but instead, they
“served a larger social group” (2001: 654). Zevit considered “evidence for a domestic cult”
to have been restricted to only a very few cult rooms or corners,â•›12 two of which were in
Beersheba (in Buildings 25 and 430) and one in Tell el-Farʿah (N) (in House 440) (Zevit
2001: 652; see also pp. 175–76, 241). Thus, Zevit actually constructed a tripartite typology
formed from official, local or neighborhood, and domestic cult sites. The domestic cult
was, however, excluded from consideration within the two overarching categories, and
must be presumed to have represented a third general category. Zevit made only occa-
sional references to possible functions of the domestic cult, suggesting that, “if the female
figurines may be associated with fertility and/or lactation, and if the model couches may
be associated with a birth stool or a birthing bed . . . then these artifacts may constitute a
women’s collection intending to insure her fertility, her ability to give birth, and her con-
tinued ability to lactate” (2001: 175–76). In contrast to Holladay and Dever, Zevit appears
to have regarded the domestic cult to have been a rather peripheral phenomenon. Thus,
from an archaeological point of view, the significance and distribution of domestic cultic
activities remain open questions.
In the same year as this work of Zevit, Nakhai (2001: 161–200), a student of Dever,
published a typology of Israelite sacred places of the Iron Age. For the period of the Divided
Monarchy, she also proposed a distinct tripartite model, distinguishing between “officially
sanctioned sites such as the Jerusalem Temple, Dan and Bethel, Arad, Beersheba, Vered
Jericho, . . . less formal sites with some degree of public access such as Kedesh, Hazor, Tell
es-Saʿidiyeh, Kuntillet ʿAjrûd, Samaria Locus E 207, and the Jerusalem, Tell en-Naṣbeh and
Tell Beit Mirsim caves, . . . [and] private domestic locations” (2001: 191). The influence
of Holladay’s terminology lingered, but Nakhai avoided any pejorative implications. For
the Iron I period, she distinguished two categories (2001: 176): “pilgrimage sanctuaries,”
such as Shiloh and the Bull Site; and “village sanctuaries,” such as Hazor, Dan, Tell Qiri,
Tell Irbid, and Tall al-ʿUmeri, some of which “stood among the domestic structures” (in
Megiddo Locus 2081, Tell el-Wawiyat, Ai, Ḥirbet Raddana, Tell Qiri, and Tell es-Saʿidiyeh).
The domestic cult was absent from this schema. However, by forming one category of vil-
lage sanctuaries as those that “stood among domestic structures,” she either potentially
12.╇ Zevit did not admit evidence from Tell Beit Mirsim, because it was so poorly documented.
14 Chapter 1
admitted larger domestic installations or implied the existence of a fourth type of cult place
akin to the neighborhood chapels considered by Zevit.
In explicitly referring to domestic cults, Nakhai drew on the work of Willett (1999:
101–65), who had isolated “domestic shrines in Israelite and Judean houses at Tel Masos,
Tell el-Farʿah (N), Beersheba and Tel Halif ” (Nakhai 2001: 191) dating from the 10th to
the early 6th centuries b.c.e. She suggested that “these prayer corners contained special as-
semblages of ritual implements and furnishings, including incense altars and female figu-
rines” (Nakhai 2001: 191). The extent to which such evidence suggests “domestic shrines”
or “prayer corners” is given further consideration in a section of the present work.â•›13 Some
years earlier, Negbi (1993: 226) had considered whether some places where ritual assem-
blages had been found might be better interpreted as having been storeroomsâ•›14 from
which ritual items could readily be accessed “when needed for special ceremonies.” In any
case, Nakhai considered the archaeological evidence for the domestic cult to have been
much more conclusive than had Zevit; Willett had demonstrated its existence in more
than ten private houses from five different sites across the entire Iron II period.
In the same year again, Daviau summarized cult items found within the domestic
buildings excavated since 1992 in Tell Jawa in Transjordan near Amman. Hers was the
first archaeological publication to use the term “family religion” in its title. She had used
the work of van der Toorn to develop her own categorization of archaeological remains.
Because the domestic buildings from Iron II were left to decay in situ rather than being
razed or built anew, their walls were “well preserved, often reaching to the second storey
level,” and moreover, “in each room, the collapsed debris yielded the evidence of activity
areas on the upper storey or roof area of each building” (Daviau 1992: 202). Therefore,
Daviau was able to discern that much of the ritual material had been used on the upper
story or the roof. In each of nine excavated houses, Daviau discerned assemblages of cult
objects variously composed of between 2 and 43 pieces, forming a cult collection of 159
items. The assemblages consisted of female, male, and zoomorphic figurines, anthropo-
morphic and zoomorphic vessels, model shrines, decorated chalices, single-handled cups,
perforated and unperforated tripod cups, lamps, gaming objects, libation tablets, basalt
bowls, and a variety of small, miniature, and high-status vessels. Daviau suggested that
stone baetyls symbolized the divine presence. She pointed out that ritual objects used
in Ammonite domestic cults differed in some respects from ritual objects from ancient
Israel. In particular, limestone altars and Judean pillar-figurines have not been found in
Ammonite assemblages, and the altars seem typically to have contained a greater number
of male figurines and tripod cups (Daviau 1992: 203). In many other regards, there seems
to have been a broad homogeneity in terms of ritual artifacts across the broader Transâ•‚
and Cisjordanian regions.â•›15
Daviau interpreted evidence from the cult utensils found in domestic environments
to reconstruct activities typical of domestic cults at Tell Jawa, suggesting that they would
have comprised “the setting up of a figurine or symbolic stone in a particular area on the
roof or upper storey, food and drink offerings, use of scenting materials, lighting of lamps,
sprinkling the figurine, the baetyl, or the sacred area itself, offerings in small or miniature
vessels, casting lots or divination, and libations” (1992: 221). She further maintained that
“there is no evidence for animal offerings or extensive burning” (1992: 221–22). Thus
Daviau reconstructed a comprehensive and insightful picture of the ritual activities of
families in domestic environments. For the domestic cult, the inner center of family and
household religion, Daviau had provided the conclusive archaeological proof.
This evidence from the ancient Ammonite culture suggests in turn a greater likelihood
than previously considered that domestic cults were of similar importance in neighboring
Israel, even though the archaeological evidence there may be less conclusive. One might
even conceive of every family as having actively partaken in ritual activities within their
domestic environments. These assemblages found at Tell Jawa are of great aid in interpo-
lating the somewhat scarcer evidence for the identity and use of domestic cult utensils
found in Israelite and Judean sites.
the most appropriate model for reconstructing historical religious practices inextricably
requires a comprehensive typology of cult places.
Furthermore, the determination of the social group responsible for the cultural propa-
gation of family religion—the carrier group—remains an issue of controversy. Such carrier
groups have been considered to have encompassed anything from simple nuclear fami-
lies (Albertz 1978a; Willett 1999), to joint families and even entire clans (van der Toorn
1996; Meyers 1997). Resolution of this issue requires clarification of the very nature and
understanding of family in ancient Israelite society, as well as descriptions of cooperation
among larger kinship groups and local populations. Appropriate appraisal of domestic
cults also demands insight into relationships between sizes of families and the physical
environments they inhabited, acknowledging at the same time the possibility for differ-
ent dimensions or social circles that might have authorized and participated in familial
religious beliefs and practices. Accurate understanding of family religion also requires it
to be distinguished from local religious practices, particularly because local sanctuaries
have yielded firm evidence of cult activities that were distinctly different from activities
conducted in domestic environments—the offering of meat during cult activities being
one clear example.
Degrees of discontinuity or continuity between family and household religion, as well
as among and with respect to state, temple, and elite religions are also issues of ongoing
controversy. I have (Albertz 1978a; 1994; 2008) elucidated clear material and structural
differences in the systems of belief across all these levels, while Olyan (2008) has noted the
existence of overlaps and continuities with regard to ceramic material and iconography.
There of course never have been entirely unambiguous distinctions between these differ-
ent levels and sites of social and religious practices (Stolz 1996; van der Toorn 1996), and
different kinds of sources will always provide evidence that may appear contrary or even
irreconcilable. However, as noted by Olyan (2008: 121), “One need not posit a nearly com-
plete disjunction between family religion and the official cult in order to speak of internal
religious pluralism in Israelite religion, for family religion and official cult remain distinct
phenomena, even when their shared characteristics are acknowledged.” Of course, this
statement is true; but it is only true given the supposition that there remain appreciable
material differences between family and state religion; otherwise, they would not “remain
distinct phenomena,” and any internal religious pluralism would be obscured. Were there
no appreciable differences between family religion and the official cult with regard to
beliefs, rituals and cultic paraphernalia, Israel’s religion would represent a unity across
all social levels, and a separate investigation of ancient Israelite family religion would be
rendered superfluous at least. The exploration of family and household religion remains
a meaningful enterprise only if it can be defined at least partially on the basis of its own
unique characteristics that stand in contrast to the religion of Israel. The existence of this
distinction is also essential for studying its intersections and connections with other seg-
ments or levels of Israelite religion.â•›16 Thus the degree of discontinuity or continuity must
be considered at all times in any discussion of the subject.
16.╇ Jeremias and Hartenstein (1999: 79) and Leuenberger (2008: 50) emphasized the overlaps
and intersections of the official and popular or private religion in ancient Israel. In their opinion, the
Introduction 17
iconographic program of the Taanach cult stands were intended for use in transmitting the ideol-
ogy of the official sanctuary to the domestic cult. In addition to this, Leuenberger referred among
other things to the priestly benediction on a private amulet in Ketef Hinnom (2008: 99). Even if
these scholars’ interpretation of these very exceptional artifacts was right, these intersections with
the official sphere are only discernible under the precondition that family religion was normally
a sphere of its own. The other examples of the intersection of the private and the official religious
spheres (greetings formulas in the Arad letters and the inscriptions of Kuntillet ʿAjrûd) given by
Leuenberger (2008: 113–37, 153–55) are less convincing, since blessings are very general religious
statements that can be uttered in various spheres of life.
18 Chapter 1
into the history of Israelite family religion (Albertz 1994) have revealed a remarkable con-
stancy in many aspects, particularly across the period spanning the 11th to the early 7th
centuries. The history of family religion thus reflects a histoire conjonctures that contrasts
with the historical processes that influenced and defined the official theologies of the state
and its priests and prophets. These all changed much more quickly, in accordance with a
typical histoire événementielle. Thus, for family religion it is relatively unimportant whether
a personal name came from the 9th or the 7th century, or whether the common use of in-
cense cups was replaced at some particular date by the use of incense boxes (pace Zwickel
1999b: 27). The religious and symbolic functions of such things remained relatively con-
stant regardless of superficial changes, and, within the present context, full appreciation
of the diachronic aspects of historical dynamic becomes relatively less important, and a
single, synchronic dynamic may in many cases be presumed. In emphasizing synchronic
developments, methods and models from sociology and cultural anthropology become
important, including aspects of a social and cultural system that structured social relation-
ships in relation to dwelling and working places and their physical structures and func-
tions. Thus the present study uses data that have been amassed, classified, described, and
interpreted from an enormous amount of epigraphical inscriptions, ritual assemblages,
and items found in cultic places. Sociological typologies and methods of investigation
gain primacy over any reconstructions of individual developments. Individual historical
events (the histoire événementielle) are considered only to the extent with which they may
have had an impact on the religious beliefs and practices of families, and thus biblical,
epigraphic, and archaeological materials are all integrated here under a predominantly
synchronic perspective. Sociological and anthropological considerations and analyses of
function gain primacy.
Within the historical times encompassed by the present study, the first event that seems
to have had a strong impact on Israelite family and household religion was the Josianic
reform of the late 7th century (Albertz 1994: 1.195–231). With the centralization of the
sacrificial cult in Jerusalem, the families lost the local basis of their sacrifices. Even the do-
mestic cult came under the rigid control of state officials (Deut 13:7–12), and familial ritu-
als were subsumed within the official cult of Jerusalem (16:1–8; 26:1–11). Moreover, the
destruction of the Judean state and the Jerusalem Temple by the Babylonians (597, 587,
582 b.c.e.) deprived the Judean population and those who were deported to Babylonia
of their official sacred institutions. In this new situation of exile, familial religion became
much more effective in ensuring the survival of the entire Yhwh religion than in previ-
ous times. The entire religious and cultural symbolic system that cohered to ensure the
maintenance and continuance of Judean identity in the Diaspora was based on the fun-
damental social unit of the family. Religiously symbolic rites included the circumcision of
infants, observing the Sabbath feast, and dietary regulations (Albertz 1994: 2.399–411).
This forced coherence in turn ensured a close integration between family religion and the
emerging Jewish religion.
Although these later developments have been extensively documented and analyzed
(Albertz 1994: 2.507–22. 556–63), this is not true for the earlier period, prior to the late
7th century, for which the Hebrew Bible provides only sparse evidence. Thus the present
Introduction 19
volume explores the development and character of Israelite family and household religion
across the period from the 11th to the 7th centuries b.c.e. During these times, there was
little official control exerted over most aspects of family and household religious practices,
and thus this period offers a unique time within which to distinguish and characterize the
original shape of family religion in ancient Israel and enables comparison with the con-
temporary familial religious practices of neighboring lands.
of elements expressing the names of gods and goddesses in Syria and the Levant. Finally,
iconographic representations found on seals are investigated with regard to their possible
significance for reconstructing and understanding family religion.
Chapter 6 describes the variety of rites performed by families on different occasions
and at various places, whether at home, at a neighborhood shrine, or at local, regional, or
national sanctuaries. Burial rituals and the ritual care for the dead, whether at home, at
burial places, or at local sanctuaries, are examined in chap. 7. Chapter 8 presents a sum-
mary of the primary arguments and conclusions of the entire work.
Following the summary chapter is an archaeological appendix (A) which includes lists
of the ritual assemblages surveyed in this study, and an onomastic appendix (B) which
documents the entire sample of epigraphically attested names within their six categories
(names of thanksgiving, names of confession, names of praise, equating names, names
of birth, and secular names). These appendixes are intended to enable and enhance fur-
ther studies on the functions and use of ritual paraphernalia found in southern Levantine
archaeology and on onomastic material from the northern Levant. There are also a list
of abbreviations used (in the front matter), a bibliography (after the appendixes and ac-
knowledgments), and indexes of authors, ancient personal names, textual sources, sites
and place-names, and subjects.
Chapter 2
Methodological Reflections
When one deals with family and household religion, a number of terminological,
methodological, and conceptual problems arise.
1.╇ The entire statement, in German: “Wenn es auch historische und soziokulturelle Unterschiede
in der Form und auch in den Inhalten des familialen Kooperationsâ•‚ und Solidaritätsverhältnisses
21
22 Chapter 2
gibt, so handelt es sich aber immer um ein ganz spezifisch erklärtes und von anderen Interaktions-
beziehungen in den jeweiligen Gesellschaften abgehobenes Verhältnis.”
2.╇See Porter 1967: 6–9; Gottwald 1981: 285–92; Scharbert 1982: 235; Bendor 1996: 31–46; van
der Toorn 1996: 197; Perdue 1997: 175–76; cf. King and Stager 2001: 36–39; and others.
3.╇See Shiloh 1980: 29; Holladay 1992: 310; 1995: 387, 393; Faust 1999a: 234; 2000: 19, 23; Faust
and Bunimovitz 2003: 26; cf. Stager 1985: 18; and others.
Methodological Reflections 23
includes kin beyond the nuclear family.” Subdividing the “complex family household” into
four subtypes, he differentiated among (1) the “extended family household,” which “con-
sists of . . . kin beyond the nuclear family” but where there “is only one nuclear family unit
in the household”; (2) the “stem family household,” where “one child, and one child only,
brings his or her spouse into the parental household”; (3) the “joint family household,”
where “more than one child (generally all the sons) are supposed to bring their spouses
into the parental household”; and (4) the “multiple family household,” which “consists
of two or more coresiding nuclear family units.” The “multiple family household” corre-
sponds to Laslett’s “fraternal joint family.” In both models, “family households” may also
include people other than kin, such as servants or slaves.
Both Laslett and Kertzer enrich understandings of the variety of familial structures
through their use of precise terminology that avoids the simple dichotomy of “nuclear”
versus “extended.” An example of the utility of their typologies can be seen by applying
it to the “stem family household,” which existed in several parts of Europe but appears
mostly to have been overlooked by biblical scholars. This type permits the continued ex-
istence of a parental joint family household over a longer period only if the inheritance
remains largely undivided. Within stem family households, only one son, generally the
oldest, will ultimately inherit the paternal household and its estate; all other brothers are
required to leave when they marry or can stay in their paternal household as unmarried
workers. Deut 21:15–17 declares that in ancient Israel the firstborn should inherit two-
thirds of the inheritance or at least a double portion compared with his brothers. Ambigu-
ity surrounding the accurate determination of ancient Israelite familial types arises partly
through ignorance about how far this Deuteronomic rule was extended to apply to the in-
heritance of fields, vineyards, and orchards (see the suggestions of Bendor 1996: 128–64).
Because of its usefulness, we adopt the terminology of Laslett and Kertzer, albeit in
a somewhat simplified form. We distinguish between “nuclear” and “joint family house-
holds.” “Nuclear” can be generic “parental” households or, in a sense perhaps better re-
flecting the patriarchal structure of Israelite society, “paternal,” “stem,” or “fraternal”
households. We additionally use the term “extended family household” to denote a nu-
clear family consisting of single relatives beyond the one conjugal family unit (the couple
and its children).
Because of the ambiguity of the term “family,” particularly in the English language,
Meyers (1988: 127–28) prefers the term “household” for denoting the smallest social unit
of ancient Israelite society. But as useful as this term is to indicate a shared location and
common economic activity within a group, it permits no insight into the inner structure
or relationship of its members. Thus, a supplementary determination is needed, regard-
less. To a much greater extent than in modern industrial societies, most of the co-residen-
tial domestic groups in traditional societies such as ancient Israel consisted of families.
Sociologists such as Laslett and Kertzer often conflate the terms “household” and “fam-
ily,” and speak of “family households” as determining co-residential families. This com-
bined term offers several advantages. First, it allows people beyond kin, such as servants
and slaves into the family household. Second, it acknowledges the fact that pre�industrial
families were in most cases units of production and consumption. And third, it alludes to
the place where family members conducted most of their daily lives. We thus concur with
Meyers (2005: 23–24) who, in adopting the term “family household,” emphasizes that:
This term is more appropriate than “family” (a term focusing on people) or “domestic
unit” (which indicates a domicile), neither of which is inclusive of the other or of the
activities and material culture, other than the dwelling, that are part of households.
Thus household is a more comprehensive and accurate term. It signifies a built environ-
ment consisting of persons, their hardware—that is, their material culture, including
the dwelling and all its associated installations and artifacts—and also their activities.
(restated from 2002: 284; but see also 1997: 13–14).
We emphasize in addition that people of a given household are related in a very particular,
familial way. Finally, the term family household also alludes to the variety of religious rites
performed by family members that probably took place inside their house. This complex
of religious rites specific to both family and household are referred to here by the term
house cult.
4.╇ In passages such as Gen 31:14, 30; 41:51; 50:22; Lev 22:13; Num 30:4; Judg 11:2, 7, etc., this
meaning is obvious.
5.╇ See ‘my house’: Gen 30:30; 34:30; Josh 24:15; 1 Sam 20:15; ‘your house’: Gen 7:1; 45:11; Num
18:11, 13; Deut 14:26; 15:16, 20; 26:11; Judg 18:25; Ruth 4:12, et al.; ‘his house’: Gen 12:17; 17:27;
36:6; 39:4–5; Exod 1:1; Lev 16:6, 11; Judg 8:27; 1 Sam 1:21, et al.; ‘house of PN’: Gen 17:23; 28:2;
46:27; 50:8; Judg 8:35; 1 Sam 3:14; 27:3, et al.
Methodological Reflections 25
6.╇ See Judg 4:17; Ruth 4:12; 2 Sam 16:5, et€al.; also the term בית אבcan denote a clan or a lin-
eage: Gen 12:1; 24:40; Judg 9:1; cf. Lemche 1985: 252–53.
7.╇ See Exod 2:1; Num 17:23; Josh 17:17; 18:5; Judg 1:22, 35; 10:9; 2 Sam 3:19; 1 Kgs 11:28, et al.
8.╇ See Gen 46:31; 47:12; 50:8; Josh 2:18; 1 Sam 22:1, 22; 2 Sam 19:31; Isa 22:24, et al.
9.╇ See Gen 7:1; 28:2; 45:11; 46:27; 2 Sam 6:21; 9:9; Mic 7:6, et al.
10.╇ Probably also Gen 38:11; Lev 22:13; Num 30:4; Judg 6:15; van der Toorn (1996: 195) refers
to Judg 14:19.
11.╇ Gen 30:30; Deut 14:26; 15:20; cf. 16:11, 14; 25:9; 26:11; 1 Sam 1:21; 20:15; 27:3; 2 Sam 2:3;
2 Kgs 8:2, et al.
26 Chapter 2
family below the levels of the clan (mišpāḥāh) and the joint family (beit)â•›12 are represented
by the term גברgēber: Achan, who is discovered by lot, is not an isolated ‘man’ but is, ac-
cording to v.€24, the head of a nuclear family. Moreover, the custom of the so-called Levi-
rate marriage designed to ensure the survival of the ‘brother’s house’ (Deut 25:9) does so
through his nuclear family unit. We thus concur with Williamson’s (2003: 474) judgment,
“that the nuclear/extended [or joint] family debate may have been too polarized, or in
other words, that there was an awareness of both concepts in ancient Israel and that both
reflected a social reality.”â•›13
Biblical terminology thus supports a distinction among four different types of fam-
ily household that coexisted in ancient Israel: paternal joint families consisting of two
(stem family) or more nuclear subunits; fraternal joint family households (Deut 25:5);
nuclear family households; and extended family households (e.g., Lev 22:12). Although
the paternal joint family household was considered ideal, it did not necessarily dictate
reality. Biblical terminology also highlights the significance of nuclear units within pater-
nal joint family households as well as the existence of nuclear families. Of course, biblical
texts alone cannot provide an answer to the question how common each type of family
household was in ancient Israelite and Judean society. Archaeological evidence must also
be taken into account.
By Iron II times, the entry was usually in the center of the front wall, leading into a
large central space, generally floored with beaten earth. . . . To either side of this larger
area are side aisles delimited by pillars, generally associated with a stub wall. These
aisles often have stone paving: cobbles or flagstones. Farther back, the columns gener-
ally give way to stone walls and doorways leading into small rooms, generally with dirt
floors; in fact, one side may lack columns altogether, having only walled rooms. Across
the back stretches the “fourth” room, usually entered from the central space, and usu-
ally having a dirt floor. Not infrequently it is subdivided.
In the three-room house, one of the aisles is lacking. By the year 1987, no less than 155
examples of fourâ•‚ and three-room houses had been excavated (Holladay 1992: 308).
Archaeologists have occupied themselves for a long time with the question of whether
this type of house was an ethnic indicator for Israelite culture (e.g., Shiloh 1970: 180). Fur-
thermore, four-room houses were the typical dwelling in the southern Levant of the Iron
Age and were found to a particularly concentrated degree in the highlands of Cisâ•‚ and
Transjordan (Faust and Bunimovitz 2003: 23). Stager first considered the functional and
sociological interpretation of the four-room house in 1985, with further developments by
Holladay (1992; 1995; 1997), who introduced comparative ethnographic material from
dwellings of Iranian settlements in the Zagros Mts. This work has made clear that the
side aisles delimited with pillars served as stables and occasionally had mangers, and the
walled rooms in both aisles served a variety of functions, such as storing food, equipment,
cooking utensils, or other equipment (Stager 1985: 11–15). The central space was used
for all work-related activities of the family during the daytime and may have served as a
fold during the night (Holladay 1997: 339). Although the “fourth” room at the rear has
often been interpreted as a living and sleeping quarter for the household (Shiloh 1970:
186), Holladay (1992: 310) was able to demonstrate that in most cases these back rooms
were too narrow to serve this purpose. The recent excavation in Tall al-ʿUmeri has dem-
onstrated once more that the back room of House B was stocked with storage jars (Herr
and Clark 2001: 45). This accords with Holladay’s calculation that a family of five would
require no less than about 23 m2 for storing the amount of food they would need during a
year (1995: 387). Thus arises an important question: if, apart from the central space used
for all working activities, the remainder of the four-room house was needed for stabling
animals and storing all food and equipment, where did family members dwell and sleep?
A convincing suggestion seems to be that, in many cases, four-room houses were pro-
vided with a second floor, where the dwelling and sleeping rooms were located (Holladay
1992: 316). Stairways found in dwellings of Tell Beit Mirsim, Beersheba, and Hazor were
used to support suggestions of this sort by Albright (1943: 51), Yadin (1972: 182–84),
Stager (1985: 15–16), and others; but these stairs could also facilitate an “intensive use
of the roof ” (in line with a cautious suggestion in Holladay 1992: 309). There is certainly
clear evidence for upper stories of four-room houses from Tell Balatâh/Shechem and Tall
al-ʿUmeri. In Shechem, debris surrounding House 1727 (fig. 2.2),â•›15 belonging to Stratum
VII from the late 8th century b.c.e., corresponds to the destruction layer of between one-
half and one meter found fallen on the ground floor; even the burned half-round beams
that supported the ceiling are discernible (Campbell 2002: 284–88). At Tall al-ʿUmeri,
Fig.€2.2.╇ Ground plan of House 1727 at Tell Balatâh, Stratum VII, 8th century b.c.e.
House B (fig. 2.3)â•›16 from the late 13th to 12th century b.c.e., which was destroyed by an
earthquake, shows “a massive destruction over two meters deep in places and made up of
the layers of collapse: first came the roofing material (dirt and wooden beams) followed
by masses of mudbricks from the upper, second story walls, and then stones mixed with
bricks from the upper courses of the first story” (Herr 2000b: 10). In the destruction layer
were tens of thousands of barley seeds, several types of pottery vessels, and over 20 crates
of collared pithoi; thus even this second floor served to store food in addition to being
used for living and sleeping. In House A, which is not yet fully excavated, some possible
cultic items had fallen from the second story: “three chalices, a cup and saucer and a rare
pair of cymbals” (Herr and Clark 2001: 44). It thus appears that all four-room houses with
a sufficiently strong foundation were probably provided with a second story.
Even if one accepts this admittedly sparse evidence, the problem remains whether or
not or to what degree the central spaces of the ground floors were roofed. While Stager
Fig.€2.3.╇ Reconstruction and ground plan of House B at Tall al-ʿUmeri, Iron Age I.
Methodological Reflections 31
conflates ceilings with roofs, either one of which covered the entirety of four-room houses
(see fig. 2.4),â•›17 Braemer (1982: 151–53) more cautiously conceives of entire roofs as being
restricted to specific subtypes of houses,â•›18 and Netzer (1992: 196–99) generally concep-
tualizes an unroofed central space, either on the lower or the upper floor (figs. 2.5–6).â•›19
According to the excavators, it seems that in Shechem the entire four-room-core of House
20.╇ Dever (2005: 22–23) pictures a 50% solution: a second story above only the fourth room at
the rear, and a roofed ground floor for the rest of the building.
21.╇ Faust presents a more detailed overview in an earlier article (1999a: 236–39). In a later
article, he increases the average size of dwelling houses a little: 40–80 m2 (Faust and Bunimovitz
2003: 25).
22.╇ Schloen (2001: 168) criticized Holladay (1992: 312) for this ratio, which he took from
LeBlanc; it seems to him much too high. But he overlooked the fact that not only the living space
but also the stables and storage space are included. He himself would prefer an area of 7.3 m2 per
Methodological Reflections 33
Thus, the majority of excavated houses in Israelite and Judean sites would not have ac-
commodated the ideal biblical type of family—the paternal joint family, or beit ʾāb. Jacob’s
family, which consisted of 70 persons (Gen 46:26–27; Exod 1:5)—a datum that probably
provided the inspiration for Gottwald [1981: 285] to define the joint family as a group
of 50–100 members—would not fit in any dwelling house ever excavated in Israel. Even
with lower estimations of the size of a joint family, such as the 20 people of de Geus (1976:
135), the 15–20 of Dever (2005: 22), the 10–30 of Stager (1985: 20), the 12–14 of Holla-
day (1992: 315), or estimates of joint family size as being mostly below 15 people (Mey-
ers 1997: 19), the given space of the majority of fourâ•‚ and three-room houses could not
have sufficed to accommodate all. Most archaeologists consequently conclude that these
houses were generally occupied by nuclear families (Shiloh 1980: 29; Holladay 1992: 310;
1995: 387, 393; Faust 2000: 19, 23; Faust and Bunimovitz 2003: 26; Dever 2005: 22). The
estimated size of the nuclear family, being 8 people according to Shiloh (1980: 29), 4.1–4.3
people according to Stager (1985: 18),â•›23 4.5–5 people according to Holladay (1992: 315),
4–6 people according to Blenkinsopp (1997: 51), 5–6 people according to Dever (2005:
person. But LeBlanc’s (1971: 611) more specific ethnographic estimates fundamentally confirm
Naroll’s ratio.
23.╇ Stager based his figures on the calculations of Burch (1974: 96); Schloen (2001: 122–23)
has clarified that Stager (1985: 21) presented diverging higher numbers in table 4, because here
34 Chapter 2
22), or a maximum of 7 people according to Meyers (1997: 19), would be nearly per-
fectly suited to the majority of these fourâ•‚ or three-room houses. According to most cal-
culations, there would even be enough space for housing an extended family household,
which incorporated one or two more relatives, or a servant. The conclusion whether or
not the archaeological evidence suggests that nuclear or small extended family households
constituted the vast majority of households in Israelite society remains uncertain, at least
for the monarchic period.
he added 2 to Burch’s figures to allow for the parents; but this correction is not necessary, because
Burch had already estimated the total family size.
24.╇ Stager 1985: 19, fig. 9.
25.╇ King and Stager 2001: 18, fig. 3.10.
Methodological Reflections
35
Fig.€2.7.╇ Possible house compounds, compiled by L. E. Stager 1985 (A: Tel Masos, Area A, Stratum IIb, Iron I; B: Ḥirbet Raddana,
Site€S, Iron I; C: Ai, Area 2, Iron 1; D: Tell el-Fār↜渀屮ʿah North, Stratum III, Iron II; E: Tell el-Farʿah North, Stratum II, Iron II; F: Tell Beit
Mirsim, Stratum A, Iron II; G: Tell en-Naṣbeh, early phase of Stratum I, Iron II).
36 Chapter 2
of houses shared a common forecourt, and one other example from Tell el-Farʿah North
(1985: 19). All of Stager’s other examples (Stager 1985: 19), from Ḥirbet Meshash, Ai, and
Tell en-Naṣbeh, where clusters of houses share one wall and have entrances either opening
in different directions or all opening onto the street fail to support an argument of com-
munality.â•›26 One strikingly conspicuous fact that appears to have been overlooked thus far
is the absence of doorways directly connecting adjacent houses, as would be expected if
these structures actually formed a single joint family household. Why should the mem-
bers of these households have taken such a circuitous route between them? Investigating
the private houses in Hazor of the 8th century b.c.e., Geva (1989: 87) came to the opposite
conclusion, that “thus private dwellings, while forming dense clusters, were built as indi-
vidual units with no consideration to their immediate connection with their neighbors.”
In contrast, she observed that the entrances of clusters of houses tend to open in different
26.╇ Not by chance, Holladay (1992: 311) reduced the seven examples given by Stager to four.
Methodological Reflections 37
Fig.€2.9.╇ Dwelling
quarter in Hazor
showing a back-to-
back orientation,
Area€A, Stratum VII,
8th century b.c.e.
directions (fig. 2.9),â•›27 and thus she speaks of a “back-to-back attitude” (1989: 94) and con-
cludes that “the people of Hazor jealously guarded the privacy of their homes” (1989: 111).
Stager’s “working hypothesis” appears to have been the subject of little critical disÂ�
cussionâ•›28 and has never been explicitly examined through subsequent archaeological in-
vestigations. Thus, the conditions under which a number of neighboring houses could
constitute a single joint family household—or even whether or not this actually occurred—
remain unresolved. Moreover, the biblical evidence often cited in support of this possibil-
ity (Judg 18:22, as first introduced by Gottwald [1981: 291–92] and subsequently cited by
Stager [1985: 22], Meyers [1997: 17], and others) is ambiguous.â•›29
term בית, which appears here twice in a narrow context, should be used with different meanings
(building and household). Since the preposition ʿim is often used in a locative sense of ‘next to’ (Gen
35:4; 2 Sam 13:32; et€al.), the traditional rendering of the phrase, ‘the men who were in the houses
that were near the house of Micah’, seems even more plausible. The existence of these houses is
already mentioned generally in v.€14. The possibility that they belonged to a family compound and
that their inhabitants constituted one paternal joint family is not excluded even through it is not
explicitly expressed in the text.
Methodological Reflections 39
ment of actual floor space.â•›30 In Schloen’s model, families would have been forced to change
their home constantly, according to the phase of their household life cycle: falling back to
the nuclear phase of families, their members would have had to move to small houses;
growing up to the joint phase of families, their members would have had to occupy large
houses. But is such a constant moving about conceivable? How would the former inhab-
itants of the needed houses be persuaded to move as well? Thus it is uncertain whether
in Israel the beit ʾāb was a “deeply rooted patrilocal ideal” as well as “the basic social and
economic unit of Israelite society” during the entire Iron II period (Schloen 2001: 183).
30.╇ This was supported by the rearrangement of dwelling houses in Hazor described by Geva
(1989: 42–61), where it seems that only in rural sites was extensive enlargement of houses possible;
see, for example, Houses 890 and 900 in Beit Aryeh (Riklin 1997: 8), where the floor space of a four-
room house was doubled by building a second four-room house in front of it.
31.╇ Riklin 1997: 8–9, fig. 2.
32.╇ Faust (1999a: 246) points out that the internal division of the houses varies greatly, most
likely due to the life cycle of the joint family.
40 Chapter 2
Fig.€2.10.╇ Ground plan of the Iron II village Beit Aryeh (map reference 15845.16090) showing
several large dwellings, including a double four-room house (no. 900) and a huge storehouse
(no.€510).
While there are only a few indications of interrelations within towns between differ-
ent houses, there is strong evidence for active cooperation between several joint family
households in rural settlements. In several villages, excavators found big storehouses (see
House 510 fig. 2.10), cisterns, wine cellars, oil presses, and oil storage installations, all of
which seem to have been used by several or even all families of a village for communally
storing the surplus of their agricultural production (2000: 26). Moreover, the building of
protective walls (2000: 27) and terrace walls around rural settlements naturally required
the cooperation of several joint families. Thus, Faust suggests that, at least as far as the
rural sector of Israelite society was concerned, “in addition to the households, the lineages
could also be regarded as corporate units, and these sometimes comprised the entire com-
munity” (2000: 26).
It is thus necessary to distinguish between the rural and the urban sectors of Israelite
society. Whereas in the rural sector the joint family (beit ʾāb) and even the “lineage”—
which means the part of the clan (mišpāḥāh) who resided together (who were “co-
Methodological Reflections 41
33.╇ Faust’s distinction (2000: 29–30) between the larger clan as a subtribal unit that contained
several lineages potentially dispersed over several places, and the smaller group of related paternal
joint families who actually lived and cooperated together is especially useful. The latter can be re-
ferred as a “lineage”; however, the biblical term מׁשפחהmišpāḥāh denotes both groups.
34.╇ See also the detailed study of Faust (1999b: 187), where he distinguished—taking the pri-
vate houses of 8th–century Hazor as a test case—the dwellings of “the wealthy and the senior func-
tionaries on the one hand, and the poor on the other, and possibly also . . . of a middle class.”
35.╇ Schloen’s (2001: 141) argument against Faust does not really meet his thesis; Schloen is
right to warn of positing a “sharp urban-rural dichotomy”; but Faust seems largely to avoid this.
He in no way denies the possibility of joint family households’ existing in urban settlements but
asserts that they constituted only a minority. Thus Faust describes a remarkable difference but not
a dichotomy.
42 Chapter 2
Through processes of urbanization in the 10th and 9th century b.c.e., nuclear family
households consisting of one couple and their children became increasingly important.
In many cases during this time, single family members beyond the primary conjugal unit,
for example, a widowed sister driven out of her husband’s family, would have joined a
nuclear family; thus extended families were probably frequent variants of nuclear families.
Nuclear and extended families constituted the vast majority in urban settlements (up to
70%).â•›36 Many of them probably still worked as small farmers, with others earning ad-
ditional income as craftsmen, traders, hired workers, clients of wealthier landowners, or
state officials.
Nuclear families played a much more prominent role in ancient Israelite society than
seems to have been presumed by many biblical scholars (Gottwald, van der Toorn, Schloen,
et al.). Nuclear family units played dual roles, often constituting their own households as
well as enjoying a certain degree of independence within larger joint family households.
According to Faust (2000: 20), they probably occupied their own rooms under the roof of
their father’s house; according to Bendor (1996: 203), they could even have had their own
possessions, such as flocks and vineyards. Thus the conjugal family unit constituted the
heart of the familial group in all five types of family household.â•›37
The differences among these four family types are not as large as may initially appear,
as revealed in the typology of families by Yorburg (1975: 6). In ideal-typical terms, the
joint familyâ•›38 “is characterized by total economic and psychological interdependence be-
tween nuclear units, a single authoritarian head, and daily contact. Nuclear family units
do not have independent economic resources” (1975: 8). But since in ancient Israel the
nuclear units seem to have enjoyed some degree of independent access to resources, they
came closer to the type that Yorburg has described as the modified form of joint family
characterized “by nuclear family autonomy, but strong kin network influence” (1975: 8).
However, the nuclear families of ancient Israel cannot be placed within this “pure” type,
which Yorburg characterized as being completely “self-sufficient, economically and psy-
chologically, with respect to the wider kin network” (1975: 7), as we know it from modern
societies. Instead, they belonged to a “modified nuclear” type, which is defined only as
“largely self-sufficient economically” yet still dependent on some support from the kin
network and thus influenced by it (1975: 6–7), particularly because it is reasonable to
conjecture that Israelite nuclear families did not normally live isolated from their kin and
that in most cases related families lived in the same towns or even in the same quarters,
as it is still the case in modern Oriental cities (Schloen 2001: 101–16). Thus, the degree of
dependence on or independence from the kinship network spanned a continuum between
joint and nuclear family households.
The possible intermediate phases between the two become even more apparent by
considering “multiple family compounds,” following Stager (1985: 18–20). Even though
the evidence that they constituted the “usual” form of joint family households is rather
36.╇ In the late 7th century b.c.e., the nuclear family seems to have become so predominant that,
in the book of Deuteronomy, the term בית אבis nearly lacking; it only appears in Deut 22:21, where
it probably is referring to a paternal house as a building.
37.╇ This clarifies a much shorter statement on the subject in Albertz 2008: 92, 96.
38.╇ Yorburg still uses the term “extended family.”
Methodological Reflections 43
sparse,â•›39 it is possible that they existed in Iron I villages and perhaps occasionally in urban
settlements. It is suggested in these cases that the members of joint families were split
among several houses, mostly according to their nuclear units (similar to the scenario
drawn by King and Stager 2001: 12–19). And of course, those nuclear family units would
have gained more independence than if they had remained under the roof of a paternal
house. Although economically interdependent, they psychologically enjoyed much more
privacy, because they could shut their own door behind them. Thus, bearing in mind
that a “household” is defined by people living under one roof and sharing in common
consumption (cf. Kertzer 1991: 155), it may be asked whether a social unit of this sort is
rightly defined as a joint family household or whether it is better to speak of a cluster of
nuclear family households characterized by a higher degree of cooperation than normal.
Such familial cooperation can even exceed the borders of joint family households by
the inclusion of additional kin. Faust in particular has presented (2000: 23–30) archae-
ological evidence from rural settlements suggesting cooperation among larger corpo-
rate groups, such as groups who served large wine and oil presses or storage facilities.
He identified these groups with lineages—that is, with the co-residental parts of a clan
(mišpāḥāh). In the Hebrew Bible, there is ample evidence that villages were sometimes
occupied by only one clan (Judg 8:32; Faust 2000: 31). The number of “industrial instal-
lations” found in some of these villages was commonly between one and four, supporting
the conclusion that there was an equal number of lineages. Faust thinks that, “from the
archaeological evidence it is not clear if the lineage was the production . . . unit . . . . , or if
it only managed and facilitated the production, while the production itself (the process-
ing of the agricultural products) was carried out by the extended [joint] family” (Faust
2000: 23). In any case, there was seasonal superfamilial cooperation in rural settlements.
Within urban sectors of society, the significance of these lineages seems to have been less
important.
The possible cooperation of a joint family with its patrilineal lineage, as attested pri-
marily in the rural sector of Israelite society, should not, however, lead to the opinion that
there was no clear demarcation between these social units, even through the term beit
ʾāb can sometimes denote a lineage (Gen 12:1; 24:40; Judg 9:1). Even if, as often seems to
have been the case in Israelite villages, everyone was related by blood to the others, the
close, strong emotional ties between immediate family members nevertheless constituted
a distinguished kind of relationship.â•›40 In the past, the importance of the clan or lineage has
been emphasized above that of the family, as though the clan was necessary to the family’s
survival (e.g., Gottwald 1981: 254–84;â•›41 van der Toorn 1996b: 200–203). This led Gottwald
to believe that only the clan, and not the family, had religious functions (1981: 282–84).â•›42
He in turn persuaded van der Toorn to characterize the family religion of early Israel as
largely a clan religion (van der Toorn 1996b: 250–55). Van der Toorn states, “Religion
in the early Iron Age was primarily a matter of joint family or clan” (1996b: 250). Deal-
ing with Micah’s sanctuary in Judges 17–18, he maintained that, “Even if the sanctuary
belonged to a family, it was not a domestic chapel, but a local cult centre” (1996b: 254).
And concerning sanctuaries like Ophrah and the “Bull Site,” he claimed that “the towns,
inhabited by different branches of a family or clan, were the main cultic communities.
There is neither archaeological nor literary evidence for a domestic cult performed by
single nuclear families. Related families constituted one cultic body, the pater familias of
the foremost family acting as its head” (1996b: 254).â•›43 These extensive conclusions can be
used to emphasize the importance of determining the different levels of kinship groups. If
the borderline between the family and the lineage or clan becomes blurred, family religion
will dissolve into a clan or local religion, regardless—or it might even become invisible. As
will be described in chap. 3, hundreds of ritual objects have been found in private urban
dwelling houses, providing a wealth of evidence for domestic rituals that were performed
by single nuclear families.
In order to define clear boundaries between the types of families and their wider kin-
ships, it is necessary to reiterate the main features of both the family and the household.â•›44
The former is characterized by four functions: reproduction, socialization, production,
and consumption; the latter by two features: living under the same roof and sharing in
common consumption. Between family and clan, a clear borderline can first be drawn
by the use of the term household to denote a group of co-residents living under one roof.
This criterion can never be fulfilled by a lineage or a clan but only by a family, be it nuclear
or joint. This distinction can then be reinforced by the basic feature of the family, which
is its fundamental function of reproduction. This can only be fulfilled by a conjugal cou-
ple—the definitive nuclear constituent of all family types—never by a lineage or a clan
as a whole. Finally, the distinction can be established by the criterion of shared common
consumption, which is equally important in determining households and families. Daily
common meals are very normal in nuclear or extended families and can also be consumed
within joint families if there is enough living space available,â•›45 but common meals within
lineages or clans are restricted to feasts and special events, such as commemorative meals
for the dead. Socialization was primarily the function of a nuclear family unit, but other
members of the extended family or even of the lineage could supplement or be a substitute
for family members for the purposes of socializing. It was only the function of production
that could be equally well performed by either the families alone or by all possible levels
of cooperation within the greater co-residental kinship. Since in Israel the patrilineal clan
had some control of the landholdings of the families belonging to it (Num 27:1–11),â•›46 it
43.╇ Van der Toorn (2003: 409) now uses the term “local religion,” which according to him “cov-
ers both domestic and village religion.”
44.╇ See above, pp. 22–24.
45.╇ In the scenario envisioned by King and Stager (2000: 19), the common meal of the joint
family should take place in the upper story of the house of the paterfamilias, although no consider-
ation is given to whether the total of 17 people supposed by them could actually be accommodated
there.
46.╇ See also the institution of גאלהgĕʾullāh, meaning the duty of the closest kin from the clan
to redeem a family’s landholding if it was sold because of debt (Jer 32:7–9; Lev 25:25–28; Ruth 4:4).
Methodological Reflections 45
is no wonder that it enjoyed privileged access to the proceeds from agricultural products.
But this close co�operation between the family and its co-residental lineage was possible
for only one of the four basic familial functions.
While the borderline between family and lineage or clan is sharply marked, the bound-
ary between the different types of family households is considerably more ambiguous.
Considering the types of most apparent difference—the nuclear family on the one hand
and the joint family on the other—we can maintain that in the former, all familial func-
tions were accomplished by the same conjugal family unit, while in the latter, the units that
achieved these functions could vary. The function of reproduction was achieved by one of
the nuclear subunits; the function of socialization was done with the cooperation of the
parents with other members of the joint family; and food processing and consumption
could be related to both. Only the function of production was accomplished by all nuclear
subunits of a joint family household together; where this was done by a nuclear family
household alone, it occurred perhaps with the support of kin outside the household. Thus
it is primarily the organization of production that distinguishes the nuclear from the joint
family household.
These considerations highlight pronounced differences across the range of the famil-
ial functions. The fundamental function of reproduction is focused on the innermost
group of the nuclear family—whether we are dealing with a nuclear family household or
a nuclear unit within a joint family. Similarly, the function of common consumption is
often related to a nuclear family household but can also include an entire joint family. The
important function of the socialization of children has a wider range of loci. Responsibil-
ity primarily belonged to the parents but was supplemented by kin both inside and out-
side the family. The widest range of focus describes the function of production; it occurs
through cooperation with close kin both inside and outside the family household and can
even include the wider co-residental lineage.
47.╇ Distinguishing these three circles, we are able (in response to Olyan 2008: 114–15) to give
justice to all dimensions of family religion.
46 Chapter 2
First, to the inner circle can be assigned all the rituals that were performed at the
dwelling house, which we refer to as components of a “domestic cult.” Because the houses
were occupied by nuclear families, they are identifiable as the carriers of the domestic
cult. In the cases where joint families lived in a dwelling, the entire group or one of their
nuclear subunits would have performed the domestic cult. Several rituals of the domestic
cult would have related directly to the needs of the nuclear family, especially all rituals that
had to do with the fundamental familial function of reproduction; for example, prayers
and vows for conception, birth, lactation, the survival of the infants, and others. In cases of
illness or other needs of family members, prayer rituals would have been performed inside
the houses, possibly at the beds of the afflicted. Furthermore, the daily care of the dead
that accompanied the processing and common consumption of food probably took place
inside the house next to cooking facilities. Apotropaic rites and incantations to shelter
the house and its inhabitants from evil powers also belonged to this inner circle. In joint
family households, other family members would have commonly supported the conjugal
couple in performing rituals; the pater familias would likely have performed the rites that
were important to the entire household.
Second, we distinguish a medium circle, which comprised all rites that were performed
outside the house but still somewhere in the neighborhood of a family’s house, such visit-
ing a neighborhood chapel to reinforce the making of a vow. Rites of this medium circle
would often have been supported by members of the larger kinship. This would have been
the case in mourning rites following the death of a family member or commemorative
meals held regularly for the dead and performed at family grave sites.
Third, to an outer circle we assign all the rites that would have been performed by a
family within the sphere of their public cult, in local, regional, or state sanctuaries. Not
only family members but also other kin, friends, and neighbors would usually have partic-
ipated in these celebrations. Examples may have included a sacrificial meal in the sanctu-
ary to celebrate the healing of a family member, so he could be reintegrated into the local
community, or a sacrificial meal intended to pay the promissory vows of family members.
Also the rites having to do with family production, such as the offering of agricultural
firstlings and the firstborn of domestic animals, would have belonged to this outer circle.
Here, family religion came into contact with the sphere of regional or state religion.
One problematic aspect of this concept was made obvious in a recent example. The
archaeologist Gitin, who excavated the Philistine town of Ekron, observed that, of the
17 small stone altars found there, only 6 were found in the auxiliary building of the city
temple; 9 were found in the industrial zone and 2 in the domestic area. Twelve of the altars
he classified as portable (2000: 289–91). Gitin concluded from these data that there was a
“decentralized worship system” that was distinct from the centralized worship of the city
temple, but he explained that, “no doubt, this dual worship system was a result of Ekron’s
exposure to multiple ethnic cultic traditions when it became an international olive-oil
production centre in 7th century b.c.e.” (Gitin 2000: 289). Even if this is true, Gitin over-
looked an easier, functional explanation. The 9 altars found in the domestic and industrial
areas clearly attest a more private form of worship separate from the central temple and
constitute good evidence for the existence of a domestic cult or a workplace cult in 7th-
century Ekron. Thus, the concept of syncretism is not particularly useful for describing
family religious practices and beliefs in Israel; the case described above reveals that it can
even hinder interpretation that otherwise would support a domestic cult.
of popular religion. For Rose (1975: 213–51), the term “popular religion” denotes the re-
ligious views of the opponents of the Deuteronomic theologians or the prophet Jeremiah.
It could even have been the Zion theology that Jeremiah attacked in his temple sermon
(Jer 7:4), which clearly belonged to the official state religion of Judah. So the term used
in this way is more confusing than clarifying. Since the prophets and legislators not only
struggled against popular customs but also against the misuse of official cultic rites and
theological concepts, their polemics do not open a secure access to a nonofficial segment
of Israelite religion.â•›52
Third, even though Ackerman tried to prevent it (1992: 1–2), the term “popular re-
ligion” has a pejorative connotation. From the official perspective, it is considered to be
a more primitive kind of belief that does not satisfy the theological and ethical norms or
the intellectual standards of official theology. By classifying all nonofficial sanctuaries as
“nonconformist” cults taken from the popular religion model, Holladay (1987: 270–80)
also takes a dim view of domestic cults. It is thus not particularly helpful to characterize
all family religion as “nonconformist.”
Fourth, the dichotomous concept of official versus popular religion was not derived
from ancient Near Eastern antiquity but, as noted by Vrijhof (1979: 674), from the “insti-
tutionalized and codified Christian religion in the western world.” Summarizing this view,
Zevit (2003: 226–27) states that “the origin of the distinction lies in the relationship of the
Western Church to the indigenous religions of Europe during and after the Middle Ages.
Initially, the two were in competition; but when the Church grew in power and author-
ity through its connections with the leading social groups of the emerging nation-states,
indigenous religions were denigrated and held to be primitive superstitions.” Later, the
division between official and popular religion or Volksfrömmigkeit was taken up by the
Volkskunde of the 19th century c.e. and was developed to analyze customs of people in the
Christian—mainly Catholic—societies of Europe (Vrijhof 1979: 1–6, 668–704; Ebertz and
Schultheis 1986: 11–52). In this context, the term “popular religion” denotes a phenom-
enon in which laymen took elements of orthodox Catholic beliefs, rites, and symbols and
redefined and reused them for their own religious purposes. For example, they erected
crosses with the Corpus Christi in fields as apotropaic or fertility symbols. Thus, popular
religion in this original sense is a degenerate subtype of official Christian religion. It pre-
supposes the establishment of orthodoxy, a clear stratification between a priestly elite and
an unprofessional laity, and a supposed priestly monopoly over all benefits of salvation.â•›53
This origin of the concept raises questions such as: did similar conditions actually ob-
tain in the ancient world? or when might comparable structures have emerged? In Israel,
52.╇ Berlinerblau (1993: 12–15, 18) stressed the additional problem that the biblical polemics
show the biased view of the literati, which could have invented popular religious groups without
any clue in the historical reality. This problem must be admitted, but, in my view, can be overcome
by scrutinizing the degree of concretion shown in the polemical argument.
53.╇ Ebertz and Schultheis define Volksfrömmigkeit as follows: “Unter ‘populärer Religiosität’
sind spezifische Konfigurationen religiöser Vorstellungen und Praktiken zu verstehen, die sich in-
folge einer Monopolisierung der Definition von und der Verfügbarkeit über die ‘Heilsgüter’ bzw.
über das ‘religiöse Kapital’ bei den von der Definition von und der Verfügbarkeit über diese Heils-
güter Ausgeschlossenen herausbilden.”
Methodological Reflections 51
the first attempts at establishing some kind of orthodoxy were not made before the late 7th
century, and even then the leading priests and scribes of emerging Judaism were neither
able nor ready to establish hierarchical institutions of power equivalent to the Catholic
Church of the Middle Ages. Thus, the concept of popular religion cannot readily be ap-
plied to the study of ancient Israelite religion, especially not family and household religion
in the monarchic period.â•›54
Due to these difficulties, the concept of popular religion has attracted increasing crit-
icism (Albertz 1978a: 14–18; Berlinerblau 1993; 1995; Zevit 2001: 662–63; 2003). The
supporters and functions of popular religion have long remained blurred in this model.
Berlinerblau demonstrated the ambiguity of the entire concept and pleaded for a more
sociologically precise methodology in order to “delineate religiosity among particular Is-
raelite groups” (1993: 18).â•›55 However, by defining the term popular religion “as a sort of
conceptual umbrella under which the investigation of women, heterodox elements, the
non-privileged classes . . . would serve as the primary objects of scholarly scrutiny” (1993:
19), Berlinerblau demonstrated his attachment to the pejorative sense of the concept. More
radical was the criticism of Zevit (2001: 230–32), who defended impartiality in describing
the beliefs and cultic practices of the basic social groups identifiable in ancient Israelite so-
ciety, whether a father’s house, a clan, a tribe, or the people as a whole. He suggested “that
it is productive to describe both the (i.e., cultic) sites and Israelite religion as expressions
of known ancient social realities. This is preferable to describing them in dichotomous
terms, lacking social referents in ancient culture” (2001: 233). With this statement, Zevit
came close to the concept of internal religious pluralism that will be considered below.
After Assmann (1990) adapted Sundermeier’s model for describing characteristics and
changes in ancient Egyptian religion, the concept of primary and secondary religions was
studied further by biblical scholars (Niehr 1999; Wagner 2006; Leuenberger 2008). For
Niehr (1999: 64–66), the religions of Israel and Judah during the monarchic period be-
longed to the category of primary religion; they were focused on conveying the structures
of cosmic order and were not religions of confession. According to him, Israelite religion
first showed signs of being a secondary religion under the prophets but did not become a
religion of confession focused on the relationship between god and men before the Per-
sian and Hellenistic periods. Leuenberger (2008: 77–108) uses the categories primary and
secondary religion to describe the process of theologizing, which the concept of blessing
in Israel underwent.
It is obvious that several criteria have arisen for determining primary and secondary
religions and have further been used to distinguish between official and popular religions.
Moreoever, the concept of primary and secondary religion has the advantage that it avoids
all normative and pejorative implications of the concept of official and popular religion.
However, as the primary-secondary concept has been developed to this point, it offers no
space to accommodate family religion. Sundermeier himself distinguished only small-
scale and large-scale societies but was not interested in subdivisions of tribal societies.â•›56
Leuenberger (2008: 81) even relinquishes any sociological linkage, although he concedes
that family religion might almost belong to the category of “primary religion.” The con-
cept is restricted for him to a description of religious experiences in terms of content.
Thus, the concept of primary and secondary religion is not suited to describing family
and household religion as a segment of Israelite religion (see Schmitt 2006). The simple
dichotomy leaves lingering doubts about whether the entire concept is suitable for de-
scribing the inherently complex developments of any religion at all.â•›57
56.╇ Sundermeier (1995: 204) simply replaced the term family with a term that denotes a small-
scale or tribal society, although his reference to tribes as Kleingruppe (‘small groups’; Sundermeier
1999: 40) alters the meaning of a term conventionally reserved to denote families or groups of a very
limited scale (for example, of less than 20 members).
57.╇ In 2005, Wagner organized a symposium in Heidelberg aiming to evaluate the concept ac-
cording to many scholars of ancient Near Eastern and ancient Mediterranean religions. The major-
ity of the participants were variously opposed to it (Wagner 2006); see, for example, the negative
judgment of Grünschloß (2006: 253–58) from the perspective of Religionswissenschaft.
58.╇ A similar, group-oriented approach has been developed by the German-American Reli-
gionswissenschaftler and sociologist Wach (1944: 54–109). In his Sociology of Religions, under the
Methodological Reflections 53
was such a traditional society, at least two or three levels of Israelite religion can be clearly
distinguished (Albertz 1978a: 2–3, 11–13; 1994: 1.18–21; 1995: 197–200): a personal piety
related to the family; an official religion related to the whole people; and in between—and
not as clearly able to to be described as the other two—a local religion related to a village
or town.â•›59 The two or three levels of religion differ from one another with respect to their
supporters, their target groups, their degree of institutionalization, and their religious be-
liefs, practices, and functions. Following Lanczkowski (1981: 50–55), who described simi-
lar phenomena in the Greek, Chinese, and Mayan religions, this concept has been labeled
internal religious pluralism (Albertz 1978a) and defined as a structural pluralism that is
related to the substructures of society.
The concept has been variously adopted by several others (M. Weippert 1997: 9–19;
van der Toorn 1996: 2–4; Stolz 1996: 111, 124–35; Miller 2000: 62–105; Gerstenberger
2001: 26–152).â•›60 For example, Weippert distinguishes between family religion, local reli-
gion, and state religion. Miller provides a little more detail by taking social and historical
developments into account; he differentiates between family religion, local and regional
cults, the cultus of the Israelite confederation, the state religions of Judah and Israel, and
community religion. And van der Toorn thinks the clan to be more the supporter of fam-
ily religion in distinction to the local level, because a clan often constitutes an entire settle-
ment.â•›61 Some who have subscribed to the “popular religion” model have done so in ways
that have made apparent the ambiguity of distinction between it and the concept of “inter-
nal religious pluralism.”â•›62 With regard to family religion, the more feminist approaches of
Bird (1987: 387–410; 1991: 102–4) and Meyers (1997: 39–40; 2002: 283–301) also largely
accord with this model.
The concept internal religious pluralism also has the advantage of permitting a value-
free description of family religion as well as a self-contained unit standing in relation to
the local and state levels of Israelite society. Doubts have been expressed about whether
heading “Religion and Natural Groups,” he distinguished family cults, kinship cults, local cults,
racial cults, national cults, and cult associations based on sex and age, which accord in many re-
spects to our conceptual distinctions in this book. Although his book was translated into German
immediately after World War II (Wach 1951: 60–132), unfortunately Wach’s approach, because of
his emigration and early death, did not become influential in Germany.
59.╇ This third level has been borrowed from Lang 1983: 271–301, although not developed in
detail.
60.╇ A second important study that also influenced this branch of research was the book of
Vorländer (1975), who investigated the concept of personal god in ancient Israel and Mesopotamia.
61.╇ For the interrelation between nuclear family, joint family, and clan, see above, pp. 41–45.
In accordance with Joshua 7, Zevit distinguished five societal levels in Israel: the individual, the fa-
ther’s house, the clan, the tribe, and the people. However, in ancient Israel, the individual and family
levels constituted one unit, the clan or clans could be equated with the local level, and the tribe or
the confederation of tribes belonged to a level similar to the state as far as the pre-state society was
concerned.
62.╇ For example, biblical texts that have previously been used as typical examples of popular
religion (Jer 7:16; 44:15–23) have also lent themselves to insightful analysis from the perspective
of “family and household religion” (Ackerman 2008: 127–58). Dever, in his more recent studies,
occasionally uses the terms “folk” or “popular religion” and “family religion” synonymously (2001:
173; 2005: 176, 240).
54 Chapter 2
there is any great difference between family religions and religions found at local or of-
ficial levels (Jeremias and Hartenstein 1999: 79–86; Leuenberger 2008: 16, 99, 153, 173;
Bodel and Olyan 2008a: 278–79),â•›63 but the degree of continuity or disjunction between
these levels is entirely unconstrained by the concept internal religious pluralism.â•›64 It will be
shown that the distinctiveness of family religion is rooted in “a very specifically declared
relationship” between the family members, “which is distinguished from any other rela-
tion of social interaction in a given society” (Nave-Herz 2002: 149).â•›65 These fundamen-
tal structural distinctions must be understood as separate from the distinctions of social
stratification, professions, or economic conditions. Differences between families can lead
to subdivisions of family religion, providing them with slightly different external forms, as
exemplified by the “personal theology of the rich” and the “piety of the poor,” as happened
within Judean society in the Persian period,â•›66 but these differences do not alter the inner
kernel of family religion.â•›67
A few terminological problems remain to be clarified. Instead of personal piety, we
prefer the term family and household religion, in which we include the personal faith of
family members. By using this combined term, we intend to ensure that the whole range
of this segment of Israelite religion is included. This whole range covers the local center
of family religion, or the domestic cult, and all other ritual and cultic activities wherever
they are performed by the family group—whether, for example, a commemorative meal
at the tombs of ancestors or a sacrificial meal in a local or even state sanctuary.â•›68 We also
avoid using the term women’s cult to connote a wider family cult. Its use by Dever (2005:
236–40) was probably influenced by the idea that “popular religion” is a religion of a sup-
pressed people (Dever 1991: 64–65). The roles of women were of indisputable importance
in family cults, but it must be stressed that women enacted these cults not only for them-
selves but also for their families; furthermore, in many cases, men as well as women par-
ticipated in family rituals, as conceded by Dever (2001: 195–96; 2005: 237, 240).
We use the term official religion to denote more than just the practices that were
otherwise ascribable to the religion of state institutions. This term is preferable to state
63.╇ Jeremias and Hartenstein still use the inexact terminology of Volksreligion; they interpreted
the cult stand from Taanach, for example, as symbolizing the temple theology, which was trans-
ferred to the house cult. Bodel and Olyan pointed to the so-called “temple models” used in the
domestic cult. Regardless, they concede that the lack of meat offerings in the domestic cult marks a
clear difference between it and the local and state cults.
64.╇ See in this respect the different assessments made for different ancient Near Eastern and
Mediterranean cultures at the conference held in Providence, 2005 (Bodel and Olyan 2008b).
65.╇ See above, pp. 21–22.
66.╇See Albertz 1994: 2.511–23.
67.╇ In a critical evaluation of an early study on this subject (Albertz 1978a), Berlinerblau (1993:
17) contends that economic situation, gender, or special religious devotion may have been more im-
portant for an individual than his affiliation to his family. Although this may be the case in modern
times, these factors seem to have played only a minor role in the shaping of family religion as shared
by individuals in ancient times.
68.╇ Similar to Ackerman (2008: 128), Olyan (2008: 115) prefers family religion as “a useful de-
scriptive and analytical term for the study of the first-millennium Israelite cult.” The term household
religion seems to him less attractive, “since it does not communicate the larger, clan dimension of
first-millennium Israelite family religion.”
Methodological Reflections 55
religion in particular because the form of political organization changed several times in
the history of ancient Israel, from a tribal league to a state and a substate community. But
the term official must not be presumed to denote a religion that was valid for the entire
society; rather, it refers only to the religion that claimed to be valid for the entire society.
Therefore, not only the state religion of kings and priests but also the opposing preaching
of the prophets belonged to the official religion in this paradigm, because they both related
to the same target group, which was the whole people and its fate. Although the term folk
religion would constitute the logical opposite of family religion, its use is eschewed here
because of its alternative meaning in the context of Volkskunde. The official religion of
ancient Israel in the monarchic period and later was never a monolith; it comprised com-
peting theologies, all of which fought to be a major influence on society. Compared with
the changing theological concepts and ongoing disputes over the levels of official religion,
family religion was the permanent and conformist basis of Israelite religion for most of
the monarchic period.â•›69
69.╇ In contrast to Holladay (1987: 270–75), who ascribed the domestic cult installations to
“nonconformist sanctuaries and shrines.”
70.╇ See above, pp. 45–46. Note that the three circles mentioned there cannot be identified
with the three levels conceptualized in the model of internal religious pluralism.
71.╇ However, it must have been limited in some way, because Asherah never was used in theo-
phoric names.
56 Chapter 2
example, a familial blessing spell (Deut 28:3–6, 16–19) in order to provide their covenant
concept with divine rewards and punishments.
Mutual influences also obtained, of course, simply because every Israelite or Judean
was a member of all of these groups at different societal levels and therefore shared over-
lapping group identities. A man could be the father of a family, an elder of a clan or a local
community, and an official at court. A woman could be not only the mother of a family but
also an important person in the local social network and a member of the people of Israel.
Thus everyone played different roles related to the different foci of his or her identity. Mol
(1976: 142–201) recognized the need for a distinction between (1) the religious process
of creating and safeguarding identity through sacralization and (2) these different levels
of identity, which can come into tension with one another. This provides a solid reason
to conceive of internal religious pluralism from the individual point of view (see Albertz
1994: 1.18–21). But, of course, playing his/her different roles, the individual had to find
compromises between the different levels of his/her identity; thus, some degree of mutual
influence between the religious, symbolic worlds pertaining to the individuals was natu-
ral. Generally speaking, the degree of mutual interchange between these levels of identity
was higher the more a person was entrusted with public functions, whether the functions
were judicial, political, prophetic, or priestly. For example, the religion of the family of a
leading priest or a high official would have been influenced more by the state or temple
religion than the religion of a simple farmer without any public function. In spite of this,
even the family religions of officials and priests in the capital remained distinguishable
from official court and temple theology, because the general needs of their families were
different from the needs of the state for which they worked.
Thus one can see the benefits of investigating family and household religion as a seg-
ment of its own, while always taking care not to overlook its possible interrelations with
other segments of Israelite religion.â•›72After having clarified the proper theoretical frame-
work, we are now well equipped to study the family and household religion of ancient
Israel and Judah during the preexilic period.
72.╇ For more details regarding the course of Israelite history, see Albertz 1994: 1.23–39, 94–
103, 186–95; 2.399–411, 507–22, 556–63.
Chapter 3
3.1.╇Methodology
Interest in the topic of family religion in Israel and its ancient Near Eastern environ-
ment has increased, particularly during the last decade.â•›1 Much of this work, however, has
focused more on literary evidence than on archaeological material, though more-recent
studies have shown the importance of archaeological finds for the reconstruction of family
religion in ancient Israel and Palestine (Daviau 2001; Albertz 2008: 94; Schmitt 2008: 159).
A short survey of archaeological evidence for sacred places in Iron Age Israel and Judah
is given by B. Alpert Nakhai (2001: 161–93).â•›2 Without typological differentiation of cultic
patterns, however, the archaeological features of family religion remain largely undeter-
mined (Zwickel 1990: 38 n. 137). Our aim in this book is to distinguish archaeological
features related to religious activities in households or larger neighborhoods and to refine
the typology of cult places and cultic activities in Iron Age living quarters.
Patterns of assemblages of objects and pottery have only occasionally been noted by
excavators. Furthermore, the assemblages have rarely been related to characteristic activ-
ities in domestic units. Excavation reports past and present tend to present material in dia-
chronic or typological groups rather than in locus groups (Meyers 2002: 429), effectively
preventing reconstruction of the relationships of objects to one another and to the larger
assemblages. This is especially true in older excavation reports with comparatively poorly
systematized records. Yet even in more recent reports, little attention has been given to
locus grouping. Furthermore, although S. Geva in her study on the domestic quarters
and the house furnishings of 8th-century Hazor (Geva 1989) noted the significance of
assemblages for domestic activities in general, she nevertheless did not interpret this ev-
idence in relation to domestic cult activities. This oversight enabled her to conclude that
1.╇ Ackerman 1992; 2008; Albertz 1978a; 1995; 1996–97: 45–68, 143–57, 291–304, 327–37;
2004: 429–30; 2008; Nakhai 2001; Blenkinsopp 1997: 48–103; Gerstenberger 2001: 26–77; Lang
2002: 137–72; Meyers 2002; van der Toorn 1994; 1996b; Winter 1983: 127–34; Zwickel 1990: 38,
277–303; for a recent overview, see the contributions in Bodel and Olyan 2008b.
2.╇ Following the results of an unpublished dissertation by Nakhai’s student E. A. R. Willett
(1999), which analyzed domestic structures from Tel Masos, Tell el-Farʿah, Beersheba, and Tel Halif.
57
58 Chapter 3
the inhabitants of Hazor were not religiously inclined and that religion did not feature
prominently in their lives (Geva 1989: 110).â•›3
In his report on the Tell es-Saʾīdīyeh excavations, J. B. Pritchard (1985: 72) classified
the findings of the Stratum V living quarters into 7 groups based on function, thereby
enabling a general description of activities typical of domestic areas. The 7 groups were:
• vessels and containers (including bowls, jugs, juglets, cooking pots, and small
vessels made of faience and alabaster),
• lamps,
• tools and weapons (including bone tools, sickles, plow points, and spindle
whorls),
• articles of personal adornment (including beads, fibulae, rings, and shells),
• equipment for the preparation of food (including mortars, stone bowls, and
tripod bowls),
• nonutilitarian objects (including anthropoid and zoomorphic figurines, tripod-
cups, and seals), and
• miscellaneous objects (including alabaster bowls, and clay and metal disks).
3.╇ As the analysis of the domestic cult remains from Hazor will reveal (see pp. 102–106), this
assertion appears to be quite unlikely.
4.╇ For discussion of which, see chap. 4 below.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 59
of these sorts reveal the diversity of patterns that must be considered when scholars reex-
amine older reports. In particular, the items suggestive of cultic functions, including non�
utilitarian vessels such as censer (tripod)-cups, kernos rings, miniature altars, decorated
stands with religious symbolism, and human and animal figurines can be attributed to a
first category (A) of diagnostic objects. To this group can also be added the fenestrated
and decorated stands that often occur in clear cultic contexts.â•›5 A second category (B) of
diagnostic items includes other types of stands (that are not necessarily of cultic use, such
as simple pot stands), luxury and miniature vessels, objects of personal adornment, game
pieces, and “collectibles” (such as shells and worked or unworked stones) that may also
have served cultic functions, especially in conjunction with objects in the first category.
However, there are several problems with pursuing this research. First, although the
presence of figurines may play a primary role in identifying cultic assemblages, most of the
finds are fragments, with regard to which one must keep in mind that “the fragments indi-
cate disposal patterns after use, rather than actual use-patterns” (Kletter 1996: 57). These
concerns also apply to mass loci such as pits, pools, cisterns, streets, and other places.
Second, the relationships between the objects found beyond singularly defined loci must
remain vague, because they could have been used independently or over various periods
of time (see Kletter 2004: 2079). Thus, objects from one room may not necessarily bear
any relation to one another, if they were not found together in a clear locus. Moreover, an
excavated distribution pattern need not in any case relate to actual patterns of use, because
an assemblage may be disturbed by the destruction of a structure (Daviau 1993: 52). This
is especially true for objects that formerly belonged to a second story, which subsequently
fell down onto the first floor, an adjacent structure, or into the street. Third, small objects
such as seals, amulets, or fragments of figurines are easily able to “travel” between loci and
strata, and thus their presence may be inconclusive. On the other hand, if fragments of
one type of object are repeatedly found in similar contexts (which is especially the case for
figurine fragments, for example), the significance of them as a pattern must be considered.
Fourth, burials have their own specific problems, because they often have been used
over long periods of time, and objects found together may have belonged to different buri-
als. Nevertheless, the presence of cultic objects in otherwise noncultic structures should
not be dismissed as meaningless. Fifth, the presence of nonutilitarian pottery must be
interpreted carefully. The designation of a locus as cultic generally requires the presence of
more than one object.â•›6 Moreover, imposing a cultic interpretation onto objects of other-
wise unclear use must be done carefully. This is particularly the case with standing stones
or worked pieces of stone, sometimes interpreted as altars or maṣṣebôt (see Bloch-Smith
2005), as well as with stands that may also have served utilitarian purposes. Thus, the rela-
tionships of utilitarian to nonutilitarian objects are of utmost importance.
Sixth, the identification of an assemblage requires consideration of its character as
a whole (for example, its use for food and/or drink storage, preparation, or consump-
tion). Seventh, the relation of an assemblage to the room or locus in which it was found
and to installations within the room (such as benches or ovens) must also be considered.
Eighth, the nature of the architecture is of utmost importance (whether it is, for example,
domestic, industrial, or public), as is the general character of a room (whether it is a stor-
age room, a kitchen used for the preparation and/or consumption of food and drink, or a
living or sleeping room).
Although necessarily a speculative enterprise, the examination of older excavation re-
ports to reconstruct possible assemblages or to list objects of possible ritual use in domes-
tic cults appears promising.
7.╇ Other etymologies such as deriving from תרףtrp ‘rotten’ (Fohrer 1966: 1952) or רפאrpʾ ‘to
heal’ or רפאיםrĕpaʾîm ‘healer’ / ‘spirit of the dead’ (Tropper 1989: 334) are both etymologically and
semantically problematic. Today most scholars prefer an etymology from tarpiš (Seybold 1978:
1057; van der Toorn and Lewis 1999: 766; Lewis 2000: 845).
8.╇ In Gen 31:19, 34–35; Judg 17:5; 18:14, 17, 18, 20; 1 Sam 15:23; 19:13, 16; 2 Kgs 23:24; Ezek
21:26; Hos 3:4; and Zech 10:2.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 61
the פסל ומסכהpesel ūmassekāh as objects necessary for the sanctuary (see also Judg 18:14,
17, 18, and 20). 1€Sam 15:23 is a Deuteronomistic polemic against certain forms of reli-
gious practice. The tĕrāpîm are here mentioned in the context of qōsēm ‘divination’. 1€Sam
19:8–24 describes David’s escape from Saul’s men. To help her husband to escape, Michal,
in 1 Sam 19:13, 16, puts a cloth-covered tĕrāpîm in the bed, along with a wig of goat’s
hair, saying her husband is lying sick in bed. 2 Kgs 23:24 deals with tĕrāpîm in the context
of the Josianic reform, mentioning them together with the אבותʾobôt (‘oracle pit’), the
ידעניםyiddĕʿonîm (‘wizards’, that is, mantic specialists), and the גלליםgillulîm (from גל
gl ‘excrement’; therefore: ‘gods of shit’)â•›9 as being among the “abominations” abolished by
Josiah. Ezek 21:26€mentions the tĕrāpîm in the context of certain mantic practices, such
as the throwing of arrows, and liver oracles made by the king of Babylon during the siege
of Jerusalem. In Hos 3:4, tĕrāpîm appear together with the אפודʾepōd, מצבותmaṣṣebôt,
and sacrifices as being absent from the inhabitants of the Northern Kingdom for a long
time. Zech 10:2 is a polemic against false oracles, mentioning the tĕrāpîm together with
the קוסמיםqōsemîm ‘diviners’ (see Schmitt 2004: 342 n. 30). As Seybold (1978) has rightly
observed, tĕrāpîm in the OT are interpreted as a variety of cultic objects. In Genesis 31,
the tĕrāpîm (or, as they were called in vv. 30 and 32, אלהיםʾĕlōhîm) are obviously a min-
iature representation of a divine being, most likely the god of the house or the family, or
figurines of Laban’s ancestors, which he considered priceless. The interpretation of tĕrāpîm
as ancestor figurines is supported by the additional observations that, in 1 Sam 28:13 and
Isa 8:19, the term ʾĕlōhîm should be understood to refer to the spirit of a deceased person.
Because the word tĕrāpîm is often used in contexts of necromantic practices, particularly
the interrogation of them in Ezek 21:26 and their utterances in Zech 10:2, they can also
be interpreted as ancestor figurines. In the same sense, 2 Kgs 23:24 and Deut 18:11—the
“program” for the cult reform—use מתיםmetîm (‘the dead’) instead of tĕrāpîm. Less clear
is the meaning of tĕrāpîm in Judg 17:4–5; 18:14, 17, 18, and 20, where the term is clearly
differentiated from the carved and cast images but is used together with ʾepōd, which was
most likely a cultic object made of cloth. The tĕrāpîm in Micah’s sanctuary and the object
used by Michal in 1 Samuel 19 have been considered a kind of cultic mask, particularly be-
cause the 1 Samuel description necessitates its being bigger than a figurine (Elliger 1962:
691; Seybold 1978: 1058; Fohrer 1966: 1952).
In short, the term tĕrāpîm can refer to different cult objects of anthropomorphic ap-
pearance. However, because most references in the OT suggest connections with ances-
tor cults, tĕrāpîm are perhaps best understood as figurines of (male) ancestors used in
the context of domestic and familial religion, especially for interrogating ancestor spir-
its (Lewis 1989; Loretz 1992; van der Toorn 2002). Furthermore, the צלמי מסכותṣalmê
massēkōt in Num 33:52 and the צלמי זכרṣalmê zākār in Ezek 16:17 could include objects
of plastic art as well as the above-mentioned gillulîm. Therefore, the OT provides evidence
for the existence and use of small cultic objects in general but no direct evidence regarding
female terra-cotta figurines and their use. These require recourse to archaeology.
10.╇ Because the history of this research has been treated extensively by Kletter (1996: 10–27),
only the important steps and arguments will be discussed here.
11.╇ Albright 1939: 118–20; idem 1953: 114–15. See also among others: Petrie 1928: 17; Cook
1930: 122–28. Just in case of the Iron Age IIC plaque-types with both hands lying on the belly
Albright was more careful: “In no case we can label them with the name of a goddess” (1953: 115).
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 63
• utilitarian use: figurines with hands on bellies served to secure the process of
birth,
• pillar-figurines: used as a sort of household icon, serving the “eroticization” of the
household,
• figurine function: ex voto for pleas, and
• burial offerings: figurines secured “female magic” for the deceased after death.
(Winter 1987: 129–31)
Winter (1987: 127; and also Schroer 1987: 334 n.189) concluded that the figurines—
though not to be identified with any of the goddesses known from literature—served
more generally as protectors and mediators and also as representations of the sex appeal
of the goddess. The various aspects of goddesses were thus encapsulated more in a phe-
nomenological way using the term “Syrian Goddess,” which was thus presumed to be the
ideal representation of womankind (Winter 1987: 93, following Helck 1971). Despite the
important contribution of Winter’s iconographic studies, several aspects of his work are
problematic. In particular, the concept of a general “Syrian Goddess” and all aspects as-
sociated with and attributed to her is little more than an archetypal Jungian cliché.â•›12
Similarly, Wenning (1991a) interpreted the female figurines used as burial offerings as
representing a deity of personal protection identified with Asherah—a syncretistic form
of the astralized Ishtar—who provided the deceased with the blessings and benefits of
the eternal powers of womankind (des Ewigweiblichen), while the male horse-and-rider
figurines were interpreted as Baal Šamim or Yhwh as paredros of the goddess. Like Win-
ter, Hübner (1989: 53) emphasized both the multifunctional use of the objects and the
view of the figurines as representations of one of the great goddesses. He argued that the
figurines represent goddesses because most of them were found broken and had been
destroyed during iconoclastic actions of fanatic devotees of Yhwh. A different argument
was proposed by Keel and Uehlinger (1998: §195): the Judean pillar-figurines were likely
to be identified with Asherah but, rather than representing a cult symbol for the tree as
proposed by Engle (1979), they represented the goddess herself. The anthropomorphic
representation of Asherah fits the more general trend found in glyptic representations
of the moon-god as well as biblical hints of the female form of Asherah in the Temple of
Jerusalem (2 Kgs 23:7). In their functional interpretation of the figurines, Keel and Ueh-
linger accord with Winter’s thesis. A more general conclusion from both archaeological
and textual evidence points to a strong relationship between family religion and the cult
of Asherah. Keel and Uehlinger were more cautious in identifying the older Late Bronze
and early Iron Age plaque types because of the highly variable iconography, even though
relation with the goddesses Ashtarte, Anat, and Asherah seems highly plausible (Keel and
Uehlinger 1998: §58; a similar conclusion was found by Cornelius 2004: 102). An iden-
tification of the JPFs with Ishtar was proposed by ʾAmr (1988: 55), who asserted that, in
general, female figurines could be interpreted as “symbols of the numerous qualities of the
goddess Ishtar.” Primarily on the basis of textual evidence from Mesopotamia, he inter-
12.╇ For further critique, see: Lipiński 1986: 90; H. Weippert 1990: 106; Albertz 1992: 133 n. 114;
Schmitt 1994: 146.
64 Chapter 3
preted the gesture of holding the breasts to signify the giving of milk, thus also invoking
Tammuz as the giver of milk.â•›13
The most recent and most extensive monograph on Israelite figurines was published by
Kletter in 1996. Though the main purpose of Kletter’s study was to posit a typology of the
JPFs, he also discussed the contexts and functions of the figurines. This study confirmed
the previously established hypothesis that, although the figurines came from different
contexts, they were mainly from domestic areas (1996: 62). In identifying the figurines,
Kletter (1996: 81) makes little reference to the actual iconography and favors identification
with Asherah on the basis of the biblical and extrabiblical sources:
The JPFs are not evidence of “popular religion”, if by this we mean the opposite to an
“official Yahwistic religion”. The Asherah was part of the Yahwistic religion, though she
was probably not as important as he was. The function of the Asherah figurines was
possibly as a protecting figure which bestowed “plenty”, especially in the domain of
female lives (but not necessarily used by women only).
A different position was presented by Meyers, Bloch-Smith, Moorey, and me (Meyers
1988: 161–63; Bloch-Smith 1992b: 99–100; Schmitt 1999: 51; 2004: 187–89; Moorey 2003:
58–67). Because the Judean pillar-figurines lack any divine iconographic symbol, such
as a crown, headdress, or other item, they are probably not representations of goddesses.
This is further supported by the so called Egyptian “concubine” figurines, which are ty-
pologically related to Iron Age plaque-types, they also lack divine symbolism, and they
were found in different contexts (both domestic and in temples), where they were used as
votive objects. Their function has been interpreted as evoking fertility in a more general
sense (see Ritner 2008: 181). According to Egyptian magical texts, female clay figurines
were also used as magical media in rituals supporting pregnancy and birth (see Borghouts
1971: no. 20; 1978: no. 48). It is therefore most likely that the Iron Age figurines from
Israel and Judah were used in accordance with the different contexts in which they were
found, for votive, symbolic, and magical purposes. Albertz (1994: 87) also considered a
magical function in the context of birth and fertility rituals, at the same time permitting
identification with a goddess. Moorey (2003: 63) summarizes the interpretations of the
Iron Age figurines thus: “These images from Israel and Judah, on present evidence, might
well be set within the wider Near Eastern repertoires of terracotta items in the mature
Iron Age, where such images are taken to represent members of the local communities
as supplicants or votaries rather than deities.” This is confirmed by the fact that, in the
contemporary coroplastic art of neighboring regions (namely Philistia, Ammon, Moab,
Edom, Phoenicia, and Syria), distinct figurines of deities with divine symbols, such as
Atef-crowns, were used alongside human representations. Distinction is particularly clear
within the Edomite coroplastic repertoire between representations of deities with divine
symbolism (see Beit-Arieh 1995: fig. 3.56: head of deity with horned crown; figs. 3.70–72:
goddess standing on animal), and human representations (such as supplicants, dancers, or
musicians; see Beit-Arieh 1995: figs. 3.76–79).
13.╇ The problem of transferring evidence from Mesopotamia to Iron Age Israel was not consid-
ered by ʾAmr, however; for critique, see Schmitt 1999: 46 n. 15.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 65
In summary, these interpretations and identifications reveal that the roles of the fe-
male figurines were as multipurposed ritual objects, predominantly in domestic and fu-
neral contexts. The multiple functions and purposes of the figurines may therefore be
summarized by referring to them as “votive objects” because, in all of these different con-
texts, they shared a common function as media for petitions and thanksgiving. However,
the relationship of the figurines to the general furnishings of a household, particularly
to other concrete objects such as pottery, is undetermined. Another aim of this book,
therefore, is to investigate the relationship of these figurines to assemblages of possible
domestic cult remains.
14.╇ A similar proposal was made by van der Toorn (2002: 54–56) concerning the so-called
schematic statues without recognizing that Iron Age male figurines have also been found in domes-
tic contexts.
15.╇ Holland (1977: fig. 1) lists 328 objects of his group D.
16.╇ Regarding the Transjordanian horses and riders, Dornemann (1983: 137–38) states, “It
would be difficult, in this light, to see in our figurines anything other than the representation of
local people as cavalrymen.”
66 Chapter 3
17.╇ This was also assumed by Moorey 2003: 63 and Cornelius 2007: 31–32. Both linked the
horse-and-rider figurines with the growing importance of cavalry in the late monarchic and (espe-
cially) Persian periods. For the horse as symbol of power, see Schmitt 2001: 127–28.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 67
18.╇ Holland (1977: fig. 1) lists 293 objects. Sixty specimens alone came from Ashdod, 50 from
Samaria, 47 from Megiddo, and 30 from Tell en-Naṣbeh. See also Ben-Shlomo 2008: 32–33.
19.╇See Karageorghis 1993: pls. 23.5b; 24.1; 25.1.
20.╇ Only one specimen from Amman is known. See Bloch-Smith 1992: 102.
68 Chapter 3
tion of cultic activities. It has been assumed that model shrines (without applied figurines)
were used as containers for terra-cotta figurines (Bretschneider 1991: 169), but because
no figurines have been found directly associated with them, we may presume that they
served as receptacles for small offerings. A special form is represented by the Tell Qasile
naos from Temple 131, where a temple facade is combined with terra-cotta plaque figu-
rines (A. Mazar 1980: fig. 20, pl. 30; Schmitt 1999: 633; cat. no. 112 ). Similar objects are
known from the Gaza region (Bretschneider 1991: cat. nos. 80, 81, 85 ). A unique group
is formed by the 120 exceptional miniature shrines and related objects from a Philistine
favissa found in Yavneh (Kletter and Ziffer 2007), with one typological parallel from Ash-
dod (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.75).
times having bowls attached to the top.â•›21 This group of objects has therefore generally
been interpreted to indicate ritual activities. This is particularly true for stands bearing
elaborate decorations and obvious religious motifs, such as the Taanach stands, although
they are extremely rare. However, the kind of ritual actions performed with the stands
remains a matter of conjecture. The stands have often been addressed as “incense burners”
(Amiran 1971: 262–63; for discussion, see A. Mazar 1980: 95–96; Zwickel 1994: 147–54;
Schmitt 1994: 17 n. 82). Because only a very few of them have revealed traces of burning,
however (see May 1935: pl. 20, P6056; Briend and Humbert 1980: pl. 51.6; A. Mazar 1980:
99, fig. 32; for discussion, see A. Mazar 1980: 95–96; Zwickel 1994: 147–54), a wholesale
interpretation of this group of objects as incense burners seems untenable. Iconographic
sources from Egypt and the ancient Near East indicate the stands to have been multipur-
pose ritual objects, such as libations and meal offerings, burning of incense and other aro-
matic material, and containers for sacred plants (with evidence for the latter only applying
to official or large-scale cults).â•›22 Simple, undecorated, flat stands may also have served
cultic purposes, but in most cases they were probably used as support for other items of
domestic pottery. One indisputable incense altar is the high candelabrium altar from a
small Iron Age II temple (B149) at Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine, Jordan.â•›23
21.╇ For example, Lachish Room 49; Megiddo Locus 2081; Tell Qasile temples (A. Mazar 1980:
pl. 32.1–5 from Temple 131; pl. 33.1–2 from shrine 300), Arad fortress temple (Herzog et al. 1984:
fig. 15), Dan Sanctuary (Biran 1994: figs. 133–34) and the Edomite shrines at Ḥorvat Qitmit (Beit-
Arieh 1995: figs. 3.1–14) and ʿEn Ḥazeva (Cohen and Yisrael 1996: pls. 11–12; Cohen and Yisrael
1997: figs. 2–3).
22.╇See Keel 1984: figs. 322, 440 (incense burning), 242, 375, 441, 442, 443 (libation), 91 (lamp
stand), 180 (flower pot), 288 (presentation of flowers), 459 (presentation of various offerings), 414
(stand for jugs), 487 (ritual cleansing). See also Collon 1988: 295, 811, 813, 833 (incense burner);
418, 822 (presentation of bread); 567, 826, 853 (flower pot with sacred tree in front of deity).
23.╇See Dion and Daviau 2000; Daviau 2007: 135 with fig. 7; see also below, p. 71.
24.╇ A nice example of an MBA (Middle Cypriot) kernos is shown by Gjerstad 1934: 137 and
pl. 34.
70 Chapter 3
including in finds from Megiddo Stratum III, Samaria, and Tell en-Naṣbeh (see A. Mazar
1980: 107–8). Kernoi are, however, particularly uncommon vessels. Both ring kernoi and
kernos bowls are clearly “nonutilitarian” vessels that are unlikely to serve any practical
purposes; rather, they seem designed for the pouring in and out of liquids for libation of-
ferings. As highly complex and rare vessels, kernoi may also be interpreted as markers of
status when associated with domestic assemblages.
Room 49, and potential domestic cult sites such as Megiddo Locus 2081 do not differ
greatly in scale,â•›25 while domestic altars are generally smaller, such as the 24-cm-high ex-
ample from Beersheba Str. VII (Herzog 1984: fig.€25.18). Typical miniature altars have
been found at Tell Beit Mirsim, 11 cm in height, and at Gezer, 9 cm in height (Zwickel
1990: 115). Altars used in domestic contexts as well as in work-related contexts such as is
the case in Tel Miqne were generally portable and evidently did not comprise any parts
of permanent installations. The small altars were evidently not suited for animal offerings
and may have been used for burning incense or small dry offerings, such as bread or fruits,
as well as for libations. A remarkable object in this context is the 0.96-m-high candela-
brum altar found in the small temple 149 at Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine (Dion and Daviau 2000;
2007: 135, fig.€7) and inscribed ליסף בת אות/ מקטר אׁשmqṭr ʾš ʿlšm / lysp bt ʾwt ‘the incense
altar that Elishama made for YSP, the daughter of ʾWT’.
Cube-shaped incense altars or incense boxes, which were often decorated, were prom-
inent in Judah between the Iron IIC and Persian periods but have also been found along
the coast and in Transjordan (Stern 1982: 182–86; Zwickel 1990: 74–109, distribution table
on p. 75; Daviau 2007). This class of objects has been widely interpreted as having served
domestic cult functions (see Zwickel 1990: 89). At the Edomite shrines from Ḥorvat Qit-
mit and ʿEn Ḥazeva (Beit-Arieh 1995: fig. 6.5; Cohen and Yisrael 1996: fig. 122a, b; Cohen
and Yisrael 1997: 84, fig. 2), as well as from Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine (Daviau 2007: 128–29),
cube-shaped incense altars and other small types of stone alters have also been found in
association with other public cultic structures. At Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine, larger shaft altars
and smaller incense boxes have also been found in domestic and industrial structures
(Daviau 2007: 128–29).
25.╇ The two Arad altars are 51 and 30 cm high, the Lachish altar is 45 cm, and the Megiddo
Locus 2081 altars are 46 and 30 cm high.
72 Chapter 3
3.2.2.1.╇“Collectibles”
Under the term collectibles are subsumed all kinds of nonutilitarian or unusual ob-
jects, worked or unworked, such as semiprecious stones of different shapes or otherwise
rendered attractive, shells, and so on. These objects obviously had some personal value,
and in some cases probably also served as markers of social status—for example, ostrich
eggs or worked tridacna shells. Single beads and pendants may also be categorized in this
group. Category B objects may be presumed to have served ritual purposes in cases where
they have been found in a distinct assemblage that included category A objects (see also
Daviau 2001: 219–20). Collectibles including unusual stones, slag, shells, corals, fossils,
and unusually dressed stones were found in a clear cultic context at the Late Bronze/early
Iron Age sanctuary at Timnah in the Wadi Arabah, where they were presumed to have
been used as votives (Rothenberg 1973: 184–85, T.99, 100, 105–8).
3.2.2.5.╇Lamps
Lamps of different types, including the cup-and-saucer type, are common household
items. Because they have also been present in assemblages from caves (Bloch-Smith 1992b:
73) and temples (Lachish Room 49, Megiddo Room 340), they may also be presumed to
have had some symbolic meaning by virtue of their light or specialized ritual uses aside
from their utilitarian purpose (also Daviau 2001: 211).
3.2.2.6.╇Rattles
Rattles in the form of a pottery cylinder or spindle filled with pottery pellets or small
stones have frequently been found in burials (Tufnell 1953: 376; Bloch-Smith 1992: 102–
3) but rarely in domestic assemblages.â•›26 Rattles must therefore have had some kind of
ritual function in the context of funerary rites. However, because they were also found in
Jerusalem Cave 1, rattles may have had other ritual purposes as well.
26.╇ Rattles as part of domestic assemblages were found in Kinneret and Tell en-Naṣbeh. See
table 3.9 (pp. 502–504).
74 Chapter 3
A long bench was found in the southern part of a partially excavated room (Locus
69) of approximately 8 × 3 m, which also had a platform in the western corner (Locus
65). The bench was associated with an assemblage that included one horse figurine, one
bovine figurine, a fenestrated stand, a chalice-like stand (category A), a bowl with a row of
knobs, a lamp (category B), a jug and fragments of storage jars, as well as two beads and a
number of clay balls.â•›28 Several more pots were found in Locus 69, but unfortunately, their
types were not specified, nor was their relationship with the assemblage of the bench.â•›29
According to Amiran, the fenestrated stand was located on the platform proper, along
with the chalice stand, jug, and bowl that stood in front of it, as shown in Zevit’s recon-
struction.â•›30 This reconstruction of several rows of objects is naturally tentative. My own
reconstruction is shown in fig. 3.1 (p. 76).â•›31 The character of the assemblage, in closely
resembling Megiddo Room 2081 and Lachish Room 49,â•›32 as well as the benches and a
kind of channel leading from the platform to the east led Zevit (2001: 154–55) to consider
it a cultic place, with an entrance from road 41 on the west and the channel as a run-off
for sacrificial liquids. The room was only partly excavated, however, and this conclusion
thus remains uncertain. If it is correct, then Rooms 65/69 could well have comprised a
neighborhood shrine integrated within the domestic area. If, however, the assemblage was
28.╇ Marquet-Krause 1949: pl. 74.1052 (stand), 1054 (chalice), 1055 (bowl), 1072 (jug), 1071
(lamp and storage jar, no drawings published), 1058, 1068, 1082, 1083 (unspecified pottery); pl. 40.2:
no. 1051 (horse?), 1051 (beads), 1072 II (balls). See also the reconstruction of Zevit 2001: 153.
29.╇ Marquet-Krause 1949: 1048, 1063.
30.╇ Zevit 2001: fig. 3.16 (based on personal communication with Ruth Amiran, who partici-
pated in the excavation).
31.╇ Drawn after Marquet-Krause 1949: pls. 97.799, 40.2.
32.╇ See below, pp. 134–137.
76 Chapter 3
a purely domestic cult assemblage, then Loci 65/69 may be the back room of a four-room
house. In this case, the assemblage would be comparable with the Megiddo Stratum VI
domestic cult assemblages. However, considering both the character of the assemblage
and its association with its surrounding architecture and installations, the objects and
installations were quite likely associated with permanent ritual actions involving libations.
The entire structure was thus most likely a neighborhood shrine, rather than a domestic
cult installation.
33.╇ Compiled after Levy and Edelstein 1972: pl. 19; figs. 13.10, 16, 19; 14.1, 5; 15.1–6; 16.12.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 77
Fig. 3.2.╇ Tel ʿAmal: Stand, zoomorphic spout, and pottery from Locus 12.
The second assemblage comes from the partially excavated Room 36 in north-western
squares M/L 5/6. This room contained a stand with a separate bowl, a juglet, and a krater
(fig. 3.3).â•›34 The adjacent Room 34 contained an oven and a bench with a depression that
was covered with a basalt plate. The pottery consisted mostly of storage vessels. The entire
structure was interpreted by the excavators as a facility for the production, processing,
and dying of textiles. The ritual objects were most likely connected with these industrial
activities.
Fig. 3.3.╇ Tel ʿAmal: Stand and pottery from Locus 36.
excavations are of great importance, because the Str. II domestic units were buried under
debris (most likely following destruction by the Babylonians in approximately 600), and
the well-preserved pottery assemblages from domestic and other units were published
together and partly mapped. Cultic significance was supposed in Stratum II (7th century)
Area E, Unit 914 (Loci, 933, 914, 931, 910a), because Locus 910a, which yielded two chal-
ices (category B), could be interpreted as a cultic platform within a niche (fig. 3.4).â•›35 The
adjacent Locus 914 yielded a fragment from a zoomorphic spout and a fragment from
an anthropomorphic vessel (category A), as well as a limestone vat.â•›36 The category A and
B objects point to libation offerings. Building 607 had a limestone object that was inter-
preted as an altar (Locus 919),â•›37 although there was no pottery directly associated with
it.â•›38 The rich assemblage in adjacent Locus 607 had several miniature vessels, although
they were not obviously associated with one another.â•›39 Directly to the west of Building
607, Building 608 had four chalicesâ•›40 but no other objects suggestive of cultic activities.
Some objects of possible cultic significance were scattered in Room 778, among which
were one simple stand, miniature juglets, miniature goblets, beads and pendants (all cat-
egory B), and several juglets.â•›41 The cultic character of this assemblage remains uncertain,
because no category A objects were found. On and beneath a pebble floor (Loci E624 and
E705, respectively) of a Stratum III (8th century) room, three molds for plaque figurines
of the Phoenician type were found.â•›42 This interesting find suggests possible industrial
35.╇A. Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: 4–5, pl. 56.1–2; A. Mazar 1997: Plan of Areas D and E,
Str. II.
36.╇ A. Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 56.4, 5, 9.
37.╇ The unusual shape of the object (see A. Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 75.11), however,
makes this interpretation questionable.
38.╇ See Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: fig. 13.
39.╇ Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 75.11, 15–17.
40.╇ Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 65.1–4.
41.╇ See Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pls. 38.1, 8, 17, 18; 39.7–9.
42.╇ Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: 203–8; pl. 30.1–3.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 79
production of figurines in what would otherwise seem to have been a domestic context.
Surprisingly, however, no figurines were found that could have been cast in these molds.
Fig. 3.5.╇ Beersheba, Stratum III: Location of objects from Loci 844 and 859.
82 Chapter 3
bowl;â•›44 glass objects, including a Phoenician-style head;â•›45 stone objects, including a Neo-
Assyrian cylinder seal and an uncarved cylinder seal;â•›46 and two ostrich eggs (category B
“collectibles”).â•›47 Another assemblage yielded Stratum II Room 859, about 5 m northeast
of the hoard of Locus 844. The material consists of a pedestal, upon which sat a faience
animal or Sphinx figurine; a bone amulet (category A); a fragment of a decorated spout of
bone (category B); and a jug (category C).â•›48 The content of the hoards and their locations
are shown in fig. 3.5.â•›49 The two hoards of category A and B objects seem to have been part
of a collection of votive objects once belonging together that were stored or arranged on
the second floor of the adjacent house. Although these hoards provide interesting evi-
dence, they are comparably unique and atypical for cultic ensembles of Iron Age IIC. Al-
though assemblages of vessels and models of furniture (see below) are quite common,
assemblages of exotic and foreign objects and objects of bronze are rather uncommon and
likely belonged to a family of some wealth. In addition to their religious significance, the
roles of these objects as markers of status must also be considered. Furthermore, attribu-
tion of this hoard to an upper story is an assumption that contrasts with most other mate-
rial from Beersheba, which is known to have originated on ground floors.
The most complete assemblage of objects including pottery comes from a house con-
sisting of Loci numbered 48, 46, 25, and 22. The assemblage from Locus 25 (the pillared
room on the right wing off the entrance) consists of one JPF, a model of a chair (category
A), and a miniature lamp on a stand (category B). The pottery consists of four cooking
pots, two bowls, two juglets, and a jar (fig. 3.6).â•›50 Another fragment of a figurine was found
in Locus 48.â•›51 The assemblage suggests cultic activities associated with the production and
consumption of food. The published plans suggest no particular relationship with a bench
situated in an adjacent courtyard (contra Willett 1999: 147–48).
In a pillared building on the peripheral street (Locus 808), a zoomorphic vessel was
found together with a model of a couch (category A) and a juglet (fig. 3.7).â•›52 Northwest
of the house, a small incense altar was unearthed.â•›53 Another house, containing Loci num-
bered 430, 443, and 442, though not a consistent assemblage, yielded a JPF and another
model of a chair from the room adjacent to the street (443); two limestone altars from the
pillared room (442); and a spouted bowl from the court or central hall (430) (fig. 3.8).â•›54
Although the presence of the small altars by themselves does not necessarily indicate that
the locus served as a household shrine, it certainly served ritual purposes.
Subsequent excavations unearthed a unique Iron IIC figurine, which comes from an
Iron IIC context (Locus 3622), most likely from an open courtyard adjoining a house
44.╇ Aharoni 1973: pls. 24.6–5; 25.3.
45.╇ Aharoni 1973: pl. 24.4.
46.╇ Aharoni 1973: pls. 26.1–3; 24.2.
47.╇ Aharoni 1973: pl. 25.1–2.
48.╇ Aharoni 1973: pls. 23.3; 24.1, 5; 44.8 .
49.╇ Compiled after Aharoni 1973: pls. 22–26, 84.
50.╇Y. Aharoni 1973: pls. 71.1–6; 70.16–21; Plan: pl. 94. See also Holladay 1987: 276.
51.╇ Aharoni 1973: description of pl. 73; no image available.
52.╇ Aharoni 1973: pls. 28.2, 6; 45.4; Plan: pl. 84.
53.╇ Aharoni 1973: pl. 52.6.
54.╇ Aharoni 1973: pls. 52.1–2; 27.6; 28.5; 75.5; Plan: pl. 83. See also Holladay 1987: 276.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 83
Fig. 3.6.╇ Beersheba, Stratum III: Objects and pottery from Locus 25.
84 Chapter 3
(Kletter and Herzog 2003). The figurine shows features typical of an animal figurine, al-
though the head is of the same type as common Iron IIC pillar-figurines (fig. 3.9).â•›55 The
figurine has some parallels in Cypro-Geometric specimens but perhaps may also be as-
sociated with sphinx or cherub-like beings found on contemporary seals.â•›56 The object is
therefore perhaps best interpreted as an apotropaic or guardian figurine.
The early Iron Age strata did not yield particularly rich finds, although they did sug-
gest cultic activities in domestic areas. A fragment of a zoomorphic figurine was found
in a courtyard behind Stratum VI House 2072,â•›57 although this was not associated with
the assemblage of pottery and objects found in Room 2072 proper. Both the kernos-ring
fragment from a room (2310) in the right wing of Building 2523â•›58 and the torso of a fe-
male figurineâ•›59 found in a building outside the enclosed settlement (Locus 1327) were
unassociated with any of the pottery or other artifacts.
60.╇ Compare with Albright and Kelso 1968: nos. 1004, 1008, 10014 (no drawings published),
1025, 1026, 1034, 1037, 1038, 1085, and 1151.
61.╇See Albright 1943: 162–205; Kletter 1996: 166.
62.╇ Albright 1943: SN 1803 and 1468 from SE 13A/A2 together with three additional fragments
(1804, 1805, 1808).
63.╇ Albright 1943: pls. 23.17 (SN 500); 15.14, §51 (SN 2574).
64.╇ Albright 1943: pl. 31.11 +SN 1329 in Silo SE 13–32; SN 2450+2295 in cistern NW 32–10.
See also Kletter 1996: 63.
86 Chapter 3
65.╇ Albright 1943: §38; pl. 6; SN 2031, 2032 (no drawing in report), 2396, 2404, 2574, 2848.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 87
ear pendant, a lamp (category B), some fragments of domestic pottery, and a javelin head
(fig. 3.11).â•›66 Another house (NW 22-13, 22-14, 22-15) contained the head and base of a
pillar-figurine, a zoomorphic vessel (category A), a miniature lamp with stand, a cosmetic
palette (category B), and a rubbing stone. The utilitarian pottery that was reported con-
sisted of a cooking pot, a jug, and a juglet (fig. 3.12).â•›67 Though this was a locus of mixed
content, the presence of several anthropoâ•‚ and zoomorphic pottery objects suggests their
possible use in the back room of the house, even though associations between objects
cannot be established with any confidence. Several additional loci containing utilitarian
pottery also yielded category A objects, but their association with the larger finds remains
unclear.â•›68 Taken as a whole, Tell Beit Mirsim reveals clear evidence for the domestic use of
pillarâ•‚ and animal figurines and, in one case, possible cultic finds in the industrial complex.
66.╇ Albright 1943: pl. 6; SN 2313, 2316, 2319, 2408, 2539, 2699. The pottery consists of bowls
(2332, 2495, 2497) and a small pot (2608); there are no drawings of the animal figurine and the ape
head in the report.
67.╇ Albright 1943: pl. 6; SN 1552–1555; 1817; 1524; 1563; 1570.
68.╇ Albright 1943: SE 24B (SN 1229 bull figurine, 1230 carved bone object with female face); SE
13 A11 (947 pottery rattle, 948 animal figurine).
88 Chapter 3
Lower Level VI (Iron Age IA, the last phase of Egyptian dominance) Locus 1342 can
be assigned to buildings west of the temple. Several ovens indicate that the area was of a
domestic character (James 1966: 16–17). Many jars were recorded, which suggests that the
room also served storage purposes. Six saucer bowls were found in the locus, along with
three deep bowls, two strainer jugs, one jug, two alabaster pyxides, and a clay object with
internal tubes that was most likely a casting mold for metal.â•›69 In addition to the utilitar-
ian pottery, two fragmentary kernoi, a fragment of a limestone figurine, faience objects,
and scarabs with the names of Thutmoses III and Ramses II (category A) were found.â•›70
This assemblage of category A objects, mixed in with category C objects (storage and con-
sumption of food and liquid), along with the mold are suggestive of work-related cultic
activities involving libations and—presuming the scarabs to be more than just a chance
find—also votive practices.
Partial evidence for domestic cultic activities comes from the Israelite stratum Up-
per Level V, traditionally dated to Iron Age IIA (Finkelstein 1996a proposed an Omridic
date), but lingering uncertainties over many aspects of the function and layout of the
rooms prevent firm conclusions. Upper Level V (Iron IIA) Locus 1564 was a room of
indefinite boundaries containing installations of unknown—although potentially indus-
trial—purpose. The room included a bull’s head and torso, the head of a female figurine,
a bird figurine (category A), and an 11-cm-long ivory object (category B) that was most
likely a whirring instrument. â•›71 The pottery of the ground level, which was mixed in with
earlier and later material, contained fragments of two red burnished stands (category A),
69.╇ James 1966: figs. 77; 57.1–2, 4–7, 9–12, 14–17; 58.2, 4, 13, 14.
70.╇ James 1966: 17.
71.╇ James 1966: fig. 114.2—here classified as a boomerang.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 89
Fig. 3.13.╇ Beth-shean, Upper Level V: Figurines and stand from Locus 1564.
a lentoid flask, and a false spout of an oil jar (category C). Other pottery was reported
to be from this room, although whether it came from Locus 1564 proper is unclear. The
published material is shown in fig. 3.13.â•›72 Considered together, the assemblage suggests
the performance of libation and votive activities and some sort of practice involving the
whirring instrument.
Upper Level V (Iron IIA) Locus 1557 forms, along with Loci 62 and 63, an Iron Age
storehouse near the gate. The reported pottery (category C) consists of a single storage
jar from Locus 1557 proper and two juglets from Rooms 62 and 63. Two heads of female
72.╇ James 1966: figs. 112.1–2 (the bird figurine is only mentioned in the text on p. 93.), 31.28
(second stand not illustrated), 41.32.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 91
Fig. 3.14.╇ Beth-shean, Level IV: Pottery and Objects from Loci 293 (nos. 1–7) and
298€(8–14).
figurines were also found there, along with the head of a horse figurine (category A).â•›73
From the indefinite area of Locus 1549 (Upper Level V, Iron IIA) a female figurine (cate-
gory A), a cup and saucer, a saucer lamp (category B), and a spinning bowl (category C)
were recorded.â•›74
The architectural remains of the Iron IIB Level IV were in relatively poor condition.
Nevertheless, some evidence was reported that is suggestive of domestic cult assemblages.
Locus 293, a room above the level of the Stratum V temple, yielded a tripod incense burner
(category A), two cooking pots, and a jar.â•›75 The adjacent Locus 298, though still unclear
in terms of its stratigraphic relation to Locus 293, yielded a stand with an associated bowl,
an object that appeared to be the leg of a zoomorphic figurine or vessel (category A),
four bowls, one jar, and one jug.â•›76 Both assemblages are shown in fig. 3.14. From Level
IV Locus 1506, which was not possible to characterize but was perhaps a passage,â•›77 a tri-
pod censer cup and a bottle were recorded.â•›78 The often insufficient reports in the original
publications of the material from Beth-shean notwithstanding, the evidence accords with
general observations about cultic assemblages. Libation vessels tend to predominate in
ensembles from Iron Age IB–IIA, whereas ensembles from Iron IIB, relatively speaking,
contain more incense burners. Both the earlier and the Iron IIB assemblages suggest that
votive practices with figurines were involved.
mouth jar, two stone pounders, and a pick.â•›86 A third JPF head was found in the adjacent
Locus 374.â•›87
Level II Locus 343 was a room with a pottery oven, containing the upper torso of a
JPF, including a head, along with a lotus amulet (category A), chalice (category B), juglet,
storage jar, “pot,” two jars, and a small flask from the west of the locus.â•›88
Level II Locus 321 was identified by the excavators as a room with a winepress installa-
tion. Several vessels were observed, including zoomorphic ones, although not specified. A
vessel in the shape of a pig was described, although it is unclear whether it was associated
with the winepress.â•›89
Level II Locus 305 contained two circular stone vats and loom weights, suggesting a
room used for the production and dyeing of textiles. A JPF was found here together with
four juglets, a basalt mortar and pestle, fragments of cooking pots, a jar, and a hole-mouth
jar.â•›90
Remaining uncertainties in the original publications notwithstanding, the evidence
from Beth-shemesh shows that JPFs, zoomorphic vessels, and figurines were used both
in the food preparation areas and in workshops or industrial installations. The observed
patterns, predominantly of votive objects, are typical of Iron IIC domestic cult remains
found at other places such as Beersheba, Tell Beit Mirsim, and Tell en-Naṣbeh. These finds
highlight the important observation that JPFs were also produced in domestic contexts.
One remarkable find from the renewed excavations came from a Level II pillared
house in Area E (“Fred’s House”); it is a bowl incised with qdš ‘holy’ that was discovered
in the context of utilitarian pottery, household utensils, and loom weights (Manor 2009).
The excavators interpreted this find as evidence of a priest’s house, but the incised bowl
may have been used for offerings in the context of domestic cult practices maintained by
the family.
Fig 3.15.╇ ʿEin Gev, Stratum III: Pottery and objects from Locus 11.
a funnel (fig. 3.15).â•›91 The adjacent Locus 23, which belonged to the same room, yielded
two jugs, two store jars, and a hole-mouth jar. The excavators proposed that the room was
used for cultic purposes.â•›92 However, the character of the pottery assemblage is more sug-
gestive of storing liquids and foods. It seems plausible, therefore, that the room was used
for storage and that ritual objects were stored elsewhere, along with other storage vessels.â•›93
The category A and B objects (that is, the incense burner and other “collectibles,” includ-
ing a model of an axe, a square bone pendant, and a worked bone) suggest the offering of
incense and votive rituals.
several interesting Iron IIA domestic cult remains, among which were four miniature
shrines or fragments of them. Unfortunately, only two of them had clear contextual
associations.
An almost complete model shrine was found together with a jug, two pyxides, and
two metal objects in a pit (Locus 241) belonging to Stratum VIIb (10th century b.c.e.), in
Building 149a, which indicates that it was used in the same house (fig. 3.16).â•›94
Stratum VIIb House 440 yielded exceptionally rich finds, including a fragmentary
model shrine in the pillared Room 439 east of the entrance, which was found together
with a millstone.â•›95 Courtyard 440 of the house yielded the torso of a pregnant woman,
a figurine of a horse (category A), a gaming piece (category B), an arrow head, a blade,
an alabaster pendant, five beads, one jug, one juglet, two bowls, and one small bowl.â•›96 A
second female figurine was found north of the courtyard in Room 460.â•›97 A sample of the
finds is shown in fig. 3.17.â•›98 The presence of an oven indicates that the material from Lo-
cus 440 may have been directly associated with the preparation and consumption of food.
The domestic character of these finds therefore provides a strong argument against the
interpretation of House 440 as a shrine (Dever 2005: 115–16).
94.╇ Chambon 1984: 118; Plan 2; pls. 66.2; 58.24; 60.12, 19.
95.╇ Chambon 1984: 136; pls. 66.2; 78.4.
96.╇ Chambon 1984: 137; pls. 63.4; 65.3; 67.16; 68.5; 69.11; 73.9; 74.7; 48.10; 51.15; 56.15; 57.37;
58.3.
97.╇ Chambon 1984: pl. 63.2.
98.╇ Compiled after Chambon 1984: pl. 11 and notes above.
96 Chapter 3
Room 437, the pillared room in the right wing of House 436 (Stratum VIIb), yielded
an appliqué that was most likely part of another pottery shrine (fig. 3.18), although no
pottery or other objects were associated with it.â•›99
Locus 429A (Stratum VIIc, early 9th century b.c.e.) was most likely a broad room at
the back of a four-room house that was only partially excavated and contained a censer-
cup of category A together with a small cooking pot and a bowl (fig. 3.19).â•›100
House 176 (also Stratum VIIb) yielded a zoomorphic spout (category A), a game piece,
and a miniature juglet (category B) from the pillared Room 174 in the right wing.â•›101 The
assemblage suggests libation practices.
House 161 (Stratum VIIb) suffered a violent destruction that even reduced the skel-
etons to debris.â•›102 Of particular interest are the contents and installations of Room 157.
This was one of the rear rooms, which was accessible both from Room 156 and from the
courtyard. It contained two benches, one to the right and one in the left corner. The pot-
tery consisted of a storage jar, three jugs, two small jugs, three juglets, two cooking pots,
and a lamp.â•›103 Several other objects were found in association with the pottery, including a
game piece, three metal tools, a bead, and four pieces of mills and millstones (fig. 3.20).â•›104
The reconstruction of the places where these objects were found indicates that not all
were situated on the benches. Chambon interpreted Room 157 as an artisan’s studio.â•›105
Fig. 3.19.╇ Tell el-Fārʿah, Stratum VIIc: Pottery from Locus 429A.
Although benches sometimes served cultic purposes, there were no category A objects as-
sociated with the assemblage, making a cultic interpretation unlikely. The room was most
likely used for the storage and preparation—but not consumption—of food. Conditions
can be described similarly with regard to the alcove-like installations interpreted by Wil-
lett (1999: 133) as cultic niches. These were more likely to have served domestic purposes,
since no category A objects were directly associated with the structures.
Tell el-Fārʿah yielded several features typical of Iron IIA (or perhaps B) structures,
such as model shrines, which were uncommon in later, Iron IIB and IIC contexts. One
feature was atypical for Iron IIA assemblages, which is the relatively large number of hu-
man figurines, but this may have been because they were a local speciality.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 99
Fig. 3.20.╇ Tell el-Fārʿah, Stratum VIIb, House 161: Contents of Room 157 as mapped in
excavation report: 1611: game piece; 1656: jug; 1610: jug; 1743: jug; 1609: juglet; 1608:
juglet; 1607: juglet; 1604: how; 1605: pickax.
106.╇ Dever 1974: pl. 41.2; Dever and Lance and Wright 1970: pl. 37.9 (zoomorphic vessel); 36.3
(Ashdoda, here classified as a model couch; for the Ashdoda-figurines, see Schmitt 1999: 608–19).
100 Chapter 3
(Seger 1983: 19–20; 1993: 554). Ten JPFs, a horse-and-rider figurine, and a zoomorphic
figurine were uncovered there. Some of these came from mass-loci pits, although several
came from distinct domestic units of the Iron Age II (Stratum VIB) layer that was associ-
ated with the destruction by Sennacharib in 701.â•›107 The material was published in several
preliminary reports and an internet database of the Cobb Institute of Archaeology (Mis-
sissippi State University) and is suitable for the reconstruction of several assemblages as-
sociated with the figurines and other ritual objects.â•›108
Field IV, Area G8, Locus G8005 is part of a four-room pillared house (known as the
“northern house”), the floors of which were covered with the debris of a burned build-
ing, effectively protecting the finds. The so-called shrine room was originally part of a
broad room in the pillared house, which was subsequently divided into two chambers,
moving the entrance to the southeastern end, thus creating a long chamber measuring
2.25 × 7 m.â•›109 The assemblage included the head of a JPF,â•›110 a fenestrated stand, two carved
and polished limestone blocks lying north and south of the stand, a pomegranate jug, a
black jug, and a juglet (figs. 3.21–23).â•›111 The assemblage led the excavators to posit the
existence of some sort of house shrine in Locus 8005, with the two limestone blocks func-
tioning as maṣṣebôt.â•›112 The predominance of utilitarian pottery such as storage jars sug-
gests a store room that also contained material for occasional cultic use, although not a
permanent shrine-like installation. The assemblage of distinctly cultic objects intermixed
with common household and storage pottery suggests the occasional consumption of cul-
tic meals (Jacobs 2001: iv). However, the idea that the two limestone blocks functioned as
maṣṣebôt is questionable, since portable maṣṣebôt have not been found in domestic units
elsewhere. The limestone blocks were most likely simple altars for the presentation of of-
ferings or the placement of vessels containing offerings.
Field IV, Area F8, Locus F8007 is the adjacent room to the north of the purported
cultic structure. This locus also represents a destruction layer that may have contained ob-
jects from the second floor or the rooftop.â•›113 Among common domestic pottery materials
(including an amphoriskos, two jugs, and five bowls),â•›114 the torso of a JPF was found. Field
IV, Area F7, Locus 7002 belongs to the debris of the northern building of Field IV. The de-
bris again consisted of material supposedly from the second floor. Besides pottery vessels,
this material consisted of JPF fragment 2732 (category A), a scarab, a scaraboid, a hematite
mace-head, and a bone disc.â•›115 The pottery predominantly consisted of utilitarian items
such as jars, pithoi, bowls, kraters, cooking pots, lamps, jugs, and juglets, as well as stone
tools such as grinders for the processing of food.â•›116
Field IV, Area L8, Locus 8005 was the “southern house” that contained JPF torso 1894
that was discovered in the destruction debris of a domestic unit containing ash and frag-
ments of the charred beams of the roof. The pottery consisted of a large number of bowls,
a platter bowl, a small bowl, two juglets, two lamps, and a jar.â•›117 It has been supposed that
the figurine and the pottery originated from the second floor of the building.â•›118 Field IV,
Area K8, Locus 8002 belongs to same house as L8 above, in which four figurine fragments
(JPF Torso 2726, the horse-and-rider fragment 1912, the JPF pinched head 2162, and the
JPF neck fragment 2726) were found that may have originated from the second floor. The
pottery consisted of a variety of typical household items, including storage jars, pithoi,
lamps, jugs, juglets, bowls, cooking pots, decanters, kraters, pitchers, and a large-mouth
dipper.â•›119 The pottery assemblage together with household tools such as grinding stones
indicate that a variety of domestic activities were conducted on the second floor.â•›120
The evidence from Loci L8005, K8002, F7002, and F8007 reveals an association be-
tween the figurines and the typical household items. Moreover, although the second floor
was used for domestic activities including the preparation and storage of food, the frag-
ments found there suggest that cultic activities may also have occurred.
Additional evidence comes from Field II (Stratum VII), where two fenestrated stands
were discovered in a domestic unit along with large grinding installations (Seger 1983:
10), again revealing an association between ritual and domestic activities.
Other noteworthy finds among the early Iron Age (Iron Age I) remains include the
torso of a (legless) female figurine with modeled breasts, an incised decoration on her
back, and a punctuated pattern on the body that indicated the vaginal area (Dessel 1988).
This unique figurine was found in a stone-lined and -plastered bin that had been filled
with ash and bones. Whether the object had been used in a ritual or simply thrown away
was not discernible. The figurine is one of very few Iron I examples found in Judah to date.
Fig. 3.24.╇ Hazor: Isometric reconstruction of temple 3283 (after Zevit 2001: fig. 3.42).
platform with benches running along the western, eastern, and southern walls. An un-
usual banana-shaped stone stood in a socket in the southwestern corner of the southern
platform.â•›121 Beneath the pavement, a hoard of bronze objects was excavated inside a jug,
among which was the figurine of a seated deity.â•›122 This locus also yielded an assemblage
that included a stand, a chalice-like stand, a cooking pot, a storage jar, a lamp, an ivory
handle, four basalt bowls, and pestles.â•›123 Locus 3275, which was a room or courtyard south
of Locus 3283, contained a stand in the form of a big chalice with a fenestrated body, a
bowl, a tripod bowl, a cooking pot, a krater, and a storage jar.â•›124 Within the same area but
121.╇ Ben-Tor 1996; see also Ben-Ami 2006: 125–27. This evidence was not published in the
final report (Ben-Tor 1989). See Zevit 2001: 202–3, with n. 129.
122.╇ Yadin 1961: pl. 205; Ben-Tor 1989: 80–81. See Zevit 2001: 202–5.
123.╇ Yadin 1961: pls. 203.4, 10, 16, 21; 204.4, 12; 206.5–6, 9–13, 15–16.
124.╇ Yadin 1961: pls. 204.1, 2; 203.2, 6, 9, 17, 22.
104 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.25.╇ Hazor, Area A: Pottery and objects from Loci 48 (left) and 47a (right).
west of the cult room itself (Locus 3307), a fenestrated stand, a stand with handles, a bowl,
and a store jar were found.â•›125 A reconstruction of the structure with its associated finds
is shown in fig. 3.24.â•›126 The structure has been interpreted as a cultic building because of
its architectural features and the associated finds, particularly the bronze hoard, which
was considered a foundation deposit (Ben-Tor 1989: 80–81; Yadin 1993: 601–2; Zevit
2001: 202–5). This cultic interpretation was challenged by Zwickel (1994: 251–53), who
argued that the pottery in Room 3283 was predominantly domestic and that the building
should therefore be considered a domestic building. Accordingly, the other structures
of this alleged cultic area should also be considered domestic in nature. However, the
standing stone—details of which had not been published prior to Zwickel’s work—the
bench, and the category A objects from Loci 3275, 3283, and 3307 (including at least five
stands) support the theory that the building and its adjacent structures were a shrine with
a maṣṣebāh, rather than a domestic building. Because the building seems not to have been
integrated within a domestic quarter, and because it had a courtyard, it is likely to have
been a village shrine.
A second small sanctuary from the Iron I period that was of a different type was un-
covered during the recent excavation at Hazor (Ben-Ami 2006). The installation in Locus
Fig. 3.26.╇ Hazor, Area A: Pottery and mask from Locus 44.
80019, which was most likely an open cult place, consisted of a roughly rectangular basalt
standing stone of 0.7 × 0.5 m, with three additional stone slabs east and south of it that
may have served as offering tables. On the right side of the standing stone, a circular
installation comprising ten stones of approximately 0.4 m in diameter was excavated, al-
though no evidence of burning or traces of ash were found inside. Remnants of a wall
and a pavement were also discovered north of the maṣṣebāh (Locus 8018). In pits about
2 m east of the paved area, a fragmentary zoomorphic vessel (a spout) and an assemblage
of three (miniature) bowls, five cooking pots, a pithos, a jug, two flasks, and a pyxis were
found. The assemblage from these pits is identical in composition to contemporary do-
mestic assemblages. Assuming the pottery to have been associated with the structure, we
may posit that ritual practices conducted here consisted primarily of libations, for which
perhaps the circular structure was used as a libation tray.
Little evidence for domestic cult activities was found in the Iron IIB residential quar-
ters. Room 48 at the back of a Stratum VI pillared house also consisting of Rooms 63,
47a, and 35a yielded the spout of a zoomorphic vessel (category A), three jugs (one of
which was a decorated Cypro-Phoenician jug), one cooking pot, one bowl, and a spindle
whorl.â•›127 Locus 47a contained a carved ivory handle depicting a four-winged protective
deity as well as an assemblage of typical domestic pottery, including two bowls, two cook-
ing pots, a krater, and two juglets (fig. 3.25).â•›128 Within a domestic building consisting of
four rooms of irregular layout (Area A, Stratum V, Loci 13–16, 44), a decorated fenestrated
stand was found, together with the fragment of a mask (category A), a jug, and a store jar
in back room (Geva 1989: 46: closed courtyard) 44 (fig. 3.26).â•›129 Pottery remains in the
other rooms were in poor condition or were (mostly) missing. Because Stratum V was
destroyed by the Assyrians in 732, the stand and the mask fragment suggest an assemblage
that may once have been somewhat larger (see also Geva 1989: 46). The mask could have
been used in divination or necromantic practices of some sort. Another fragment of a
mask was found situated among storage vessels in a room (3102a) that had a built-on silo
in a citadel.â•›130
An assemblage was excavated from one of the towers (239a) within the six-chambered
gate of Stratum IX–X. It included a fragment of a zoomorphic vessel (a spout), 12 bowls,
2 Cypro-Phoenician juglets, 2 jugs, 2 lamps, 2 cups with saucers, and a basalt bowl
(fig. 3.27).â•›131 This assemblage consisted mostly of vessels for the storage and consumption
of food and drink, which were probably associated with the presumably official character
of the gate complex. It can safely be concluded that the assemblage was used by the guards
of the gate for meals and, on other occasions, for drinking or libations.
The evidence for religious domestic activities in the residential quarter in Hazor is
admittedly small. Nevertheless, the presence of ritual objects and figurative material coun-
ters Geva’s thesis that the inhabitants were not religiously inclined and did not observe
religious practices (1989: 110). On the contrary, the material from Hazor fits quite well
with the general evidence for Iron IIB domestic cult activities, which consists of libation
vessels that were used along with common household items for ritual practices in the con-
text of consuming food and drink.
Although quite a number of category A and B objects were found in the citadel, in-
cluding several figurines, anthropoâ•‚ and zoomorphic vessels,â•›132 and a delicate “incense
ladle” (a cosmetic item),â•›133 no distinctive assemblage could be discerned. From the period
following the destruction of the citadel (Area B, Locus 3046 of Stratum IV), a rough floor
that was built on the foundations of the devastated Israelite fortress yielded a kernos ring
and the spout of a zoomorphic vessel along with five bowls and a jug.â•›134 Because the archi-
tectural structures were unclear, no additional contextual information could be obtained.
Nevertheless, the assemblage does suggest the performance of ritual activities involving
libations.
Fig. 3.27.╇ Hazor, Area A, Stratum IX–X: Pottery and Objects from Locus 239a.
3.95 × 2.28 m was unearthed that yielded a complete ring kernos, a multihandled krater
with appliqués of horned animals, a zoomorphic libation vessel, a fragment of a female
plaque figurine, a cat amulet (category A), a large number of astragali, and several gyp-
sum pyxides and Cypro-Phoenician juglets. Several storage jars and the remains of items
108 Chapter 3
used for spinning and weaving indicate some sort of industrial location that was used for
the production of textiles and the storage of agricultural products. The industrial activ-
ities may have been associated with religious activities, which may have included libations
using the zoomorphic vessel and the kernos as well as gaming and perhaps the casting
of lots.
135.╇ For the excavators, Ḥorvat Rosh Zayit is a key site for arguing against Finkelstein’s pro-
posal of a low chronology (Gal and Alexandre 2000: 152).
136.╇ The authors identify Rosh Zayit with biblical Cabul, which was given to Hiram of Tyre by
Solomon according to 1 Kgs 9:10–14, and conjecture that the fort was established by the Phoeni-
cians but inhabited by Israelites.
137.╇ Gal and Alexandre 2000: 14, figs. 3.70–71.
138.╇ Gal and Alexandre 2000: figs. 3.79–81.
139.╇ Gal and Alexandre 2000: figs. 3.90:19–27; 91:1–14; 92:1.
140.╇ Compiled after Gal and Alexandre 2000: pl. 4, fig. 3.70; pl. 5, figs. 3.81, 90–92.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 109
Fig. 3.28.╇ Ḥorvat Rosh Zayit, Stratum IIb with findspot of kernos.
110 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.29.╇ Ḥorvat Rosh Zayit, Stratum IIa with findspots of pottery assemblages.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 111
Fig. 3.30.╇ Jerusalem, Area G: Pottery and objects from Locus 967 (Stratum 10b “house of
bullae”).
18–20; 1986: 16–25). Unfortunately, only a rather small section of the building was exca-
vated (of 1 × 8 m), leaving the larger layout of the building unknown. The finds, which
all came from pavement near Wall 753, were surprisingly abundant (a sample and plan
are shown in fig. 3.30).â•›141 These included such category A objects as the leg of an animal
figurine, the torso of a horse-and-rider figurine, and four limestone altars. Category B
objects included three pot stands and two unusually shaped deep kraters that resembled a
big goblet. Category C objects included three pot stands, two storage jars, two hole-mouth
141.╇After Shiloh 1986: figs. 5–7; fig. 20: pl. 22.2; Ariel and de Groot 1996: 339. Unfortunately,
the publication did not include drawings of the figurative material.
112 Chapter 3
jars, five decanters, three cooking pots, a juglet, four bowls, and several grinding stones,
as well as three arrowheads, one blade, one earring, one ring, and a weight. The famous 51
bullae are supposed to have belonged to a public archive, a sort of “bureau close to the ad-
ministrative centre in the city of David” (Shiloh 1984: 20). However, because the character
of Area G as a whole seems to have been domestic, it also may be conjectured that the
“house of the bullae” was a dwelling with a private archive. Moreover, the domestic pottery
and grinding stones are typical of a domestic unit. It is possible that the room was used
for general storage purposes, because it seems unlikely that the four altars, the vessels, and
the figurines were used in a public archive or bureau (despite the fragmentary character
of the figurines). The entire assemblage of category A and B objects therefore suggests the
occasional burning of incense and quite likely the performance of libations in a domestic
context, while the ritual vessels were probably merely stored there.
142.╇ Fritz 1990a: Plan 16; pls. 102.2; 89.23; 90.9; 91.9–10; 92.8; 93.13.
143.╇See Fritz 1990b: pls. 89–93.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 113
posed that cultic activities were associated with more-general activities in the daily lives of
the troops, particularly activities associated with the consumption of food.
In Area B1, an area of domestic structures, excavators found several small assemblages
of diagnostic objects and pottery. An animal figurine was unearthed, together with two
cooking pots and two bowls in Area B1, Room 221, Stratum IB (fig. 3.32).â•›144 Locus 221
144.╇ Fritz 1990a: Plan 10, pls. 102.9; 69.19; 71.1; 73.7; 73.8.
114 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.32.╇ Kinneret, Area B1, Stratum IB: Figurine and pottery from Locus 221.
is one of four rooms adjoined to the same wall and was accessible through Room 202.
Locus 221 contained a stone installation that consisted of a stone slab in the center of the
room surrounded by a semicircle of stones and most likely were the remnants of a hearth.
The adjacent room yielded a similar assemblage of three bowls, two cooking pots, and a
storage jar. The installation and pottery suggest the functions of storing and preparing
food. Room 328 (Stratum IA) yielded a rattle, a goblet (category B), two jugs, two juglets,
and two storage jars (fig. 3.33).â•›145 Outside these rooms, another animal figurine fragment
was found in Room 328 (Locus 322, a street).â•›146 Locus 326 (which was not specified on
the published plans) yielded two well-crafted fragments of horse figurines, as well as two
bowls (fig. 3.34).â•›147 The evidence from this area reveals that objects for cultic use were
145.╇ Fritz 1990a: Plan 11, pls. 74.1–4; 75.7; 76.2, 8, 22–23; 79.12.
146.╇ Fritz 1990a: pl. 102.7.
147.╇ Fritz 1990a: Plan 10, pls. 102.4–5; 69.2; 70.19.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 115
Fig. 3.33.╇ Kinneret Area B1, Stratum IA: Rattle and pottery from Locus 328; figurine from
Locus 322.
associated with installations used for the preparation and consumption of food as well as
with vessels for the storage and consumption of liquids.
The latest find of importance from Kinneret was an assemblage consisting of a model
shrine, a bowl with zoomorphic appliqués (both category A), and a small flask from an
Iron IB pillared building (Room 3578), all of which together are evidence that ritual activ-
ities were performed in this dwelling (fig. 3.35).â•›148
Fig. 3.34.╇ Kinneret Area B 1, Stratum I B: Figurines and pottery from Locus 326.
Fig. 3.35.╇ Kinneret courtyard dwelling and finds from Locus 3594.
(Locus 4150) near the gate (fig. 3.37), together with three bowls, one cooking pot, and two
store jars.â•›153 The excavators considered the building to have been used primarily for the
storage and distribution of wine, mainly because of an installation with a channel. One
fragment of a male figure was distinctly different from and much more elaborate than
common heads of horse-and-rider figurines. As discussed below, these figurines and the
male head may have served ritual functions in the worship of ancestors.
Some of the most interesting finds were unearthed in Area S, Level III, the so-called
lower house, which consisted of 2 wings and 10 rooms or courtyards (fig. 3.38a).â•›154 Room
3569 yielded a fenestrated stand (category A), 19 worked sheep astragali (category B),
3 bowls, 1 krater, 4 cooking pots, 1 juglet, 1 amphoriskos, 1 flask, and 2 storage jars
(fig. 3.38b).â•›155 Room 3573 in the northeast yielded a small altar, a fragment of a zoomor-
phic figurine (category A), 29 astragali (category B)—which appeared to the excavators to
have been kept in a bowl—2 bowls, 2 cooking pots, 1 black juglet, 1 jug, 1 lamp, 4 storage
jars, 1 hole-mouth jar, a basalt bowl, and several millstones (fig. 3.39).â•›156 The assemblage
153.╇ Kletter 2004: 2058, fig. 28.36:2; Zimhoni 2004: fig. 26.52:9–15.
154.╇ Ussishkin 2004: fig. 9.32.
155.╇ Zimhoni 2004: Pottery, 1860–63, figs. 26.37:9–12, 26.38.
156.╇ Zimhoni 2004: fig. 26.39:6–17; Ussishkin 2004: 478–79; Kletter 2004: fig. 28.40:4; Sass
2004: 2033, fig. 28.21:1.
118 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.39.╇ Lachish: Altar, figurine fragment, and pottery from the lower house, Locus 3573.
Fig. 3.40.╇ Lachish: Animal Figurine and pottery from the lower house, Locus 3533.
157.╇See Ussishkin 2004: 481–82. The report does not provide illustrations of the figurine frag-
ments and the complete pottery assemblage.
158.╇See Ussishkin 2004: 470.
159.╇ Ussishkin 2004: 471; Zimhoni 2004: fig. 26.35: 1–4; Kletter 2004: fig. 28.39:3.
160.╇ Ussishkin 2004: 471–72, 474–75; Sass 2004: fig. 28.21: 4–5.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 121
Fig. 3.41.╇ Lachish, Level III (?): JPF head and pottery from Locus G 14: 1008.
pottery, reveal again an association between ritual practices and the preparation and con-
sumption of food. The ritual practices suggested in these cases are the offering of dry food
or libations, along with the burning of incense, and the astragali indicate the possibility of
gaming or the casting of lots.
122 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.42.╇ Lachish, Level III: JPF head and pottery from Locus H 17: 1078.
Scant evidence was extracted from the domestic units adjoining the street that led
to the gate and the rooms south of the palace. Artifacts described by Tufnell from Locus
K14/15:1033, east of the citadel, included the severely damaged head of a male figurineâ•›161
but gave no clear suggestion of the function or purpose of this location. Locus G14: 1008
(Level III), a part of a building south of the palace that consisted of rooms numbered
1001, 1005, 1006, and 1008, yielded a JPF head (category A), an imitation cowry shell of
faience (category B), and an assemblage of utilitarian pottery (ten bowls, three jugs, one
cooking pot, one pilgrim flask, two jars, and three storage jars (fig. 3.41).â•›162 The presence
of an oven and the character of the pottery assemblage confirm that the room must have
been used as kitchen.
Another JPF head was found in Room H17: 1078 (Level III), which belonged to one
of the domestic buildings north of the road (1087) that proceeds out from the gate. The
pottery consisted of a lamp, a pot stand, a juglet, a small jug, a cooking pot, a bowl, and
four storage jars (fig. 3.42).â•›163
The evidence from these Iron IIC (Level III) buildings at Lachish affirms that cultic
objects were used in areas otherwise devoted to the processing and consumption of food.
Fig. 3.44.╇ Lachish, Stratum V: Cult Room 49: bamāh and maṣṣebah in situ.
where the maṣṣebāh was found is shown in fig. 3.44.â•›169 The entire complex has therefore
been interpreted as a cultic place that consisted of a shrine and bamāh, maṣṣebôt, and an
ašerāh-pile,â•›170 even though the relation of the shrine to the maṣṣebôt remains unclear.
The spatial arrangement of the pottery and other objects in Room 49 appears to be
quite significant. The four stands were placed in a rectangular arrangement, with the altar
in a central position in front of the lower part of the bench. Three of the chalices were po-
sitioned on this lower bench, while two of the juglets were placed on the raised platform in
the west corner. Two jugs, three bowls, and three chalices were placed on the west bench.
Cultic activities must therefore have been focused on the depression in the hillside and on
the objects that were placed there.â•›171 The entire assemblage of Locus 49 may have served a
variety of ritual purposes. The limestone altar and the bowls on stands that show traces of
169.╇ Compiled after Aharoni 1975: pls. 3.1 and 60.
170.╇ Aharoni 1975: 26–32.
171.╇See Zevit 2001: 216–17. Although Zevit’s reading of meaning into the arrangement of
objects is insightful, there seems to be little evidence for his suggestion that the partitioning of the
assemblage into three distinct groups reflects a cult of three deities.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 125
burning were probably used for burnt offerings or the burning of incense, while the large
majority of the vessels were most likely used for the consumption of food and drinks. The
last ritual action that took place in the shrine of Room 49 must have focused on either the
consumption of a drink or the ritual offering thereof, as indicated by the chalices in the de-
pression and the juglets that were found on the platform. The presence of an oven, cooking
pots, and storage jars also indicates that meals were prepared in the cult room proper. As
Zevit rightly notes (2001: 215–16), the small size and crowded character of the facility in-
dicate that ritual actions could not have been conducted with any large number of people
present. His estimate of two or three people, however, is probably a bit low, because the
objects were concentrated in the west, which left enough space in the eastern part of the
structure for up to ten people to sit close together on the benches. Thus, the cult place may
certainly have been a small village shrine, which may also have served for the occasional
offering of burnt material or libations associated with ritual meals.
The entire assemblage reflects many aspects of Megiddo Locus 2081, in terms of both
content and arrangement; a cultic focus is also indicated by the large altar flanked by the
smaller altar, censer-jug, and stand. As at Lachish, the last ritual action there involved
juglets and a chalice.â•›172
Fig. 3.45.╇ Tel Masos, Area G, Stratum II: Plan of House 314.
a crouching animal (category A; similar to a larger lion from Tell Beit Mirsim),â•›176 and
four unworked stones that resembled human or animal forms.â•›177 The entire assemblage is
shown in fig. 3.47.
Adjacent Room 311 yielded an assemblage of 6 bowls, 2 cooking pots, 6 jugs (3 of
which were of imported Phoenician bichrome ware), 2 flasks (1 of which was bichrome),
and fragments of about 14 storage jars.â•›178 Courtyard Room 314 yielded 2 bowls, 5 kraters,
5 jugs, a juglet, and 4 storage jars.â•›179 Important objects were also found in the northern
Room 331, including a hollow lion’s head made of ivory, which was most likely the spout
of a vessel of composite material, a simple stand, double-tipped standing or libation bowls
176.╇See Albright 1938: pl. 23.
177.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: pls. 106 A–D; 171.7–8.
178.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: 41, pls. 144–46.
179.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: pls. 147–48.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 127
(category A), 3 lamps, a jug, a pithos, a jar, a fragment of a bichrome vessel, and some
pieces of copper (fig. 3.48).â•›180 Room 304 was predominantly a storage room and contained
fragments of more than 30 storage jars. Among other finds in this room were an unusually
shaped bowl, a bowl, and 3 jugs.â•›181 Room 306 in the northern corner yielded a juglet, an
amphoriskos, and a storage jar.â•›182
Fig. 3.47.╇ Tel Masos, House 314: Pottery assemblage and “collectibles“ from Room 307.
The presence of pottery and other usual and unusual objects of probable cultic use led
Kempinski to suggest that House 314 must have served some cultic purposes (1993: 987;
see also Willett 1999: 109). Room 307 in particular was interpreted as having been some
kind of cult room, even though Fritz (Fritz and Kempinski 1983: 40–41) interpreted the
stones and associated structures from Room 307 to reflect, more likely, use as a work-
shop. However, the pottery assemblage of this room consisted predominantly of items
associated with the preparation and consumption of food, with some of the vessels being
imported and therefore of a luxury character. Moreover, no items were found in this room
that could have been produced there. The stone objects considered as a single group re-
veal no clear utilitarian purpose, and it is unlikely that these objects were used as objects
of worship or other fetishistic purposes. They were more likely used as votive or ritual
objects. However, the open hearth and the platform both admit the possibility that the
room was used for food preparation as well as cultic activities. Although the unusual stone
collection considered together with the installations and the pottery assemblage support
the conjecture of some kind of cultic cell, the question whether the room served primarily
in the preparation and consumption of food or whether it served cultic purposes must
remain unresolved.
The mixed assemblage of storage vessels from Room 331, including the lion-spout, the
stand, and incense burners (or stand bowls), raises the possibility that these were cultic
objects that were stored there when not in actual use. The overall size and the rich con-
tents of House 314 are exceptional for an early or proto-Israelite settlement, and it may be
assumed that this structure with the attached Building 350 served a joint family of some
social importance and wealth. Thus we theorize that House 314 was the residence of a lo-
cal chief, who used a small room as a shrine for a variety of cultic purposes for his family.
Room 343 contained an oven and an assemblage of items related to the preparation and
consumption of food and drink and could have been used to prepare ritual meals that
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 129
were served in the house of the chief. House 314 is thus one of the most important finds
in the present quest.
Iron Age II structures were discovered on a small mound about 200 m east of the
Iron I settlement (Area G). The Iron II structures had four subphases (1–4), all of which
have been dated to the end of the 7th century. The Area G buildings most likely suffered
destruction at times from Edomite raids near the end of the Judean Kingdom (Kempinski
1993: 989). A uniform row of chambers was unearthed in this location, which ran along
a paved street. The doors of the dwellings were supposed to have been in the northern
corner of each chamber. Because only a small section was excavated to ascertain the his-
tory of the settlement, the larger layout and the other characteristics of the structures
remain unclear. Several ovens and items of domestic pottery were found, indicating that
the rooms were used as dwellings. Kempinski (1993: 989) considered the rooms to have
been part of a fortress, while Rösel (in Fritz and Kempinski 1983: 127) suspected that they
served some kind of semi-public function. The chambers could also be another example
of military accommodation. Despite this and the limited area excavated, the chambers
yielded firm evidence of domestic cult activities.
Room 609 (Phase 2) is located in the northwest of Street 726 and was only partly exca-
vated. It contained the torso of an animal figurine (category A), a bowl, a krater, a juglet, a
130 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.49.╇ Tel Masos: Animal figurine and pottery from Locus 609.
jug, and a store jar (fig. 3.49).â•›183 Room 708 (Phase 2) contained a pottery assemblage con-
sisting of a bowl, four cooking pots, two juglets, a storage jar, and two lamps, as well as a
JPF base (fig. 3.50).â•›184 Room 758 (Phase 2) is located on the street to the west, only a small
portion of which was excavated. It contained a model chair and a cup (fig. 3.51).â•›185 Room
718 (Phase 3) was part of a structure consisting of at least two rooms and contained a zo�
omorphic spout, the torso of an animal figurine, two bowls, and a flask (fig. 3.52).â•›186 Some
additional material, including animal and JPF fragments, was found on Streets 768 and
778 and likely came from objects that were used in the adjacent dwellings. The evidence
from these Iron Age IIC dwellings, whether they served civil or military purposes, reveals
once more that cultic activities in Iron Age IIC were associated with common items of
domestic pottery and installations for the preparation and consumption of food. In ac-
183.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: Plan 22, pls. 111.3; 163.3; 164.2; 165.22; 166.1; 166.14.
184.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: Plan 22, pls. 111.5; 163.14; 165.6–9, 20–21; 166.1, 3, 15, 16.
185.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: Plan 22; pls. 172.13; 164.11.
186.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: Plan 23; pls. 111.2 and 4; 163.12; 166.3.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 131
Fig. 3.50.╇ Tel Masos: Figurine base and pottery from Room 708.
132 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.51.╇ Tel Masos: Model Chair and cup from Room 758.
cordance with other Iron IIC sites, the ritual actions in the dwellings seem to have been
predominantly votive practices associated with figurines and model furniture.
Fig. 3.52.╇ Tel Masos: Animal figurine, zoomorphic spout, and pottery from Room 718.
et al. 1988: 8; Herzog 1994: 1041). A small building (Locus 300) was excavated on the
small northeastern hill of the site that featured buttressed walls and a broad entrance mea-
suring 1.5 m across. These unusual architectural features along with the presence in the
building of a flat platform between 1.6 and 1.7 m wide and a ceramic assemblage of three
goblets led the excavators to the conclusion that the building served as a small sanctuary
(fig. 3.53).â•›187 Goblets of possible cultic use have also been found in Megiddo, Beth-shean,
and Tell Qasile (Mazar 1985: 51), among other places. Several pits at Tell Michal, which
were possibly used as favissae for a sanctuary, yielded chalices, bowls, jugs, juglets, and
other material.â•›188 Because this Iron Age settlement participated in wine production, it
seems highly plausible that the sanctuary served the vinicultural community. A 10th-
century structure was found 400 m northeast of Tell Michal. It measured 10 m across,
contained a simple stone platform that was covered with ash, bones, and potsherds, and
was interpreted as having been an open-air cultic place (Avigad 1993: 932–33; Zwickel
1994: 265–66). The connection between these seemingly contemporary cultic places re-
mains unclear, however. Zwickel (1994: 266) assumed that the installation on the small
northeastern hill served for cooking the zebaḥ at some distance from the sanctuary itself,
although this interpretation remains tentative.
189.╇See Finkelstein et al. 2000a: 595–602. For discussion, also see Finkelstein 1996; 2000b;
2005. A summary of the discussion is given by Schmitt 2004.
190.╇ Loud 1948: figs. 100–101.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 135
Fig. 3.54.╇ Megiddo, Locus 2081: Cult corner proper with objects in situ.
gory B (astragali in a bowl, 6 game pieces, 6 stamp seals, 2 amulets, several beads, pendants,
and metal objects).â•›191 The actual cult corner of this room yielded 2 horned altars, 3 stands
(2 of which were solid and 1 fenestrated), a perforated large round jar that was probably
a large censer (Zwickel 1990: 37; 1994: 2809), a jar that blocked the mouth of the latter,
2 juglets, 2 chalices, a bowl, a limestone slab, a mortar, a rubbing stone, and an axhead, as
well as astragali found in a bowl. In front of the larger altar was a mound of burned grain.
The 2 juglets were found lying on top of the larger altar near the southern wall, and one of
the stands was lying on a platform adjacent to the northern wall. The spatial relationships
of these finds are shown in fig. 3.54.â•›192 One part of the pottery assemblage had blocked the
entrance to the cult corner, as depicted in Zevit’s reconstruction in fig. 3.56.â•›193
Aside from the offering of grain on the altar, the character of the assemblage suggests
the consumption of food and drink, as well as gaming or the casting of lots for mantic
purposes. A cultic focus is indicated by the large altar flanked by the smaller altar, along
with the censer-jug and stand oriented toward the south wall. As in Lachish Room 49, the
last ritual action seems to have involved juglets and a chalice,â•›194 along with a burnt offer-
ing. The character of this building has been the subject of much dispute. Loud (1948: 45–
46) himself admitted some cultic significance, and many others (such as Ussishkin 1989:
172; Shiloh 1993: 1023) share the opinion that Locus 2081 must have been some kind of
temple or palace shrine. Kempinski (1989: 186) concludes by comparisons with domestic
architecture that the building was a variant of the four-room house and was therefore
most likely the residence of an official. He further states that the assemblage points to the
nomadic origin of the Israelites, in that, “originally coming from small family or clan-
groups, their cult installations were usually connected to the household of some well-to-
do persons in the clan of the family.” H. Weippert (1988: 433) similarly considered Locus
2081 to have been a place of domestic cult activities. Holladay (1997: 253) interpreted the
structure as a shrine that was contained in a “semipublic space probably involved with the
residence of an important government official.” Zwickel (1994: 280; and following him,
Herr 2000a: 8) presumed the corner to have been nothing more than a storeroom for
items associated with cultic activities that were themselves conducted in the courtyard.
In fact, as Zevit (2001: 225–26; and see also Lamon and Shipton 1939: 24) notes, a pos-
sible fragment of a large, horned altar was discovered not far from the actual building of
Locus 2081, suggesting that sacrifices were possibly performed in the area, although the
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 137
Fig. 3.56.╇ Megiddo, Locus 2081: Pottery assemblage as reconstructed by Zevit (2000:
fig.€3.55).
association may be coincidental, and the find is of unclear date. Herzog (1997: 212) con-
sidered the storeroom more likely to have served a sanctuary near the gate outside the city.
Whether Room 2081 served largely private or public purposes, there can be little doubt
about the cultic significance of the assemblage. Considering, however, that the building
was located in a northern section west of the gate (Area AA), with most other buildings
in the vicinity forming a domestic area, there is no reason to assume a public function
(Negbi 1993: 222). The building was most likely the dwelling of a wealthy person or family
(Kempinski 1989: 187), where occasional ritual meals, drinking, gaming, and offerings of
grain occurred. The presence of the horned altars may simply reflect the wealthy status
of the owner rather than the performance of cultic activities as a part of official religious
practices, as posited by Holladay (1987: 252–53).
thus closely resembles the assemblage of Locus 2081, and the entire structure has there-
fore been interpreted as a fortress-temple or a shrine inside a palace or official building
(Schumacher 1908: 110–14; May 1935: 8; Kempinski 1989: 187; Ussishkin 1989; 1993;
Zevit 2001: 227–31.)
One problem in discerning the function of this building, however, is the interpreta-
tion of the stelae as maṣṣebôt.â•›200 At an early stage, Watzinger (1929: 72–73) questioned the
cultic nature of the building, presuming it to have been a dwelling, with the stelae serv-
ing as pillars, the stone with depression as a mortar, and Room 340 thus to have been a
200.╇ Schumacher 1908: 111; May 1935: 4–56; Ussishkin 1989; 1993 passim.
140 Chapter 3
kitchen. Following him, Stern (1990: 102–7), Zwickel (1994: 255–56), Bloch-Smith (2005:
36), and others challenged Ussishkin’s interpretation with similar arguments. However,
even if the stelae were merely supporting pillars for the roof, the permanent installations
and particularly the altar-like structure of Room 340 and the presence in other rooms of
diagnostic objects of categories A and B (such as altars, the stand, and the pottery shrine)
support the theory of regular, ongoing cultic use of at least Room 340, with ritual objects
for occasional use stored in the other rooms. The traditional interpretation of this room as
a palace shrine therefore remains highly plausible.
201.╇ May 1935: pls. 12–15; Lamon and Shipton 1939: 55, 57–58.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 141
other sanctuary in the vicinity;â•›202 nor did it belong to domestic unit A1, as was proposed
by Negbi (1993: 225). Furthermore, Building 10 could not have formed a “sacred area”
together with Building 338, because these building were not contemporary.â•›203
202.╇Against Holladay (1987: 253), who proposes a sanctuary in the vicinity that may have
been destroyed by Schumacher’s excavation; and Ussishkin (1989: 167), who assumes that the altars
were removed from Building 338.
203.╇See May 1935: 4 and pl. 1; Negbi 1993: 225.
204.╇ Finkelstein, Ussishkin, and Halpern 2006: fig. 33.5.
205.╇Gadot and Yasur-Landau in Finkelstein, Ussishkin, and Halpern 2006: 591; see also
pp. 246–47.
142 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.60.╇ Distribution of ritual objects from Megiddo courtyard House 00/K/10.
terra-cotta shrine (category A),â•›206 a chalice (category B), a pyxis, nine bowls, a jug, a jar,
two ovoid jars, a pilgrim flask, three lentoid flasks, a cup-mouthed lentoid flask, a cylin-
drical bottle, a spouted amphoriskos, and a double pyxis. A sample of these is shown in
fig. 3.61.â•›207 The model shrine suggests the domestic veneration of a deity.
A domestic quarter in the north of area CC included Loci 1727, 1729, 1732, 1770,
1737, and 1743, and produced some rich assemblages as follows:
Area CC, Locus 1727 contained the head of a female figurine (category A), 3 chalices,
1 lamp (category B), 2 pilgrim flasks, 2 flasks, a pyxis, 2 bowls, 2 cooking pots, 13 jugs, and
12 jars. A sample of these is shown in fig. 3.62.â•›208
Area CC, Locus 1729 contained a stand (category A), a goblet, two lamps (category
B), a basalt bowl, a pyxis, four pilgrim-flasks, three jugs, a juglet, a bowl, two lamps, two
strainer cups, a baking tray, and ten jars. A sample of these is shown in fig. 3.63.â•›209
Both of these loci probably belonged to a domestic unit, with ovens, a pit, and a rectan-
gular basin or bathtub being typical installations in Iron I households in Megiddo. Locus
1727 may have been a kitchen, and Locus 1729 a storeroom accessible from the kitchen.
Area CC, Locus 1732 was a small, square room that was most likely used for storage
purposes. Along with Locus 1770, it belonged to a building that adjoined the domestic
structure formed by Loci 1727 and 1729. It contained a zoomorphic vessel, a kernos frag-
ment, a small bronze calf (most likely an amulet of category A), 3 chalices, a goblet (cate-
gory B), an amphoriskos, 3 jugs, 2 juglets, 4 lamps, a flask, 2 cooking pots, a bowl, 14 jars,
and a basalt vessel. A sample of these is shown in fig. 3.64.â•›210
Area CC, Locus 1737 appears to have been an unbuilt area or courtyard associated
with the structure formed by Loci 1727, 1729, 1732, and 1743. A charred tree was found in
this locusâ•›211 along with the spout of a zoomorphic vessel, a strainer jar, a juglet, and three
210.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C; fig. compiled after 2004: appendix D. See Loud 1948:
149.
211.╇ Harrison 2004: fig. 72.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 145
Fig. 3.63.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Stand associated with Locus 1729 and selected
pottery from Locus 1729.
212.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C; figure compiled after 2004: appendix D. See Loud
1948: 150.
146 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.64.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Objects and selected pottery from assemblage of
Room 1732.
flask, two jars, and a jug that was found in the east corner of the locus. A sample of these
is shown in fig. 3.66.â•›213
Area CC, Locus 1735 was a small room that either included or was situated near an
oven. It contained a stand (category A), two chalices (category B), a basalt bowl, a spouted
amphoriskos, a painted jug, two jugs, four pilgrim flasks, a juglet, and five jars. A sample
213.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C; fig. compiled after 2004: appendix D. See also Loud
1948: 149.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 147
214.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C; fig. compiled after 2004: appendix D. See also Loud
1948: 150.
215.╇ Harrison 2004: 160: P6217. No drawing available.
216.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C; fig. compiled after 2004: appendix D. See also Loud
1948: 150.
217.╇ Harrison 2004: pl. 22.6.
148 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.66.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Stand with figurative appliques from Locus 1731.
cian strainer jug, a strainer cup, four jugs, four bowls, six flasks, and two cooking pots. A
sample of these is shown in fig. 3.69.â•›218
Area CC, Locus 1744 was a small room containing the base of a stand (category A),â•›219
a chalice (category B), a painted jug, a strainer jug, a pilgrim flask, a funnel or strainer, four
cooking pots, a bowl, and five jars. A sample of these is shown in fig. 3.70.â•›220
Area CC, Locus 1780 contained the fragment of a female figurine,â•›221 a cup-mouthed
lentoid flask, a krater, a cooking pot, a jug, and six jars.â•›222
Area CC, Locus 1741 was a part of a stone pavement that may have belonged to a
courtyard house to the northeast of the unit formed by Loci 1731, 1735, 1740, 1744, and
1780. It contained the foot of an animal figurine carved from bone, three Egyptian faience
amulets (two of which were ptah-sokar, and the other undetermined), a goblet, a basalt
bowl, a painted jug, a strainer jug, two jugs, two cup-mouthed lentoid flasks, a pyxis, a
lamp, three bowls, and two jugs. A sample of these is shown in fig. 3.71.â•›223
Area CC, Locus 1752 was a room that may have belonged to the same building as
Locus 1741. It contained a stand,â•›224 a goblet, four cooking pots, a jug, a lentoid flask, two
218.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C; fig. compiled after 2004: appendix D. See also Loud
1948: 150–51.
219.╇ Harrison 2004: pl. 22.3.
220.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C; fig. compiled after 2004: appendix D. See also Loud
1948: 151.
221.╇ Harrison 2004: pl. 26.9.
222.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C.
223.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C. Compiled after 2004: appendix D. See also Loud
1948: 150.
224.╇ Harrison 2004: pl. 14.4 = 22.4.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 149
Fig. 3.69.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Top of stand with selected pottery and cymbals
from Locus 1740.
lamps, two jars, a cup and saucer, and two scaraboid seals. A sample of these is shown in
fig. 3.72.â•›225 The goblet, one of the jugs, and the cup and saucer were found in the eastern
area (E=1752).
225.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C. Compiled after 2004: appendix D. See also Loud
1948: 152.
152 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.70.╇ Megiddo, Stratum VI, Area CC: Stand and selected pottery from Locus 1744.
Area CC, Locus 1750 was a largely undefined area with trees and loom weights. It con-
tained a kernos ring, a jar, a faience amulet, and an ivory animal foot.â•›226 The material from
this locus was most likely rubbish that was disposed of deliberately.
Area CC, Locus 1760 was a stone floor that belonged to another courtyard house in the
southwest of Area CC. The presence of two ovens indicates that the assemblage belonged
to a kitchen. Its contents included the torso of female figurine (category A),â•›227 a chalice,
two Phoenician bichrome flasks, a bowl, three jars, two spouted amphoriskoi, and two
226.╇ Loud 1948: 151; pl. 243.20. See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C, pp. 62–96.
227.╇ Harrison 2004: fig. 25.6.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 153
jugs.â•›228 The figurine fragment and one flask were found in the southern section of the
locus.
Area CC, Locus 1804 contained a cup-like fragment of a kernos ring.â•›229 The overall
architecture, the pottery, and the substantial bronze hoardâ•›230 suggest that Area CC was
probably part of an extremely wealthy residential area. The contents of all of the Megiddo
Stratum VI assemblages were quite similar and always included several high-quality or
luxury items, similar to items from contemporary tombs.â•›231 The similarity of these as-
semblages, and the abundance of diagnostic objects of categories A and B could suggest
either that the entire assemblage was dedicated to cultic purposes, or that only those items
228.╇See Harrison 2004: appendixes B–C. See also Loud 1948: 152.
229.╇See Harrison 2004: pl. 23.5. Not mentioned in Loud 1948.
230.╇ Found in Locus 1739. See Harrison 2004: pls. 31–35.
231.╇ See chap. 6, pp. 178–428.
154 Chapter 3
of unambiguously cultic purpose were so used, with the remaining items merely serving
quotidian, domestic purposes. A number of the assemblages from Megiddo Stratum VI
can be clearly associated with areas dedicated to the production and storage of food, espe-
cially those that obviously indicate kitchens (the renewed excavation Loci 98/k77; 98K70;
and the University of Chicago excavations Loci 1727, 1729, 1731, 1735, and 1760). This
does not, however, contradict an interpretation of cultic activities, because of the presence
of clearly nonutilitarian pottery and group A diagnostic objects such as the kernos frag-
ments, zoomorphic vessels, pottery shrines, figurines associated with stands, and luxury
wares such as the pilgrim flasks for intended holding liquids, the chalices and goblets used
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 155
for consumption thereof. Ritual activities were clearly associated with the kitchen, with
the predominance of stands and vessels for liquids suggesting rituals of libation. These
activities would almost certainly have been conducted by, and quite possibly on behalf of,
the personnel of the kitchen, that is, the women dedicated to the preparation and storage
of food.
There was notable continuity between the contents of Strata VI and VA–IVB, even
extending to the 8th-century (H3/IVA) assemblages, even though the material culture
of Megiddo VI seems to have been fundamentally pre-Israelite.â•›232 There thus appears to
have been very little difference between the characteristics of the pre-Israelite domestic
cult of the LB/early Iron transitional phase and the evidence found in Iron IIA–B Israelite
Megiddo.
Fig. 3.73.╇ Stand, censer, and zoomorphic vessel from Megiddo, Level H 3, Unit 94/H/8, with
sample of selected pottery.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 157
and metal tools. No architectural remains related to the assemblage could be observed
(Finkelstein, Ussishkin, and Halpern 2006: 145, 443; fig. 15.5:1–7).
Loci 25 and 808. The assemblage from Rooms 616 and 622 seems quite analogous to the
assemblage taken from the lower house at Lachish.
square 6.7 × 7 m, with the interior divided into one larger (Loci 685a and 675) and two
smaller chambers (Loci 1065 and 1074). The larger chamber 685a had an entrance and a
bench spanning the entire west wall and a small portion of the south wall. The small rear
Room 1065 included Loci 692 and 1146 and seems to have been the main cult room. It
yielded a diverse assemblage of utilitarian and nonutilitarian vessels. These included a
stand with a separate stand bowl, a miniature bowl, a chalice, and a krater, as well as an
Egyptian amulet of the Ptah-Sokar type.â•›244 The orientation of the cult focus cannot be
discerned with certainty. It may have faced north, as in Stratum VIIIB.
Locus 674 was the area directly in front of the entrance and yielded a bowl, a chalice,
and a cooking jar.â•›245 The building and its finds are shown in fig. 3.76.â•›246 In Stratum VIIIB,
the layout of the building was altered: the entrance was moved from the north to Locus
690 in the south, and Locus 1044 (comprising Loci 670, 1064, and 1074) now served as
a back room. A stone basin on a platform and a standing stone protruding from the wall
were erected in the front room, Locus 690, indicating a cult focus oriented toward the
north. The room yielded an assemblage of two chalices, a lamp, four cooking pots, two
pithoi, a strainer jug, and a jug. The rear room yielded a double libation vessel and a krater
(fig. 3.77).â•›247 Loci 1065, 1044, 1074, and 1146 of Strata VIIIB–C additionally yielded more
than 200 bones of sheep and goats, mostly right forelimbs.â•›248 During the last phase, VIIIA,
the building consisted of two broad rooms (Loci 670 and 690); each was entered north
247.╇ Ben-Tor and Portugali 1987: Plan 29 and figs. 15.3 and 6; 16.3, 5–7, 9; 17.3–5; 18.4–6 (Lo-
cus 690); figs. 17.8; 18.3 (Locus 1044).
248.╇ Ben-Tor and Portugali 1987: table 24.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 163
of the courtyard in Locus 675 (fig. 3.78).â•›249 It seems that the installations were still in use
in Stratum VIIIA, even though only a single cooking jar was found that dated to this last
phase. The material evidence, especially the large number of sheep and goat bones, along
with the standing stone that was interpreted as a maṣṣebāh led the excavators to conclude
that the structure functioned as a cultic building “of some sort” (Ben-Tor and Portugali
1987: 82, 86). This identification as a cultic building was questioned by H. Weippert (1988:
409) and Zwickel (1994: 209–10) because of the absence of any installations that could
have been associated with a temple. Zwickel therefore theorized that the building was the
dwelling of a priest in which the cultic assemblage was stored. Weippert believed the ev-
idence to be consistent with domestic cult activities. The unusual layout, the character of
the assemblage that contained large numbers of category A and B objects and bones, and
the permanent installations suggested regular and ongoing cultic use of the building. The
permanent installations included a platform with a basin and a bench, paralleling those in
Lachish Room 49 and Megiddo Locus 2081. The building may have served for libations as
well as the consumption and offering of animal parts and, because it was integrated into
other domestic structures, it seems likely that it was a neighborhood shrine.
Some evidence of cult activities in the Iron II period (Stratum VII) was discovered at
Tell Qiri. One room or courtyard (Locus 1027) belonging to an agricultural-industrial
complex of silos associated with the production of olive oilâ•›250 contained a tripod censer-
cup, a bowl, a cooking jar, and a cooking pot,â•›251 suggesting ritual activities associated with
the production and consumption of food in the working area. Two pairs of chalicesâ•›252
were found in the same area, although their context was unclear.
Because this vessel was of no clear utilitarian use, the excavators proposed a ritual use for
it (Callaway and Cooley 1971: 18–19, fig. 7). Even though the scant documentation associ-
ated with these reports means that great care must be taken when interpreting the material
from Ḥirbet Raddana as evidence for domestic cult activities, the material reported does
fit well into the general picture of domestic cult patterns from Iron I deposits.
253.╇ Compiled by the author after Pritchard 1985: figs. 5 and 177.
254.╇ Pritchard 1985: 8–9, figs. 36–37, tripod-cups: figs. 5.11, 12, 13.
255.╇ Pritchard 1985: 9 and tripod-cup on the same page. See also Zwickel 1990: 11.
166 Chapter 3
proposed by Nakhai (2001: 189). Both the character of the architecture and the associated
finds clearly suggest that activities associated with a domestic cult occurred.
Inside House 37–39 (Stratum VI, about 790–750 b.c.e.), a pottery assemblage was
almost entirely preserved beneath the debris of the collapsed building. Among a wealth
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 167
report, however, whether the objects were found together in the same place in the locus.
Additional evidence for cultic activities was found in the residential quarter in the form
of the fragment of a human plaque-figurine from House 16â•›260 as well as two tripod-cups
taken from either House 9 or 11.â•›261
Although aspects of the Tell es-Saʾīdīyeh finds remain ambiguous, the finds neverthe-
less provide insight for the interpretation of diagnostic objects and their associations with
one another. Pritchard (1985: 32) concluded that “among the remaining items there seems
to be no substantial evidence for either specialized industrial or a ceremonial use for the
buildings. We can only conclude that this area of the city was a residential section in which
the normal household activities were carried on at the time of its destruction.” However,
the presence of clearly nonutilitarian or cultic objects of category A, such as the figurines
and tripod-cups, demonstrates that these “normal household activities” nevertheless in-
cluded those of a cultic nature, involving the burning of incense as well as libations con-
ducted with the aid of other nonutilitarian pottery objects such as the kernos and luxury
miniature vessels represented by the faience cup and alabaster flask.
the excavators thought were sling stones. Near where the stand was found, Sellin reported
what appeared to be the base of a figurine, a bovine head, and a scarab. Reports on con-
tinuing excavations at the same spot, dated one year later, noted a large amount of pottery,
including apparently Iron Age jugs and juglets and two zoomorphic vessels. This report
was preliminary, however, and contained many details that were unable to be verified.
Immediately west of where Sellin’s stand was found, a second campaign at Taanach
uncovered a room (SW 2–7) of approximately 5.1 m–7.3 m that yielded a rich ceramic
assemblage that had been sealed by debris. This assemblage consisted of utilitarian items,
including 26 storage jars, 2 amphorae, 10 jugs, 11 juglets, 3 pyxides, 1 krater, 63 bowls, and
3 cooking pots;â•›264 nonutilitarian types included a stand and a perforated tripod-cup of cat-
egory A,â•›265 as well as 140 astragali of category B and 9 iron knife blades.â•›266 A basin in the
structure contained a stone stela that was interpreted by the excavators as a maṣṣebāh. Two
more stones were interpreted by Lapp (1964: 28) as cultic stelae. In a crushed cistern (L69,
SW 2–8) that lay a scant few meters from structure SW 2–7, a large amount of pottery
was discovered that was broadly similar in character to the pottery of SW 2–7.â•›267 Among
predominantly utilitarian items, the famous second decorated cult stand, an offering stand
(category A), and two chalices (category B) were found.â•›268 Fig. 3.82 shows the location of
some of these distinctive finds.â•›269 Dating these finds to the 10th century (around the years
960–918 b.c.e.) has been widely accepted (Rast 1978: i; Glock 1993: 1432; A. Mazar 1990:
372, 387), contemporary with the pottery from Megiddo. Similarities were also evident
between the Taanach assemblage and Megiddo Locus 2081. The most striking parallel, in
terms of both the date and the type of stand, comes from Pella, where 2 rectangular stands
were discovered in a domestic structure.â•›270 A similar stand was also found at Tel Reḥov
(Mazar 1999: fig. 15), where excavators thought that the room that held the stand was a
cultic structure. The finds of Sellin and Lapp evidently belonged to the same structure,
even through they came from different loci. However, utilitarian pottery was dominant
throughout Room SW 2–7, and the basin also seems likely to have been part of an instal-
lation for the processing of food. Sellin (1904: 76) interpreted the part of the structure
that he excavated to have been an olive-oil press, while M. D. Fowler (1984: 33) was more
convinced that it was part of a kitchen; Zwickel (1994: 244; as well Herr 2000a: 8) consid-
ered it a store room; and Zevit (2001: 237) presumed some kind of domestic or industrial
building. Because the identification of a stela or maṣṣebāh depends a great deal on its con-
text (see Bloch-Smith 2005: 36), stones that were excavated by Lapp cannot be presumed
to have had any particular cultic function, particularly the stone that was found lying in
the basin. The predominance of domestic pottery suggests this was not a cultic structure; it
was more likely to have been a domestic room that was used occasionally either for cultic
purposes or for storing ritual utensils. The large number of cooking pots and containers
for food and drink suggest a kitchen, in accordance with Fowler, although the censer and
stand suggest the possibility of ritual meals and, of course, games or the casting of lots for
mantic purposes.
fragments may, however, have belonged to kernos rings). Miniature shrines seem to have
been quite rare, appearing in only two places (Megiddo and Kinneret). The predominant
ritual actions performed with the vessels seem to have been libations (using zoomorphic
libation vessels and stands) and possibly dry offerings, such as bread, grain, or fruit of-
ferings, which probably would have been presented in the stand bowls. One-third of the
assemblages clearly evidence kitchen installations. Moreover, 76% of all domestic assem-
blages that contained category A or B objects also contained vessels for the production or
consumption of food. It thus seems that ritual actions were related to the production and
consumption of food as well as the consumption of drinks, as indicated by the presence of
items such as chalices and jugs.â•›271 Considered together, these assemblages seem typical for
sites such as Megiddo and Beth-shean, which represent a direct continuation of the urban
material culture of the LBA. Early Israelite settlements contained scant finds suggestive
of domestic ritual activities. Typical early Israelite houses yielded assemblages containing
a limited range of utilitarian pottery (see Zwingenberger 2001: 372) and did not usually
contain specialized objects from category A. The finds from Tel Masos House 314 and the
similar finds from Tell Mazar Room 101 support the conclusion that ritual activities were
typically conducted either in the houses of wealthy members or leaders of the community
or in small public shrines (see below).
Some early Israelite settlements had shrines with permanent installations (such as
Hazor Locus 3283, the Tell Qiri Shrine, and possibly also Ai Locus 69) or else intramural
cultic places such as at Hazor Locus 80019 with its maṣṣebāh. Both the integrated neigh-
borhood shrines of Tell Qiri and Ai and the dedicated village shrine of Hazor had benches
and platforms, as well as a number of stands and, in the case of Tell Qiri, an assemblage
for the production and consumption of food. The material found at these sites suggests
that ritual actions that were likely to have been conducted in the shrines would have dif-
fered from domestic rituals in scale only. Domestic assemblages (very generally speaking)
contain fewer specialized objects, such as stands and libation vessels, than small shrines.
The assemblage from Hazor Locus 80019 that was associated with a cultic structure was
purely domestic and yielded no specialized vessels other than a zoomorphic spout. It does
not seem, therefore, that domestic assemblages can be interpreted to represent subsets of
“official” cult structures, as was proposed by Holladay. Rather, the reverse is more likely
to have been the case, in that shrines typically contained a slightly enlarged and more
specialized inventory typical of domestic assemblages. It thus seems almost certain that
the social groups that participated in the rites and rituals of domestic cults and the people
who were associated with local shrines were in many respects one and the same group
of people.
271.╇ Willett (1999: 157–65) drew similar conclusions in her unpublished thesis.
174 Chapter 3
in about 10%. Similar to the Iron Age I assemblages discussed above, around 33% of
all assemblages contained category A and B artifacts that could be attributed to kitchen
installations. A considerable proportion of the assemblages that contained category A and
B artifacts (31%) appear to have been work related because of their association with storage
and/or processing facilities (Tel ʿAmal Locus 34; Beth-shean Loci 1557, 62, 63; Ḥorvat Rosh
Zayit Locus 47; Tell el-Ḥammah; Taanach “cultic structure”). These work-related areas
contained assemblages of ritual objects that were broadly similar to the assemblages of
purely domestic areas. Only at Megiddo Locus 2081 did benches or platform-like installa-
tions occur in domestic structures. In all other places, their appearance is typically indica-
tive of village shrines (as in Lachish Room 49, and Tell Michal Building 300) or of open-air
cultic structures (in Tel Reḥov Area E). Moreover, maṣṣebôt have only been found in struc-
tures that predominantly served cultic purposes (in Tel Reḥov Area E). Horned altars were
only found in domestic assemblages in Megiddo Locus 2081; other than this find, they are
typical of village shrines (as in Lachish Room 49.). As a large-scale domestic cult installa-
tion, Megiddo Locus 2081 is rather atypical of other Iron IIA domestic cult assemblages
in terms of both content and number of artifacts and is perhaps more directly comparable
with a shrine such as Lachish 49. Nevertheless, in representing a wealthy domestic cult
assemblage, Megiddo Locus 2081 accords with traditions represented by the finds of Tel
Masos House 314 and Tell Mazar Room 101. The exceptionally large number of vessels
for the consumption of food almost certainly indicates that ritual meals were held here.
practices, mostly associated with the public storage of goods. Work-related or semi�public
functions may also be posited for the assemblage from tower Room 239a from Hazor.
Fig. 3.83.╇ Tell Abu al-Kharaz: Tripod incense burners and cooking pot from Area 7 house.
such as the offering of incense. The presence of the astragali further indicates that games
were played here, and lots may have been cast.
There were several more finds of domestic cult remains. Although these were only
summarily reported, they included a fragment of an anthropomorphic vessel representing
a bearded man, taken from Trench VIIC (Fischer 1994: fig. 6.1), and the torso of a female
figurine, together with a tambourine, and a bull figurine—all of which were taken from
Area 9 (Fischer 1996: 103, fig. 2.1). The well-preserved remains of a four-room house were
excavated in Trench XXXIXA–D. In this house, a zoomorphic vessel in the shape of a don-
key with two attached vessels (Fischer 1998: 220–21, fig. 10), an incense cup (presumed to
have been a strainer; category A), typical household vessels such as bowls, cooking pots,
jugs, juglets, kraters, and storage jars, and stone tools and loom weights (category C) were
found. The excavators concluded that the building was religious in character, but the pre-
dominantly utilitarian, household pottery more likely suggests domestic ritual activities
that were performed with the category A objects.
273.╇ Lenzen, Gordon, and McQuitty 1985: 154–55; fig. 2; pl. 22.2.
178 Chapter 3
of the presence of the category A objects, the structure was interpreted by the excavators
to have been a cult room with an adjacent storage room. However, the predominance of
utilitarian wares and the fact that the room adjoined the city wall (and was most likely the
back room of a threeâ•‚ or four-room house) suggest instead an assemblage associated with
domestic rituals. The assemblage is comparable with other Iron I assemblages found in
Megiddo and Tel ʿAmal and is typical of domestic ritual assemblages of the early Iron Age.
Fig. 3.85.╇ Tell Jawa, Building 102 with model shrine fragment from Room 110, proto-Aeolic
capital and figurine head from Room 105 and stone figurine from Room 217.
that material originated in the upper stories (Daviau 2001: 199). The evidence found in the
assemblages as summarized by Daviau (2001: 222–23) is reproduced in table 3.2. Room
110 in Building 102 (Stratum VIII) yielded a collection of pottery and other artifacts that are
suggestive of cultic activities. Among the otherwise indistinct pottery and household items,
three fragments of a miniature shrine were found; a few other fragments very likely came from
a shrine in the form of a proto-Aeolic capital; and the crown of a figurine, the torso of a stone
figurine, and the head of a male deity wearing an atef-crown were found in the adjacent Rooms
105, 217, and 204.â•›274 The distribution of these objects is shown in fig. 3.85.â•›275 The supposed
stone baetylâ•›276 from Room 110 was, however, most likely a working stone. The presence of a
large number of kitchen tools such as grinders, pounders, and millstones indicates that the
B102
B113
B200
B204
B300
B700
B800
B900
B910
Total
Figurines -13
Female 2 3 1 2 8
Male 3 1 4
Zoomorphic 1 1
Moulds 1 -1
Vessels -12
Anthropo�morphic 1 1
Zoomorphic 5 2 1 8
Relief on sherd 2 2
Rhyton/stand 1 1
Shrine model sherds 3 1 1 -5
Columns/capitals 3 -3
Chalices 1 1 2 1 -5
One-handled cup 1 1 2 7 1 2 1 -15
Tripod-cups -10
Perforated 1 1 1 3 1 7
Unperforated 1 2 3
Lamps 1 1 3 6 2 -13
Small vessels -33
Saucer 2 1 3
Bowl 1 1 5 7
Krater 1 1 2
Cooking pot 1 1 2
One handled cup 1 1
Jug 2 2
Juglet 3 1 1 1 6
Jar 1 1 1 3
Decanter 1 4 5
Painted bottle 2 2
Miniature vessels -9
Bowl 1 1
Cooking pot 1 1 2
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 181
B102
B113
B200
B204
B300
B700
B800
B900
B910
Total
Jug 1 1 2
Jar 1 1
Decanter 1 1
Pithos 1 1
Lamp 1 1
Black juglets 2 -2
Strainer bowls 1 1 -2
Stone baetyl 1 -1
High Status vessels -3
Stopper 1 1
Assyrian bowl 1 1
Double lamp 1 1
Imported vessels 1 -1
Imitation imports 2 1 1 -4
Gaming objects -4
Vessels 2 2
Boards 1 1
Pieces 1 1
Tridacna dish 1 -1
Libation table 1 -1
Basalt bowls/trays 2 2 7 4 2 -17
Cosmetic dishes 1 1 -2
Miniature mortars 1 1 -2
Total 32 14 14 4 43 4 36 10 2 159
room was used for the processing of food. The material in Room 110 represents the ground
floor level, although this also included one fragment of a figurine fragment that probably came
from the upper story, from Room 214.
One of the most important assemblages was found in Str. VIIA, Room 303 (A). It con-
sisted of numerous items of household pottery, including a bowl, a cooking pot, a juglet, a
decanter, and a strainer bowl, as well as the fragment of a female figurine, and a tripod-cup
(category A). A miniature cup found in this room probably also originated on the second
182 Chapter 3
floor.â•›277 A second assemblage was found in the same building, on the ground floor level of
Room 302 (A). It contained the base of a figurine, miniature basalt tools, a strainer bowl,
and various other vessel fragments lying on a bench (Locus E54:25; fig. 3.86).â•›278 The pres-
ence of ashes, a saddle quern, and sherds of cooking pots suggest that the room served as a
kitchen. Inside Building 800 were two loci that contained material that may have held cul-
tic significance, as suspected by Daviau. Room 807, Locus A83: 9–12 consisted of material
that had fallen down from the upper story and yielded a jug, juglet, decanter, lamp, shell
dish, and unique limestone table that was interpreted as having been a libation table.â•›279
Central Hall 804 (Loci A83:32; C27:66) had some luxury and nonutilitarian pottery such
as red slipped bowls, a painted flask, a painted chalice, and a tripod-cup.â•›280 Because no
category A objects were found, the cultic significance of the assemblages of this building
does not appear to be as evident as was claimed by the excavator. A fragmentary bull vessel
was found in Building 113, Room 107 of Str. VIII, but no other significant material was
found associated with it. Because this house also contained tools and raw materials for
the production of jewelry, the structure was interpreted as having been workshop (Daviau
et al. 2003: 1.159; 2.749).
These finds from Tell Jawa thus provide evidence for the comparison of domestic cult
assemblages that include these typical items:
It seems, however, that excavators have occasionally been overly optimistic in character-
izing assemblages and objects as “cultic.” Although pottery of luxury, nonutilitarian, or
miniaturized types may help to indicate the probable use of an item, a convincing deci-
sion requires the presence of explicit cult objects such as figurines, amulets, altars (here
considered category A objects). This is especially true because luxury items of pottery may
have been bought to indicate or enhance social prestige, which leads to their being found
together with other luxury objects. Nevertheless, although care is needed in interpreting
some of the assemblages from Tell Jawa, the finds do reveal strong evidence that cultic
activities were conducted on the upper stories of the houses.
Fig. 3.86.╇ Tell Jawa, Building 300: Figurine base and miniature tools from bench Locus
E54:24.
Age II farmstead with two major architectural units encircled by a perimeter wall. One
of these units was used for storage, the other for domestic purposes. The encircled com-
pound encompassed an area of approximately 900 m² (Lamprichs and Saʿad 2003; 2004).
184 Chapter 3
The pottery and objects found inside the buildings themselves include utilitarian wares
typical of domestic and agricultural purposes, such as vessels for the production, con-
sumption, and storage of food, and other stone vessels and tools, as well as one fragment
of a tripod incense cup (Lamprichs and Saʿad 2003: fig. 14). Remains of weapons, metal
tools, jewelry, and several other luxury items such as beads, fibulae, a comb, pierced stone
discs, and cosmetic bowls led the excavators to suggest that an elite group or family must
have resided in the compound. Although evidence for domestic cult activities from Tell
Juhfiyya is rather sparse, the tripod-cup suggests that the processing and consumption of
food may have been accompanied by ritual actions.
Fig. 3.87.╇ Tell Mazar, Mound A: Pottery assemblage from Room 101.
profane activities. The building seems to have been typical of rural courtyard houses of
the period (see Zwickel 1994: 207 n. 14). Room 101 contained mostly vessels related to
the preparation and storage of food and liquids. The presence of the chalices and the stand
among the storage vessels suggests the occasional performance of cultic activities (these
items being stored away when not in use). This comparably large building was most likely
the house of a wealthy farmer who may have been the chief of the village. It would have
been the site of occasional cultic activities associated with the preparation and consump-
tion of food. In terms of its architecture, contents, and date, the building seems to have
been quite similar to Building 314 at Tel Masos.â•›283
tween two burned surfaces (fig. 3.89).â•›284 The assemblage consisted of two tower-shaped
pottery stands 50 cm in height, the better preserved of which had trees incised on its
sides, while the other had two naked female plaque-figures en face with Hathor-locks,
one of which stood above a partially preserved cat. One part of the rim depicted a female
head-appliqué. These stands are similar in form and decoration to Taanach-stands 1 and
2. Among the category A objects was the fragment of a pointed stand-bowl as well. The
utilitarian pottery consisted of cooking pots, bowls, jugs, and storage jars. The entire as-
semblage suggests ritual actions associated with the production and consumption of food.
284.╇ Compiled after Potts, Colledge, and Edwards 1985: 203–4; fig. 11; pls. 41–42; cf. McNicoll
et al. 1992: 94–100 with. fig. 14 and pls. 70–71.
188 Chapter 3
The excavations between 1996 and 1997 revealed an Iron Age I/IIA mud-brick do-
mestic building that had been destroyed by a massive conflagration. This building yielded
storage vessels as well as vessels for the preparation and consumption of food and drink,
among which was a zoomorphic vessel that may have been used for libations (Bourke
et al. 2003: 356–57, fig. 38).
bowl (Locus III.8.3).â•›288 Along with domestic incense offerings and votive practices, the
evidence from this site suggests the possibility that molded figurines were occasionally
produced in domestic contexts.
288.╇See Bennet and Bienkowski 1995: 80; figs. 9.3:1; 9.3:2; 9.3:3; 9.3:6; 9.3:7; 9.3:9; 9.4:1.
289.╇ Herr 2006: fig. 1.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 191
tion of food, in spite of changes in the dominant types of figurines (from JPFs in Judah
to drummers in Transjordan). One significant difference is the occasional appearance in
Transjordan of distinctly divine images and miniature shrines alongside votive figurines—
items that were not found (or were extremely rare) in contemporary Judah. Nevertheless,
female votive figurines and animal figurines were the dominant figurines used to symbol-
ize prosperity in Judah, Moab, and Ammon. The presence of ritual objects, particularly
altars, in industrial structures at Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine reflects the objects found at Ekron,
where shaft altars were also used in work-related cultic activities (see below).
The largest group of figurines was the type that are formed like chairs with four legs and a
highly stylized head in the form of a kalathos on a long neck. These have been referred to
as “Ashdoda.” They have been found in Ashdod and Tell Qasile, and fragments indicative
of this type have also been found in Gezer, Tel Miqne, Tell es-Safi, Aphek, and Tell Jude-
ideh. Only one figurine from Ashdod was fully preserved, while most of the others (which
numbered approximately 60 pieces altogether) were fragments of necks, heads, or chairs
(Schmitt 1999: 644–46; Ben-Shlomo and Press 2009: 49). Some of the chairs had breasts on
the backrest. These figures were quite clearly designed to represent an enthroned female
deity. In addition to these Ashdoda fragments, the Philistine repertoire also contained
male heads and torsos, which probably belonged to standing male figurines. These figu-
rines lacked traditional iconographic indications of divinity, such as crowns and weapons.
Even though the Ashdoda clearly represented some kind of mother-goddess, there does
not appear to be any convincing evidence that associates the goddess represented by these
figurines with either the Asherah who was mentioned in an inscription found on a storage
jar from Tel Miqne/Ekron (Gitin 1990: note 18) or the deity pt[â•›g]yh, who may originally
have been a Philistine goddess (known from an inscribed dedication from Tel Miqne/
290.╇ I examined the corpus of Philistine terra-cotta figurines in my dissertation (Schmitt 1994;
1999); a recent update of the material appears in Ben-Shlomo and Press 2009; and Ben-Shlomo
2010: 31–70.
194 Chapter 3
Ekron and dated to the 7th century b.c.e.; Gitin, Dothan, and Naveh: 1997: 1–16; Kott-
sieper 2001: 189–90). The male heads and figurines portrayed no divine emblems, and
were most likely representations of ancestors (Schmitt 1999: 635).
Fig. 3.93.╇ Ashdod, Area H: Pottery and objects from Rooms 5032 and 5033.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 197
Fig. 3.94.╇ Ashdod: Figurines and pottery from Loci 4133 and 4109.
Additional evidence from clearly domestic loci of the residential sections of Areas
H and K is summarized in table 3.3 (p. 198; after Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005). The
data in this table reveal that various types of Philistine terra-cotta figurines, zoomorphic
vessels, and stands were used in domestic contexts during the Iron Age IB–IIC, often near
or in the vicinity of tabuns. Moreover, evidence from Building 5184 suggests that a wide
variety of ritual objects may have been used in the different rooms of the building.
301.╇ The material from the earlier excavations (Mazar 1951) has only been published in a sum-
mary way.
198 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.95.╇ Ashdod, Locus 5361 with musician’s stand and shrine model fragment.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 201
Fig. 3.96.╇ Stand and pottery from Ashdod, Area H, Locus 6212.
Similar installations with hearths and bathtubs have been found in Ekron. Room I of
a Stratum VII building contained a bench, a freestanding square hearth in the center, and
an adjacent limestone bathtub on the eastern wall. Building 353 (Field IV, Stratum VI)
also contained a bathtub and a raised hearth that had a monolith as well.â•›304 A centrally
positioned square hearth and bathtub installation was also found in a building in Ash-
kelon.â•›305 Furthermore, the large domestic Building 404 in Ekron Stratum VI yielded 15
small, round pebbled hearths along with a bull-shaped zoomorphic vessel and a chalice.â•›306
Another installation with a hearth and bathtub was identified by Dothan in the Area G
room or Courtyard 4124 of Stratum XII in Ashdod, although this is more likely to have
been part of a workshop for the production of pottery.â•›307
These hearth and bathtub installations were interpreted by Dothan (2003: 203) as
having been elements of purification rituals that were possibly communal. Such an as-
sertion is, according to Dothan, further affirmed by the presence of category A and B
objects in association with these installations. However, it does not seem likely that these
relatively large rooms in domestic buildings, and their associated installations would have
served ritual purposes exclusively. It is more likely that these hearths and bathtubs would
have been used for domestic activities, including baking, cooking, and other activities
associated with processing food. This association between kitchen installations and cat-
egory A and B objects and luxury pottery, particularly as evinced in Building 5337 in
Ashdod, accords neatly with the overall picture of other early Iron Age cult assemblages,
which seem to have had strong associations with the processing and consumption of food.
307.╇ Dothan 2003: 201 with fig. 12. The excavators interpreted the structure as a workshop and
the hearth as a kiln (Dothan and Porath 1993: 72 with plan 12), which seems more likely.
308.╇ Redrawn and compiled by Schmitt, after Dothan and Freedman 1967.
309.╇ Dothan and Freedman 1967: fig. 43.6 = Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 24.
310.╇ Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 69.
311.╇ Dothan and Freedman 1967: figs. 37.15 (bowl), 22 (jug), 24–25 (juglets).
312.╇ Dothan and Freedman 1967: figs. 38.7–8; 37.2–3, 11–12, 16, 19; 39.1, 3.
204 Chapter 3
Fig. 3.98.╇ Ashdod: Potter’s quarter in Area D with figurine and pottery assemblages.
building or in their vicinity. Another assemblage of probable cultic objects and vessels
was found in Locus 1019, which was an open space either belonging to the older Iron
IIB Str. IX (4) or to Str. VIII (3). The assemblage consisted of one fragment of an Ash-
doda, one head of a male figurine, a zoomorphic libation vessel, a stand, a fragment of a
kernos-ring bowl (category A), six kraters, one miniature and four regular bowls, a juglet,
a jug, and two jars.â•›313 It is possible that Str. VIII (3b) Pit 1004, which contained a similar
assemblage including various items of pottery,â•›314 another Ashdoda fragment,â•›315 a plaque-
figurine, and four zoomorphic kernos-ring spouts,â•›316 was associated with the assemblage
of Locus 1019.
Interpretations of the cultic character of Area D have been the subject of ongoing
debate (Zwickel 1994: 247; Schmitt 1999: 582–83), with little resolution achieved. Inter-
preting the function and purposes of these structures remains difficult because they were
not closely associated with any alleged cultic installations, and because Area D seems in
its entirety to have been a dedicated potter’s quarter, containing shops and storerooms.
Interpretation of items taken from the purportedly cultic Room 1010 also remains prob-
lematic, particularly because the architecture is not directly comparable with any other
known temples in Iron Age Palestine. Nevertheless, the entire assemblage of utilitarian
313.╇ Dothan and Freedman 1967: figs. 42.18; 43.1; 42.19; 39.10; 42.3–7; 39.8, 10; 42.1, 2, 8, 15,
16; 42.9, 13; 42.11, 12.
314.╇ Dothan and Freedman 1967: 148; fig. 36: four bowls, three kraters, flask handle, lamp.
315.╇ Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 25.
316.╇ Dothan and Freedman 1967: figs. 43.4, 44.1–2, 45.4.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 205
and nonutilitarian pottery found in the building suggests distinct possibilities of some
kind of cultic use. Cultic use of Room 1010 may only have been occasional, with the uten-
sils used for these cultic activities stored in the meantime in the other general-purpose
storage rooms. The similarities in the composition of utilitarian and nonutilitarian as-
semblages of Locus 1019 and Pit 1004 also accord with this picture of occasional cultic
use. The fact that figurines were found accompanied by libation vessels, jugs, and kraters
suggests at least the occasional performance of rituals of libation or meals for the goddess
represented by the Ashdoda figurines. The adjacent workshops also suggest that these
cultic activities may have somehow been associated with pottery-production processes.
The finds from the potter’s workshop itself indicate that the production of pottery was
accompanied by cultic activities. The Ashdoda-figurines and the other types of figurine
found near the potter’s workshop—which was still in use in Stratum VII—could have been
placed near the kilns in order to ensure success in firing the pottery.â•›317 A great number of
broken figurines and kernos fragments that probably originated from the workshop were
found in Pit 1067.â•›318 It therefore seems quite possible that the assemblages with the figu-
rines of the Ashdoda and the male ancestors were used in cultic activities associated with
the work of the craftspeople and that at least one purpose of these cultic activities was to
ensure the success of firing the kilns and pottery. If this is true, these assemblages may be
interpreted as examples of large-scale cults related to work practices that included laborers
involved in industrial production.
This evidence from Ashdod is supported by similar finds in Field I NE (Stratum VI–IV,
Iron Age I–IIA) at Ekron (Gitin and Dothan 1987: 202–3; Dothan 1990: 27–28; Dothan
and Dothan 1992: 241–42; Dothan and Gitin 1993: 1053; Dothan 2003: 209). Although
the finds from the kiln area here have only been published in preliminary reports, they
included Philistine figurines of Types I (Ψ-Type, Schmitt 1999: cat. nos. 4 and 5) and II
(Ashdoda, Schmitt 1999: cat. nos. 66 and 67), kernos fragments, a lion-headed rhyton,
incised bone scapulas, and miniature vessels. The excavators proposed that the building,
which contained a plastered bench, was a shrine. However, these figurines and their as-
sociated cultic paraphernalia are also typical of both domestic and work-related cultic
activities (Zwickel 1994: 211–12; Schmitt 1999: 588–89). Given the above interpretation
of assemblages from the potter’s area, it is also likely that this building, whether domestic
or industrial, was also the site of work-related cultic practices.
317.╇ Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 54 (near kiln 1164, under Hellenistic kiln 1053); cat. no. 33 (be-
tween kilns 1088 and 1164); cat. no. 31 (C/4, Locus 1085 near kiln 1169); Ashtarte-plaque near kiln
1168 (Locus 1051; Dothan 1971: fig. 64.2).
318.╇Kernoi: Dothan 1971: figs. 66.2; 68.1. Figurines: figs. 62.9, 10; 63.4 (= Schmitt 1999: cat.
no. 30); 63.6 (= Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 34); 64.1 (Ashtarte-plaque); 64.10 (female head). Male heads/
figurines: figs. 62.9 (= Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 77); 62.10 (= Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 93).
206 Chapter 3
the production of olive oil.â•›319 In an apparent anteroom containing an oil pressing instal-
lation, in Area II SW150, two horned altars (a larger one measuring 65 × 61 × 51 cm; a
smaller one measuring 25 × 25 × 23 cm) and a cylindrical limestone stand of 32 × 30 cm
were discovered in debris from phase C. The larger of these stands was partially resting
on top of the smaller altar and the cylindrical stand (MacKay 1995: 24, 126–28; fig.: pl. 9
and field phase plan section 166/150). These items were obviously not originally placed
in these positions but fell together when the structure was destroyed. Area II SW 134 was
most likely a storage room and contained two limestone altars, one of which was intact
and measured 39 × 24 × 16 cm, the other of which was found in two fragments but had
originally been around 47 cm high. These also also were found in debris from the destruc-
tion of the structure and thus, similarly, were probably not in positions corresponding
with their original use. The locus also contained a large amount of pottery, mostly in the
form of jars and pithoi, as well as several juglets, a painted chalice, and the base of another
chalice (MacKay 1995: 22, 115–19). Locus 118002 in Area II SW118 belonged to the same
building and, in the debris of the 7th-century destruction, contained an intact pottery
stand and a fragment of a zoomorphic figurine. The pottery consisted of store jars, lmlk-
type jars, cooking pots, a bowl lamp, and a votive goblet (MacKay 1995: 20, 100–101).
In Area II SW 86, an olive-oil press and a stand-like chalice with a painted triangular
design were unearthed. These items had very little pottery associated with them (MacKay
1995: 15).
Because horned altars were found in contemporary Judah as well as in earlier Israel
but have not been found anywhere else in Philistia, Gitin presumed these altars to have
reflected some kind of foreign religious practice that was performed by Israelite craftsmen
who had been forced to settle in Philistia following the fall of the Northern Kingdom in
721 b.c.e. The altars have therefore been interpreted to have been material parts of the reli-
gious practices of an Israelite craft guild in Ekron (Gitin 1993: 250; also see Gitin 1989: 61;
2003: 291). These altars may have been adopted from neighboring Israel or Judah, how-
ever, because of more-general cultural assimilation, without necessarily having an ethnic
association. Moreover, because cults associated with large-scale industrial practices seem
to have had a longer tradition in Philistia (as attested by the potter’s quarter in Ashdod),
the specialized practice in Ekron seems more likely to have originated with these Phil-
istine traditions. Ritual practices associated with the olive-oil industry consisted of the
offering of dry or liquid foodstuffs on altars and stands. The altars and stands show no
evidence of burning, and the offerings involved both chalices and juglets.
319.╇See Gitin 1989: 52–67; 1993: 248–58; MacKay 1995. See also Gitin 1990.
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 207
Ashdod are quite comparable with those of the superimposed phases (319, 200, and 131,
Strata XII–X) of the temple at Tell Qasile, even through this was merely a village shrine.
Assemblages from this shrine also contained terra-cotta figurines and a small terra-cotta
naos, together with nonutilitarian pottery including kernos rings and other forms of liba-
tion vessels, stands, utilitarian luxury pottery, a lion-shaped rhyton, and small bowls.â•›320
Domestic remains associated with the shrines contained a larger number of specialized
objects than remains associated with the potter’s cult, particularly the small model shrine
(“naos”), anthropomorphic vessels, and stands. The composition of Philistine assemblages
and the characteristics of their related installations thus enable us to differentiate between
village shrines as typified by Tell Qasile; occasional cultic practices conducted in or near
industrial areas ,as typified by the potter’s quarter of Ashdod and the industrial olive-oil
area of Ekron; and domestic cults, as typified by finds from both Ashdod and Tell Qa-
sile. Domestic units unearthed in Ashdod especially reveal the strong association between
ritual activities and kitchen facilities.
altar installations served cults of ancestors and of family gods. No anthropomorphic figu-
rines of humans or deities were unambiguously associated with ritual installations and,
according to Otto, figurines of deities were never present in Late Bronze Age houses, even
through figurines and weapons—or at least fragments thereof—seem to have been used in
apotropaic deposits near doors and on thresholds (A. Otto 2006: 241–44). Domestic cultic
practices in the average Tell Bazi house thus seem to have been performed and culturally
propagated by nuclear families that would generally have had at least seven members or,
for larger houses, extended nuclear families that may have included up to ten slaves (Otto
2006: 276). We may also be relatively certain that single cultic installations found in sub-
divided houses would have been owned by the primary heir. Use of these installations
would have been shared by the members of fraternal families who lived together (Otto
2006: 244).
3.5.3.1.╇ Houses and their furnishings in Iron Age Phoenicia and Syria
At Iron Age Tell Halaf, private buildings consisting of 4–5 rooms formed an L-shaped
structure—two wings surrounding an open court. These buildings most likely had two
stories, although there is also evidence for considerably less grand two-room buildings
that had only one level (Naumann 1950: 360–61, fig. 174–76). Tell Mastuma (Wakita,
Wada, and Nishiyama 2000) provided strong evidence for pronounced social stratifica-
tion. The sizes of houses ranged from simple twoâ•‚ or three-room dwellings of around
5 x 10 m to larger, two-storied houses of approximately 10 × 20 m, to even larger buildings
measuring about 19 × 28 m. A standard house may have housed a nuclear family of about
five people (Wakita, Wada, and Nishiyama 2000: 548 and n. 17). Regardless of the sizes of
buildings, cooking seems generally to have been done in courtyards, as is known to have
been the case for Building C2 of Tell Ahmar (Jamieson 2000).
Urban houses of the Iron Age IIB–C period generally followed Neo-Assyrian building
conventions, as exemplified by the late Assyrian Building C2 at Tell Ahmar (see Jamieson
2000: fig. 1). The rooms of this building were constructed around a central courtyard.
This house itself was quite large, covering an area of 700 m², and would most likely have
belonged to an elite family. Excavated pottery was used to discern several activity areas
in the house (Jamieson 2000). The northwest half formed a general living space, while
the southeast area was dedicated to domestic work and storage. Most of the items found
in Rooms 1 and 2 were storage jars, almost certainly implying that these were dedicated
storage rooms, although they may also have been used for activities associated with the
preparation of food. Most food preparation and processing, however, took place in the
courtyard (Room 7), in which were found ovens and a large number of cooking pots, as
well as vessels for the consumption of food. A large number of the latter vessels, particu-
larly bowls, were stored in the niche Room 8. An even larger number of small drinking
vessels were uncovered in the main reception hall (Room 6), while Rooms 4 and 5, which
were supposed to have been bedrooms, and the dressing and bathroom unit of Rooms
9–11 yielded at most only small amounts of pottery. No ritual objects were reported.
The Iron Age figurative material of Phoenicia and Syria bears a close typological re-
lationship with the Judean repertoire, especially the pillar-like figurines; the horses and
riders; the crude, handmade figurines of snowmen and women; and various other types of
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 209
animal figurines. This typological relationship is evinced in the coroplastic items excavated
from Tell Afis (see D’Amore in Mazzoni 1989: 75–98 and pls. 12–13), Sarepta (Pritchard
1988: figs. 10–15), and Beirut (Lehmann-Jericke 1997). Pillar-figurines with outspread
arms are also closely related to the above figurines and, even though they were not found
in Judah, they were commonly found in the Phoenician Iron II repertoire. Relatively few
figures that are divine representations were uncovered by excavations of Iron Age deposits
in Syria and Phoenicia, although exceptions are one enthroned male deity wearing an atef
crown and a few fragments of a youthful male god with a high, white crown. In the fol-
lowing sections, I consider several exemplary sites with finds that provide insight into the
extent to which these typological similarities, especially in relation to female and animal
figurines, may reflect similarities in patterns of usage.
323.╇ Kempinski and Niemeier 1994: figs. 17.1–3, 5, 6, 9, 10; 18.1, 3, 4, 6–8, 12, 14, 17, 19; 20.3,
5, 9; 21.1, 8.
210 Chapter 3
The floors of the building were partially plastered, suggesting that the building was a stor-
age room. This locus also yielded fragments of two fenestrated stands with red decorations
and an unperforated tripod-cup, which was also thought to be an incense burner (Badre
et al. 1994, fig. 20; Capet and Gubel 2000: fig. 18). The ritual objects were probably stored
away when not in use. An imported Cypriot zoomorphic vessel, presumed to have been
an askos, was recorded from the Iron Age strata (7–9) of Area I, along with approximately
11 fragments of terra-cotta figurines that depicted male and female deities (Badre et al.
1994: figs. 11; 15a–i). Although it seems likely that these figures would have been used in
domestic acts of veneration, the publication did not provide explicit details on locations
or contexts. A hollow figurine in the form of a votary carrying a sacrificial animal was also
found in Locus T13 NE (Badre et al. 1994: fig. 14).
Each of the succeeding Iron Age Levels 7–9 of the structure west of the jar building in
Area I T12 NW contained category A objects together with domestic pottery (Badre et al.
1990: pl. 6, figs. 27, 29, 30). Level 7, dated to the earlier part of the 7th century, contained
vessels for the storage and consumption of liquids, including cups, jugs, and a strainer jug,
along with a decorated amphora. Objects of religious significance included the torso of a
female plaque-figurine; one torso and one molded head of female figurines holding their
breasts; a crudely made, possibly male anthropoid figurine;â•›324 and a fibula.
The Level 8–9 square T12 NW from the latter part of the 8th century was character-
ized as a kitchen, and contained two ovens. Among many unspecified items of pottery,
the Level 8 material contained a bowl and the head of a male deity. The Level 9 material
contained pottery dedicated to the production and consumption of food, including bowls
and cooking pots, ivory inlay in form of a female head with polos (presumed to have rep-
resented a female deity; see Barnett 1982: pls. 43 c–d, 44 c), and the head of a male figurine
wearing a horned headdress. The assemblages of pottery and category A objects indicate
ritual activities performed either within the kitchen or its vicinity. Although fragments of
figurines are very commonly dispersed from locations where they originally might have
been used, the concentration of figurine fragments within a room dedicated to cooking,
eating, and drinking (Level 7) does not seem accidental.
The Iron Age evidence from Tell Kazel reveals interesting parallels with contemporary
Israel and Judah in the use of stands, tripod-cups, and zoomorphic vessels, but it also re-
veals differences, particularly in the domestic use of clearly divine images. Two essentially
different cultic patterns can be observed within this figurative material. The first would
have been domestic practices of worship addressed to the male and female divine rep-
resentations, which would most likely have been of Baal and Ashtarte; while the second
would have been some kind of votive practice utilizing the anthropoid figurines, as illus-
trated by the female figurines. This latter practice is particularly evinced by votary figurine
bearing the sacrifical animal from Tell Kazel T13 NE.
324.╇ Interpreted by the excavators as a bear (Badre 1990: 50). The figurine is similar to other
coarsely made objects found throughout Palestine (see, for instance, Gilbert-Peretz 1996: pls. 1.1–3;
8–10 from Jerusalem).
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 211
well have been a dedicated cult place serving the industrial area, and the figurines suggest
votive activities as well.
Fig. 3.100.╇ ʿAin Dara: Animal figurine from Sq. 4, Loc.15, Level 1, Phase VII.
the square (fig. 3.100).â•›326 The presence of the figurine suggests that the domestic activities
conducted in this area were associated with votive practices.
One fragment of a horse-and-rider figurine was excavated from the courtyard of a
Level V domestic building (fig. 3.101)â•›327 although no other objects or installations were
discovered in this courtyard.
A crude, apparently female figurine that lacked divine attributes was found in the
northwest quarter, in Level 6 Trench 1. The general area had been used for the preparation
and consumption of food, as indicated by the presence of cooking pots and bowls (Stone
and Zimansky 1999: 30–31). The presence of layers of ash led the excavators to conclude
that there had been an oven in the vicinity.
Fig. 3.101.╇ ʿAin Dara: Horse-and-rider fragment from Sq. 4, Loc. 12 (not specified), Level 2,
Phase V.
One relatively rare object found in a pit was a broken plaque of a woman en face wear-
ing a richly decorated dress (Stone and Zimansky 1999: 54–55, figs. 64, 82.2–3; for paral-
lels, see Nunn 2000: 73). Items of pottery such as cooking pots and other small objects
taken from the pit indicate that it served domestic purposes.
and Cecchini 1995; Cecchini and Mazzoni 1998) have concentrated on the Iron Age re-
mains. Even though many diagnostic objects were found buried in pits or within other
mass loci or surface finds (see D’Amore in Cecchini and Mazzoni 1998: 419–25), and LB
figurines were often found intermixed with Iron Age material, it is nevertheless possible to
discern some evidence of ritual activities performed here in domestic contexts.
A domestic quarter in Area E1 contained category A objects together with utilitarian
household wares. The most important find, however, came from a single-room house in
Level 3 (from early Iron Age II, around 1000–900 b.c.e.), where a crude limestone statu-
ette 22.5 cm high was found in the form of a seated, beardless figure holding a cup or
flower. An unspecified broken female terra-cotta figurine was also found in Square CsV2.
Pottery and other domestic tools found in the two Loci 803 and 806 included a basalt
Elements of Domestic Cult in Ancient Israel 217
Fig. 3.102.╇ Tell Afis, Area E1, Level 3: Limestone figurine and pottery from Loci 803 and 806.
grinding slab, a bowl, three cooking pots, and two storage jars (fig. 3.102).â•›328 The lime-
stone figurine, which is typologically similar to MB and LB statuettes, was interpreted by
the excavators as an ancestor figurine (Mazzoni in Cecchini and Mazzoni 1998: 203). This
type of figurine is similar to contemporary Syro-Hittite funerary statues, which were used
to represent the deceased (see Bonatz 2000: figs. 5, 6.11).
Additional evidence taken from distinguishable lociâ•›329 in the domestic structures of
Tell Afis is summarized in table 3.5. This evidence shows that human and animal figurines,
when it is possible to associate them with clearly discernible loci, were often associated
with vessels functioning in the production, consumption, and storage of food. These loci
328.╇ Mazzoni in Cecchini and Mazzoni 1998: 171, figs. 5, 22–23; p. 208, fig. 4.
329.╇ Many diagnostic objects were found in the Mass-locus 1344/F. 1008, a depression created
by the collapse of a building that had been used as a dump (see Cecchini in Cecchini and Mazzoni
1998: 282–93).
218 Chapter 3
also contained evidence of other domestic activities, such as weaving. In two clear cases,
figurines were found in rooms that also held tannur-ovens. Most of the figurines that were
found in clearly domestic contexts were votive animal figurines or crude anthropomorphic
figurines that lacked divine attributes. In addition to these anthropomorphic figurines,
several fragments from clay chariots were found, most of which were pieces of wheels
(Cecchini and Mazzoni 2000: TA.91.E.102, 180; TA.88.E.134; TA 89.E 26; TA.89.G.146).
These model chariots may have been cultic objects or may simply have been toys. Tell Afis
thus seems to have nurtured a domestic cult characterized by votive practices involving
male and female animal and human figurines, and possibly also the veneration of ances-
tors, as represented by the limestone statuette and the terra-cotta objects.
have been a place for the storage of ritual objects, the presence of the incense altar in the
northwest part of the room strongly suggests that it was a site of ritual actions. In this case,
the rituals would have included the burning of incense and the placement of votive objects
such as animal figurines.
Typology of
Iron Age Cult Places
The foregoing survey of Iron Age cult assemblages from domestic and other environ-
ments revealed a variety of association patterns that distinguish various types of domestic
cult practices, and cult practices performed outside domestic spaces as well. The abil-
ity to make distinctions of this sort based on these data is a considerable advance be-
yond previous studies.â•›1 Most earlier reference works and applied studies directed at the
archaeology of ancient Israel have made simple distinctions between enclosed temples
and open-air places of cult practice: the Hebrew במותbamōt.â•›2 Local or provincial shrines
have occasionally been discerned (A. Mazar 1990: 492–502), as well as sites of domestic
cults (H.€Weippert 1988: 409–10, 447, 628), although little in the way of additional differ-
entiation or systemization has been offered. One study presented by L. G. Herr (2000a)
distinguished between primary official or state sanctuaries (as in Jerusalem) and smaller
local sanctuaries that may have been official (as in Arad) or may only have served some
private group (as in Lachish Locus 49); however, this study was based more on formalis-
tic arguments than on extensive consideration of early Iron Age evidence. Nevertheless,
Herr did direct his attention toward the nature of actual cult practices performed in these
sanctuaries.
An elaborate typology of ancient Israelite cult places was developed by J. S. Holladay
(1987): national sanctuaries, town sanctuaries, neighborhood shrines, and domestic areas
of religious activity. National and town sanctuaries represented for him the “establishment
cultus,” as characterized by architectural features such as direct ingress, ashlar masonry,
and a prominent location in the town. Permanent and portable cultic apparatuses associ-
ated with these sorts of sanctuaries typically consisted of horned altars, steleform stones,
podiums, benches, stands, and a variety of uniquely formed lamps. Sanctuaries on the
neighborhood level represent a cultic subset of these national or town sanctuaries that
were constructed on a smaller scale (Megiddo Locus 2081, Lachish Building 49). Holladay
further noted that the “establishment cultus” was essentially aniconic (1987: 280). In ad-
dition to this designation of “establishment cultus,” Holladay further discerned “noncon-
formist” places of worship that were characterized by extramural locations (as in Samaria
1. See, for example, Holladay 1987: 268–70; Zwickel 1994: 8–16; Herr 2000a; Zevit 2001: 123–
24; Dever 2005: 110–75.
2. See, for instance, Fritz 1977: 70–75; 1985: 156–57; H. Weippert 1988: 407–10, 447–49, 620–
31; Mazar in Kempinski and Reich 1992: 161–87; Stern 2001: 201–3; King and Stager 2001: 320–38.
220
Typology of Iron Age Cult Places 221
E 207, Jerusalem Cave 1) and typically contained “foreign” material, human and animal
figurines, models of birds and furniture, and vessels for the offering of food and drink. He
also suggested that domestic cult assemblages revealed elements suggestive of a “distrib-
uted” or “nonconformist” cult, such as anthropoâ•‚ or zoomorphic figurines that could be
considered “foreign material,” vessels, models of furniture and lamps, cups and saucers,
and small, cubic limestone altars. Holladay’s typology, however, relies on distinguishing
“nonconformist” cults by the presence of “foreign” material. This sort of characterization
assumes that religious activities as practiced on this social level showed “an attempt on
the part of individuals or groups of individuals to remedy perceived deficiencies in the
established religion” and that such processes must have taken place outside the internal
constraints of organized societies (Holladay 1987: 269–70). He presupposed the existence
of a fundamental tension between “official” or “established” cultic activities and the reli-
gious activities practiced by individuals or groups in domestic realms that were rooted in
traditions of folk religion. Archaeological evidence reveals that official sanctuaries such as
those at Dan and Arad commonly contained elements indicative of these allegedly “non-
conformist” cultic practices, such as terra-cotta figurines and other votive objects, “for-
eign” material, and elements typical of domestic cults.â•›3
However, the type of material that was considered “foreign,” including Egyptian-type
amulets and fayence figurines, terra-cotta figurines, and other types of votive objects, were
quite common in local tradition and have been found throughout the Levant.â•›4 Egyptian-
object amulets and other small artistic items bearing repertoires of Egyptian motifs in
particular ought not be considered “foreign” but, rather, to reflect local traditions that
extended back to the Late Bronze Age and occasionally—as with seal amulets—even to
the Middle Bronze Age. The fundamental antagonism recognized by Holladay between a
“nonconformist” or “distributed” cultus and an “establishment” cultus does not seem to
be supported by material cultural evidence, because the ritual apparatuses that included
figurines were used equally in both “establishment” and “nonconformist” cult practices.
Moreover, this sort of distinction seems to be based on Deuteronomic or Deuteronomistic
verdicts against specific ritual practices and presupposes the official cult to have held a “le-
gitimate” status and other forms of ritual activities to have been considered from an offi-
cial point (at least to some extent) “illegitimate.” As will be demonstrated below,â•›5 observed
differences between cult practices and places are better explained from a perspective of
internal religious pluralism instead of competing levels of cultic activity.
Zwickel (1994: 9) distinguished five forms of cult structures: (1) monumental temples
as locations of official cults and comprising differentiated areas and supporting buildings;
(2) chapels as places for public or private cult activities that were not intended for larger
communities (this category also included gate sanctuaries); (3) additional buildings or
rooms that may have belonged to temples or other sacred precincts but were not used
for ritual activities; (4) open-air cultic structures (bamōt); and (5) domestic cult places
typically defined by the presence of cultic items such as figurines or incense burners. It
must be presumed that official or sanctioned cult personnel would have been associated
with the first four of these types of structure, while locations of domestic cult practices
would have served and been maintained by families alone.
Zevit (2001: 652–58) distinguished six primary forms: (2) temples and temple com-
plexes exemplified by the fortress temple at Arad; (2) undefined cult sites such as Lachish
Locus 81; (3) cult complexes such as the bull site; (4) cult caves such as Jerusalem Cave I;
(5) cult corners or rooms exemplified by those at Megiddo 2081, Megiddo 340, Lachish
Room 49, and Ai; and (6) places of domestic cult. These six categories additionally com-
prised two classes, distinguishable according to social contexts. Class I designated struc-
tures that had been integrated into some greater order attributable to centralized planning
and control (as at Arad, Dan, Lachish Room 49, and Megiddo 340); while structures of
Class II lacked these features (for example, those at Megiddo Locus 2081, the Ai cultic
structure, the bull site, and Cave I).
Dever (2005: 110–75) distinguished local shrines, open-air cult places, larger commu-
nal sanctuaries, and monumental temples. He defined a local shrine as “a local holy place
that served either a nuclear family, or at most a small group of related families” (2005:
111). These were characterized by the presence of standing stones, altars, stone tables and
basins, offering stands and benches, jewelry, “exotic” vessels, animal bones and food re-
mains, astragali, and female terra-cotta figurines. However, most of the structures consid-
ered by Dever to have been shrines (such as Ḥirbet Raddana, Tell el-Fārʿah House 440,
Samaria Locus E 207, and the northeast room at Tell el-Wawiyat) were in fact not shrines
but (as demonstrated in the survey in chap. 3 above) either places of domestic cult activ-
ities or other functions, such as, for example, at Samaria E 207â•›6 or Tel Reḥov, which was
an open-air cult place.â•›7 Moreover, there does not appear to be any evidence for Dever’s as-
sertion that these shrines would have served larger, extended-family compounds (p. 117;
and see pp. 18–19), because areas in which neighborhood shrines have been excavated do
not demonstrate any kind of clustering, which would be necessary for these structure to be
considered “compounds.” Furthermore, in the period considered by Dever, no evidence
has arisen to suggest that these shrines would have been the sole locations of regular,
ritual activities; these kinds of shrines appear, in fact, to have been rather uncommon,â•›8 but
there is much stronger evidence for the regular performance of ritual actions in individual
domestic units. Detailed consideration of the kinds of sites and structures grouped to-
gether in Dever’s classification presents even greater problems. The sanctuary at Dan was
grouped together with the “bull site” within the category of “public open-air sanctuaries”
(with this category also including Hazor 3283, the Taanach “cultic structure,” and Kuntil-
let ʿAjrûd), in spite of differences in internal layouts and locations within their larger areas.
Moreover, the Tel Dan “bamāh” was actually a podium for a temple building, and Kuntil-
let ʿAjrûd was definitely not a cultic structure but a caravanserai. Dever included the Iron
II Arad fortress temple in his category of monumental temple buildings and the last phase
of the Shechem migdal-temple. Cult use of the latter and its maṣṣebāh ended, however, in
Iron Age I, after which the structure was used only for profane purposes (Campbell 1993:
1352; see also 2002). Thus, although the essence of Dever’s typology appears to be useful,
its application to archaeological examples is in most cases problematic.
Holladay, Zwickel, Zevit, and Dever have each presented plausible schemes for differ-
entiating cult places on the basis of their architectural features and their social contexts.
These schemes nevertheless offer no way of identifying the social carriers of particular
cult types and practices or of distinguishing the social carriers of the various rituals that
must have been associated with the various levels of cult activities. Zevit’s distinction be-
tween two classes, based on whether the planning appears to have been centralized or
not, is definitely not specific enough to be used for the present purposes, especially since
it aggregates cult structures that may have served and been used by distinctly different
social carriers of ritual practices. Moreover, relationships between these potential social
carriers of ritual practices must be examined—both the personnel and the participants
associated with the cult sites and structures. A second weakness of both Zwickel’s and
Zevit’s typology is that they pay little attention to the significance of cult paraphernalia
in characterizing cult activities. Moreover, in chap. 3 we demonstrated the necessity of
differentiating between the features typical of domestic cult practices and those of the
larger industrial, neighborhood, or village levels, even though this sort of differentiation
has not been attempted previously (H. Weippert 1988: 409–10, 628–29; and, following
her, Albertz 1992: 150–52). Furthermore, the widely held assumption that there was a
strong distinction between official religious practices and those performed in private or
family environments—which has led to their being seen as competing arenas of religious
activity; Holladay 1987; Nakhai 2001: 203)—is highly problematic. By analyzing the dif-
fering contexts of four-horned altars from Tel Miqne, Gitin (2002: 113–17) examined the
intersections between public and private religious activities and identified five examples
of coexistence and duality in the cult practices of Ekron. These were: (1) the coexistence of
private worship in religious and secular settings; (2) the coexistence of public worship in
religious and secular settings; (3) the coexistence of portable and fixed forms of worship;
(4) the coexistence of centralized and decentralized forms of worship; and (5) the coex-
istence of local and foreign forms of worship. Regardless of the fact that Gitin made no
attempt to discriminate among different levels of cult practice, his description of the inter-
sections and coexistence of different forms of cult activities provides a useful supplement
to the model of internal religious pluralism proposed in the present study.
After considering all aspects of location, evidence of centralized planning, architec-
tural features, potential social carriers, cult participants, cult functionaries, and assem-
blages of cult paraphernalia, we are proposing eight types of cult places here as well as sub-
divisions. Type IA describes common domestic cult places, with the nuclear or extended
family presumed to be the carrier group. Type IB describes larger-scale domestic cult
places or shrines, for which again the nuclear or extended family is presumed to be the
carrier group, which was also assigned to an inner circle of ritual activities. Type II com-
prised cult places associated with work environments, within which a distinction is made
between two different sizes of carrier groups: (A) small scale, incorporating an inner circle
or nuclear family; and (B) larger scale, incorporating inner and middle circles, nuclear and
224 Chapter 4
joint families, and their broader kin group. Type III cult places were neighborhood instal-
lations or shrines, for which the carrier is presumed to have been a medium circle ranging
from a nuclear or extended family to a co-residential lineage or neighborhood. Type IV
describes places associated with cults of the dead, with carriers also presumed to belong
to this same medium circle.â•›9 Type V consisted of village sanctuaries, which are further
subdivided into (A) shrines, (B) open-air places, and (C) gate sanctuaries. Social carriers
for these locations presumably belonged to an outer circle the encompassed members of
a co-residential lineage or the local community. Type VI presumes palace shrines to have
been a distinct group, representing an official variant of large-scale domestic practices
performed and socially carried by local military or elite administrative personnel. Type
VII describes regional sanctuaries, subdivided into (A) shrines or temples, and (B) open-
air places. Carriers for these sites are presumed to have been regional tribes, inhabitants
of regional communities, or perhaps official bodies. Finally, Type VIII comprised supra�
regional temples of the official cult, and the social carriers were royal personages or associ-
ated officials. There is, of course, a degree of artificiality to these classifications, and there
must have been some degree of flux among the various categories; for example, Types III
(neighborhood shrines), VA (village shrines), and VIIB (regional sanctuaries). This clas-
sification also reflects evidence drawn from a wide period of time, ranging from Iron Age I
to Iron Age IIC and is intended primarily for heuristic purposes.â•›10
concluded that ritual actions would generally have been performed on the ground floor
near or in the vicinity of a fireplace. Association patterns of this sort have been observed
in excavations spanning the entire Iron Age up until the end of Judah in 586 b.c.e. Perma-
nent installations dedicated to ritual objects and actions, such as platforms and benches,
seem to have been rare. In only one case was a small domestic platform found in a niche
(at Tel Batash Locus 914); a second platform-like installation found at Tell es-Saʾīdīyeh (in
House 64) would most likely have been a kitchen installation. Ritual objects used in do-
mestic contexts were generally light and readily portable and may have been arranged in
various ways to suit a variety of needs throughout the house. The same ritual objects often
appear to have been used in different rooms, sometimes individually and sometimes in
association with a group of other objects, as illustrated by the assemblage from the Lachish
lower house. There is strong evidence that cult objects or even entire cult assemblages
were stored in separate storage rooms when not in use, as seems to have been the case in
Tell Mazar Room 101 and Tel Halif Locus G 8005. The standard “holy corner” or domestic
shrine that is found in Late Bronze Age Tall Bazi in Syria does not appear to have existed
in Iron Age Israel or Judah.â•›13 Rather, early Iron Age assemblages appear to reflect closely
the local traditions found in Late Bronze Age domestic cult assemblages.â•›14 There is little
evidence that religious activities were conducted regularly in upper stories of houses, but
this may reflect the fact that older excavation reports often did not sufficiently delineate
the material from a second story. The Beersheba hoards and several finds from Tel Halif
certainly provide evidence of ritual objects that were located on upper stories, and the
possibility cannot be excluded that ritual activities were performed on upper stories. It
does appear that the rooms of a second story were occasionally used for ritual purposes,
as is known to have occurred in domestic structures in many other areas.
Based on recent studies on gender in relation to activities in Israelite households
(AckerÂ�man 2003; Meyers 2003a, b; van der Toorn 2003: esp. pp. 398–402), we must em-
phasize the fact that the strong association between areas that contained ritual vessels
and other objects associated with food production and installations commonly found in
main, ground-floor halls indicates the important roles played by women in the ritual per-
formances of daily life. Detailed data collated on the nature of ritual apparatuses suggest
the likelihood that daily offerings and gifts were presented to deities and ancestors, the
latter perhaps being represented by human figurines;â•›15 these ritual acts would have ac-
companied the preparation of food (see also van der Toorn 2003: 399). It may also be as-
sumed that the daily family meal was accompanied by presenting a ritual portion to one or
more deities or ancestors. Compelling evidence for the performance of these activities has
been found in remnants of food offerings and libations that had been presented in bowls
on stands, poured out on the ground, or stored in bowls along with specialized libation
vessels. Evidence for the burning of aromatic compounds provides additional support.
Acts of this sort would have provided a means for deities or ancestors to participate in
13. The regular occurrence of domestic shrines was also concluded by Albertz (1992: 150–52)
following the considerations of H. Weippert (1988: 409–10).
14. For instance, the LB assemblage from House 305 (Givon 1999: 173).
15. See pp. 60–66 in this volume.
226 Chapter 4
the daily lives of families, thereby ensuring the family’s continuation, whether in terms of
health, wealth, or prosperity.
Patterns typical of Iron Age IIC domestic cults suggest that a prominent role was played
by female votive pillar-figurines, which expressed and conveyed the desire for female fe-
cundity (Meyers 1988: 162). Male votaries such as the horse-and-rider may also have been
used to represent male interests. As argued above, figurines of sheep, goat, and cattle also
encapsulated powers of fertility, as well as more generally ensuring the abundance of live-
stock. Miniature furniture and possibly miniaturized vessels may also have symbolized
the prosperity and wealth of a household (see Moorey 2003: 65), while the same purpose
may be posited for luxury items and certain rare, collectible objects. The function of these
objects as generic symbols of prosperity may also be the reason for their presence at burial
sites. Category A and B objects thus benefited the continuation of family wealth, fecun-
dity, or prosperity—the essential needs of a nuclear family.
Several excavated items may also provide insight into mantic practices in the domestic
buildings of Israel and Judah. The mask found along with a fenestrated stand in Hazor
Room 44 (Iron IIB) suggest practices of divination and perhaps necromancy. Astragali
and other game pieces that have often been found in domestic contexts may also have
been used for mantic purposes. Although such conclusions may often be tentative, the
astragali found in a bowl excavated in Megiddo Locus 2081 were very likely intended for
ritual use. There are also certain types of figurine that may have been used to represent
ancestors and that may have been used in necromantic practices, such as the unique pair
of peg figurines from Lachish (Kletter 2004: fig. 28.36:3–4). Figurines of various types may
also have been used for magical purposes, such as to engender love, to avert evil, or even
to allow evil to fall on someone else, although archaeological evidence has not revealed
significant patterns of disposal or ritual figurines that suggest practices of this sort (unlike
the lead Hellenistic period figurines that were bound with wire or had their limbs twisted;
Bliss and Macalister 1902: pl. 85; Dothan 1971: fig. 27.5; pl. 31.1). These practices can only
be conjectured on the basis of textual and archaeological evidence from Mesopotamia (see
Schmitt 2004: 187–93).
Patterns discerned in the domestic assemblages of Israel and Judah that suggest that
religious practices were performed by or in nuclear or extended families are essentially
identical to patterns seen in domestic assemblages from Jordan, Philistia, Phoenicia, and
Syria. One apparent difference is the occasional occurrence of clearly divine images in the
households of Ammon, Philistia, Phoenicia, and Syria; images of this sort have not been
found in Iron Age Israel and Judah. Figurines of deities similar to the Moabite figurines
that bore atef crowns or the Syro-Phoenician divine representations that bore conical
headdresses or white crowns and polos have occasionally been found in domestic contexts
in Transjordan, Phoenicia, and Syria. Clearly, divine images providing evidence of domes-
tic cult activities seem to have been common only in Philistia, where they took the form of
Ashdoda figurines. Nevertheless, in Transjordan, Phoenicia, and Syria, animal and female
anthropoid figurines, as well as horses and riders—all lacking divine attributes—com-
monly appeared in domestic contexts as well as in industrial contexts in Philistia and
Phoenicia (at Sarepta). Zoomorphic libation vessels also appear to have been common
both in Ashdod (as attested in the potter’s area, Area H domestic quarter) and Tell Jawa
Typology of Iron Age Cult Places 227
(in Room 107). Although there is some evidence from Tell Jawa of cultic practices that
occurred on a second story, most of the domestic cult remains seem to have originated
on the ground floor itself, suggesting that it was the primary site of religious activity (see
Daviau 2001: 201; 2003: 455).â•›16 Concentrations of ritual artifacts at Tell Jawa were found
in the kitchen (Room 302) and a food-processing room (Room 110), similar to patterns
observed at Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine (in Building 140). Although Dothan’s theory that the
Philistine bathtub and hearth installations served purely cult purposes is not supportable,
there is evidence from Philistia for the ritual use of kitchens. Evidence from Tell Kazel T12
NW and Room D of Building G at Dur Katlimmu in Syria supports a similar conclusion:
that ritual objects were found in clear association with kitchen installations or rooms.
Evidence from Philistine, Jordanian, and Syro-Phoenician sites supports the conclusion
drawn from Israel and Judah that the same ritual objects were used in various rooms and
in various domestic contexts, and a considerable number of objects in all cases were asso-
ciated with food-preparation activities. Thus ritual activities performed in domestic areas
appear to have been very similar across the entire West Asian region throughout the Iron
Age. The house as the domain of the nuclear or extended family—the inner circle—can
therefore be considered the primary center of the fundamental religious activity and needs
of the family. The very general association between ritual activities and domestic activities
such as the preparation and consumption of food indicates the regularity of the ritual
activities, which may often have been performed on a daily basis. Ritual activities would
typically have included the offering of drink, food, or aromatic compounds; the honoring
of ancestors; the worship of gods represented by figurines (at least in Jordan, Philistia,
Syria, and Phoenicia); and votive practices involving fertility figurines and animals, which
would have ensured the fertility and abundance of family and flocks in Israel and Judah.
playing games or casting lots for mantic purposes. The Megiddo assemblage seems to rep-
resent a subset of assemblages typical of neighborhood or village shrines, rather than be-
ing a distinctive type of its own (contra Holladay 1987: 271), while the assemblages from
Tel Masos House 314 clearly display a more domestic character. These domestic shrines
could have served and been used by elite, extended nuclear families or paternal joint fami-
lies, either in urban contexts such as Megiddo Locus 2081 or in rural contexts such as Tel
Masos. These large, permanent cult installations in domestic contexts do, however, seem
to have been exceptional, and evidence from Megiddo Locus 2081 and Tel Masos House
314 should not be considered definitive.
have strengthened the social cohesion of groups of workers by binding together the people
who were directly or indirectly involved in the ritual performances.
Dedicated cult organizations (see Schmitt 1999: 639–41) would probably have directed
these rituals on highly specialized or large-scale industrial production sites that featured
permanent ritual installations of Type IIB, such as the potters’ workshops in Ashdod and
Ekron or the olive-oil production facilities of Ekron. This may also have been the case at
the textile production and dyeing installations of Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine, where relatively
large altars were originally used on rooftops. The altars found in the olive-oil production
area of Ekron were too large to be portable, which is compelling evidence that regular cult
activities took place. Type IIA smaller industrial installations, typically found in or near
domestic units, would more likely have been used by families who worked in industrial
processes together; these were probably joint families. The fact that the ritual assemblages
form a clear subset of domestic assemblages indicates that nuclear or joint families in most
cases were the groups responsible for work-related cult activities. Cult practices associated
with small-scale industrial areas or workshops would therefore have been confined to
the inner circle of nuclear and joint families, while practices associated with larger-scale
industrial areas would have been carried out by a medium-sized social circle (expanded
to include more kin), who probably were part of a multiple-family household, as well as
servants, slaves, and clients.
17. Therefore, they should not be used for a model of religious organizational patterns in Iron
Age II, as done by Holladay (1987: 268).
18. �����������������������������������尓������
This difference was not recognized by H. Weippert (1988: 409–10) and, following her, Al-
bertz (1992: 150–52).
230 Chapter 4
enlarged subset of contemporary domestic cult assemblages (contra Holladay 1987: 268–
69), but the restricted size of most neighborhood shrines probably means that the larger
ritual apparatuses were unsuitable for serving entire communities. The lack of available
data prevents determining whether specialized personnel were responsible for directing
ritual actions at neighborhood shrines and, because the societies in which these shrines
have been found show little differentiation between social levels, it seems most likely that
the above-mentioned carrier groups were responsible for the maintenance of the cults.
19. Type IV (places for the care of the dead) will be dealt with in chap. 7 below.
Typology of Iron Age Cult Places 231
appear to have included offerings of animals on the courtyard altar, the burning of in-
cense, offerings of food and liquids, and the consumption of sacrificial meals both inside
and outside the temple. Although terra-cotta representations of deities and votive figures
appear to have been common in domestic and industrial realms, none was found in as-
sociation with the Philistine temples at Tell Qasile (although one ceramic model shrine
depicting two naked goddesses was found in Temple 131; see Schmitt 1999: cat. no. 112).
232 Chapter 4
The finds from the Yavneh favissa included a clay miniature altar with horns, 120
unique model ceramic shrines, and thousands of small bowls, kernoi, zoomorphic vessels,
and chalices (some of which had traces of soot). It seems possibly that this extraordinary
number of objects formed the furnishings of a local Philistine temple (Kletter and Ziffer
2007). One fragment of a model shrine similar to the model shrines found at Yavneh was
found in a domestic context in Ashdod, indicating the cultural intersection of domestic
and public cults in Philistia (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.75). Thus, many of the
finds from the Yavneh favissa probably served as votive objects dedicated by the partici-
pants of the cult.
Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine Temple 149 in Moab (Daviau and Steiner 2000; Daviau 2006: 19)
was built south of the gate and seems also to have been a village shrine with typical fea-
tures such as benches along its walls and a stone slab. Two stone pillars supported the roof
and divided the main room, with a central bench connecting these pillars that may indi-
cate the cult focus. The entire structure was square and measured 5.5€m per side. Objects
found here included a larger shaft altar that seems to have been painted and contained a
depression for liquids; a smaller shaft altar that showed traces of burning; and the famous
candelabrum altar inscribed with ליסף בת אות/ מקטר אׁשmqṭr ʾš ʿś ʿlšmʿ / lysp bt ʾwt ‘the
incense altar that Elishama made for YSP, the daughter ʾWT’ (Dion and Daviau 2000). The
debris of the temple also yielded three fragments of female votive terra-cotta figurines (in
the form of one torso and two heads), two murex shells, a fayence bead, an Egyptian-type
Udjat-amulet, a spouted libation vessel, five lamps, two stone pegs of uncertain usage that
may have been foundation objects, a chalice, a juglet, a number of jugs, and a decanter.
Two bowls, one jug, and four jars were also recovered from a pit in the main room (Da-
viau and Steiner 2000: figs.€11–12). The annex room yielded a game board and a limestone
mortar.
Type VB is a category of small, freestanding, intramural, open-air sanctuaries, as
represented by the מצבהmaṣṣebāh installations from Tel Reḥov (Tell eṣ-Ṣārem), Area E
(A.€Mazar 1999: 23–28), Hazor Locus 80019 (Ben-Ami 2006), the open-air cultic place
at Tell Michal (Avigad 1993: 932–33), and Arad Stratum XII, which consisted of a built
altar and a structure that was most likely a במהbamāh (Y.€Aharoni 1981: fig.€1; 1993: 82;
see also Zevit 2001: 157–58). Although a cultic interpretation of the Iron I structure from
Arad Stratum XII is to some extent tentative (see Fritz 1993: 186; Zwickel 1994: 243–44),
the fact that the Stratum XII altar lay in precisely the same position as the altar of the later
fortress temple strongly suggests the long-time use of this place for cult purposes. Animal
slaughter and consumption at open-air cult places occurred in the bamāh structure at Tell
Michal (Avigad 1993: 933), as well as at Tel Reḥov (A. Mazar 1999: 26).
Cult paraphernalia used in open-air sanctuaries included stands, human and animal
votive figurines, chalices, and vessels for the preparation and consumption of food and
drink, as found at Reḥov (A. Mazar 1999: figs. 14–16). Tabuns were also constructed in the
immediate vicinity of the ritual installation at Tel Reḥov. This type of sanctuary seems only
to have appeared during the limited time between Iron Age I (at Arad) and early Iron Age
IIB (at Tel Reḥov). No structure of this kind has been found in Israel or Judah in Iron Age
IIC. Local and village sanctuaries also include cult installations constructed at city gates,
such as at Tel Dan, Tell el-Fārʿah North, Bethsaida, and Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine in Jordan,
Typology of Iron Age Cult Places 233
with the latter forming its own typological group (Type VC).â•›20 A platform (bamāh) with
an offering trough was found at the gate of Bethsaida, positioned in front of stelae that
depicted ā stylized image of the moon-god, and an additional aniconic maṣṣebāh besides
the bamāh (Bernett and Keel 1998). These structures were dated to the 8th century b.c.e.
Both stelae were oriented to the west. The trough contained three perforated tripod cups.
A number of ritual installations were discovered at Tel Dan (Biran 1994: 245; 1998),
including a row of five small standing stones along with a bench adjacent to the city wall
(Locus 5122b), associated with an assemblage of two tripod cups, two lamps (one with a
stand), three bowls, and a platter (Biran 1994: fig. 205). It remains unclear whether animal
bones found in the vicinity were associated with the installation. A similar installation
with five standing stones was discovered in Locus 5180, again adjacent to a wall. Both
installations have been dated to Iron Age IIB.
A third, freestanding structure (Locus 5188) has been dated to the Assyrian period,
and consisted of four maṣṣebôt of heights between 50 and 117 cm enclosed by a wall of
2.5 x 3 m. All three of these maṣṣebôt installations were oriented to the north. A maṣṣebāh
that was oriented roughly northwest was also discovered in the area of the inner gate at
Tell el-Farʿa (North), Stratum VII b–e. It included an offering trough, and has been dated
to the 10th–9th centuries b.c.e. (Chambon 1984: Plan IV–VI). The gate sanctuary thus
revealed a clear pattern of cult features, with the maṣṣebāh as a focus, an installation for
offerings (most likely involving libations poured into the trough), and the burning of aro-
matic compounds. An extramural gate shrine was built at Ḥirbet el-Mudēyine, directly
abutting the north face of the eastern gate tower. It contained two maṣṣebôt that were
oriented to the east (Daviau 2006: 17, with fig. 2; pl. 5a).
Similar to neighborhood shrines, the spaces formed by typical freestanding village
shrines would rarely have been able to accommodate larger communities, although com-
munities may well have been involved in ritual performances in adjacent courtyards or
other unbuilt areas. Village shrines may therefore be considered to have served and been
directed by an outer (larger) social circle consisting of families, additional kin, especially
multiple-family households, and friends or neighbors. Herr’s speculation, however, that
the generally direct ingress to village shrines indicated a closer and more-direct relation-
ship with a god or gods (2000a: 141–43) remains largely unsupported. The highly special-
ized assemblages found at local and village shrines such as Hazor, Lachish, and Tell Qasile
and the variety of ritual actions that must have been conducted with these objects suggest
that specialized personnel would have been responsible for the maintenance of the cult.
At village shrines, regular ritual actions would probably have been conducted by a priest
or priesthood on behalf of the community, as described in Judg 17:7–8 for Micah’s sanctu-
ary, while gate sanctuaries would more likely have been sites of en passant ritual actions
performed by community members themselves.
20. See Bernett and Keel (1998: 53–71) for a discussion of other possible remains of cult places
in or near the city gates at Ḥorvat ʿUzza, Ḥorvat Radum, Kuntillet ʿAjrûd, Beersheba, Megiddo, and
Kinneret. Most of these, however, are considerably less certain in their interpretation.
234 Chapter 4
mal representatives. Although it does not seem that dedicated priesthoods were associated
with these open-air sanctuaries, it is possible that official priests served at the cult mounds
on special occasions, as indicated in 1 Kgs 12:31–32 (presuming this was not a polemic).
22. Kletter 1996: cat. no. HR 80 (Locus 380, entrance to the temple), JPF 442 (Locus 783), JPF
446 (Locus 350, small room near the altar), JPF 448 (Locus 380, entrance to the temple), JPF 453
(Locus 350), JPF 456 (Locus 795, Hellenistic pit).
Typology of Iron Age Cult Places 237
ration, and consumption of food, mostly in the form of bowls.â•›23 Ritual actions that must
have been performed at this sanctuary include sacrificial slaughter on the altar, the con-
sumption of sacrificial meals, the burning of incense, the offering of libations and votive
objects, and perhaps—as was supposed by the excavators (Beit-Arieh 1995: 306)—formal
processions between the sanctuary buildings. The excavators also suggested that some of
the built structures (Structure I and B may have served to accommodate priests; 1995:
308). Given the permanence of the buildings and their installations, it does indeed seem
likely that there was a priesthood associated with this sanctuary complex, whose employ
may have been supported by the local tribes.
All of these regional sanctuaries discussed above would have served different forms of
social organization dependent upon their geographical and economic contexts. The “bull
site” was likely a regional sanctuary serving the early (or proto-) Israelite settlements in
the vicinity of the Samarian hill country. The Ḥorvat Qitmit sanctuary was most likely a
central sanctuary for the semi-nomadic tribes who lived in the wider vicinity, and would
perhaps have been maintained by a priest or priesthood. The Timnah valley temple served
the mining colonists in the Timnah Valley area. The Arad fortress temple was an offi-
cial structure serving military and administrative staff, the inhabitants of the Negev, and
traders en route throughout that region. The existence of dedicatory inscriptions (qōdeš/
qōhanîm), along with good evidence of differentiated cult actions, particularly in regard
to the slaughter of animals, strongly argue that the cult of the Arad temple was maintained
by a priesthood. The evident intersection of military and religious institutions further sug-
gests that the priesthood of Arad would have been sanctioned and employed by a central
administration based in the capital, Jerusalem.
23. From Complex A came 1534 bowls, 73 kraters, 15 clay basins, 39 cooking pots, 93 jars; from
Complex B, 605 bowls, 5 kraters, 17 clay basins, 23 cooking pots, 50 jars (Beit-Arieh 1995: 209–19).
24. I only mention here some of the more recent studies: Hurowitz 1992; 2005; Keel and Ueh-
linger 1998: §§103–8; Zwickel 1999a; Bloch-Smith 2002.
238 Chapter 4
Dan Sanctuary contained a number of built features that seem to have been typical for
monumental architecture in the Northern Kingdom, including the use of ashlar masonry,
a rectangular layout for the sacred precinct (measuring 45 × 60 m), and the fact that the
building complex of the sanctuary proper, which measured 17 × 28 m, consisted of bamōt
A (Stratum IV: 9 × 18.5 m) and B (Stratum III: 18 × 18 m) with northwest orientations, a
large built altar, and additional buildings. Among items excavated from the early (Stratum
IV, 10th century) sacred precinct were two pithoi decorated with snakes, a pottery stand,
bowls, jugs, and other vessels that included Phoenician imports from one of the store-
rooms north of the central complex (Biran 1994: figs. 125, 126, 128, 129). A bar-handled
bowl filled with animal bones, two tall cylindrical stands, and a 10-cm-long fragment of a
male bearded head were found on a cobbled floor near the altar (Biran 1994: figs. 133–34).
The presence of Egyptian-type fayence figurines (Biran 1994: figs. 139, 141, 142) suggests
votive practices. A stone-lined basin associated with a stand and a terra-cotta bathtub
measuring 65 × 82 × 141 cm with an internal seat were interpreted by the excavators as an
installation for cleansing rituals (Biran 1994: 174; figs. 135–36). Another installation with
a sunken basin, basalt slabs, and sunken jars at both ends was also interpreted as having
served ritual purposes (Biran 1994: 177, fig. 137), although this installation was much
more likely to have been an olive-oil press that provided oil for the needs of the temple
(see Dever 2005: 140). A built altar from the later periods (Stratum II) was found in Room
2844 with two iron shovels and a jar that contained ashes and burned animal bones. Room
2844 also contained two miniature altars and a carinated bronze bowl. A blue fayence
dye was discovered north of the altar room in a small annex (Biran 1994: 192–99). The
objects unearthed at Tel Dan indicate that rituals performed in the temple consisted of the
slaughter of animals, food offerings and incense, the ritual consumption of meals, ritual
cleansing, and divination (through the casting of dice).
Temples 350, 351, and 650 at Tel Miqne–Ekron (Gitin and Dothan 1987: 204–5; Do-
than 1990: 29–35; Dothan and Dothan 1992: 245–52; Dothan and Gitin 1993: 1054–56)
are also structures of official or supraregional levels. The supraregional importance of
these structures is also attested in 2 Kgs 1:2–4, where Baal-zebul of Ekron is consulted by
the Israelite king. The first temple building of Stratum VIA (Temple 351, dated to the 12th
century b.c.e.) was a small mud-brick building with an open hearth, containing Myce-
naean IIIC:1b pottery and a delicately made ivory pyxis. The much more elaborate Stra-
tum V megaron-type temple of about 15 × 21 m was erected on the same spot. This had
an entrance hall with two pillars leading to another pillared hall and three cellae oriented
east, as well as several annexes. The installations in the cellae consisted of a raised platform
with a bench in the central room, a bench in the southernmost room, and a funnel-like
depression in the floor of the northern room, as well as a hearth and a bench in the hall. A
foundation deposit consisting of an oil lamp inside two bowls was discovered in the south-
east corner of the main hall beneath the floor. The main hall also yielded ashes, charcoal,
and the bones of animals, including fish. Objects found inside the middle cella of Stratum
VI included fragments of a wheeled stand of cast bronze (similar to the biblical mekonôt),
two bowls, and a flask; while objects from Stratum V included chalices and other vessels,
a fayence gaming piece, a fayence ring, and the fang of a wild pig. The northern room
contained an assemblage of bichrome pottery (including a chalice, bowls, a beer jug, and
Typology of Iron Age Cult Places 239
horn-shaped flasks), as well as 20 loom weights from the middle of the floor. The southern
room yielded an iron ingot found on the platform, an iron knife with an ivory handle,
and a bronze linchpin. The finds from Stratum IV (late 11th to early 10th centuries b.c.e.)
included a variety of fayence votive objects within the northern room, as well as ker-
nos fragments, chalices, flasks, pomegranate-shaped vessels, and votive miniature vessels.
Building 353 adjacent to the temple proper contained a stone bath. Objects found inside
this temple indicate that ritual actions performed here would have included the offering
of animals, consumption of ritual meals, the offering of libations and votive objects, ritual
bathing, and perhaps divination.
Stratum IC (Iron IIC) Temple 650 was even more monumental, spanning 43 × 57 m.
It consisted of the main sanctuary building with two rows of pillars, a monumental court-
yard with additional rooms (see Gitin and Cogan 1999: fig. 3), and an auxiliary complex
(formed from Units 651–55) that contained vast amounts of pottery and other objects,
including a treasure trove of silver, bronze, and ivory objects that have yet to be fully pub-
lished. Several inscriptions were found in the temple and its auxiliary complex, including
15 inscriptions on store jars, some of which were dedicatory inscriptions (Renz and Röllig
1995: Muq[7]:1), and 2 royal dedicatory inscriptions, the first of which was from Achish
or Ikausu to his lady ptgyh (Gitin, Dothan, and Naveh 1997), and the second mentioned
King Padi and the god Baal (Gitin and Cogan 1999). The Temple 650 complex also con-
tained an olive-oil press, most likely dedicated to the needs of the cult.
Supraregional and state sanctuaries like these, which show a high degree of differen-
tiation between various cult activities and generally contained specialized and dedicated
installations, would obviously have necessitated a priesthood for their maintenance. This
priesthood would have been sanctioned by local rulers (see 1 Kgs 12:31–32) and would
have met their financial needs with a temple income collected from official and nonofficial
cult participants.
4.4.╇Conclusions
This analysis of cult assemblages and other features has revealed a variety of cult
practices associated with a range of contexts, as summarized in table 4.2 (pp. 242–244
below).
Type IA domestic cultic assemblages were often associated with facilities for the
preparation of food. They have typically yielded only a small number of specialized ritual
objects, all of which would have been portable. Ritual performances would have been
occasional and would have included libations, food offerings, the burning of incense, and
votive practices. The portable ritual paraphernalia would have been stored when not in
use. Ritual activities conducted in Type IIA small-scale industrial structures would have
been similar. In both of these cases, the presence of a deity would have had to be imagined
during ritual performances. In domestic structures, permanent installations with a clear
cult focus and enlarged ritual assemblages (of Type IB) seem to have been extremely rare,
and probably only served elite families. Type VI palace shrines that would have served
administrative and military elites appear generally to have had features similar to domes-
tic shrines, although in this case serving the realms of official religion. Cult installations
240 Chapter 4
and assemblages for the medium circle (above the nuclear family level) of Types IIB
(installations in large-scale industrial areas), III (neighborhood shrines), and IV (places
for the care of the dead) are readily distinguished by the presence of more-specific ritual
assemblages and permanent ritual installations (for Types IIB and III).
Permanent installations, especially maṣṣebôt and dedicated altars, were primarily used
by the outer circle, as represented by Type V (village or city shrines or temples, and cult
installations situated at gates). Maṣṣebôt certainly do not seem to have been present in the
realm of domestic religion. Ritual assemblages of pottery found in the outer-circle sites
are larger, more differentiated, and have larger numbers of specialized and luxury vessels.
Animal slaughter seems to have been an important religious practice in the outer-circle
realms, as attested in local or city-level structures (of Type V), regional structures (of Type
VII), and supraregional sanctuaries (of Type VIII). Some sort of priesthood was probably
responsible for the maintenance of cult practices and structures at all levels, from village
shrines upward, and would have been employed either by local bodies (for Type V) or
centralized, official bodies (for Types VII and VIII, and perhaps also Type VI).
Official regional shrines of Type VII (exemplified by the Arad fortress temple) com-
prised temple buildings with differentiated installations (such as maṣṣebôt, multiple altars,
or courtyards) and specialized vessels. Ritual assemblages excavated from official, supra-
regional temples (Type VIII Temples 350 and 650 at Tel Miqne and the Dan sanctuary)
contained quite a few more specialized objects (especially metal objects) than local or
regional-level sanctuaries did. Similarly, multiple specialized installations seem to have
been present only in official, supraregional sanctuaries, where they may have served the
special ritual activities of priests, such as ritual cleansing.
There appears to have been no standardized orientation for cultic foci in cultic struc-
tures of Levels III–VIII. Orientations differed even within the same periods and cultural
realms (see A. Mazar 1992: 186–87 with graph on p. 178). It is particularly notable that, in
the Northern Kingdom, the cult structures in Megiddo Room 340 and the Dan sanctuary
were oriented toward the east and the north, respectively, while in Philistia, Ekron Temple
350 and the Tell Qasile temple were oriented toward the east and west, respectively. There
is currently insufficient evidence to discern whether there were significant positions for
official temples to be placed in a town’s overall plan (as observed by Holladay 1987: 268).
While the Dan sanctuary was located at the northwestern edge of the tell, the sacred pre-
cincts at Ekron and Tell Qasile were both located in the city center, although the latter was
not situated on the very summit of the tell.
A feature that was common to all levels of ritual activity in Israel and Judean cultic
structures was votive practices with anthropomorphic and animal figurines. Votive ob-
jects of greater material value, such as those made of fayence or metal, seem to have been
restricted to official sanctuaries on the regional or supraregional level. No unambiguously
divine images likely to have been cult objects have been found in type VII or VIII public
cult structures in Israel or Judah, although they have been found in the Edomite sanctuary
at Ḥorvat Qitmit.
Assemblages of category A and B ritual objects and utilitarian pottery that were used
in cult structures of all levels suggest an ongoing interdependence and interaction be-
tween the levels. This interdependence can be observed during all periods surveyed in
Typology of Iron Age Cult Places 241
the present study. Ritual paraphernalia of neighborhood and local shrines in the early
Iron Age seem to have been formed by enlarging the ensembles typical of contemporary
domestic practices. The use of tripod incense cups seems to have been typical for domestic
cult activities during Iron Age IIB, as attested at the gate sanctuaries of Dan and Bethsaida.
JPFs and other terra-cotta votive objects were used in Iron Age IIC, both in domestic
realms and in official cult structures (such as the Arad fortress temple). Domestic and
public votive practices by individuals and families thus coexisted in Iron Age IIB–C Judah.
The most important difference between cult activities on the private or domestic level and
the cult activities on the public level seems to have been that, on the domestic level, per-
formances were responsible for inviting and invoking the presence of deities, as reflected
in the portability of ritual paraphernalia, whereas the permanent presence of a deity was
indicated in structures on the levels of neighborhood shrines and upward (Types III and
V–VIII). Permanent presence is manifested by permanent installations that marked cult
foci, especially maṣṣebôt, as well as platforms, benches, and other fixed features. Type IV
places, which cared for the dead,â•›25 also seem to have shared features typical of domestic
cult practices, particularly the use of portable ritual apparatuses. In line with previous
comments on Ekron by Gitin (2002), we find that the interdependence and coexistence of
several layers and realms of cultic activity are perhaps best understood using the concepts
of internal religious pluralism, which permitted multiple intersections among the circles
of domestic, local, and official religion to meet the entire range of needs in the various
levels of social organization involved in these cult practices.
25. See chap. 6 below.
Table 4.2.╇ Typological chart of Iron Age cult places
Category A Category B Category C
242
VC multiple- installations platform tripod incense miniature food and drink libation
Gate sanctuary family near the gate bench cups bowls consumption incense
(outer circle) household maṣṣebāh burning,
243
VIIB regional tribe shrine or platform cult figurines chalices food and drink animal
Regional inhabitants of temple benches altars luxury items preparation slaughter
sanctuary, the region building built altar tripod-cups lamps and libation
shrine or temple administrative temenos maṣṣebāh stands collectibles consumption votive cult
(regional circle) elite fortification stone trough votive food and
(Arad temple, Ḥorvat Qitmit traders figurines incense
shrines A and B) maintained by libation vessels offerings
priesthood ritual meals
VIII royalty monumental platform metal ritual chalices and food and drink animal
Supra-regional administrative, temple benches objects and luxury vessels preparation slaughter
sanctuary: military, and building built altar tools dice and food and
(supra-regional/ religious additional hearth and stands consumption incense
official circle) elites buildings other fixed altars offerings
(Tel Miqne temples 350, 650, citizens of city temenos cultic figurines ritual
Tel Dan, and state installations silver and gold meals
[Jerusalem]) maintained by industrial hoards ritual cleansing
priesthood installations divination
(olive-oil
presses)
Chapter 5
Most Hebrew personal names are theophoric, and thus they constitute an important
source for reconstructing Israelite and Judean religion. Names have been used to draw
general conclusions regarding ancient Israelite religion, as J. D. Fowler (1988) did, for ex-
ample. She suggested that the names provide “a detailed picture of what the Hebrew man
conceived his God to be” (1988: 18). She was interested in the “nature of the Hebrew deity”
(1988: 19) rather than the social context of various religious statements. Interpreting the
personal names in such a general theological way did not enable nuanced discernment
of differences but only “congruity in thought with what is revealed as the character of the
Israelite God throughout the Old Testament” (1988: 318).
This sort of uncritical interpretation of the religious messages conveyed by Hebrew
personal names has led to some far-reaching conclusions. For example, J. Tigay (1987:
177) used the large proportion of epigraphic names containing Yhwh to make a broad
inference about general religious history: there “existed an overwhelmingly Yahwistic so-
ciety in the heartland of Israelite settlement.” H.-D. Hoffmann (1980: 83, 103) went so far
as to wonder whether Ahab could have constructed a temple for Baal as reported in 1 Kgs
16:31–33, because the names of his sons (Ahaziah and Jehoram) contained Yahwistic ele-
ments. General conclusions such as these are highly questionable; in the latter case, for
example, it is entirely possible that Ahab considered the realms of state religion and his
own personal belief to be two distinct realms. M. Noth (1928: 133), in his foundational
investigation of Hebrew anthroponymy, stated that Israelite personal names are not allud-
ing to any particular theology or dogmatic speculation but instead are a direct reflection
of the simple piety of individuals.
245
246 Chapter 5
few possible allusions to Israel’s political and sacred history,â•›2 the verbs and nouns used in
personal names show a high rate of correspondence with the verbs and nouns that were
used in the individual psalms of complaint and thanksgiving and in the oracles of salva-
tion. More than half of all the roots of theophoric personal names found in the Hebrew
Bible also occur in the genre of individual prayer;â•›3 and over 60% of all verbs and nouns
that appear in the petitions for divine attendance and salvation or in the confessions of
confidence in the individual complaints or the psalms of thanksgiving and oracles of sal-
vation can also be found in personal names. Thus, there is a close relationship between
Hebrew personal names and the genres of psalms that reflect aspects of private prayer
practices. In contrast, statements of hymnic praise reflect primarily the religion of the
state, and only 10% of theophoric names in the Hebrew Bible allude to those statements
(Albertz 1978a: 49–50). In the following section, I will extend the work begun in previous
investigations of Hebrew personal names in the epigraphs on excavated ostraca and seals,
and so on,â•›4 which will enable us to confirm and strengthen these conclusions.
Some may object that, although Hebrew personal names are derived from the roots of
words that express familial piety, their use was determined more by fashion than by the
religious convictions of the parents. If this were the case, these names would reflect the
religious environment only indirectly and would offer no access to the beliefs of Israelite
families. There are, however, several indications that the bestowal of names in ancient
Israelite societies reflected more than mere ephemeral fashion. Foremost among these is
the fact that, many times in the Hebrew Bible, the naming of a child is followed by an ex-
plicit explanation for the choice of the name.â•›5 In most cases, these explanations reflect the
specific circumstances of birth, such as the distress of the mother during labor or an asso-
ciation with her religious experiences at that time. These explanations are admittedly oc-
casionally inaccurate etymologically; for example, the name Jacob, which is explained in
the biblical narratives using the root עקבI ‘to deceive’ (Gen 27:36), or עקבII ‘to hold back’
(25:25–26), is actually derived from the Amorite root ‘ עקבto protect’ and should be inter-
preted as a shortened form of ya-aḫ-qú-ub-ilu, which originally meant ‘god has protected’
(Huffmon 1965: 203–4; see also Gröndahl 1967: 111–12). This example nevertheless dem-
onstrates that ancient Israelites found contemporary religious meanings for names, even
when perhaps the original meaning had been lost. There is, of course, an abundance of
etymologically accurate interpretations of personal names; for example, Hagar is asked to
call her child Ishmael, because God has heard her distress (Gen 16:11). Even though bibli-
cal explanations are generally stylized literarily, they do presuppose that parents in ancient
2. In particular, the name ׁשכניהŠĕkanyāh ‘Yhwh has taken [his] living’ was interpreted (follow-
ing Noth 1928: 194) to refer to the reconstruction of the Temple in 520–515 b.c.e. (Albertz 1978a:
58) because in the Hebrew Bible the name only appears in the postexilic period. However, the name
has since been found in epigraphic records from the preexilic period; see pp.€267–268 below.
3. The correspondence between roots in names expressing thanksgiving and confession, on the
one hand, and individual psalms and oracles of salvation, on the other hand, is shown in the tables
in appendixes B1 and 2 below.
4. See pp. 269–330 below.
5. See Gen 4:1, 25; 5:29; 16:11; 21:6; 29:33, 34, 35; 30:5–6, 10–11, 13, 18, 20, 24; 35:18; 38:27–30;
Exod 2:22; 18:3–4; 1 Sam 1:20; 4:21; 2 Sam 12:24, see also Fichtner 1956: 372–96.
Personal Names and Family Religion 247
Israelite societies were aware of the specific meanings of personal names and chose names
with intent and deliberation.
A second argument against fashion’s having been the primary factor in naming con-
ventions is that the naming of a child in ancient Israel seems to have been considered a
special occasion that was commonly celebrated with a family feast. During birth, mothers
were kept isolated from their husbands and the rest of their family (Jer 20:15) and were
assisted only by midwives or female neighbors (Gen 35:17, 18a; 38:27–30; Ruth 4:13–15).
Because a woman who had given birth was considered unclean for another 7 to 14 days
(Lev 12:1–5), she had to remain in isolation with her newborn infant. The mother and
infant were not reintegrated into a family until after this period. One can imagine that
the first meeting with her husband and entire family would have been a joyful moment. It
would likely have been celebrated with a family feast, giving the mother an opportunity to
present her baby proudly and to tell of her physical and religious experiences during the
dramatic process of birth. It probably would have been on this joyful day, at the end of the
mother’s time of impurity that the naming of the child was celebrated.
One piece of evidence indirectly supports this idea. Later priestly regulations fixed the
day of circumcision for boys precisely on the 8th day of life, immediately following the
7-day period of impurity (Lev 12:3; Gen 17:12; 21:4). Thus the integration of newborn
boys into their families, now expanded by the wider aspect of their integration as one of
Yhwh’s people occurred precisely on the day when the purportedly older naming feast
took place. Although there is no direct evidence in the Hebrew Bible that the naming of
a child occurred on the day of circumcision, there is later evidence (Luke 1:59–66; 2:21;
b. Šabb. 134a; Pirqe de Rabbi Eliezer 48) as well as the fact that the practice prevails in
present-day Judaism (EncJud 5:572; EncJudâ•›2 4:732). It is thus reasonable to suggest that
the celebration of circumcision intentionally coincided with the older naming feast.
The ritual context of the family feast would have imbued the act of naming with great
significance. These interpretations of the circumstances surrounding naming also help
clarify one peculiarity of the biblical reports on naming. In the Hebrew Bible, the naming
of a child is reported 46 times: the mother names the child in 25 of these instances,â•›6 the
father in 15,â•›7 both parents in just 1 or 2 cases (Gen 25:25, 26),â•›8 and in 1 case the father
corrects the name bestowed by the mother (35:18).â•›9 The reconstructed ritual background
offers a ready explanation. The mother would naturally have had the prerogative in nam-
ing the child, because she may have chosen the name during the seven days of her impu-
rity, in the absence of family. Thus arises the frequent connotation of personal names with
6. See Gen 4:1, 25; 16:11; 19:37, 38; 29:32, 33, 34, 35; 30:6, 8, 11, 13, 18, 20, 21; 35:18a; 38:4, 5;
Exod 2:10; Judg 13:24; 1 Sam 1:20; Isa 7:14; 1 Chr 4:9; 7:16. In Ruth 4:17 the female neighbors, who
accompanied the birth process, chose the name.
7. See Gen 4:26; 5:3, 29; 16:15; 17:19; 35:18b; 38:3; 41:45; Exod 2:22; Isa 8:3; Hos 1:4, 6, 9; Job
42:14; 1 Chr 7:23; in Gen 38:29, 30 the verbal form is masculine, but the subject is not mentioned.
8. In 2 Sam 12:24 the text varies as to whether David or Bathsheba named Sholomo (Kethivâ•‚
Qere); in Gen 4:26 the MT reads a feminine, but the Samaritan Pentateuch reads a masculine form;
in Exod 2:22 a few Hebrew manuscripts read a feminine form against the masculine reading of the
MT.
9. Restricted to the unambiguous cases, the ratio of naming by women is 54.3%; this is a bit
lower than the ratio of 62% deduced by Meyers (2002: 291).
248 Chapter 5
the religious experiences of a mother during pregnancy, labor, or childbirth. Even secular
circumstances during processes of birth found expression in personal names.â•›10 Of course,
the husband would have had to agree with the mother’s choice, and agreement was proba-
bly reached during the naming feast after the mother had revealed her experiences and the
father and other family members had had their chance to respond. The father could also
propose the child’s name during the feast and then convinced his wife; or husband and
wife could reach a mutual decision on naming. Thus, the broader religious experiences of
families that transcended the birth itself could also determined or influenced the choice
of a child’s name. Personal names thus reflect and convey many aspects of the religious
beliefs of Israelite families, particularly aspects brought to the fore during the dramatic
events of childbirth. Names primarily reflected the woman’s personal piety as focused on
the wonder of birth, although women were also influenced by related religious experi-
ences of the father, other family members, or even friends and neighbors (Ruth 4:17).
10. For example, that the child quickly came out of the womb like an arrow ( חציḤēṣî), a bolt of
lightning ( ברקיBarqay), or a waterfall ( צנרṢinnor); see appendix B6.1.1.
Personal Names and Family Religion 249
As far as the Hebrew seals and bullae are concerned, all the material mentioned above is included in
HAE 2/2 by Renz and Röllig (2003). This edition has been chosen to form the basis of the present investi-
gation, although the authors’ assignment of origins (to Hebrew, Ammonite, or Moabite, for example) and
associated interpretations differ in some cases from the original publications.â•›11 However, we use all of the
older publications cited above for the personal names that originated in the lands of Israel’s neighbors.
The New Epigraphic Evidence (NEE) by Deutsch and Heltzer (1995) presents more ostraca and Hebrew
inscriptions, beyond those originally treated in the earlier volumes of HAE, especially HAE 2/1. New
Hebrew inscriptions found during Shiloh’s excavation in Jerusalem (1978–85) were published by Naveh
(2000). Most recently, Lemaire and Yardeni have published details of 15 new Hebrew ostraca from the
Shephelah (2006). A recently found large hoard of Hebrew bullae has been treated in recent publications,
the majority in the Josef Chaim Kaufmann Collection (BPHB), and a smaller group as part of the Shlomo
Moussaieff collection (FHCB), both edited by Deutsch (2003a; 2003b).
While the majority of the ostraca and some seals and bullae have come from controlled archaeolog-
ical excavations, the remainder were bought on the antiquities market.â•›12 Thus, the authenticity of a large
portion of the epigraphic material is questionable. Many of the recently described bullae and perhaps
also the ostraca seem to have belonged to some kind of official archive, because several seal impressions
of King Hezekiah and of several other officials were found on them (see BPHB 1–43; FHCB 45–56:1–7).
Lemaire suggested that these archives were possibly located in the vicinity of Ḥirbet el-Qôm (2006: 236).
Although all evidence providing insight into the use of personal names for the reconstruction of family
religion is valuable, it is possible that some of these seals were forgeries. In the present critical examina-
tion, we will exclude all the epigraphic objects previously supposed to be forgeries by one or more of the
scholars who examined them. We argue belowâ•›13 that the overwhelming majority of epigraphic personal
names are genuine and thus the presence of a relatively small number of forgeries in the evaluated mate-
rial will have little effect on overall interpretations.
*â•…â•…*â•…â•…*
As can be seen from table 5.1 (p. 505), 675 different Hebrew personal names are pres-
ent in the epigraphic material, drawn from 2,922 individual records. When we use the
word different, we mean not only differences in semantics or morphology but also all dif-
ferences in orthography, including differences in hypocoristic endings, different sorts of
plēne and non-plēne writing, and different abbreviations for the Tetragrammaton (-yāhû,
â•‚yau, â•‚yāh, Yĕhô-, and Yau-). The largest collection of Hebrew personal names presented
to date is Renz and Röllig’s edition (2003), which includes names from seals, bullae, and
weights collected in HAE 2/2.109–456 (470 names; 1,636 instances) and from inscriptions
in HAE 1/1.55–87 (251 names; 477 instances). Many names from bullae were also de-
scribed in the Kaufmann collection, BPHB (Deutsch 2003a), comprising 227 names from
644 instances. Smaller numbers have also appeared in the editions of NEE (44 names;
51 instances from 3 ostraca), and FHCB (30 names; 39 instances from 50 bullae). Under
the heading ‘others’ on this table, the recent editions by Naveh (2000) and Lemaire and
YarÂ�deni (2006) are summarized, and three additional names from Kuntillet ʿAjrûd, men-
tioned by Zadok (1988: 279) and revisited by Heide (2002). These comprise in total 66
names from 75 instances. Of course, few names are unique to any one collection, and the
final total of 675 includes unique names compiled from all six collections.
11. See, for example, the concordance in WSS that compares HAE 2/2.441–45.
12. To give a brief impression of the phenomenon, according to Deutsch (1999: 27–47), before
the year 1999, 45 bullae had come from controlled excavations, but they represented only 13.3% of
the total number known to him at that time.
13. See pp. 260–262 below.
250 Chapter 5
Most of the names are represented more than once, and therefore the number of in-
stances is considerably higher than the number of names. In the present analysis, every
occurrence of a name is counted, except when several occurrences of one name obviously
refer to the same person, in which case only one instance is counted. For example, many
of the names in FHCB (21 out of a total of 51) are excluded, because they refer to people
already counted in the BPHB collection. But this is unusual; in most cases, names are only
excluded when they cannot be read or interpreted with a sufficient degree of certainty.
Biblical parallels to the epigraphically attested personal names are shown in table 5.2
(p.€505). There is a considerable degree of correspondence, with 545 biblical names being
identical or similar to many of the 675 epigraphic names that use the same verbal or nomi-
nal roots. Many of these names are popular in the Hebrew Bible, referring to no less than
1,362 different people. As we see in the detailed tables of appendix B, there are approxi-
mately 60 epigraphically represented roots that do not appear in the Bible, indicating the
richness of the epigraphic material. However, the Hebrew Bible presents more names than
these epigraphic sources. Noth’s index (1928: 234–60) tallies an impressive 1,426 names.
However, excluding uncertainties in the Hebrew text (142), local and tribal names (97),
symbolic names (2), otherwise unexplainable names (51), and all the names that Noth in-
cluded from ostraca and seals (53) and from the Elephantine papyri (124) reduces the tally
to 957 personal names appearing in the Hebrew Bible. Many of these names appear only
a few times, and some only emerged after the exile—for example, names derived from the
verb זבדzābad ‘to present, give’ (represented 19 times), which clearly supplanted older
names that had used the verb נדבnādab, which had the same meaning.â•›14
The 675 epigraphic personal names that constitute the basis of the present investiga-
tion probably are not all the personal names that were in use prior to the exile, because
they represent only about 70% of the biblically attested names. However, considering that
the Hebrew Bible reports names that were in use over a much longer period—from the
patriarchs (whose names, for example, were not common between the 9th and 6th centu-
ries, as verified by epigraphic sources) to the late Persian period—the 30% difference is not
very great. Probably most of the common names that were in use during the monarchic
period are included in these 675 names. Moreover, most of the epigraphic names (between
80 and 90%) that have been presented in recent publications have also appeared in previ-
ous publications. Obviously, a degree of saturation has been reached. Thus, conclusions
drawn from the present epigraphic material is provisional to some extent; but, considering
that these names refer to some 2,500–3,000 people, who represent about 400 families, or
the population of a larger Judean or Israelite town during this period, we have a sound
basis for the present religious-historical investigation.
14. Only names from the root נדבare attested in the epigraphic sources from the 8th–6th cen-
turies b.c.e. (11 times); names from this root also appear 17 times in the Hebrew Bible.
15. Noth (1928: 3) pointed out that misunderstanding a single name can be avoided only if it is
interpreted in its wider context.
Personal Names and Family Religion 251
eral and Hebrew names in particular, one can distinguish between word/epithet names
and sentence names. Northwest Semitic names can be subdivided into single-word names
and construct names; Hebrew names can also be subdivided into nominal sentence names
and verbal sentence names (see Noth 1928: 11–32). This purely grammatical grouping of
names was followed by J. D. Fowler (1988) and, with a high degree of sophistication, by
Zadok (1988) and Rechenmacher (1997). But, although this kind of grouping by gram-
matical criteria may be clear, names with similar or even identical meanings may be split
into different groups. To give just one example, עׂשיהוʿAśāyāhû ‘Yhwh has made [the
child]’ belongs to the group with verbal sentence names, while מעׂשיהוMaʿaśēyāhû ‘the
work of Yhwh’ belongs to the construct subgroup of epithet names, even though both
express the same belief that the child is a creation of Yhwh. Consequently, this system is
not especially suitable if one takes into account the intent for these pious names.
Because Noth (1928: 132–213) considered the names to be active expressions of piety,
he pursued another classification scheme. He combined grammatical criteria with crite-
ria of intent and divided the names into Bekenntnisnamen (‘names of confession’, which
consisted of one of the groups of construct epithet names, and one group of the nominal
sentence names), Vertrauensnamen (‘names of trust’; another group of nominal sentence
names), Danknamen (‘names of thanksgiving’; consisting of mostly verbal sentence names
in the perfect but also some construct epithet names), and Wunschnamen (‘names of de-
sire’; verbal sentence names in the imperfect). In addition, he considered secular names
(profane Namen) to be a specific group (1928: 221–32); grammatically, these are mostly
one-word names. Noth’s grouping is much more flexible and tries to keep together names
with similar religious statements and intent; thus the two creation names mentioned
above are together interpreted as names of thanksgiving (1928: 172).
Stamm followed Noth in many respects and added additional subgroups to his scheme.
Using the additional criterion of content, he conceptualized, for example, a group of sub-
stitute names (Ersatznamen), by which he meant that the parents named one child as a
substitute/comfort for a deceased child (Stamm 1980: 45–80). Moreover, Stamm criticized
Noth’s category of Wunschnamen, because names with an imperfect-x or an x-imperfect
structure are mostly understood as names of thanksgiving in the Hebrew Bibleâ•›16 and not
as names of desire.â•›17 They seem to represent an older use of the imperfect for the past
tense, as in Amorite names from Mari and texts and names from Ugarit.â•›18 According
to Stamm, only in some cases can one consider an alternative jussive translation (1980:
62–64). This view was accepted by Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/1.54) and further affirmed by
Rechenmacher (1997: 47–50), who pointed out that approximately 20 verbal roots that
were used to derive both imperfect and perfect names most likely refer back to the same
situation at birth in both cases (1997: 48).â•›19 In accordance with this position, I usually
16. See the explanation of the name Yišmāʾēl in Gen 16:11: ‘because Yhwh has heard your
ill-treatment’.
17. See the names spelled plēne that have hollow roots such as אליקיםʾElyāqîm ‘El has raised
[me]’.
18. See Huffmon 1965: 61–87; Gröndahl 1967: 41–43, 55–59; she still follows Noth in interpret-
ing these names as names of desire; but see Tropper 2000: 682–701.
19. Most convincing are the names Yiptāḥ and Pĕtaḥyāh, which both mean that the deity has
opened the mother’s womb; desiring this to happen by expressing it in a personal name would be
252 Chapter 5
translate verbal-sentence names with imperfect-x and x-imperfect structures in the per-
fect tense in this book; only in cases where a wish for the infant might make sense contex-
tually is a jussive sense alternatively considered.
In a previous study (Albertz 1978a: 49–77), I modified Noth’s grouping by consider-
ing a form-critical criterion in addition to the grammatical and intention criteria. The
first group thus distinguished, the names of thanksgiving, may be considered parallel to
petitions for attention and petitions for salvation in the individual complaints or with
salvation reports in the thanksgiving psalms of individuals. The second group, the names
of confession, may be considered parallel to confessions of confidence in the complaints
of individuals or to the nominal reason clauses in assurances of comfort in the salvation
oracles. In contrast to Noth, I considered the names that make general praise statements
about God to be distinct from the names of confession. The names of praise find their
counterpart in the hymns. The sorts of confession in which both elements of a nominal
sentence indicate a deity or a divine epithet were separated into a group of their own, re-
ferred to as equating names, because their referents lie beyond the realms of the psalms.â•›20
In contrast to these theophoric groups was the group called secular names, again in ac-
cordance with Noth.
In this previous study, there remained the names that had no obvious relation to the
Psalms yet had a relation to birth because of their content (Albertz 1978a: 58–60). This
group seemed rather diverse, containing as it did names which stated that the deity had
opened the womb, created the child, given the child as a gift, blessed the mother or should
bless the infant, or had provided a substitute for a deceased child. Yet these diverse names
all directly referred to different events in the birth process, beginning with the stigma
of childlessness, through to prayers and vows, including birth oracles, and ending with
procreation, pregnancy, delivery, and the acceptance of the child. Because they all refer to
birth processes, these names can be classified together and labeled birth names (see appen-
dix B5). Thus, this book adds a new criterion for grouping personal names, a “situational
criterion” of referring to the birth process.
These birth names actually form one of the largest groups, including nearly one-third
of all epigraphic names.â•›21 Many of the most frequently appearing names belong to this
group, such as names formed from the roots עׂשהʿāśāh ‘to make’ (55 occurrences), נתן
nātan ‘to give’ (94 occurrences), or ׁשלםšillem ‘to substitute’ (111 occurrences). However,
many rare names that have previously been difficult to explain are much more readily
interpreted in the context of this group, such as דרׁשיהוDĕrašyāhû ‘Yhwh has asked for
[payment of the vow]’,â•›22 קליהוQōlyāhû ‘Yhwh has spoken [a birth oracle]’,â•›23 or גזאGāzāʾ
senseless, because the name could only be bestowed after the birth had taken place.
20. Only the names in which the tutelary deity (“my god”) is Yhwh are connected with the
confessions of confidence in the complaints of individuals; see Ps 22:11, among others.
21. In biblically attested names, the rate is slightly higher again (31.4% of names and 32.4% of
instances).
22. See the phrase דרׁש נדרdāraš nēder in Deut 23:22. Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/2.193–94) have
offered the translation ‘Yhwh demanded an account from’, but this would be a strange personal
name; Ps 10:4, 13, to which they refer, deals with the wicked.
23. To Noth (1928: 256), the name was unexplainable; see also Stamm 1980: 150.
Personal Names and Family Religion 253
The plausibility of these groups is apparent in that almost every one of the Hebrew names
known to date from epigraphic sources can be unambiguously assigned to one of the six
groups. The same is true for the parallel biblical names. Furthermore, almost all names
currently known from the Ammonite, Moabite, Edomite, Aramaic, and Phoenician ono-
masticon can be accommodated by these six groups, as shown in appendix B. Thus, per-
haps this proposal will now be considered a solution to the problem of finding a classifica-
tion system that is sufficient for use with all Northwest Semitic names.
24. Compare biblical Gāzez (1 Chr 2:46), the son of Caleb; Noth could not explain the name
(1928: 240); the meaning given above is supported by Ps 71:6, where the Masoretic Text reads: ‘you
are the one who severed me []גוזיfrom my mother’s womb’; the LXX offers a lectio facilior; no con-
jecture is necessary.
254 Chapter 5
*â•…â•…*â•…â•…*
Two minor problems remain, however. One is the question of whether names of lament, such as איעם
ʾAyyaʿam ‘where is the [divine?] uncle?’, which are extremely rare in the Hebrew onomasticon (with only
one epigraphic and one biblical occurrence) and in the onomasticons of the surrounding cultures (with
three Ammonite, one Moabite, and one Aramaic occurrence), constitute a group of their own. Because
of their scarcity, a ready solution is to consider them birth names under the heading ‘misfortune in the
vicinity of birth’ (see appendix B5.7).
It may also be possible to posit a small subgroup of “theophany names” in the names of praise. The
uncertainty arises primarily because of uncertain readings: Renz and Röllig (2003) read the name סעריהו
Săʿaryāhû ‘Yhwh has stormed’ on two seals, one bulla (HAE 15.19, 20; 21.7), and one ostracon (Arad
[8].31:4). The hypocoristikon סעריSăʿaray ‘[DN] has stormed’ from the seal HAE 10.58 would also be-
long to this group. Presuming this reading to be accurate, the names would refer to a divine theophany
in a storm. There are also a couple of names (with nine instances) from the root סעד, for example, סעדיהו
Săʿadyāhû with the meaning ‘Yhwh has supported’, that are thanksgiving names (see appendix B1.3.1).
The problem is that, in archaic Hebrew script, the two letters reš and dalet can look very similar, because
the only distinction between them is that reš has a longer downstroke than dalet. Although on epigraphic
grounds, Renz and Röllig’s readings are correct, it hardly seems necessary to devise a new subgroup for
a mere two names, both of which were perhaps only badly written. From the neighboring lands, only
three names should perhaps be interpreted as theophanic names: two are the Aramaic names מראיבב
Māreʾyabab ‘[my] lord has triumphed’ [WSS 810] and ׁשעיבבŠēʿyabab ‘Sin has triumphed’ [WSS 851]),
and the third is Phoenician ( יחרבעלYaḥrebaʿal ‘Baal has been furious’ [Benz 128], because the root יבב
literally means ‘to cry loudly’). But these constitute very sparse evidence. Because there are names that
state god’s furious intervention on behalf of a despised mother, these latter three names have been as-
signed here to the group of birth names (appendix B5.1).
of which appear in the Hebrew Bible (in Exod 6:23; 18:4). This name has been assigned
here to the names of thanksgiving category (appendix B1.3.1), because no suffix with the
theophoric element ʾēl is written. However, because such plene writing was not normally
used in the epigraphic material from this period, one could equally decide to classify these
as names of confession. Because of these sorts of uncertainty, the names of thanksgiving
and confession should be regarded as closely related; together, they represent 41.9% of all
names and 48.9% of all instances.
The names of praise are a relatively small group, representing only 7.1% of all names.
A few of them had limited popularity, such as מכיהוMīkāyāhû ‘who is like Yhwh?’, which
appears 18 times, or 35 times taking all its variants together. Thus general praise of god
is apparently rare in personal names. There are naturally a few translation uncertainties.
Some names that contain state-of-being verbs, such as גדליהוGĕdalyāhû, can be translated
two ways. They can be understood as signifying a state of becoming, which has been cho-
sen for the meaning here: ‘Yhwh has become great’ (see appendix B1.2.3).â•›25 Or they can
be understood as statives or adjectives: ‘Yhwh is great’.â•›26 If the second interpretation is
preferred, the group of praise names would be a little bit larger at the expense of the group
of thanksgiving names. To the names of praise have been assigned the names that clearly
correspond to the genre of hymns.â•›27 However, because of these potential differences in
interpreting names of this sort, the names of praise should not be considered too distinct
from names of thanksgiving and confession. Considering all groups together, the prayer
names constitute approximately one-half of all Hebrew personal names (49.0% of names,
53.5% of instances).
The equating names, which identify one divine term, name, or epithet with another,
constitute another, smaller group. This group is the smallest in terms of distinct names
(47 occurrences, or 7.0% of the total), only slightly smaller than the group of praise names
(7.1% of the total). Some very popular names occur in the equating-names group, such
as אחמלךʾAḥīmelek ‘[my divine] brother is king’ (33 appearances) and מלכיהוMalkīyāhû
‘my king is Yhwh’ (32 appearances). Because the element ʾēl indicates the tutelary god,
there is a bit of overlap between the equating names and the confession of confidence in
the individual laments (Ps 22:11, among others), but most of these names represent a very
specific sort of confession in a polytheistic world that is far removed from the Psalms.
I have already mentioned that the group of birth names is largest in terms of names
(28.4%) and second-largest in terms of instances (29.9%). The birth names without doubt
form a second core of Hebrew personal names after the main core of prayer names. Some
features of this large group have been described above, but delimitation problems still re-
main. Since the process of birth inevitably entails distress, pain, and danger, it is little won-
der that there is some overlap between the names about birth and the thanksgiving names.
A mother in labor might utter complaints and petitions to god and might also receive
answers from god or signs of his attention. Thus, all the prayer names that reflect a high
degree of immediate experience have been included in the group of birth names. These
include all imperative names, which in contrast to Akkadian names constitute a relatively
small group in the West Semitic onomasticon. Examples are ׁשבאלŠūbʾēl ‘Come back, oh
god!’ and תנאלTenʾēl ‘Give, oh god!’ This group also includes names of divine response or
salvation that contain a first-person-singular suffix or address the deity in second-person
singular, such as ענניהוʿAnanyāhû ‘Yhwh has responded to me’ or דלתיהוDaltāyāhû ‘You,
oh Yhwh, have drawn [the child] out’.â•›28 These names can best be understood as the per-
sonal testimony of a mother who remembered her prayers and experiences of salvation
during the distress of earlier childlessness or the pain of labor. For the present book, ten
roots that I previously designated names of thanksgiving (Albertz 1978a: 61–65) have
been reassigned to this group of birth names.â•›29 Although it is possible for these roots to
refer to other kinds of distress besides birth, all may be attributed to this group without
ambiguity.
The last group contains secular names, a group that lies outside the present study
of family religion. This group nevertheless serves to demonstrate the coherence of this
scheme for grouping names. In terms of both the number of names (105 occurrences) and
the number of instances (251 occurrences), the group is the fourth largest. Although the
first number is (a large portion) 15.6% of all names, a percentage not much smaller than
that of the names of confession, the proportion of instances is only about half that percent-
age (8.6%). This indicates that, although there was a great variety of secular names, they
seem not to have been very popular in preexilic Israelite society.
This finding, that less than 10% of the population of monarchic Israel and Judah bore
secular names, is strongly suggestive of the importance of family religion in this society.
It may be argued that most of the eprigraphic material is restricted to the upper classes,
members who would have been able to afford these seals, which were often made of pre-
cious or semiprecious stones. However, even if we consider only the ostraca (see table 5.6),
which represent people from all social classes and strata, the instances of secular names
still amount to less than 10% (9.8%). There seems therefore to have been no significant
difference in degree of family piety among the classes of Israelite monarchic society. Fam-
ily religion seems to have played a prominent role in nearly all households, whether rich
or poor.
The secular names further underline the significance of birth in name giving, because
many of them record peculiarities experienced during or after delivery or portray the
most striking physical or mental traits of the newborn, most notably by comparison with
animals or plants (see appendix B6.1–3.).
28. For the first three names, see appendix B5.2.; for the last, B5.5.
29. These roots are: ‘ אסףto gather, to take away’, ‘ גמלto complete’, ‘ גמרto complete’, ‘ דלהto
draw out’, ‘ חיהto live or to bring to life’, ‘ חמלto spare’, ‘ אמסto carry on one’s arm’, ‘ אנהto answer’,
‘ רפאto heal’, and ‘ ׁשובto come back’.
Personal Names and Family Religion 257
Finally, table 5.2 reveals the distribution of names from the Hebrew Bible to be quite
similar. Names expressing thanksgiving or birth-experience again rank highest, followed
by names of confession, and secular names; only the rank of names of praise and equating
has changed. There are more names of thanksgiving (30.5%), although nearly the same
number of instances (34.1%). There are fewer names of confession (14.0% of names; 13.2%
of instances) and, although there are fewer names of praise, the total of all prayer names
is similar (50.3% of names; 52.9% of instances). Furthermore, birth names appear slightly
more frequently (31.2%) and are more often represented (32.2%). It must be emphasized,
however, that this distribution of biblical names does not include all possible biblical
names but only names with parallels in the epigraphic material. However, the statistical
similarity of name distribution among the categories in both biblical sources and the epi-
graphic onomasticon is quite striking.
30. In contrast to the East Semitic names from Babylonia and Assyria, the Northwest Semitic
sentence names are mostly restricted to a subject and predicate but avoid objects, although object
suffixes do sometimes appear. There are also many similarities with Akkadian names, but similarities
with the Northwest Semitic onomasticons from Phoenicia, Syria, and Transjordan are much closer.
258 Chapter 5
*â•…â•…*â•…â•…*
There are a number of earlier works that describe the onomasticons of Israel’s Northwest Semitic
neighbors, including those of Benz (1972) for Phoenicians, Maraqten (1988) for Aramaic, and Aufrecht
(1989 [CAI]) for Ammonite personal names. Revisions and corrections to the seals and bullae are avail-
able in the WSS of Avigad and Sass (1997), where most of the Moabite and Edomite material is also
presented. In addition to these editions, the studies of Hübner (1992 [AMM]) and Eggler and Keel (2006
[SAJ]) have been used for the Ammonite names; Timm (1989 [MZM]) for the Moabite names; Hug
(1993), Röllig (1997), Lemaire (2001 [NTA]), Schwiderski (2004 [ARI]), and Bachelot and Fales (2005
[TSF]) for the Aramaic names; and Gibson (1982), Yon and Sznycer (1991 [Kition]), Deutsch and Heltzer
(1997 [WTP]), Deutsch (1999 [EN]), and Sader (2005 [FSL]) for the Phoenician names. Additional seals
from all of these cultures were presented by Heltzer (1999) and by Deutsch and Lemaire (2000 [BPPS]).
This list of references is not exhaustive but serves for compiling sufficient personal names from these
different cultures to provide a solid statistical basis for comparison. Moreover, there are several cases
in which the attribution of an inscription or seal to a particular culture is a matter of ongoing debate.â•›31
As far as possible, names from Israel’s neighbors are restricted to those of the 10th–6th centuries
b.c.e., in accordance with the selected Hebrew epigraphic material. This was particularly important for
the Aramaic names, for the results may otherwise have been distorted by the high number of Jewish
Aramaic names from Elephantine and other places in the 5th and 4th centuries. For the same reason, Tell
el-Mazār ostracon VII (CAI 147), which is dated to the 5th century, was excluded from the Ammonite
names. For the Phoenician names, the dating of epigraphic material is imprecise, and so all material was
included here. The Punic names, however, mostly come from later periods and were excluded.
*â•…â•…*â•…â•…*
Table 5.3 (p. 506) shows that 146 different Ammonite personal names were com-
piled, which represent 305 instances. A smaller number of 55 names can be attributed
to the Moabite culture, from 63 instances. The nominally Edomite names are so few (19
names out of 20 occurrences) that they have been excluded here. A considerable number
(374 names) can be assigned to the Aramean culture, which are attested altogether 443
times. An additional 101 names were excluded because, although they were written in
the Aramaic script, they were foreign in origin, coming from Akkadian or Iranian. To a
lesser extent, Hittite, Hurrian, and Luwian names have been found in the Phoenician ma-
terial. However, 319 Phoenician names were identified, representing 581 total instances.
Combining all material from the surrounding Northwest Semitic cultures produces 1,414
recorded names. Although this number is slightly less than half of the 2,922 names in the
Hebrew culture, it nevertheless forms a sound basis for comparison.
I mentioned above that almost all personal names from the five surrounding cultures
can be unambiguously classified assigned to one of the six name groups. A comparison of
the relative distributions of Ammonite, Moabite, Aramaic, and Phoenician names among
the six groups (see table 5.3) reveals striking similarities, a fact that suggests strong rela-
tionships among these cultures. Names of praise varied in occurrence from 9.6% in the
Ammonite onomasticon, to 6.3% in the Phoenician (or from 8.9% to 4.8% of instances,
respectively). The equating names ranged in occurrence from 10.9% in the Moabite cul-
ture to 5.5% in the Ammonite (or from 12.7% to 4.9% of instances, respectively). As in the
Israelite onomasticon, the birth names constituted a much larger group, attaining a max-
31. For example, the Nimrud Ostracon has been included here among the Ammonite inscrip-
tions (CAI 47 = AMM 35–36:2), following Aufrecht (1989), and in spite of Hübner’s (1992: 35–37)
doubts.
Personal Names and Family Religion 259
imum of 30.8% of all names for the Moabite onomasticon, and a minimum of 22.2% for
the Aramaic onomasticon (respectively, 30.1% and 23.2% of instances). The secular names
varied from 12.8% in the Aramaic onomasticon to 5.5% in the Moabite (12.9% and 4.8%
of instances, respectively). Differences between cultures were less than 9% in all cases.
The one notable divergence appears between the names of thanksgiving and those
of confession. While the Ammonite and Moabite onomasticons had a high number of
thanksgiving names (26.0% and 29.1%), and fewer names of confession (23.3% and
18.2%)—similar to rates seen in the Hebrew material—the Aramaic and Phoenician ono-
masticons showed higher proportions of names of confession (30.2% and 35.1%, respec-
tively) compared with the respective proportions for names of thanksgiving (20.6% and
15.7%). As mentioned above, however, both groups are closely related, and the names
are often difficult to assign unambiguously to one or the other category because of the
un�vocalized inscriptions.╛32 Taking the names of thanksgiving and confession together
produces nearly equal proportions that range from 50.8% of names in the Aramaic ono-
masticon to 47.3% in the Moabite, with a difference of only 3.5%.â•›33 Accepting the validity
of this larger grouping of names of thanksgiving and confession leads to the astonishing
result that, in all four Syro-Levantine cultures, personal names fall most frequently in two
major groups: a larger group consisting of names of thanksgiving and confession, and a
slightly smaller group consisting of birth names. In all of these cultures, three additional
minor groups obtained: praise names, equating names, and secular names.
Comparing the distribution of names in the Syro-Levantine cultures with those in
ancient Israel reveals a very similar pattern. Names of thanksgiving and confession are
again most prominent, especially when considered together. Birth names are also promi-
nent. These prominent groups are again accompanied by the same three minor groups of
praise names, equating names, and secular names. Most astonishingly, the rankings of the
six groups in the Ammonite onomasticon were identical to the rankings of the Israelite
names. This would be expected to happen only once every 720 times (= 6×5×4×3×2). This
agreement in rankings is not accidental, therefore, but reflects genuine cultural similarities.
This striking result suggests that family religion in Israel followed the same basic struc-
ture common throughout Syria and the Levant during the first half of the first millennium
b.c.e., irrespective of minor differences among cultural groups. The minor differences in-
clude, for example, a particularly high rate of confession names in the Phoenician culture,
reflecting the popularity of names formed from the roots of ‘servant of [DN]’ (105 occur-
rences), or ‘sojourner of [DN]’ (26 occurrences), which where much less popular in Israel
and Transjordan.â•›34 Intriguingly, the rate of all prayer names in Israel was lower (at 49.0%)
than in all the other surrounding cultures, for which it varied between 58.9% in Ammon,
and 52.8% in Moab, while the rate of secular names in Israel corresponded to the highest
rank (15.6%). This does not suggest, however, that the Israelites were less pious. The rates
of occurrence of the prayer and secular names in Israel (53.5% and 8.6%, respectively)
place them firmly in the middle of the rates in the surrounding cultures. Secular names
represent less than 10% in all cases, with the minor exception of the Aramaic onomas-
ticon, for which the rate of occurrence is 12.9%. Although there was a wider range of
metaphorical expressions in the theophoric names of Israel compared with the surround-
ing cultures, there was nevertheless very little difference in family religion in terms of the
degree of piety expressed in the naming of children.
35. See, for example, Deutsch (2003: 11–12) for the bullae of the Kaufmann collection.
Personal Names and Family Religion 261
probably originate from a relatively short span of time, between the second half of the 8th
century and the first quarter of the 7th.
In spite of these differences, all three publications or collections show the same ba-
sic pattern, as can be seen in table 5.4 (p. 506). All collections contain a large group
of thanksgiving names: between 27.9 and 29.1% of all names. The group of birth names
is similarly large: between 27.0 and 31.3% of all names, while the medium-sized group,
confession names, ranges in proportion between 15.8 and 17.2% of all names. These are
followed by the group of secular names: between 12.3 and 14.0%. The lowest ranking in
terms of frequencies of occurrence are the two groups of equating names and names of
praise: between 5.3 and 10.8%, and between 4.0 and 7.9%, respectively. Maximal differ-
ences between the published collections’ frequencies of occurrence in the groups range
only between 1.2 and 4.3%, with only two notable exceptions. First, HAE 2/1 contained
5.5% more equating names than the averages of the others, while the BPHB contained
5.7% fewer. The second exception pertains to thanksgiving names—and not the number
of different names but the instances. In BPHB, thanksgiving names occur considerably
more often than normal (38.9% of all cases). This differs from the inscriptions in HAE
2/1 (with thanksgiving names forming 30.2% of all cases) by 8.7%. This kind of theo-
phoric name seems to have been particulary popular in southwestern Judah during the
8th century. But as already seen above, the thematically close names of thanksgiving and
of confession are not always easily to distinguish grammatically. In a comparison of the
collections, lower values in one of the groups generally correspond to higher values in the
other.â•›36 Combining both groups of names reduces the largest difference between the three
collections to 4.7% for instances and 1.1% for names. The fact that these collections, which
arose predominantly (HAE 2/2) or entirely (BPHB) from the antiquities market, concur so
strongly with the collection that emerged mostly from controlled archaeological excava-
tions (HAE 2/1) firmly supports the authenticity of their material, which has often been
suspected of containing numerous forgeries.
Including smaller publications in this research (see table 5.5, p. 507) enhances dis-
crepancies somewhat, because the statistical basis of the smaller editions is not as firm. To
mention only the extreme: the occurrence of thanksgiving names is 12.3% less in the small
publications than in BPHB and, conversely, there is a higher proportion of praise names.
Collating prayer names from all editions reveals normal deviations of 3.5% for individual
names and 3.7% for instances.
Seals and bullae have more frequently been suspected of forgery than inscriptions
found on ostraca. However, the frequencies of occurrence of all names groups are very
similar, with differences only exceeding 2% in a rare few cases (see table 5.6, p. 507).
Notable differences include the seals and bullae having 5.9% more thanksgiving names
than ostraca, 2.7% more praise names, and 3.5% fewer equating names (or 3.9% instances
of these names).
The percentage of personal names in the six name groups cannot be considered ac-
cidental but seems to have remained constant over a broad geographical area and during
a long period of time. Moreover, the similar percentages of occurrence in the six name
groups of data from different sources of epigraphic material strongly supports the authen-
ticity of the material and the conclusion that the distribution of personal names among
the six groups mirrors the social realities of Israelite society and the basic structure of
Israelite family religion. The similarities of these distributions could of course reflect some
kind of centralized forgery controlling distribution in the antiquities market, but this sort
of assumption would be ludicrous. It seems much more reasonable to conclude that these
items provide firm evidence for the names’ frequencies of occurrence. Even if some items
are subsequently determined to be forgeries, given the large number of items considered
here, this event would not affect the percentages. Thus, the external evidence compiled
here to inform notions of Israelite family religion must be considered entirely reliable.
37. The age of the exodus tradition is disputed, but it probably functioned as a kind of founda-
tion myth for the establishment of the Northern Kingdom (1 Kgs 12:28–29) and was transferred to
and elaborated in Judah during the 7th century b.c.e. (see Deuteronomy and the Josianic reform).
The prominent position of Sinai theology may be the result of postexilic Priestly reflections, but
its theophanic tradition seems to be much older (Judg 5:5), and it provided the Book of Covenant
with theological legitimation, probably in the late 8th century (Exodus 19–24). The related Priestly
concepts of holiness and purity were probably even older (2 Sam 6:6–7), and conquest theology
is Deuteronomic at the latest. Kingship theology, of which we know only the Southern variant in
any detail, was certainly developed during the monarchic period (see Ps 89:21–38). Zion theology
seems to have originated in pre-Israelite traditions of Jerusalem and was fully established by the
8th century (Mic 3:11–12); its relevance, of course, is restricted to Judah. There is also informa-
tion available about the state cult of Northern Israel: for further details, see Albertz 1994: 1.40–66,
105–46, 180–86, 195–231.
38. It appears 78 times in (among others places) Exod 3:10–12; 20:2; Deut 6:12, 21; 26:8; 1 Kgs
8:16; and Ps 114:1.
Personal Names and Family Religion 263
Hiphil ‘to lead up’, is similarly lacking; it appears only among the names of praise in the
Qal, meaning ‘Yhwh is exalted’, for example, עליהוʿAlīyāhû (see appendix B3.1). It is
therefore probable that the verbs of salvation that were frequently used in names, such as
יׁשעHiphil, פלט, חלץ, גאל, and ( פדהsee appendix B1.2.1), were not alluding to the rescue
of the Israelites but to the rescue of an individual, although they are also used to refer to
the exodus in biblical texts.â•›39 This assertion is further supported by the use of the verb נצל
Hiphil ‘to deliver’; names derived from נצלdo not appear in the Hebrew Bible, but they
appear 17 times in the epigraphic material—for example, הצליהוHiṣṣīlyāhû (see appendix
B5.5). In the Hebrew Bible, the verb נצלHiphil can often refer to the events of the exo-
dus.â•›40 However, because the verb נצלHiphil appears in three names of individuals who
were members of people-groups that had no exodus history—in Ammon ( הצלאלHiṣṣīlʾil
‘El has delivered’) and Moab ( יצלבעלYaṣṣīlbaʿal ‘Baal has delivered’ and the shortened
form, הצלHiṣṣīl↜)â•›41—these names most likely have a different referent, one that harks back
to the more literal meaning of the root, ‘to snatch away’, and are therefore referring to the
delivery of a baby (see appendix B5.5).
Names referring to conquest theology are similarly nonexistent. There are no names
derived from the verbs נחלHiphil ‘to give as a heritage’ or נוחHiphil ‘to give a resting
place’, verbs that are frequently used in reference to Israel’s conquest.â•›42 The verb ‘ בואto
come’, which can also be used (including Hiphil ‘to bring into’) in the context of Israel’s
emigration,â•›43 appears in only one epigraphically attested name, אלבאʾElībāʾ, although the
most accurate translation is probably the sense of the Qal: ‘El [or (my) god] has come [to
me]’. Thus, mass immigration is not what is being implied but divine attention bestowed
on an individual (see appendix B1.1.5).
The concept of Israel’s divine election, which is closely related to the exodus in Deu-
teronomic theology (Deut 7:6–7), seems also to have had little impact in the Hebrew ono-
masticon. The only related name that appears in the Bible is יבחרYibḥār ‘[DN] has cho-
sen’, who was one of the sons of David (2 Sam 5:15). If anything, this name is referring to
the election of the king (Ps 89:4). The only theophoric parallel appears to be the Aramaic
name יבחראלYibḥarʾēl ‘El has chosen’, which was found recorded on the Layard bronzes
of Nimrud (8th century; appendix B1.1.4). In the Hebrew epigraphic material, a portion
of the word לבחרis recorded once (NEE 92.79:14); however, it remains uncertain whether
the infinitive construct was intended (‘to choose’), whether the word was the preposition
plus common noun bāḥur ‘to a young man’, or whether it was the shortened form of a
theophoric name (see Deutsch and Heltzer 1995: 100; Lemaire 2006: 235). Consequently,
we have excluded this name from the present corpus. Thus, evidence for Hebrew names
derived from the root בחרremains sparse. Because the most likely evidence is found in an
Aramaic name, intentional allusion to Israel’s divine election can be excluded. It is likely
39. For יׁשעHiphil, see Exod 14:30; Hos 13:4; for פלט, see Ps 22:5; for גאל, see Exod 6:6; 15:13;
Isa 51:10; Ps 74:2; 77:16; 106:10; for פדה, see Deut 7:8; 9:26; 13:6; 15:15; 24:18; only חלץis not at-
tested in the context of the exodus.
40. For example, Exod 3:8; 6:6; 18:8–10; Josh 24:10; and others.
41. The names are attested altogether five times: see appendix B5.5.
42. For נחל, see Deut 12:10; 19:3, 14; for נוח, Deut 3:20; 12:10; 25:19; Josh 1:13, and others.
43. See Exod 13:5, 11; Num 14:3, 8, 16, 24, 31; Deut 6:10, 23; 7:1; etc.
264 Chapter 5
that names with these sorts of roots referred only to the divine attention that had been
directed toward a particular mother or child, as also suggested in names derived from
ידדII (?) ‘to love’ or ‘ חמדto take a fancy to’ (although names of this sort are also uncom-
mon; see appendix B1.1.4). Thus, the notion of election is entirely absent in the Hebrew
onomasticon.â•›44
Furthermore, Hebrew personal names show no direct influence from kingship the-
ology. God was often seen as ‘king’, of course, or equated with melek in personal names,
reflecting long traditions of usage in the ancient Near East as a divine epithet or even a
divine name (see appendixes B4.1.2 and 4.5). But no other monarchic metaphors appear.
While the king is often compared with a shepherd, there are no names containing the verb
‘ רעהto graze’ in either the epigraphic Hebrew onomasticon or the biblical. The name נהל
Nēhāl (HAE 14.40) has appeared once in an epigraphic name, which is interpreted here
to mean ‘[DN] has guided [me]’, in accordance with Ps 23:2. The metaphor of the divine
shepherd thus appears to have been transferred to the individual sphere, similar to Psalm
23. One potential influence of kingship theology appears in the names BarÂ�hadad ‘son of
Hadad’ and Binbaʿal ‘son of Baal’; this sort of name was quite popular in the Aramean and
Phoenician cultures (see appendix B2.6.3). In all ancient Near Eastern cultures, the king
was regarded the son of god par excellence (Ps 2:7). Yet even on this topic, the familial
religious practices of Israel with regard to state theology seem to have been more reserved
than the religious practices of their urban neighbors. The ‘son/daughter of DN’ type of
name is almost entirely absent from the Hebrew onomasticon: it occurs only in the Egyp-
tian loan-name פׁשחרPašḥūr ‘son of Horus’, which is recorded in epigraphic and biblical
material nine and four times, respectively.â•›45
There is one other case of possible influence from royal theology, the peculiar epi-
graphic name לעגיהוLăʿagyāhû ‘Yhwh mocks/scorns’ (HAE 12.1). It reminded Deutsch
and Lemaire (2000: 220) of the statement in the Kingship Psalm (Ps 2:4) that Yhwh sits
in heaven and laughs at the rebellious vassal states trying to throw off their Judean yokes
(see also Ps 59:9). But it is quite unlikely that a personal name would reflect this unusual
international political crisis. It seems much more plausible to connect the name to a fam-
ily crisis, such as the distress of an infertile woman. In this case, the name would connote
‘Yhwh has ridiculed [the mother’s despisers]’, because he cured her infertility. This name
has thus been assigned to the names of birth (see appendix B5.1).â•›46
Personal names rarely include references to state temples, their symbols, or their the-
ology. Although Zion theology celebrated Yhwh’s enthronement in Jerusalem (Ps 29:10;
47:9; Isa 6:1), there is no name in the Hebrew onomasticon that contains the central verb
‘ יׁשבto sit [down]’. Moreover, the concept of the glory of Yhwh ( )כבוד יהוהin connection
44. See also the Phoenician names derived from the verbs ‘ חפץto take a fancy to’ and צבהII ‘to
desire’ (see appendix B1.1.4).
45. Another rare name is אפליʾAplāya (HAE 1.126), which can be interpreted as an Akkadian
loan-name, in which case it means ‘the inheriting son of [DN]’ (see appendix B2.6.3).
46. The name cannot be classified as a Vertrauensnamen in the sense that Noth meant (1928:
147–69), as suggested by Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/2.268. Lemaire (2006: 212.10, rev. 7) has recently
demonstrated the existence of the hypocoristicon לעגיLaʿagî; thus, the name cannot be considered
as unusual as once thought.
Personal Names and Family Religion 265
with the enthroned god of Jerusalem (Isa 6:3), which was later elaborated in the Priestly
theology of Sinai (Exod 24:17; Lev 9:23, and others), is absent in personal names. The
one name that refers to it, Ichabod, is a symbolic name only (1 Sam 4:19–22).â•›47 Likewise,
the concept in Zion theology of Yhwh fighting against all attacking nations (Ps 46:7–12;
48:5–8) does not appear to have had any influence on personal names, which do not refer
to fighting.
Cursory consideration might lead one to suppose that the cult symbol of Bethel had
some impact on name giving, particularly since the name עגליוʿEgelyau ‘young steer of
Yhwh’ appears in a Samarian ostraca (Sam[8]:1.41,1). We know that Jeroboam erected
a cult symbol in the shape of a ‘calf ’ ( )עגלin the sanctuaries of Bethel and Dan (1€Kgs
12:28), but any correspondence between the cult symbol and the reference to a literal calf
in the name עגליוis merely coincidental. In the report by the Deuteronomist, the diminu-
tive of a bull, ‘ עגלcalf ’, is used in a pejorative sense to denounce Jeroboam’s cult. The cult
statue of Bethel was actually intended to symbolize El or Yhwh in the image of a fully
grown or wild bull (in Hebrew, פר, ׁשר, or )ראם.â•›48 In the personal name, by contrast, the
noun עגלfunctions as a term of affection, characterizing the child as a small companion of
god, the closest parallels to which are the names that contain the element כלבkaleb ‘dog’.â•›49
Although it remains possible that the ancient Near Eastern iconography that depicts Baal
or El standing on a bull influenced the choice of animal to some extent in personal names
in Bethel and Dan, it was not likely to be a reference to the name directly connected with
the sanctuary in Bethel, because the element עגלalso occurs in the Aramaic and Phoeni-
cian onomasticons (see appendix B2.6.1).
Personal names are equally reserved in reference to the domain of official cultic activ-
ities. Verbs that express fundamental priestly concepts, such as ‘ קדׁשto be holy’, ‘ טהרto
be [ceremonially] clean’, or כפרPiel ‘to make atonement’ do not appear anywhere in the
Hebrew onomasticon. There are a few praise names that contain the verb ‘ זכהto be pure’—
for example, זכאZakāʾ, which makes one epigraphic appearance,â•›50 and זכיZakkai, which
makes one biblical appearance. However, this verb does not mean purity in a cultic sense
but in a moral sense, as in ‘to be pure from sins’, ‘to have a pure heart’, or ‘to be blameless’
(Job 15:14; Prov 20:9; Ps 73:13; 119:9). In reference to god, this statement means, ‘[DN] is
pure, or blameless, or beyond reproach’, similar to the names derived from the root תמם
‘to be complete’ (see appendix B3.2).â•›51
In the Hebrew onomasticon, there are names derived from one particular root, חׁשב
‘to take into account’, which is actually used in Priestly language and denotes divine ac-
ceptance of a sacrifice (Lev 7:18; 17:4; Num 18:27; cf. Gen 15:6; Ps 32:2).â•›52 In my previous
study (Albertz 1978a: 56), the names that contain this root were classified as professional
names, because in postexilic biblical texts they were the names of 18 people, all of whom
were Levites and temple singers. However, the name חׁשביהוḤăšabyāhû, is now known
to have appeared two other times, once on a seal (HAE 8.64) and once in an inscription
(MHas[7].7:1), both of which can be dated to the 7th century b.c.e. and neither of which
alludes to the cultic background of the name-bearers,â•›53 a fact that argues against my ear-
lier classification. Since there are several Aramaic names containing the root ‘ רקהto be
pleased with’ (see appendix B5.2), whose Hebrew counterpart רצהwas likewise a Priestly
term and was used in the same context (in which the priest proclaimed that the deity had
kindly accepted a sacrifice: Lev 1:4; 7:18; 19:7; 22:23, 25, 27), appearances of these Priestly
terms in personal names cannot be accidental. Thus, these terms are perhaps better under-
stood in reference to the practice of vows promised and paid in the context of birth. These
were instances in which family religion and priestly ritual overlapped. In these contexts,
the name Ḥăšabyāhû was given in gratitude as a reminder that Yhwh had taken a vow into
account and accepted the promised sacrifice. Therefore, this name is here classified as a
birth-experience name (see appendix B5.2).
In spite of this evident connection with the Priestly sphere, no expressions of perma-
nent relationships with local sanctuaries are found in Israelite personal names, in contrast
to Phoenician names such as גרהכלGerhēkal ‘sojourner of the temple’ (recorded 4 times)
or גראהלGerʾohel ‘sojourner of the [divine] tent’ (recorded once; see appendix B2.6.2). In
comparison with the attachments manifested by these names, which derive from an urban
society, emotional relationships of Israelite families with their sanctuaries seems to have
been less intense.â•›54
Hebrew personal names are also largely devoid of reference to the Sinai theophany.
Although several personal names refer to forms of divine revelation, such as אמריהו
ʾAmaryāhû ‘Yhwh has spoken’, הגלניהHiglānīyāh ‘Yhwh has revealed to me’ (WSS 344),â•›55
or בעלנחׁשBaʿalnāḥāš ‘Baal has predicted’, these revelations clearly are not alluding to
theophany to a people but to a divine oracle to an individual, as explicitly seen in the sec-
ond of these three names. Moreover, the name מלאכיMalʾākî ‘My messenger [was DN]’,
now also known from epigraphic material (Arad[7].97:1), refers to a particular sort of
revelation, when a divine being in the form of a human being reveals a divine message,
especially a birth oracle, but leaves his divine origin undiscovered until afterward (Gen
16:11; Judg 13:3, 21). This kind of private revelation has nothing to do with dramatic
53. The name Meṣad Ḥashavyahu, given to the fort where the ostraca were found, is accidental;
it was based on an incorrect reading of ostracon 1, line 7; see Renz and Röllig, HAE 1.316.
54. In this context, it can hardly be accidental that, in Israelite names, divine presence is not
symbolized by local sanctuaries but by functional realities such as ‘ אורlight’ or ‘ עזרhelp’ in names
such as קרבאורQĕrabʾûr ‘the [divine] light has come close [to me]’ or עזריקםʿAzrîqām ‘my [divine]
help has arisen’. These differences are of no great consequence regardless, because ʿAzrîqām also
appears in Aramean and Phoenician cultures (see appendix B1.1.5).
55. See also HAE 20.2 and PIAP 34. In the Hebrew Bible, the Hiphil of the root גלהonly oc-
curs in a context in which it means ‘to take into exile’, although this could be accidental, because
the meaning ‘to bare, to open, to reveal’ is present in all other stems. Avigad and Sass (1997: 492)
consider a Niphal form of the root to be more likely, even though the reading Higgalēnayāh ‘be
revealed, O Yhwh’ sounds artificial.
Personal Names and Family Religion 267
56. In the Hebrew Bible, the name נועדיהNôʿadyāh ‘Yhwh let oneself be met’ also occurs in
Neh 6:14; Ezra 8:33.
57. See Janowski 1989: 1–18.
268 Chapter 5
by classifying it as a substitute name and understanding it to mean that El has caused a de-
ceased child to return through the birth of a new child. His interpretation was supported
by the archaeological finds in Arad and Lachish, which verified that the name was in use
from the 8th to the 6th centuries b.c.e.—that is, before the exile.
In the absence of archaeological evidence for the name Šĕkanyāh, Noth’s interpreta-
tion seemed plausible; thus, I accepted it as the only case in which an ordinary personal
name,â•›58 because of accommodation to aspects of official Temple theology,â•›59 referred to an
important event of Israel’s history (Albertz 1978a: 58).â•›60 Subsequent archaeological finds
cast these interpretations into doubt, and there are now eight known appearances of the
name ׁשכניהוŠĕkanyāhû, dating from the early 7th to the early 6th centuries b.c.e. (see
appendix B5.4). The dialectic variant from Northern Israel, ׁשכניוŠĕkanyau, known from
one occurrence in Kuntillet ʿAjrûd, dates back even further, to the 9th century (PIAP 279).
Any reference in this name to the postexilic reconstruction of the Temple of Jerusalem
can thus be excluded.â•›61 Since the name also occurred in Northern Israel, even a relation-
ship to Jerusalem seems improbable. It therefore seems highly implausible that the name
Šĕkanyāhû/yau referred to any kind of established sanctuary at all, notwithstanding the
possibility that it could refer to a place in which no permanent divine presence could be
supposed. It thus seems more sensible to relate the name to house shrines or neighbor-
hood chapels where a mother or young couple had prayed for a child. Yhwh had actually
been present in the domestic cult of the parents; a presence further affirmed through a
successful and joyous pregnancy and birth (see appendix B5.4). Thus the last potential
piece of evidence that may have supported a close relationship between a personal name
and national history, and in particular the history of the Temple of Jerusalem, now also
carries no weight.
The primary traditions of official Israelite state and temple religion are thus almost
entirely absent from both biblical and epigraphic names. There are a few scant references
to the sphere of priestly activities with regard to vows and sacrifices performed during the
process of birth. The potential existence of a small number of personal names referring
to Yhwh’s theophany on Mount Sinai remains unconfirmed. In comparison with urban
Phoenician culture, Israelite society, which was more rural, seemed to have more differ-
ences between the beliefs of the family and the temple theologies. There is no epigraphic
evidence for Israelite personal names referring to events of Israel’s national history. This
of course does not imply that the traditions of the exodus or conquest were unknown to
Israelite families. Rather, it suggests that these traditions did not play any significant role
in the religious lives of these families during experiences of childbirth, whether they were
58. In contrast to the symbol names, which are given in order to point to a special event or be-
havior of the people; see Ichabod in 1 Sam 4:19–22 and Immanuel in Isa 7:14.
59. The concept that Yhwh dwells in the Temple of Jerusalem or in Zion is attested in 1 Kgs
8:12; Isa 8:18; Joel 4:17, 21; Zech 2:14–15; Ps 68:17; and 135:21; it is supplanted by Deuteronomic
theologians in that now Yhwh will let his name dwell in his chosen sanctuary; see, among others,
Deut 12:11; 14:23; 16:2, 6, 11; and 26:2.
60. This interpretation was also accepted by KBL31390; and Rechenmacher 1997: 72.
61. It is strange that Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/2.387), although they date the seals from the 7th
to the 6th centuries, still retain Noth’s interpretation.
Personal Names and Family Religion 269
fearful or joyful. Israelite families obviously had a wealth of religious experiences of their
own, but these experiences occurred almost entirely independent of the official state and
temple religion.
62. See Krebernik 1984: 36–47; Farber 1989; van der Toorn 1994: 77–110; 1999: 139–47; Stol
2000: 49–89; and Albertz 1978a: 51–55.
63. See pp. 388–393 below.
270 Chapter 5
This last source, which has not been comprehensively analyzed to date, provides great
insight for reconstructing the significance of childbirth in family religion. However, a
methodological problem arises, in that the appropriate grouping of the personal names
is vital to their accurate interpretation (see Noth 1928: 3). An accurate grouping of birth
names should rightly require detailed information about the sequence of events that oc-
curred during the birth process, along with all associated rites and rituals. Unfortunately,
there are no authentic ritual texts from ancient Israel that were intended to accompany the
most important events of conception, pregnancy, and confinement. The short reports and
mentions in the Hebrew Bible do, however, enable us to construct a typical sequence of
childbirth events and to connect each element of this sequence with the personal names
that refer to them. This also enables us to construct a sequence of subgroups with which
interpretations of related names can be compared and contrasted.
The second group consists of two roots that express divine revenge or anger and in-
cludes names such as נקמאלNĕqamʾēl ‘El has taken revenge’ and לעגיהוLăʿagyāhû ‘Yhwh
has ridiculed’. These are names that have previously been difficult to explain, because per-
sonal names generally avoid negative attitudes toward the deity. However, considered in
relation to the conflicts in which infertile women had to experience the contempt and in-
sults of their relatives and neighbors, these names gain a positive meaning. By presenting
a child to a formerly infertile woman, god had taken revenge for her on all who derided
her and had ridiculed them. Thus, the mother who bestowed one of these names on her
child constructed a reminder of her former distress and confessed that god had reversed
her social humiliation.
more frequent was the short form אׁשנאʾUšnāʾ ‘Do present, [O DN]!’ (10 instances), with
one person of this name being a servant of King Ahaz (HAE 1.151). A newborn child
could also be called ׁשאלŠāʾūl ‘requested’, ׁשאלהŠĕʾilāh ‘[the object of the] request’, or
(from another root) בקׁשBaqqūš ‘requested’ and the female form בקׁשתBaqqūšet. Thus,
girls as well as boys were explicitly desired from god. Almost all of these names are simi-
larly extant in the surrounding cultures,â•›69 among which is the Aramaic variant ׁשאלתי
Šaʾaltî ‘I have requested [him]’, a name that always harks back to the prayers of the child’s
mother or parents.â•›70
Several personal names that refer to vows made by women or couples have gone un-
recognized as such thus far.â•›71 The name דרׁשיהוDĕrašyāhû, which is epigraphically extant
three times, means neither ‘Yhwh has demanded an account’, as suggested by Renz and
Röllig (HAE 2/2.193–94), nor ‘Yhwh seeks [the welcome of the child]’, as supposed by
Avigad and Sass (1997: 494). It means ‘Yhwh has demanded [the payment of the vow]’,
because in this special sense the verb ‘ דרׁשto ask, to seek’ with Yhwh as subject appears
in Deut 23:22. Accordingly, the hypocoristic name יׁשאלYišʾal, from the related verb ׁשאל
‘to ask, to seek’, has the similar meaning ‘[DN] has asked for [the payment of the vow]’.
These names suggest that Yhwh is entitled to demand payment of the vow by presenting
the child requested. Likewise, the hypocoristicon פצריPaṣrî probably means ‘[DN] has
urged [the payment of the vow]’.
A similar meaning can be found in the name חׁשביהוḤăšabyāhû ‘Yhwh has taken [the
vow] into account’. As already mentioned, in this case the personal names incorporated
a technical term used by the priests when they proclaimed their verdict that god had ac-
cepted a sacrifice (Lev 7:18; 17:4).â•›72 Although this name occurs only twice in the epigraphic
material, it is much more frequently used in the Hebrew Bible (18 times), even in forms
personally related to the person who profited from the vow (via a first-person-singular
suffix), as in חׁשבניהḤašabnĕyāh or in a better vocalized form, Ḥašabāniyāh ‘Yhwh has
charged [the vow to my account]’ (Neh 3:10; 9:5). Finally, the names ׁשעריהוŠĕʿaryāhû
‘Yhwh has charged [the vow]’ and מכרMākīr ‘sold [by DN]’ express a meaning similar
to the same words used in a commercial context. A similar juxtaposition of priestly and
commercial language can be found in birth names in the surrounding cultures.â•›73 Thus,
although there are connections between family religion and priestly theology, they are
mostly restricted to cases in which the payment of a vow involved animal sacrifices. The
conjunction of commercial and priestly terms reveals a very pragmatic feature of family
piety: a woman promised to pay a fee so that the family god would give her a child.
The prayers and vows of barren or childbearing women could result in divine attention.
In the biblical narratives, God heard a woman’s plea ( ;ׁשמעGen 30:17, 22), saw her distress
69. The name ‘ ׁשאלSaul’ also appears in the Ammonite, Aramaic, and Phoenician onomasticons.
70. See also the name of Zerubbabel’s father, ׁשאלתיאלŠĕʾaltîʾēl ‘I have requested [him] from
God’ (Hag 1:1), which follows the form of Babylonian names. It shows that the Judeans were ready
to adopt names of their Babylonian environment during the period of exile, even in the royal family.
71. Even by Berlinerblau (1996).
72. See pp. 265–266 above.
73. See the names הדרקיHaddraqî ‘Hadad has accepted [the vowed sacrifice] with pleasure’ and
זבנאדןZĕbinʾadān ‘bought from Adon’, both of which come from Aramean culture.
Personal Names and Family Religion 273
( ;ראהGen 29:32), remembered her ( ;זכרGen 30:22; 1 Sam 1:19), or looked after the af-
flicted ( ;פקדGen 21:1). Here, a wide range of verbs normally used in the names of thanks-
giving for god’s attention are employed in these prayers, even though they are not specific
to the birth process. These verbs and names will therefore be considered later.â•›74 There is
one verb with regard to divine attention, however, that stands somewhat apart from the
others, namely, ‘ ענהto answer’. Of the four epigraphically represented names from this
root, two explicitly refer back to the mother: ענניהוʿAnānyāhû ‘Yhwh has responded to
me’ (HAE 14.7), and קוסענלQausʿanalī ‘Qos [the national god of the Edomites] has re-
plied to [me]’ (Arad[6].12:3).â•›75 The Hebrew Bible offers similar evidence: in the six names
that use this root, two have a first-person-singular suffix— ענניהʿAnānyāh (Neh 3:23) and
the short form, ענניʿAnānî (1 Chr 3:24). Both are also attested at Elephantine. The mother
desired to refer to her own experience during childbirth by naming her child this way:
her complaint did not go unheard; god responded to her petition. These names do not
necessarily refer to a favorable oracle obtained from a priest (1 Sam 1:17) or prophet;â•›76 it
is also possible that a woman had discerned a nonverbal sign that she interpreted as being
affirmation from god (Judg 13:23).
This rich group of personal names reflecting prayers, vows, and divine answers in the
context of birth demonstrates that prayers, vows, and oracles of salvation that were ac-
companied by other ritual acts such as libations, incense, and meal offerings played very
prominent roles throughout the entire process of childbearing.
Manoah (13:8–14) that he had already given to Manoah’s wife (13:3–5). This repetition
reinforced the credibility of the wife’s religious experience.
The remarkable significance of birth oracles is reflected in 10 different personal names
that are epigraphically attested 34 times (see appendix B5.3). The name אמריהוʾAmaryāhû
‘Yhwh has spoken’ was most popular and is recorded 22 times. Its Northern variant, אמריו
ʾAmaryau, was recorded as far back as the 9th century b.c.e.; 9 other people in the Hebrew
Bible bear this name. The name קוליהוQôlyāhû (Qal) or Qawwelyāhû (Piel) appears less
frequently and probably had the same meaning, ‘Yhwh has spoken’. There were 5 names
derived from this root altogether. Names from both roots were also used in surrounding
cultures, as well as names derived from the root רגם, such as Aramaic בעלרגםBaʿalragam
‘Baal has spoken’. Of particular importance is the single occurrence of the Hebrew name
הגלניהHiglānīyāh ‘Yhwh has revealed to me’ (HAE 20.2).â•›78 This name verifies that none
of the oracles referred to by these names were general statements; they were addressed to
an individual personally.
The divine oracles were probably associated with mantic procedures. The most recent
appearance of the name בעלנחׁשBaʿalnāḥāš is on an ostracon from the late-7th-century
Shephelah. Rather than meaning ‘Baal is a snake’ by being derived from the noun ( נחׁשthe
god Baal is never conceptualized as a snake in ancient Near Eastern iconography), the
name refers to the verb נחׁשI ‘to look for an omen, to divine’, which means that it must
be rendered ‘Baal has predicted [a good omen]’. The verb may originally have denoted a
specific kind of divination performed with the help of snakes.â•›79 However, in the Hebrew
Bible, this term is associated with a number of different objects used by mantics, such as
Joseph’s silver goblet (Gen 44:5), as suggested by Schmitt (2004: 110–12).â•›80 Thus, although
the details of the divination technique connoted by this personal name in connection
with the Baal oracle remain uncertain, it was probably delivered using an instrumental
medium. Similarly, the name נחׁשNāḥāš, which was the name of an Ammonite king (1
Sam 11:1–2), probably does not mean ‘snake’, as has often been suggested (by Noth 1928:
230 and Hübner 1992: 128, among others) but alludes to a good omen in the context of
childbirth.
Both Deut 18:10 and Lev 19:26 state that the kind of divination denoted by the term
נחׁשwas strictly forbidden by the Deuteronomic and Priestly reformers along with other
mantic and magic practices. The time during which this sort of prohibition might have
been enacted cannot be ascertained. Interestingly, this kind of divination was still prac-
ticed in Judean family religion at the end of the 7th century, in periods during or after
the Josianic reform (622 b.c.e.). This close relationship to the god Baal, as expressed in
the personal name under discussion, may have been associated with some kind of mantic
the already existing Deuteronomistic History; thus it can be dated to late preexilic or exilic times
at the earliest, depending on one’s model for the DtrH. The attempt by Römheld (1992: 47–48) to
reconstruct Judges 13 as a pre-Dtr story is less convincing.
78. For the problems with this interpretation/translation, see p. 266 above.
79. See the hints at snake omina in Isa 3:3, Jer 8:17, Ps 58:5–6, and Qoh 10:11, connected with
the related term ‘ לחׁשto whisper, to charm’.
80. This may have been a kind of oil omina, which are known from Mesopotamia; see Pettinato
1966.
Personal Names and Family Religion 275
practice that had been rejected by representatives of the official Israelite religion, although
this does not seem likely. Unfortunately, the father of Baʿalnāḥāš remains unknown be-
cause of the fragmented state of the record (see Lemaire and Yardeni 2006: 220 and pl.€15).
However, there is one bulla from a period about 100 years earlier that reveals that a certain
ʾAmaryāhû had a father named Nāḥāš (BPHB 103). Thus, Nāḥāš would almost certainly
have been a believer of Yhwh, even though his parents had used the unapproved divina-
tion practice prenatally. Interestingly, Nāḥāš again chose a name referring to a birth oracle
for his own son, suggesting that birth oracles were popular in this family.
Several personal names are known from Aramean and Phoenician cultures that prob-
ably refer to other mantic practices that involved some sort of instrument. The Aramaic
name אחלכדʾAḥlakad probably means ‘[my divine] brother has picked [me by drawing
lots]’, because this special meaning of ‘ לכדto catch’ may be the meaning that was intended
in Phoenician inscription KAI 37.B8 (see DNWSI 1:577), and it certainly is the meaning in
Hebrew (Josh 7:14 Qal; 1 Sam 10:20–21 Niphal).â•›81 Reference to the casting of lots may also
have been intended by the Aramaic name הדדסמניHadadsamānî ‘Hadad has designated
me’ (samek instead of śin). Finally, the Phoenician name אׁשמניעדʾEšmunyaʿad ‘Eshmun
has determined’ may refer to a date of birth, although the sort of divination involved can-
not be determined.
In the Hebrew onomasticon, the name מלאכיMalʾākî refers to a special form of in-
tuitive mantic. A human being, often a foreigner, served as the medium of a birth oracle
and was later revealed to have been a ־יהוהâ•”מלאך, a ‘messenger of Yhwh’ (Judges 13). In
accordance with the Punic name בעלמלאך, which verifies that it was a nominal sentence,
it should more accurately be rendered ‘my messenger [was DN]’. By choosing this name,
a mother was emphasizing that the person who had promised her a child was in fact god
himself (see Gen 18:1–16).â•›82 Thus, this group of personal names clearly verifies that divine
oracles delivered by priests and laymen, as well as other sorts of divination played integral
roles in Israelite family religion, especially in the context of childbirth. Birth oracles given
by laymen who were later revealed to have been divine messengers can be considered
specifically female experiences of divine revelation.
The Atramhasis Epic demonstrates that the period of procreation and conception was
surrounded by specific rites in Babylonia intended to honor the mother-goddess (I 90–
306).â•›83 It seems highly probable that, in ancient Israel, conception was accompanied by
rites and rituals intended to ensure the divine presence. These rites were likely to have
included libations, incense offerings, and prayers at a house shrine or perhaps at a portable
installation of cultic artifacts that was positioned in or near the marriage chamber. Pillar-
figurines, Bes figures, and amulets may have been used or invoked in this ritual context.
Ten names are known to date from epigraphic material that signify this decisive sexual
ritual; these 10 names appear 64 times (see appendix B5.4). A first subgroup of these
names relates to the opening of the womb, such as the hypocoristica פתחPĕtaḥ ‘[DN]
has opened [the womb]’, נפתחNiptaḥ ‘[the womb] was opened [by DN]’. The complete
theophoric variant, פתחיהPĕtaḥyāh ‘Yhwh has opened [the womb]’, is known only in
the Hebrew Bible, where it is the name of 3 different people (1€Chr 24:16; Ezra 10:23; Neh
11:24). Most prominent among these is the army commander and judge who went by the
hypocoristicon יפתחYiptaḥ ‘[DN] has opened or may open [the womb]’ (equivalent to
Jephthah; Judg 11:1–12:7). This name in turn is probably the shortened version of יפתחאל,
which is a place-name in Josh 19:14. These names have often been connected with birth,
especially the birth of a firstborn,â•›84 but considering that in Gen 29:31 and 30:22 the verb
פתחis related to the beginning of pregnancy, a reference to the act of procreation and con-
ception seems more plausible. By opening the female womb to the male sperm, the deity
creates the prerequisite for birth by overcoming the infertility of the woman.
According to Gen 20:17, names that allude to god’s healing act likewise refer to this
critical situation of procreation and conception, such as רפאיהוRĕpāʾyāhû ‘Yhwh has
healed’, with the short forms, רפאRāpāʾ and רפאיRĕpāʾî ‘[DN] has healed’. This subgroup
appears much more frequently (represented 27 times) than names from the root ( פתחrep-
resented only 3 times); it appears another 10 times in the Hebrew Bible and 9 times in
surrounding cultures.
A slightly smaller subgroup comprises names derived from the root ( דמלrepresented
25 times), a group that does not appear in the Hebrew Bible. The meaning of these names
remain the subject of ongoing debate. Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/1.65) derive it from the
Arabian root damila ‘to prepare, to make peace, to heal’. Avigad and Sass analyzed a name
consisting of the root ‘ דמםto be silent’ plus the preposition ־â•”‘ לfor, to’ and translated it as
an imperative name, ‘be silent before [DN]!’ Names of this sort do appear among names
of confession, such as חכליהוḤakalyāhû ‘Place your hope in Yhwh!’ However, in con-
trast to the verb ‘ חכהto hope’ and its synonyms, the verb דמםis used quite infrequently
in the confessions of confidence in the Psalms.â•›85 Moreover, an exhortation ‘to be silent
before god’ occurs only once in the postexilic wisdom psalm, 37:7; it refers to a unique
kind of devotional piety that would be distinctive in the preexilic Israelite onomasticon.
Following Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/1.65; 2/2.191), we interpret these names similarly to
names derived from רפא: דמלאלDĕmalʾēl ‘El has healed’, דמליהוDĕmalyāhû ‘Yhwh has
healed’, and the short form דמלאDamlāʾ ‘[DN] has healed’. Although these healing names
could refer to various general healing experiences in a family, the high number of appear-
ances—52 instances—suggests that the main focus was childbearing.
The name ׁשכניהוŠĕkanyāhû and its Northern variant, ׁשכניוŠĕkanyau ‘Yhwh was
present’, which are known from 9 epigraphic records (and the first also appears in 8 bibli-
cal records), have already been discussed.â•›86 Because they were used only between the 9th
and 6th centuries, they could not have been related to the postexilic reconstruction of
the Jerusalem Temple, as Noth (1928: 194) suggested. They are perhaps more plausibly
interpreted as being related to a house cult in which Yhwh’s presence was not regarded as
being permanent (which would have been the case in a temple) but was only experienced
sporadically by a family as an extraordinary event. Of course, the divine presence might
have been discerned in rituals that accompanied the birth process, but it would have had
special significance during the act of procreation and conception. The very experience of
becoming pregnant often might have been proof enough for a woman and her husband
that Yhwh had been present during the ritual acts that accompanied their sexual inter-
course. He had opened the womb, healed her infertility, and transformed it into fertility,
and thus his presence could not be doubted. Interpreted in this way, the name Šĕkanyāhû
shows that the shrine or cultic space in the household and the ritual activity of the fam-
ily, no matter how simple or even primitive they may have been, were accorded the full
dignity of divine presence.
10:10–11 even describes, with medical detail, how god solidified a human embryo out of
a milk-like liquid. As I previously demonstrated (Albertz 1974: 44–51), according to the
symbolic world of ancient Israel, the two events of god’s primeval creation of man and hu-
man pregnancy and birth are closely connected (particularly in Job 10:8–11).
Notions of the divine origin of pregnancy were not restricted to an inner circle of reli-
gious experts or literati but circulated among the whole population, as can now be verified
by the many extant creation names: a total of 39 epigraphic names derived from 11 differ-
ent roots appear no less than 148 times, describing the divine creative activity surround-
ing conception from a surprising variety of aspects.
One concept that is very close to the metaphor in Ps 139:13 is found in a personal
name on the Lachish tablets, סבכיהוSĕbakyāhû ‘Yhwh has woven [the child in the womb]’
(Lak[6].1.11:4). The biblical name סבכיSibbĕkay or Sibkay (2 Sam 21:18) may be the short-
ened form. The metaphor of “weaving” accommodates the divine creative activity to the
emergence of an embryo in its mother’s womb (see appendix B5.5.1).
Other creation names use more ordinary verbs for god’s creative activity. More-fre-
quent names include בניהוBĕnāyāhû ‘Yhwh has created [the child]’ (with 22 epigraphic
and 12 biblical occurrences), which emphasizes the constructive aspect of creation; in the
Akkadian language, banû is the most frequent verb used to denote divine creative activity;
in the Hebrew Bible, the cognate verb is used for the primeval creation of Eve (Gen 2:22).
Names from this root also appear in the Ammonite, Aramean, and Phoenician cultures,
such as the Ammonite name בנאלBanāʾil ‘El has created’ (appearing twice).
Other common names are derived from the most general root, ‘ עׂשהto make’, in-
cluding עׂשיהוʿAśāyāhû ‘Yhwh has made [the child]’ (with 17 epigraphic and 4 biblical
instances) and מעׂשיהוMaʿaśēyāhû ‘the work of Yhwh’ (with 13 epigraphic and 21 bibli-
cal appearances). This epithet name, which denotes the newborn as a creature of Yhwh,
shows that, in all creation names, the child is regarded as the implicit object. The root עׂשה
is often used for the creation of human beings, for example, in Job 10:8 and 31:15. Curi-
ously, names derived from עׂשהwere rarely used by Israel’s neighbors.
The opposite is the case with regard to a second common root, ‘ פעלto make’. Only one
derived name is known in Hebrew, from two epigraphic appearances of the hypocoristicon
פעלהPăʿalāh ‘[DN] has made [the child]’ (BPHB 326, 327) and the full name, used once
in the Hebrew Bible, אלפעלʾElpaʿal ‘El or god has made’ (1 Chr 8:11–12). Names from
this root are more common in Phoenicia, where goddesses such as Bastet and Ashtarte are
also attested as creators, as in פעלאבסתPeʿlaʾabast (attested twice) ‘Bastet has made’, and
פעלעׁשתרתPeʿlaʿaštart ‘Ashtarte has made’ (attested once). In the Bible, the root פעלfor
the creation of humans appears in Job 36:3. Among Aramaic names, the root עבד, denot-
ing ‘to serve’ in Hebrew, is used for expressing god’s creative activity in a general way, as in
אלעבדʾElʿabad ‘El has made’ (NTA 42.4:5).
Creation names derived from the root קנה, which has the two meanings ‘to acquire’
and ‘to create’, are more specific. While the former meaning predominates in most bibli-
cal texts, the latter seems to be preferred in personal names, since it occurs several times
exclusively in the context of birth and the creation of human beings (in Gen 4:1; Deut
32:6; and Ps 139:13). Stolz (1970: 132–33) suggested an underlying meaning of ‘to bring
forth, to produce’, from which both of these meanings may have developed. Gen 4:1 even
Personal Names and Family Religion 279
expresses a sexual connotation, where Eve boasts that she created (—)קניתיin the sense
of ‘bore’—a man ‘with Yhwh’. Although this does not explicitly mean that Yhwh had a
child by Eve, a close cooperation between her and him is nevertheless implied. The male
aspect of procreation is hinted at in Deut 32:6, where Yhwh is considered the father who
made or created Israel ( קנהwith 2nd-person-singular suffix). Thus, in the verb קנהitself,
both realities (that of creation and that of procreation and birth) are closely intermingled.
Hebrew personal names derived from קנהare known from 22 epigraphic instances
(and 8 biblical reports); the most frequent of these is the epithet name מקניהוMiqnēyāhû
‘creature of Yhwh’ (with 15 epigraphic attestations and one biblical), which also appears
in one variant from the Northern Kingdom (Israel) as מקניוMiqnēyau. Similar names
come from Ammon and Phoenicia—for example, מקנמלךMiqnēmilk ‘creature of Milk’.
Names containing the root ‘ כוןto be firm’ should also be interpreted as creation names,
because the verb can be used in the Polel stem to designate the creation of humanity (Ps
119:73; Job 31:15). Since the names probably use the Hiphil and the Qal stems with the
same meaning, they serve to emphasize god’s fashioning of his creation. Job 31:15 clearly
indicates that this fashioning occurs in the mother’s womb ()ברחם. Thus, the verb כוןcon-
notes a concept similar to the description in Job 10:10–11: the creator fashions the em-
bryo from a milk-like liquid. This type of creation name therefore also refers to the birth
process. The most frequently attested of these names is כניהוKonyāhû ‘Yhwh has fash-
ioned [the child]’ (9 instances), followed by אליכןʾElyākin ‘El has fashioned’ (5 instances);
this type of creation name appears a total of 17 times. It also appears in the Phoenician
and Aramaic onomasticons, for example, in Phoenician in the form of יכנׁשלםYakīnšalim
‘Shalem has fashioned’.
*â•…â•…*â•…â•…*
Thus, almost all roots used in the Hebrew Bible for god’s creation of human beings, whether primeval
creation or ongoing creation, are also used in creation names, with 2 exceptions: the verbs יצרyāṣar ‘to
form’ and בראbārāʾ ‘to create’. The former alludes to the concrete action of God’s forming man from
clay; in the Hebrew Bible, it is frequently used for both god’s primeval (Gen 2:7) and his ongoing creative
activity (Isa 43:1; 44:2, 21, 24; 64:7; Jer 1:5). However, remarkably, only 2 rare hypocoristic names from
this root appear in the Hebrew Bible: יצרYeṣer (Gen 46:24) and יצריYiṣrî (1 Chr 25:11) ‘creation [of DN]?’
The root בראhas a similar status in the Hebrew Bible. It is used in important theological passages such
as Gen 1:27; Isa 43:1; 45:12; and Ps 89:48 but appears only once in one name: בראיהBĕraʾyāh ‘Yhwh has
created’ (1 Chr 8:21). The absence of these roots in the epigraphic Hebrew onomasticon is not unusual.
The absence of the root בראprobably reflects its adoption as a specific theological term by religious offi-
cials (most likely sometime after the exile), but there is no such ready explanation for non-use of the root
יצר. It may be that the unique concept of creation conveyed by this root was somehow too explicit, or it
may be that alluding to a child’s having been formed from dirty clay was considered unfair or insulting.
Both roots are similarly absent from the onomasticons of Israel’s neighbors.
*â•…â•…*â•…â•…*
Aside from the larger groups of creation names, there are a few more that are used
infrequently. The name קדבׂשQadbeś, an Egyptian loan-name with the meaning ‘Bes has
formed’, has been found only once, in the Samaria ostraca (Sam[8].1:1:5). The name חצב
Ḥāṣāb also only appears once. This name is difficult to understand, coming as it does
from a verb that means ‘to carve out’, especially used in relation to cisterns, winepresses,
or tombs (Deut 6:11; Isa 5:2; 22:16). Avigad and Sass (1997: 500) postulated that it was
280 Chapter 5
some kind of professional nickname, akin to ‘stone hewer’. But, since in Isa 51:1 the verb
is metaphorically used to designate Israel’s origin from Abraham and Sarah, Renz and
Röllig (HAE 2/2.226) offer what is perhaps a more plausible interpretation in relation to
god’s creative act. The reading ‘[DN] has carved out’ seems best, because the text explicitly
refers to Sarah’s labor, and thus the metaphor would allude to childbearing. Translation
of the name ירימותYerîmaut is similarly uncertain. Although this name occurs relatively
frequently in the Hebrew Bible (a total of 12 times), only one epigraphic record is known
(HAE 10.75). According to Zadok (1988: 61), the name may be interpreted as ‘founded by
Mot’, in reference to the old Canaanite deity of death but in the function of creator here.
Although we will show below that there was almost no overlap between the specific quali-
ties ascribed to deities by religious officials and those referred to in family religion,â•›88 it
nevertheless is difficult to explain why a name with this sort of meaning would be used so
frequently, and exclusively in the late books of the Hebrew Bible.
A different concept of divine creature is referred to in personal names derived from
two other roots. The name עמליהוʿAmalyāhû ‘the [laborious] work of Yhwh’, which is
known in only two instances to date, emphasizes the great pain that god had taken to cre-
ate the child. Names derived from the second root, עדיהוʿAdāyāhû ‘Yhwh has adorned
[the child]’, and its variants have been found much more frequently (17 instances total)
and emphasize the wondrous product of Yhwh’s creative act. This name would likely have
been a popular choice for acknowledging god’s creation of a handsome newborn.
During the compilation necessary for writing my earlier work on the creation of the
world and humankind (Albertz 1974: 156, 246–47), evidence for personal names referring
to Yhwh’s creative activity was rather limited. However, the number and variety of cre-
ation names now known from epigraphic material clearly reveal that the divine creation
of every human being constituted a primary tenet of family religion. The religious signifi-
cance of birth also was emphasized to a much greater extent than we previously supposed.
It was not only the elites who transcribed and collated the Hebrew Bible but also the
masses of ordinary people, especially women, who considered birth a direct creative act
of god rather than a generic, natural event. The primordial creation of mankind (Gen 2:7,
18–24) was continued (Job 10:8–11) in every human birth, and each birth reflected and
symbolized a necessarily intimate cooperation between a woman and the divine creator
(Gen 4:1). All mothers were included in a miraculous divine activity during pregnancy
and birth, partaking in a mythical reality that lay behind more-quotidian familial percep-
tions of the event.
The attribution of both religious and mythical dimensions to birth suggests that birth
rituals in Israel were cultural moments of the conjunction of both of these realms. In birth
rituals known from Mesopotamia—whether they expressed the primordial creation of
man or the fathering of a cow by the moon-god Sin—this mythical reality (see Albertz
1978a: 51–55; van der Toorn 1994: 89–90; Stol 2000: 59–70) was incanted to safeguard
pregnancy and to prevent difficulties during delivery. As already mentioned, no record of
this sort of ritual has been found to date in ancient Israel or the Levant. It is only the He-
brew Bible that records the women’s customs of consulting the deity to prevent or alleviate
danger regarding a pregnancy (Gen 25:22).â•›89
and as midwife has been denied (Grohmann 2006: 85), in a broader context, god’s role as
midwife merely indicates his presence during the final stages of the creative act that he
commenced in the mother’s womb at conception.
Divine activity during the dramatic events of confinement is often memorialized in
personal names (see appendix B5.5.2). One name, דלתיהוDaltāyāhû, interpreted as a di-
rect address to god (see PIAP 33), is particularly impressive. It appears on an 8th-century
seal (HAE 4.5). The mother expressed direct gratitude to Yhwh for the delivery of her
child by saying, ‘You, Yhwh, have drawn out [my child]’. Although the root דלהliterally
means ‘to scoop’, and it also carries the wider metaphorical sense of ‘to draw from distress,
or to liberate’ (see Ps 30:2), it is nevertheless understandable that names derived from this
root were often considered to be expressing thanksgiving (Albertz 1978a: 63; Renz and
Röllig, HAE 2/1.64–5). However, if one presumes that names were formulated shortly after
birth, these thanksgiving names would also have been an apposite means of expressing
gratitude for a mother’s safety during her confinement.
Rather than using the root דלה, Ps 22:10 connotes a similar meaning by use of the
rare root גחהgāḥāh, where what is expressed from the child’s perspective as ‘You have
drawn me out from the womb’ is equivalent to the name Daltāyāhû, which expresses the
same thing from the mother’s perspective. Thus, all the personal names derived from the
verb דלהare perhaps best interpreted as deriving from the literal meaning of the root,
even though a metaphorical meaning may occasionally embellish or enrich the reading.
Thus both דליהוDĕlāyāhû and דליוDĕlāyau are taken to mean ‘Yhwh has drawn out [the
child]’. These names are known from 12 epigraphic artifacts and 5 biblical references.
This type of name was also popular in Aramean culture, and is known from one in-
scription on a small Moabite onomasticon. Interestingly, one Aramaic variant explicitly
relates its religious sentiment to the bearer of the name ביתאלדלניBaytʾeldalanî ‘Bethel
has drawn me out’. This name may also have been intended in a wider metaphorical sense,
but Ps 22:10 suggests that the literal reading as a personal confession in the sense of ‘the
god Bethel has created me’ is more apposite. By giving this sort of name, the mother would
have been projecting her experiences onto the child.
By a similar argument, personal names derived from the root נצלare also more plau-
sibly interpreted with reference to the Hiphil stem, which literally means ‘to tear out or
away’, with the metaphorical extension ‘to deliver’. Names derived from this root could
also have expressed thanksgiving, as noted, for example, by Avigad and Sass (1997: 515).
Regardless of their categorization, their absence from the Hebrew Bible and their rela-
tive paucity in epigraphic impressions (17 total) in comparison with names derived from
other verbs of deliveranceâ•›91 suggest that they probably had a more specific meaning. It is
thus likely that the name הצליהוHiṣṣīlyāhû was literally intended to mean ‘Yhwh has torn
away or delivered [the child from the womb]’. Names from this root are also known in
both Ammonite and Moabite cultures, such as Ammonite הצלאלHiṣṣīlʾil ‘El has delivered’
and Moabite יצלבעלYaṣṣīlbaʿal ‘Baal has delivered’. As mentioned above,â•›92 this evidence
is sufficient to refute the conjecture of intentional reference to exodus traditions.
91. For example, names from the root ‘ יׁשעto save’ occur 103 times, from the root ‘ פלטto rescue’
38 times, and from the root ‘ פדהto ransom’ 35 times.
92. See pp. 262–263 above.
Personal Names and Family Religion 283
A number of other names may also refer to maternal confinement. The rare name איץ
ʾIṣ is probably best interpreted as a hypocoristicon, because the theophoric variant אצבעל
ʾIṣbaʿal is known in Punic names. This suggests the translation ‘[DN] has hastened [the
birth]’. The single name גזor גזאGāz or Gāzāʾ, the final letter of which is difficult to read
on bulla BPHB 341, is probably derived from the root גוזas a variant of the common root
‘ גזזto cut off, to shear’. By this meaning, the name is probably referring to the cutting of
the umbilical cord, especially since Ps 71:6 records the alternative root, גזה, as a statement
that it was Yhwh who severed the petitioner from his mother’s womb. Thus, a plausible
rendering of the name would be ‘[DN] has severed [me from the umbilical cord]’. The
name Gāzez appears twice in the Hebrew Bible, although its meaning remains unclear.
Two names from the Phoenician onomasticon derived from two different roots should
possibly be translated similarly: גדעתGadaʿta ‘You, [O DN,] have severed [me]’ and פרם
Parom ‘[DN] has cut off ’.
Although no interpretation is certain, the personal names clearly verify the role of the
deity as midwife during confinement, as well as safely delivering the baby, and possibly
severing the umbilical cord. One name known from an Aramaic seal ( כרעדדKĕraʿadad
‘Hadad kneeled down’) that has thus far eluded interpretationâ•›93 may also derive from the
generic concept of divine midwifery. Although the name seems contradictory, because
mortals conventionally kneel before deities (for example, 1 Kgs 8:54) rather than the other
way around, if the name was intended to refer to divine midwifery, it could simply have
depicted Hadad as a midwife kneeling before the woman giving birth. The birthing mother
would then have been kneeling in the same posture but above her on the birth stones,
while the divine creator acted to bring his/her creature safely out of the womb unto light.
Finally, two roots share almost identical meanings in commemorating a joyous end to
confinement: גמריהוGĕmaryāhû ‘Yhwh has completed [the birth]’ and גמליהוGĕmalyāhû
‘Yhwh has completed [the birth]’. Both roots carry the meaning ‘to be benevolent toward
a person’ and are also used in the individual complaint psalms (Ps 13:6, 57:3). Although
these names were formerly considered thanksgiving names (Albertz 1978a: 64), they are
perhaps better interpreted as literal expressions of their etymological roots, because the
literal meaning was usually what was intended in personal names. The underlying mean-
ing of the verb גמלwas ‘to be ready or ripe, to finish’, which, when used in reference to
birth, would have referred to the weaning of the child (1 Sam 1:23); and while the literal
meaning of גמרis ‘to come to an end, to finish’, Noth (1928: 175) considered Gĕmaryāhû
to be related to a fortunate outcome of birth. It therefore seems reasonable to propose a
similar meaning for the name Gĕmalyāhû.â•›94 This interpretation is supported by two ap-
pearances of the name גמולGāmûl in the Hebrew Bible, where the form participle passive,
meaning ‘completed’, is best understood as signifying the name-bearer himself as witness
to the fortunate completion of his birth, due to the direct aid of god. Names derived from
these two roots appear 6 times in the Hebrew Bible and have been found on 22 epigraphic
93. Maraqten (1988: 175) states: “Wahrscheinlich ist dieser Name aus dem Element krʿ ‘sich
beugen, niederknien’ . . . und dem theophoren Element dd herzuleiten,” but he does not reveal how
he would understand this.
94. In this case, Noth (1928: 182) preferred the derived meaning ‘to be good to somebody’.
284 Chapter 5
artifacts. The short form גמרGamor ‘[DN] has completed [the birth]’ is also known from
a Phoenician record.
*â•…â•…*â•…â•…*
There were also secular names that referred to the delivery of a child. If a child was delivered rapidly,
it might be named חציḤēṣī ‘[s/he who was swift] as an arrow’, ברקיBarqay ‘[s/he who was quick] as light-
ening’ or חׁשיḤušay ‘the speedy one’. The name צנרṢinnōr ‘[like a] waterfall’ is known from both Am-
monite and Phoenician cultures. Although it does not seem to have found a definitive interpretation to
date, it was probably related to the amniotic fluid that accompanied the delivery. The Hebrew name גרפי
Garpay may also refer to the same context and can be rendered ‘s/he who was washed away’ (which was
left unexplained in FHCB 88.37). In a situation where the newborn required a great deal of prompting to
take its first breath, s/he might be named פרפרPorpar ‘s/he who was shaken to and fro’, מׁשמׁשMōšmaš
or perhaps מׁשׁשMūšaš ‘the palpated one’. Although names such as בכיBĕkî ‘whiny’ and צרחṢeraḥ ‘bawl-
ing’ may sound improbableâ•›95 because they seem to connote negative characteristics, acts such as bawling
and crying also provided the first indicators of life, and they may have expressed the positive fulfillment
of the mother’s longing for the emergence of her whining, bawling baby. The existence of these secular
names evinces the significance of birth in the bestowal of names, but their interpretation in reference to
the actual delivery process fosters even better understanding.
95. Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/2.169–70) considered names from the root בכהto be unlikely. In
the case of צרח, the reading of the first letter is unsure: Avigad and Sass (1997: 201) read זרחzeraḥ
‘[DN] has arisen gloriously’ on the bulla from Jerusalem (WSS 505); although Renz and Röllig
(HAE 2/2.224–25) assert that the first letter was clearly like a ṣāde, they doubted that the name
would have been derived from the root צרח.
96. See pp. 275–276 above.
Personal Names and Family Religion 285
the root, suggests a hypocoristicon. However, these names appear less frequently (a total
of 4 times) than names from פקחand are not found in the Hebrew Bible.
The essential act of God in bringing a newborn to life is expressed in names derived
from the root חוחor ‘ חיהto live’, such as חויהוḤawwīyāhû ‘Yhwh has brought [the child]
to life’. Although these types of name refer to past events, one similar name from this root
clearly expresses a wish regarding the future: it is יחיYĕḥî, which may be translated ‘May
it [the baby] stay alive, [O god]’. Thus the names in this subgroup may express thanksgiv-
ing for a fortunate birth as well as expressing hope for the survival of a newborn. In this
case, names constructed in imperfect tense are not necessary constrained to the past but
may also express wishes such as יחועליYĕḥawwiʿalay, which can mean either ‘The Exalted
has brought [the child] to life’ or ‘The Exalted will keep [the child] alive’. Both meanings
express events that immediately followed confinement; the second was more appropriate
for a newborn that was perceived as being weak or otherwise imperiled.
Names derived from the root חוה/ חיהare comparatively rare in Hebrew epigraphic
material, appearing only 4 times altogether, compared with 12 appearances in the Hebrew
Bible. It is possible that the unusual name בלטהBalṭāh, found on a block of stone exca-
vated in Jerusalem, was derived from the Akkadian verb balāṭu ‘to live’ and would have
been intended to convey a sentiment similar to ‘[DN] brought to life’.â•›97 There are a few
other names derived from East Semitic roots that have not been found in Hebrew.â•›98 In
contrast, names derived from חוה/ חיהwere more frequent in surrounding cultures: found
9 times in Moab and Phoenicia. One Phoenician name of particular interest not only men-
tions a goddess but addresses her personally: עׁשתרתחותʿAštartḥewwiti ‘O Ashtarte, you
have brought [my child] to life’. One expression of a wish has been found in the Moabite
culture, together with its theophoric element, כמׁשיחיKamōšyĕḥî ‘O Chemosh, may it stay
alive!’ Several names from the Aramean culture may be expressing similar concepts by
using the root ‘ מנהto count’. Avigad and Sass (1997: 512) suggested that the intended
meaning was ‘to count among the living’. Thus, for example, the name אלמנניʾElmanānî
would mean ‘El counted me [among the living]’.
The last names in this subgroup probably referred to serious complications that arose
during or after pregnancy, including three names derived from the root ‘ חמלto have com-
passion, to spare’. Although the name יחמליהוYaḥmolyāhû might be understood in a more
general sense as ‘Yhwh had compassion’ and accordingly be categorized as a thanksgiv-
ing name (see Albertz 1978a: 62), there is a strong argument against this interpretation.
There are two appearances of the root חמלthat, according to Num 26:21, are the passive
participle Ḥamūl. The bearer of this name was the one who was spared; that is, although
his life was imperiled during or after birth, he survived. The names in this small group (5
instances altogether) are probably references to god’s sparing the life of a specific child,
97. Naveh (2000: 8) considered it to have been a misspelling of the thanksgiving name, פלטה
Palṭāh, which is epigraphically attested four times; see appendix B1.2.1. However, since exactly that
name was written twice upon one block, it would be unlikely to have been an error.
98. For example, יהוסחרYĕhôsāḥār (HAE Arad [8]:90,1), which contains the Akkadian verb
saḥāru ‘to turn to’; or אפליʾAplāya, which contains the Akkadian noun, aplu ‘inheriting son’. A
similar name occurs in the Aramaic onomasticon ( בלטBalaṭ).
286 Chapter 5
whether his life was in danger during or after pregnancy, or he was the sole survivor in the
birth of twins.
The name אצליהוʾAṣalyāhû probably had a similar meaning, even though Noth (1928:
193–94) proposed that it was derived from the Arabic root ʾaṣula in the sense of ‘Yhwh
has shown himself to be distinguished’, and J. D. Fowler (1988: 108) considered the name
to be derived from the Hebrew root ‘ אצלto set aside, to reserve’,â•›99 with the meaning
‘Yhwh has reserved, set apart’. Although Fowler’s extrapolations from the Hebrew origins
of this name may have been accurate, she nevertheless misunderstood the name to refer
to “the concept of selection of a certain people” (1988: 108)—that is, Israelâ•›100—and not
the more plausible meaning of sparing an individual child from mortal danger. As such,
the name would be rendered ‘Yhwh has set [the child] aside’, a very likely meaning if the
bearer of the name survived but his/her twin died. This interpretation is supported by the
fact that another name from this root appears as the passive participle ( אצולʾAṣûl ‘the
reserved’; see HAE 2/2.162), although it was not found in preexilic epigraphic material but
in later material from Elephantine. Thus, alongside the manifold expressions of gratitude
conveyed in names about birth experiences, the dangers and perils of childbirth are also
noticeably present.
All of these names related to pregnancy, confinement, and other aspects of birth and
the experiences of newborns contribute to an impressive image of the profoundly religious
impact of childbirth on ancient Israelite society, especially as experienced by the women.
These experiences must have constituted the very center of Israelite family religion.
99. This meaning is made clear in Gen 27:36; consider the preposition ‘ אצלapart’ as well.
100. While the root אצלwas used to refer to the election of a person, the root בחר, which can be
seen as the terminus technicus for Israel’s election, does not appear in personal names; see pp.€263–264
above.
Personal Names and Family Religion 287
to recover from the difficulties of childbirth and to form emotional bonds with her baby.
Emotional bonds with daughters may have been forged even tighter because of the longer
period of isolation.
A woman who had given birth was not permitted to leave isolation or be reunited
with her family for at least one (for boys) or two weeks (for girls). This prolonged period
of absence was followed by the mother’s reintegration with her family and society and the
introduction and initial integration of the newborn. This joyful moment would in most
cases have been celebrated in a family feast, during which the mother would have proudly
presented her baby and talked about her physical and religious experiences during the
birth process. Although the father would usually have welcomed and blessed his wife and
their new baby and, by doing so, would have accepted the newborn as his own child, there
would have been exceptional cases when a newborn might have been refused by a father
(Hos 1:6). His absence from the actual birth process would have created space for doubt,
and rejection of a newborn by a father would have required the baby’s being fostered or
even abandoned (Ezek 16:5).
It has been argued above that it was this family feast on the 8th day that was later
transformed into a feast of circumcision for boys and a time when the child’s name was
bestowed, whether it was the mother’s or the father’s choice or a joint decision.â•›101 For girls,
the naming celebration would naturally have occurred on the 15th day. Although all of
the names mentioned above originated during this celebration of naming or circumcision,
there was one particular group of names that directly commemorated the gratitude felt
and expressed during this feast and the concurrent integration of the newborn into the
family (see appendix B5.6).
One very large subgroup of these names expresses conditions related to the acceptance
or potential rejection of a child. In classifying the child as a gift from god, the father and
all the other members of his family were accepting the child. One cannot refuse a gift
from god but is compelled to accept it with gratitude. This social function of integrating
the newborn into its family probably motivated the great number of names recorded in
epigraphic material. No less than 35 of these sorts of names derived from 11 different roots
are represented a total of 166 times. There are 33 names derived from 7 roots in the Hebrew
Bible, referring to 114 different people. The largest subgroup comprises names derived
from the root ‘ נתןto give’, such as אלנתןʾElnātān ‘El or god has given [the child]’, נתניהו
Nĕtanyāhû ‘Yhwh has given [the child]’, or מתניהוMattanyāhû ‘gift of Yhwh’, which ap-
pear 94 times altogether.â•›102 Second-most frequent are the names derived from the root
‘ אוׁשto give’, such as אׁשיהוʾAšyāhû ‘Yhwh has given [the child]’â•›103 and יאוׁשYāʾûš ‘[DN]
has given [the child]’, which are attested 50 times altogether. Names derived from the root
‘ נדבto present’ also appear quite frequently (11 instances) and include יהונדבYĕhônādāb
‘Yhwh has presented [the child]’ and the synonymous נדביהוNĕdabyāhû. These names,
which were also very popular in Ammonite culture (17 instances), emphasize divine mu-
nificence. Interestingly, names from the related root זבדzābad ‘to present’, of which 19 ap-
pear in the Hebrew Bible, have not been found in epigraphic material from the monarchic
period, and this Aramaic root does not seem to have appeared in the Hebrew onomasti-
con until after the exile.
Personal names derived from the following roots appear considerably less frequently.
The roots בקקbāqaq ‘to bring forth amply’, חצהḥāṣāh ‘to divide’, and פזרpāzar ‘to spread’â•›104
place an even stronger emphasis on god’s lavish generosity. Examples of names derived
from these roots are בקיהוBuqqyāhû ‘Yhwh has amply given’, יחץYaḥaṣ ‘[DN] has dis-
tributed’, and פזריPazrî ‘[DN] has generously given’. Two variants of theophoric names
derived from the root חצהappear in the Hebrew Bible, of which one is יחציאלYaḥăṣîʾēl
‘Yhwh has selected [the child for us]’ (1 Chr 7:13). Names derived from these three roots
have been found in only 4 epigraphic records, and appear 5 times in the Bible.
There are 3 other names for which no clear etymology can be determined. The first
is the name מגן, which is epigraphically attested 3 times but absent in the Hebrew Bible.
Zadok (1988: 124) considered it to have been derived from the noun māgēn ‘shield’ and
regarded it as a confession name, interpreted as ‘[DN is my] shield’ (see Ps 18:3). However,
because similar Punic names are better understood in a verbal sense (see Benz 1972: 339),
it is more likely that the name derives from the verb ‘ מגןto present’ (for discussion, see
Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/1.73). Thus the name should be understood as Māgān ‘[DN] pre-
sented’. The name was also used by Phoenicians and Ammonites in the 1st millennium.
The second case is the name מנחManōăḥ, which has been found on 1 seal (HAE 13.2;
WSS 22) of unknown provenience from the early 7th century, as well as 3 plene-written
instances in the Hebrew Bible (Judg 13:2). This biblical vocalization contradicts sugges-
tions for an active participle Hiphil derived from the root ‘ נוחwho gives rest’. Relating the
name to the conquest of Israel cannot be right either, despite the fact that the root is used
with this meaning in narrative (in Josh 1:13 and other places). The problem with relating
names derived from the same root to the conquest by the Israelites is that the name also
appears in Ammonite and Moabite cultures. It is similarly unlikely to have been derived
from the noun מנוחmānôăḥ (see HAE 2/2.269), meaning ‘place of rest’. In common famil-
ial contexts, new infants would not have signified a period of ‘rest’ for the parents; quite
the opposite. Thus, Lemaire’s suggestion (1983: 24–25) that the name represents a Qal
passive participle derived from the verb ‘ מנחto present’ is more likely. This root may also
be related to the common noun מנחהminḥāh ‘gift, offering’, as found in Ugaritic (DLU
2:282–83), among other languages. Thus the name was probably intended to signify ‘pre-
sented [by DN]’.
The final case is the name נמׂשר, which is known from 3 late-7th-century epigraphic re-
cords, 2 of which are seals (HAE 14.20, 21), and 1 of which is an ostracon (NEE 92.79:6–7).
Aramean cultures from איׁשbut from ‘ מתman’ (see appendix B2.6.1). For additional discussion, see
Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/1.61.
104. In Ps 112:9, the verb has the meaning ‘to give generously’, parallel to נתן.
Personal Names and Family Religion 289
Although it has the form of a Niphal participle from the root מׂשר, the grammatical form
of which commonly appears in the Hebrew onomasticon (see Zadok 1988: 126–27), there
is in fact no such root known. Thus, both Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/2.309) and Deutsch and
Heltzer (1995: 98) were unable to offer any convincing interpretation. However, the two
letters samek and śin are occasionally interchangeable in Hebrew writings, thus suggest-
ing the root מסרmāsar ‘to hand over, to transmit’. This root is frequently found in later
Hebrew derivatives (e.g., “Masoretes”), as well as occasional appearances in late passages
of the Hebrew Bible. Thus, if we accept the interchange of sibilants and suppose the root to
have been in earlier use, perhaps in its basic meaning the name Nimśār may be translated
‘handed over [by DN]’.
The idea of accepting a child as a gift from god could also find more extraordinary or
even striking expression by drawing on foreign languages or concepts. The name פטיהו
Pūṭīyāhû is a hybrid form of Egyptian and Hebrew elements (Renz and Röllig, HAE
2/1.81), the meaning of which is ‘the one whom Yhwh has given’. Only epigraphic appear-
ances of the name are known, but there are 2 of these. It is also known from Phoenicia,
where it referred to the Egyptian goddess Isis.
The name ׁשמיהŠemyāh, which was found on an ostracon from Arad (HAE Arad
[6].110:1), is somewhat ambiguous. It does not occur in the Hebrew Bible, although it is
reminiscent of Aramaic and Phoenician names of the same type, such as ׁשמאדדŠemʾadad
and ׁשמזבלŠemzabūl. Although the element šem ‘name’ could have been used as a theo-
phoric element,â•›105 it is perhaps more accurately understood (in accordance with Hug
(1993: 154) in the secular sense of ‘descendants’. Thus, the Hebrew form of this name
would have denoted a child as being a ‘descendant of Yhwh’, parallel to the Aramaic ‘de-
scendant of Adad’ and the Phoenician ‘descendant of the prince [Baal]’. The concept of a
child as belonging to the relatives of a deity would have been less transcendent than being
related to a divine creature or a divine gift, which may be why this metaphor appears in-
frequently among Israelite names. A similar metaphor, which meant that the child was the
‘semen’ ( זרעzéraʿâ•›) of god, is known from a few instances in the Aramaic and Phoenician
onomasticons and adds a sexual dimension. This sexual connotation may be the reason,
however, that this metaphor has not appeared in any Hebrew epigraphic material and
appears in the Hebrew Bible only as an old place-name (Jezreel: 1 Kgs 4:12; 1 Sam 25:43;
and other places).â•›106 One could even assert that, if the metaphor of ‘descendant’ or ‘semen’
were used as a name, the child would have been accepted as begotten by god to such a
degree that its natural father would no longer have been considered a rightful parent. In
Israel, however, the more transcendental metaphor of regarding the child as a gift from
god that should be joyfully received was much more prominent.
The next subgroup of names was associated with divine blessing on or the care and
support of an infant and his/her newly constituted family. In ancient Israel, blessing was
105. Thus, the Hebrew clan name ׁשמידעŠemyādāʿ from Samaria (Sam[8]:1) should probably
be rendered ‘the [divine] name has taken care’ (see Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/1.86). It is also possible
that the Aramaic name ׁשמהיקרŠemēhyeqar, with the suggested meaning ‘his name should be hon-
ored’, rightly belongs in this same category (see Maraqten 1988: 220).
106. The name of Hosea’s first son (Hos 1:4) is a symbolic name derived from this place-name;
this is also true of the clan name (1 Chr 4:3).
290 Chapter 5
considered to be the divine power of fertility (Gen 1:28; Isa 65:8). Because the blessed
birth of a child was evidence of this divine power, and because further blessing was re-
quired to ensure the ongoing health and growth of the newborn, names of blessing could
refer equally to the past and to the future, as in ברכיהוBerekyāhû ‘Yhwh has blessed’
and יברכיהוYĕberekyāhû, which can be rendered either ‘may Yhwh bless’ or ‘Yhwh has
blessed’. A name formed from the passive participle, ברךBārūk ‘blessed [by DN]’ (with
biblical parallels in Jer 32:12 and other places), suggests that god’s power of fecundity
found primary expression in the appearance and life of a newborn, although this fecun-
dity was also bestowed in a more general way as property given to entire families. Names
derived from the root ברךhave appeared so far in 15 epigraphic records and also appear
in the Hebrew Bible 13 times. Names from this root were also popular in the surrounding
cultures, one of which is a Phoenician name that addresses the god of Tyre: ברכתמלקרת
Baraktamelqart ‘You have blessed, O Melqart’. This succinct prayer of thanksgiving clearly
shows once again the common expression of personal experiences and emotions in West
Semitic theophoric personal names.
Another, rather small group (only 5 names) could be formed that comprises names re-
ferring to divine blessings. This group would consider the element מריto be derived from
the root מררwith the meaning in the D-stem of ‘to give strength, to bless’, as in the names
מריבעלMĕrībaʿal, מרימותMĕrêmôt, and perhaps מריהוMĕrayāhû. The root is known from
Ugaritic (see the discussion in HAL 1/1.74–75). These names would be rendered ‘Baal
has blessed’, ‘Mot has blessed’, and ‘Yhwh has blessed’ (although this last reading may be
less certain). Curiously, the names in this small group, which mention foreign gods and
use a foreign root, were not used by neighboring peoples. Rather, a number of names ex-
press similar divine blessings by using different roots, such as [ אלדׁש]אʾElidiššeʾ ‘[My] god
has caused to thrive’ and אׁשמנצלחʾEšmunṣaloḥ ‘Eshmun has caused to prosper’ (both of
which are Phoenician).
There are 2 Hebrew names that allude to similar abundance experienced by families.
The name יסףYōsep appears once, on a late-7th-century bulla from Jerusalem (HAE 15.1
= WSS 587). The name is clearly a statement that ‘[DN] has added [a child to the family]’,
but Gen 30:24 also uses this name as an expression of desire for another child. Theophoric
variants of this root appear in Phoenicia, such as בעליסףBaʿalyūsep ‘Baal has added [a
child]’, as well as in the Hebrew Bible, such as אליסףʾElyāsāp ‘El has added a child’ (Num
1:14), where the derivation is Qal instead of Hiphil.
The name of the first Northern king, Jeroboam, probably conveyed a similar meaning.
This name is known from a seal that was found at Megiddo and probably belonged to a
servant of Jeroboam II, who reigned during the first half of the 8th century. Although in-
terpretations of this name are still disputed, a likely derivation would be from the root רבב
‘to become many’ or ‘to multiply’ in the Hiphil, in conjunction with the element עםʿam as
the divine subject (‘divine uncle’).â•›107 Thus the name ירבעםshould be read Yarobʿam and
rendered ‘the [divine] uncle has increased, or may increase [the family]’.
107. Noth’s explanation (1928: 207), which relates the element עםto the people of Northern
Israel (“es mehre sich das Volk”), is entirely unconvincing. No other name has this secular meaning
of עם.
Personal Names and Family Religion 291
Three roots were used to derive names that refer to divine care for an infant. The use
of the verb ‘ עמסto carry’ portrays a particularly vivid picture. As a mother takes her baby
in her arms, so god carries his little creature (see Isa 46:3), and עמסיהוʿAmasyāhû may
be read ‘Yhwh has carried [the child on his arm]’. The name of the prophet Amos, also
known from 2 epigraphic records, makes clear that the bearer of this name was thought in
his infant state to be the object of god’s care, because the name is constructed as a passive
participle, עמסʿAmōs ‘who is carried [by DN on his arm]’. This name was also used in
Phoenicia. In Ammon, the theophoric variant עמסאלʿAmasʾil ‘El has carried [the child on
his arm]’ seems to have been popular and was found in 3 records.
Divine care is also referred to in names derived from the Palpel stem of the root כול
‘to look after, to supply’, such as כלכליהוKalkōlyāhû ‘Yhwh has looked after [the child]’.
Together with its short form, this type of name is attested 6 times epigraphically and 1
time biblically.
A final name in this small group has been found no less than 8 times in epigraphic
material, although it does not appear in the Hebrew Bible. It is clearly derived from the
active participle of the root ‘ יעלto be useful’, and thus the name יועליהוYôʿelyāhû should
be rendered ‘the one to whom Yhwh is useful’. Thus Israelite family religion again reveals
a very practical attitude toward the divine.
It is interesting to note, while we are considering names that express divine care for an
infant, the absence of names relative to the nursing of an infant. Inadequate lactation poses
a potential problem in raising children, and the prominent breasts of the pillar-figurines
certainly suggest an abundance of lactation. However, not one personal name is known to
be derived from the roots ינקyānaq Hiphil and עולII ʿûl ‘to suckle, to nurse’, either in Is-
rael or among its neighbors. There does not seem to be an immediate explanation for this
omission, particularly because Hebrew personal names, which mirrored almost all typical
events in the birth process, did not shy away from transferring anthropomorphic concepts
to the deity. Moreover, ancient Near Eastern iconography provides a number of examples
of a goddess suckling an infant, who was often a king.â•›108 It may be that the metaphor of
lactation or breastfeeding was too intimate for personal names that were used publicly. It
is also possible that many of the personal names discussed here, especially names derived
from the root עמס, obliquely referred to nursing an infant.
A final subgroup consists of 1 name, which most likely referred to the rite of circumci-
sion: מליהוMalyāhû ‘Yhwh has circumcised [the child]’. Although no such name appears
in the Hebrew Bible, the fact that it existed at all is astonishing. It is known from 4 epi-
graphic records to date, 3 of which were clearly imprinted on 2 seals and a bulla, all dated
to the 7th century b.c.e. (HAE 13.32, 33, 34), and one less distinct on a broken early-7th-
century bulla (BPHB 404).â•›109 Deutsch and Lemaire (2000: 220) proposed an alternative
derivation from the presumably Aramaic root מללmālal ‘to speak’, although such names
are rare in the Hebrew Bible. A much easier grammatical interpretation is that the third-
108. See, for example, Keel 1972: 165; 182 (illustrations 253 and 277a); ANEP 829; Orthmann
1971: plate 15e.
109. The upper register of the imprint is partly broken, so it is not able to be discerned whether
the letters מליהו, which fill the whole lower register, constitute the complete name; if not, גמליהו,
דמליהו, or רמליהוwould be possible.
292 Chapter 5
person-singular perfect element was derived from the root מולmôl ‘to circumcise’. This
explanation was proposed by Avigad (1989: 10) and thus seems to be established (see
Deutsch 1999: 126; Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/2.278; Deutsch 2003a: 409). Either way, all
of the interpretations presume a metaphorical use of this root, as expressed in Deut 30:6,
“Yhwh, your god will circumcise your heart and the heart of your seed, to love Yhwh,
your god.” Such an explanation is doubtful, however, for three reasons. First, Deut 30:1–
10 is one of the latest additions to the book of Deuteronomy and did not emerge before the
late exilic period;â•›110 thus the text is much more recent than the epigraphic material. Sec-
ond, this spiritualization of circumcision presupposes that the rite had become very com-
mon at the time. However, as far as we know, rites of circumcision did not gain widespread
popularity before the period of exile (see Genesis 17). Third, widespread incorporation of
such a highly sophisticated theological concept from the Deuteronomistic traditions of
official religion into the rites and rituals of family religion seems unlikely. A much more
plausible theory is that this personal name was intended to refer simply to the family rite
of infant circumcision, in the same was that many other names reflected various family
rites such as prayers, vows, sacrifices, and birth oracles.
Circumcision as practiced in Israel seems to have been an old apotropaic rite in con-
nection with puberty or with preparation for marriage originally (see Exod 4:25; Gen 34),
as is also suggested by Arab and Egyptian practices. By the time the postexilic texts of the
Hebrew Bible were collated, the rite had already been transferred to the context of birth.
According to P, it was to be performed on all male members of the family eight days after
birth (Gen 17:12; 21:4; Lev 12:3).â•›111 This biblical evidence thus suggests that the practice
of circumcising infants was adopted as a widespread cultural practice during the period
of exile, when the rite served as a mark of Jewish identity in the Diaspora. However, if the
explanation given above for the name מליהוholds true, this general thesis needs to be ac-
commodated. The circumcision of infants had already emerged in the late preexilic period
but, because the name was evidently relatively rare, it seems likely that only a minority of
families performed circumcision rites on infants during the 7th century.
I argued aboveâ•›112 that the rite of circumcision performed precisely on the 8th day after
birth, by which time a woman’s postnatal period of impurity would have ended, over-
lapped with the older family feast tradition of name giving. As has now been demon-
strated, this transition had probably occurred by the late monarchic period, long before
Israel’s national identity and unity began to be challenged. Although no references have
been found to explain the purpose of circumcising infants at this early time, the rite prob-
ably symbolized the integration of the newborn into the larger family, which had always
been the purpose of the feast of name giving. The festival may also have been augmented
by adding an apotropaic function, which has been associated ever since with the rite of
circumcision. By naming an infant Malyāhû, a family expressed a very literal and genu-
ine belief that Yhwh had performed the rite of circumcision himself, had integrated the
110. For reasons for this moderate dating, see Nelson 2002: 344–50; Albertz 2003: 284. For Per-
son (2002: 106–8, 123–25), the passage belongs to the early or late postexilic period.
111. For more details, see Albertz 1994: 2.407–8.
112. See pp. 247 above.
Personal Names and Family Religion 293
newborn into the family, and had provided him with a divinely bestowed sign to protect
him from demonic or malevolent powers. The name would have served to remind all of its
bearers that these ritual feasts had occurred on the occasion of their circumcision.
Thus, all personal names in this subgroup express aspects of the integration of a child
into his/her family and the assurance of his/her continued well-being.
113. In Aramaic names, it is less likely that the element איwas an intentional allusion to the
Babylonian goddess Ayya or that it was an abbreviation for the theophoric element ‘ אביmy father’
(see Num 26:30 and Josh 17:2; for discussion, see Avigad and Sass 1997: 480–81).
294 Chapter 5
celebrated with an extensive family feast, which in Gen 21:8 was referred to as מׁשתה
‘גדולa large banquet’. No personal names are known that reflect the rituals that marked
weaning, which is hardly surprising because this ritual occurred long after the naming
feast. This observation does, however, reinforce the assertion here that personal names did
not reflect the full variety of potential ritual and religious statements but generally referred
directly to the religious and secular experiences encountered during the circumstances of
birth.
Weaning could also be accompanied by the payment of any vows that had been prom-
ised before, during, or shortly after birth. This would have been especially true when the
dedication of the child was the fulfillment of a promissory vow. Thus, after weaning, Han-
nah brought her son to the priest Eli at the temple of Shiloh (1 Sam 1:22–29). Other vows
made on various occasions surrounding birth might have been paid on dates when families
customarily visited sanctuaries anyway, such as the required annual festivals (1€Sam€1:21).
The apparent scale of the celebrations that marked the weaning of a child may reflect
the communal joy when a child passed the age of the greatest risk of infant mortality—a
risk that would have been considerably higher than in modern industrial societies. Schol-
ars estimate that more than one-third of all infants died during the first few months or
years of life, and as many as half of all children did not survive to adulthood;â•›114 in Isa
65:20, children at this stage of life were referred to as עול ימיםʿûl yāmîm, literally, ‘infant of
days’.â•›115 The simple fact that an infant had actually reached childhood, as explicitly stated
in Gen 21:8 ( גדלgādal), was cause for rejoicing and thanksgiving.
The mortality of an infant is likely also the intended reference of another name of
complaint, the name, חבליḤablî, which is reminiscent of the Akkadian name Ḫabil-kēnu
and thus should be rendered ‘[the genuine] is destroyed’ (Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/2.206).
In bestowing this name, the parents were creating a reminder of an older brother’s death
and indirectly denoting the newborn as a substitute for his deceased sibling (see appendix
B5.8).
This indirect reference to substituting the living for the dead became a more-direct
declaration in the group of substitute names.â•›116 The large number and variety of substitute
names reflect the shockingly high rate of infant mortality in preexilic Israelite societies.
This group is the second-largest group of birth names, next to creation names, and it com-
prises one-quarter of all instances. In this group appear no fewer than 20 different names,
114. See C. Meyers 1988: 112–13 with reference to ancient Palestinian burials in Jericho, La-
chish, and Meiron; in one tomb group, 35% of individuals had died before the age of five; see J. D.
Schloen 2001: 122–25; C. Meyers 2005: 16. For Egypt in Late Antiquity, R. S. Bagnall (1993: 182)
calculated that ‘nearly one-third of all children died before their first birthday and more than two-
fifths by the age of five’. According to E. A. R. Willett (2008: 2), “on average, 35 percent of all indi-
viduals died before age 5” in Iron Age Cisâ•‚ and Transjordan.
115. The high rate of mortality, especially during the first month, is also reflected in the priestly
regulations concerning the first born in Num 18:15–16. The payment of 20 Shekels for redeeming
a child from sacrifice was not demanded before the end of the first month after birth (V. 16), only
after which time would it have become clear that a child would have been likely to survive this most
dangerous period.
116. The insight that these names constitute their own distinct group was established by Stamm
1980: 59–80.
Personal Names and Family Religion 295
derived from 6 different roots, known from 219 occurrences. The apparent popularity
of these names suggests that, confronted with a desire to express experiences related to
birth by choosing a name, something like a quarter of all parents felt themselves still so
attached to a previously deceased infant that they gave their newborn one of these substi-
tute names. The actual rate of infant mortality should be presumed higher than the 25%
rate of substitute names given. Thus, the estimated rate of 30–40% mortality manifests the
fact that many parents had probably ceased grieving and no longer felt the need to declare
their sorrow in such a public fashion as using a substitute name.â•›117
The first type of substitute name conveyed the sentiment that the birth of the new
child had helped the parents to overcome their sorrow for the deceased child. These
names could be formulated with explicitly religious references, as in the names נחמיהו
Nĕḥemyāhû ‘Yhwh has comforted’ (12 times) or the short form, נחםNaḥam or Naḥum
‘DN has comforted’ (27 times), or in more-secular forms, testifying that the newborn
him/herself had directly served to comfort the parents, as in מנחםMĕnaḥēm ‘comforter’
(29 times), מנׁשהMĕnaššēh ‘who makes [the parents] forget’ (2 times), and תנחםTanḥum
‘comfort’ (10 times). These names nevertheless presuppose the new infant to be both cre-
ated by and a gift from god. Both of these sorts of substitute name have also been found
in surrounding cultures, with the name Mĕnaḥēm, for example, appearing 15 times in the
Ammonite onomasticon, 6 times in the Phoenician, and 4 times in the Aramaic.
The second type of substitute name conveyed a belief on the part of the parents that
the newborn represented their deceased child returned to them, as in אליׁשבʾElyāšīb ‘El
caused [the deceased child] to return’, which is known so far from 14 epigraphic records
(and appears 8 times in the Hebrew Bible). Although, as mentioned above, Noth (1928:
213) postulated that this name was related to the return from exile,â•›118 it has since become
clear that the name was in common use up til the 8th century b.c.e., thereby refuting this
explanation. Strikingly, however, there appear to have been no parallels to these substitute
names used by Israel’s neighbors.
The third type of substitute name appears to have been much more common (120
times) and expresses the parental belief that, rather than the new child’s being their de-
ceased child returned to them, the newborn was given as a replacement for the deceased.
Among these names, there is only one that conveys an explicitly religious sentiment, the
name ׁשלמיהוŠellemyāhû ‘Yhwh has replaced’, which has been found in 11 epigraphic
records and appears 8 times in the Hebrew Bible. Most Hebrew names in this group de-
note the substitute status of the newborn in a more secular way, as in ׁשלםŠallum (58
instances), מׁשלםMĕšullam (37 times), and תחתTaḥat (appears once), meaning ‘substi-
tute [for the deceased child]’. Similar sentiments are expressed in the name סלא, which,
interpreted in accordance with Num 25:14 as the passive participle Sālūʾ, means ‘[the de-
ceased child has been] replaced’. Suffixes occasionally served to relate the newborn to the
deceased child as a substitute, as illustrated by the name ׁשלמה. This name was used for
both females (HAE 21.51) and males (21.52) and thus would have had the two variants
117. The rate as estimated from names in the Hebrew Bible is lower: 86 appearances, represent-
ing 19.7% of the birth names.
118. See p. 267 above.
296 Chapter 5
Šallumāh ‘her substitute’ and Šallumōh ‘his substitute’. The latter version is formally iden-
tical to the name of King Solomon. Several other explicitly female names, such as ׁשלמת
Šĕlōmīt, מׁשלמתMĕšullēmīt, and סלאהSĕlūʾāh ‘[female] substitute or replaced’ verify that
ideas of substitution were considered in relation to infant girls and demonstrate that Is-
raelite families commonly mourned the loss of daughters and desired their replacement
or substitute. An additional female substitute name has been found in the small Edomite
onomasticon: מנחמתMĕnaḥemet ‘[female] comforter’.
In the Phoenician, Aramean, and Ammonite cultures, there were also several names
derived from ׁשלםPiel ‘to make complete, to substitute’ as well as a number from the
root ‘ סלאto pay, to refund’. In these cases, the distribution of names between their theo-
phoric and secular variants seems to have been more equitable than in Israel. For the
more-frequent names derived from the root ׁשלם, the ratio of secular to theophoric forms
is approximately 10:1 for Hebrew names, 3:2 for Phoenician, and 1:1 for Aramaic. A typi-
cal theophoric example from the Phoenician onomasticon is בעלׁשלםBaʿalšillem ‘Baal has
replaced’, which occurs 4 times.
These substitute names effectively convey the ways that Israelite families handled cri-
ses of infant mortality. We know from the Hebrew Bible (2 Sam 12:15–25; 2 Kgs 4:18–24;
Isa 65:20) that infant mortality was a heavy burden for families, especially for women who
were confronted with the ultimate futility of their pain and labor (Isa 65:23). However,
the high rates of infant death and the incalculable sorrow of grieving mothers and their
families did not fundamentally alter their belief that god was the magnificent creator of
all and the generous provider of children, and it was he who desired and was capable of
ensuring their survival. In exceptional situations, god was capable of rescuing a child from
death through the intervention or intercession of a “man of God” (1 Kgs 17:17–24; 2€Kgs
4:32–37). In most cases, god comforted the mourning parents simply by presenting them
with their new child as the replacement for the deceased. This symbolic overcoming of
the moments of crisis presupposes particular conceptions of family, with children seen
primarily as members of the larger social group and only secondarily as individuals in
their own right. The role of latter-born children as substitutes or replacements for their
deceased older brothers or sisters was apparently not considered degrading but honorable.
According to the concept of substitution, families included their dead members along
with the living members. The name ʾElyāšīb arises as a direct reflection of the lack of dis-
tinction between the living and deceased members of a family: god may grant the return
of a deceased infant in the form of a younger brother or sister.â•›119 Finally, the concept of
substitution reveals that Israelite family religion was directed more at the continued exis-
tence of the family group than at the survival of its individual members.
The notion of substitution or replacement was, however, much less explicitly religious
than it was secular; with the ratio of religious to secular substitution names was 1:4. This
is an indication that theological problems about infant mortality—which must have in-
cluded the eternal questions about how god could allow the death of one of his own new
creations—could not be resolved on the level of family religion.
119. The relation of the family to its deceased members is dealt with below; see pp. 455–469.
Personal Names and Family Religion 297
120. The 11 additional verbs are: אמןʾāman ‘to remain faithful’; בואbôʾ ‘to come to’; בחןbāḥan
‘to test’; ביןbîn ‘to notice’; חמדḥāmad ‘to take a fancy’; נהלnāhal ‘to guide’; סעדsāʿad ‘to support’;
עוׁשʿûš ‘to come to help’; פקדpāqad ‘to pay attention’; קרבqārab ‘to come close to’; and probably the
Akkadian verb saḫāru N ‘to turn to’.
121. These are: הדהhādāh ‘to guide’; חמהḥāmāh ‘to shelter’; יׁשבHiphil hōšīb ‘to let dwell
safely’; יׁשרyāšar ‘to be just’; נבטnābaṭ ‘to look at’; and the Amurrite verb ʿāqab ‘to protect’, the
meaning of cannot be inferred from the Hebrew Bible itself. It must not be by chance that the name
Jacob does not appear among the epigraphic names.
122. See Albertz 1978a: 49–50, where I mentioned a proportion over 50%, and this calculation
included the less-common names of confession.
123. Including the six additional biblical roots in the calculation alters the rates of correspon-
dence to 65.6% and 82.8%.
Personal Names and Family Religion 299
the prayers that were actually spoken by family members in their domestic cult activities
may have been modified in both form and use to meet the ritual demands of prayers used
by religious experts as cult formulas, and although cult formulas of this sort may have
been originated later than the family prayers from which they were derived, these psalms
nevertheless reveal a variety of beliefs and practices characteristic of family religion.
Individual laments derived from two distinct kinds of petition: petitions for atten-
tion and petitions for salvation. Accordingly, the thanksgiving names can be sub�divided
into the two categories of “divine attention” and “divine intervention” and the latter group
further subdivided into names about “divine salvation,” “divine assistance,” and “divine
protection.” The following analysis draws on these four categories of religious belief.â•›124
124. In contrast to my former treatment of the biblical material (Albertz 1978a: 61–65), I now
include in the birth names 6 of the roots mentioned before among the names of thanksgiving; see
p. 256 n. 29 above.
300 Chapter 5
the collective laments,â•›125 but there are only a few appearances in individual prayers (for
example, Ps 13:4; 17:2; 31:8; 59:5; 119:153).
Aside from direct sensory perception, divine attention could be felt in a general intel-
lectual or emotional sense (see appendix B1.1.3), for which the deity signified as remem-
bering a sufferer was most common, whether the deity was the personal god, Yhwh (in
אלזכרʾElīzākār and זכריהוZĕkaryāhû) or Baal (in בעלזכרBaʿalzākār). There are 5 known
names that were derived from the root זכרzākar ‘to remember’, which appears in 38 epi-
graphic records and is mentioned 35 times in the Bible. These names presuppose god’s
personal acquaintance with the sufferer, which presumably reflected the deity’s original
creation of the person. This divine awareness of one’s existence could not be taken for
granted, however, because it was occasionally possible for god to forget or appear to ne-
glect one’s existence (Ps 13:2; 42:11), in which case a complaint could serve to remind god
of one’s existence. Receipt of God’s benevolent attention is expressed in the name פקדיהו
Pĕqadyāhû ‘Yhwh has carefully paid attention’, which does not appear in the Bible but ap-
pears in two epigraphic records. In Ps 8:5, the two verbs zākar and pāqad appear alongside
one another, expressing the rapturous experience of the almighty god and creator of the
world actively and directly caring for insignificant mortals. This psalm represents a hym-
nic generalization with semantic elements that had their origins in practices and beliefs
of family piety.
There are also names derived from the root ידעyādaʿ ‘to know’ (expressed in 5 names,
with 28 instances), which expressed not only divine intellectual activity but also emotional
knowledge. As emphasized by Noth (1928: 181), this root could denote the kind of entirely
pragmatic “knowledge” that comes from extensive, intimate dealings with a particular
person or practice.â•›126 Thus the name ידעיהוYĕdaʿyāhû may be accurately rendered ‘Yhwh
has taken care [of me]’. A similar meaning may be supposed for the root ביןbīn ‘to un-
derstand’. Thus, the name אחבןʾAḥbān, which has been found only once epigraphically,
probably had the intended meaning of ‘the [divine] brother has noticed [me]’. This verb
is also used in one individual lament in relation to a sufferer’s sighs (Ps 5:2). Concepts of
this sort about the deity’s remembering and caring for his lamenting creatures during their
sorrow were also common in names found in the neighboring Ammonite, Aramaic, and
Phoenician cultures.
There are also names that emphasize emotional responses to the granting of divine
mercy to a sufferer (see appendix B1.1.4), the largest group of which comprises names
derived from the root חנןḥānan ‘to be gracious’. There are no less than 10 of these names,
known from 55 different epigraphic occurrences (and 10 in the Hebrew Bible, with 49
occurrences), such as אלחנןʾElḥānān ‘El was gracious’ and חנניהוḤananyāhû ‘Yhwh was
gracious’. These names express typical individual experiences, in that חןḥēn denotes a
mark of favor bestowed by a person in higher position or status on someone lower in
status, a distinctly noteworthy act that would naturally have been restricted to very few in-
125. See Ps 74:20; 80:15; Isa 63:15; 64:8; Lam 5:1; see also Lam 1:9, 11; 2:20.
126. J. D. Fowler (1988: 101–2) has questioned Noth’s insight because, according to her, this nu-
ance of meaning cannot be read into the Hebrew Bible. However, Noth was referring to verses such
as Exod 33:12; Isa 63:16; and Amos 3:2.
Personal Names and Family Religion 301
dividuals. Thus, the verb appears frequently in the Hebrew Bible in the individual prayersâ•›127
but is absent in the collective laments and hymns. Names derived from more-emotive
roots, such as רחםrāḥam, as in ירחמאלYĕraḥmĕʾēl ‘El has shown mercy to [me]’, appear
much less frequently (recorded in 4 instances of 3 different names). The same holds for
the root ידדyādad ‘to love’, from which the hypocoristicon ידוYiddû (?) is probably de-
rived (4 appearances of 1 name). These names thus reveal that, although divine attention
and affection were directed toward individuals, the prevailing perception was of distance
separating god and man, and occasions on which god acted to broach this distance were
worthy of being memorialized by the giving of such names.
In addition to the names about the occasional turning of god’s attention toward a suf-
ferer, a few epigraphic names emphasize the faithfulness of god’s attention on the sufferer,
such as חסדיהוḤăsadyāhû ‘Yhwh has shown loyalty [to me]’ (5 instances of 3 names) and
יואמןYauʾāmān ‘Yhwh has remained faithful [to me]’. Neither of these names is found in
the Hebrew Bible, and they probably do not represent hymnic praise but only refer to god’s
direct acts of care (see Ps 18:26). The same seems to hold true of the only known Hebrew
name (Arad[8].55:1) that expresses divine fancy turned on a sufferer: חמדאḤemdāʾ ‘[DN]
has taken a fancy [to me]’. This name can be compared with the Phoenician name חפצבעל
Ḥapoṣbaʿal ‘Baal has taken a fancy [to me]’ and the Aramaic name יבחראלYibḥarʾēl ‘El has
chosen’, all of which testify to the special affection of the deity granted to a sufferer, who
was thus honored above others. The intention of these names would have been similar to
what was intended by use of the root ;חנןhowever they would not have been intended as
expressing theological concepts of divine election, let alone the Deuteronomic concept of
the election of Israel.â•›128
Names in one small subgroup that refer to divine attention express notions of move-
ment toward a sufferer (see appendix B1.1.5). The most common of these are derived from
the root קוםqûm Qal (5 names, 41 occurrences), including אחיקםʾAḥîqām ‘my [divine]
brother has arisen’ and יהוקםYĕhôqām ‘Yhwh has arisen’, meaning the deity had risen
from his seat or throne—regardless of whether this was a heavenly or earthly throne—to
move toward the sufferer (see Ps 3:8). In spite of the potentially bellicose imagery of Ps
35:2, there is no necessary connection between this rising of Yhwh and his being a deity
of war (Num 10:35), as was suggested by Noth (1928: 176), especially because names of
this sort were also used by Israel’s neighbors. It was also possible in variants of this name
in the Hebrew, Aramaic, and Phoenician onomasticons to replace references to the deity
himself with expressions of divine aid that was impending ()עזר, as in the name עזריקם
ʿAzrîqām ‘my [divine] help has arisen’. Similar intentions were also likely in expressions
in which the divine light ( )אורwas drawing close to a sufferer, as in קרבאורQĕrabʾûr ‘the
[divine] light has come close [to me]’, a name found in 2 variants used in 5 instances (see
Ps 69:19). God’s coming to a sufferer in his/her need also appears to have been attested
in the rare names אלבאʾElībāʾ ‘[my] god has come [to me]’ and קדםQiddem (?) ‘[DN]
has come toward [me]’. We also know of 2 names (each appears once) that express the
deity’s volition in directing his attention toward a sufferer: פנאלPĕnīʾēl ‘El has turned to
127. Ps 4:2; 6:3; 9:14; 25:16; 27:7; 30:11; 31:10; 41:5, 11; 56:2; 57:2 (twice); 59:6; 86:16; 119:132.
128. See above, pp. 263–264.
302 Chapter 5
face [me]’ (see Ps 86:16); and יהוסחרYĕhôsaḥar, which Röllig and Renz (HAE 1.158 n. 1)
presumed to be derived from the Akkadian root saḥāru in the N-stem and thus to mean
‘Yhwh has turned [to me]’. This concept is also found in the Phoenician onomasticon:
ביתלפןBayt[ʾ]elpano ‘Bethel has turned to face [me]’.
In addition to the above name stating that divine light was drawing nigh, there were
other names that mentioned various aspects of divine illumination or radiance (see ap-
pendix B1.1.6). In the darkness of sorrow (see Ps 18:29), god might manifest his radiant
presence above a sufferer, prompting the names אליארʾElyāʾīr ‘El has shone [above me]’,
יהוזרחYĕhôzārāḥ ‘Yhwh has risen gloriously [above me]’, and בלגיBilgay ‘[DN] has il-
luminated’. The subgroup formed from these names is rather small and consists of only 4
different names recorded a total of 18 times. As already discussed,â•›129 these names do not
refer to an epiphany of the deity, as in collective laments (see Ps 80:2), but to the more
peaceful concept of divine salvation in the morning (Janowski 1989: 1–18).
Thus, with the possible exception of the last subgroup, names of divine attention en-
compass the entire range of possible sensory, cognitive, emotional, and physical experi-
ences that a person in need might desire or receive from an individual deemed to be suffi-
ciently important or capable of granting aid. The anthropomorphic traits of god can then
be seen as direct extensions of the typical behaviors that mothers and fathers might show
toward their children or kings might show toward their subjects. Similarly extensive quali-
ties of god appear in the onomasticons of Israel’s neighbors, which attest more than half of
the roots used in Hebrew names with regard to divine attention (12 of 23) and which can
be categorized into every subgroup described here for Hebrew names.
All 3 of these roots are used in the individual laments of the Hebrew Bible (Ps 3:8; 31:2;
6:5), and all are appear in the onomasticons of Israel’s neighbors as well. There are also
many Aramaic names derived from the root מתעmataʿ ‘to save’ (NTA 107) and 1 Phoeni-
cian name derived from the root ׁשלךšillek Piel ‘to save’.
The custom of impoverished people being enslaved by their creditors and obligatorily
ransomed by their closest relatives (compare Exod 21:8; Lev 19:20; 25:48–49; Ruth 3:13)
is mentioned in 7 names. The two names גאליהוGĕʾalyāhû (recorded 8 times) and פדיהו
Pĕdāyāhû (21 times) share the same meaning, that ‘Yhwh has ransomed’. Thus, Yhwh
himself metaphorically assumes the liberating duty (compare Ps 69:19; 26:11). Names
from these roots appear in epigraphic material from the 8th century b.c.e. on, and it there-
fore seems that individual theological expressions of this concept preceded the collective
use later introduced in Deuteronomy (Deut 7:8; 13:6; 15:15; 21:8; 24:18) in the 7th century
and in Deutero-Isaiah (Isa 43:1; 44:22–23; 48:20; 52:9) in the 6th century. Thus, a familial
custom once again transformed into a religious belief that subsequently influenced Israel’s
official religion. The root פדהalso appears in the Ammonite, Moabite, and Edomite ono-
masticons, although names derived from the root גאלdo not. The name ירחבYarḥib (?),
which can be interpreted as a hypocoristicon with the meaning ‘[DN] has widened [my
restriction]’, expresses more-general concepts of divine liberation (compare Ps 4:2). The
theophoric name רחביהוRĕḥabyāhû ‘Yhwh has widened [my restriction]’ is found in the
Hebrew Bible,â•›130 as is the name of King Rehoboam, רחבעם, which can be rendered ‘[my
divine] uncle has widened [my prior restriction]’.â•›131
A second subgroup contains names that conceptualize divine salvation as God’s pro-
vision of justice for a sufferer (see appendix B1.2.2). These concepts derived from local
judicial traditions that hardships suffered by an individual should be treated as though
they were unjust legal actions taken by human or demonic adversaries. This subgroup
comprises 10 names, derived from 6 different roots. The most common derive from the
root ׁשפטšāpaṭ and include ׁשפטיהוŠĕpaṭyāhû ‘Yhwh has given [me] justice’ (cf. Ps 43:1);
the hypocoristicon of this root also appears in the Phoenician onomasticon. The root צדק
ṣādaq is epigraphically represented only in the hypocoristicon Ṣādōq ‘[DN] was just’ (4
instances), although the theophoric form appears in the Hebrew Bible ( יהוצדקYĕhôṣādāq)
as well as the Moabite onomasticon ( כמׁשצדקKamōšṣādāq). From the similar root דיןdîn
‘to judge’, the name ידניהוYĕdīnyahû ‘Yhwh has given justice’ is derived, which is known
from 2 epigraphic instances. However, there are 4 names derived from this root that occur
7 times in the Hebrew Bible, and such names also appear in the Ammonite, Moabite, and
Aramaic onomasticons. Names derived from the verb ריבrîb ‘to conduct a legal case’ are
similarly distributed, with 1 epigraphic attestation of the name אלירבʾElyārīb ‘El has given
justice’ (Lak[7/6].27:1), but 6 records of 4 different names in the Hebrew Bible. The name
יהוירבYĕhôyārīb has even been found on seals written in Aramaic script. These latter 2
roots also represent verbs used in the individual laments (Ps 54:3; 35:1).
130. See 1 Chr 23:17. Although Ges18 1234 suggests a possible reference to the mother’s womb,
the verb is intended in a more general sense in Ps 4:2.
131. In correction of Noth’s (1928: 193 n. 4) suggestion, “Das Volk hat sich ausgeweitet, hat sich
ausgebreitet.”
304 Chapter 5
There are a few names containing the verbs פללpālal and פלהpālāh, which explicitly
refer to an arbitrator’s having made a just decision. The name מיפללMîpillel ‘Who has
given justice?’ forms a prayer expressing astonishment at the success of the divine arbitra-
tor’s actions. The name could be considered as much a name of thanksgiving as a name
of praise; however, it should not be separated from the thanksgiving name פליהPĕlayāh,
which means ‘Yhwh has made a just decision’. The final name in this group, בחנאBăḥanāʾ
‘[DN] has tested [me]’, explicitly refers to legal proceedings in which an individual had
been falsely charged. In choosing this name, the sufferer desired to express gratitude to
an unnamed deity who had tested him and thereby proven him innocent. This is a unique
name; although the verb appears in the laments of the innocent (in Ps 26:2), the name
derived from it must have been rare because no parallels have been found to date.
The third subgroup comprises names that express more-general concepts of divine
salvation, such as that God has acted miraculously toward a sufferer (see appendix B1.2.3).
This idea is most directly stated in the name פלאיהוPĕlāʾyāhû ‘Yhwh has acted won-
derfully’, which is known from a single epigraphic record. The Hebrew Bible contains 2
names derived from this root, each of which is recorded twice. The only personal names in
this subgroup that appear more frequently are those derived from the root גדלgādal ‘to be
great’, such as גדליהוGĕdalyāhû, which has been found in 20 epigraphic records and ap-
pears 3 times in the Hebrew Bible. A total of 5 names are derived from this root, attested in
27 instances. As discussed previously, in accordance with Noth (1928: 190), names derived
from this root should be understood in a resultative sense, in that it is through his saving
act that ‘Yhwh has proven himself to be great’.â•›132 These interpretations are supported by
similar statements that primarily appear in the individual laments (Ps 35:27; 40:17; 70:5),
where direct experience with god’s saving acts is intended. Noth (1928: 191) also proposed
that the rare name עתיהוshould be understood in this context. Derived from the Arabic
root ʿatā ‘to be beyond measure’, this name should be read ʿAtāyāhû and understood as a
statement that ‘Yhwh has proven himself to be outstanding’. This interpretation remains
uncertain, however, and by analogy with the name עותיʿÛtay in the Hebrew Bible, Zadok
(1988: 30, 32) proposed a derivation from an uncertain Aramaic root, ‘ עותto help’, which
would correspond to the Hebrew root עוׁש. Presuming this derivation to be accurate, the
name should be included as a name of divine assistance.
It is remarkable that this subgroup that is so closely allied with the names of praise is
so small. It seems that concrete descriptions of god’s saving acts were favored much more
than general statements, not only in Israelite family religion, but also in the family reli-
gions of the greater Northwest Semitic region.
132. See above, p. 255; contra Rechenmacher (1997: 62–67), who preferred a stative meaning.
Personal Names and Family Religion 305
derived from the root הדהhādāh. The prevalence of names in this group illustrates the sig-
nificance of the concept of divine assistance in family religion and, as will be shown later,
the significance of divine protection as well. Most verbs that appear in the names of this
group relate specifically to individual actions or experiences rather than to the experiences
of collective social units or entire peoples (Albertz 1978a: 66–67). One primary function
of collective societies is the diffusion of risk, and danger or threat is generally experienced
by individuals more often than by larger social groups. Thus, individuals were more likely
to feel an immediate need for divine support and protection, and this need reflected the
relative frailty of the individual with respect to the larger society. Accordingly, a significant
function for family religion was to express a desire for divine support and protection.
The first subgroup of names reflecting these desires acknowledges in various ways that
God has supported the sufferer (see appendix B1.3.1). The most common names are de-
rived from the root עזרʿāzar ‘to help’ (87 attestations of 6 different names). The name
עזריהוʿAzaryāhû ‘Yhwh has helped [me]’ and its shortened form, עזרʿAzzūr or ʿEzer
‘[DN] has helped [me]’, are known from 44 and 35 epigraphic records, respectively (bibli-
cally, including variant spellings, 25 and 9 times, respectively). Although the verb עזרap-
pears 3 times in the collective laments (Ps 44:27; 60:13; 79:9), it appears a total of 27 times
in the individual laments, thanksgiving psalms, and oracles of salvation.â•›133 Names derived
from this root were also popular among all of Israel’s neighbors, as exemplified by the Am-
monite name אלעזרʾIlʿazar ‘El has helped [me]’ (8 instances) and the Phoenician name
אׁשמנעזרʾEšmunʿazor ‘Eshmun has helped [me]’ (9 instances). There is one known ap-
pearance of the hypocoristicon יעׁשYēʿūš ‘[DN] has come to help’ (Sam[8].1.48:3), which
also appears 4 times in the Hebrew Bible and once as a king’s name יועׁשYôʿāš (Joas)
‘Yhwh has come to help’.
Names derived from the root סמךsāmak ‘to support’ appear only 3 times in the He-
brew Bible, but epigraphic sources have revealed them to be the second-largest subgroup
in this category, consisting of 56 appearances of 6 different names, such as אלסמךʾElsāmāk
‘El has supported [me]’ and סמכיהוSĕmakyāhû (or the Northern variant סמכיוSĕmakyau)
‘Yhwh has supported [me]’. Names from this root are also well attested in the surround-
ing cultures. The verb סמךoccurs several times in the individual laments (Ps 3:6; 51:14;
54:6; see also 71:6; 119:116) but not in their collective counterparts. To be supported by
god was typically experienced by an individual and expressed in a name derived from the
verb סעדsāʿad ‘to support’. These names are known from between 9 and 13 appearances
of 6 variants.â•›134 As above, the names סעדיהוSăʿadyāhû and its Northern variant סעדיו
Săʿadyau have parallels in the individual laments and thanksgiving psalms (Ps 18:36; 41:4;
94:18; see also 119:117) but are absent in the collective complaints.
Names derived from the root אחזʾāḥaz ‘to hold [someone] tight’ were even more ex-
plicitly focused on an experience by an individual and were extensions of images of god
holding the hands of sufferers, as expressed exclusively in the individual laments (Ps 73:23;
133. Ps 22:20; 27:9; 28:7; 30:11; 35:2; 38:23; 40:14, 18; 54:6; 63:8; 70:2, 6; 86:17; 94:17; 109:26;
118:7, 13; 119:86, 173; cf. 121:1, 2; Isa 41:10, 13, 14; 44:2; 50:7; cf. 49:8.
134. The number depends on whether one feels obliged to derive 4 of the instances from the
root סערsāʿar ‘to storm’; see above, p. 267.
306 Chapter 5
139:10).â•›135 There are 15 known epigraphic records with 4 names of this sort (and 10 bibli-
cal instances of 5 names), including יהואחזYĕhôʾāḥāz and אחזיהוʾAḥazyāhû, both mean-
ing ‘Yhwh has held [me] tight’. There is also a related Aramaic name, נבלאחזNabalʾaḥaz
‘the noble one has held tight’. These names of assistance thus reveal the sorts of intimate
relationship with god that were typical of Israelite and Levantine family religious practices
and beliefs.
The second subgroup of assistance names consists of names expressing the fact that
god has proven his strength through assistance (see appendix B1.3.2). These rather rare
names are derived from a variety of roots and include חזקḤāzāq (appears twice), אמץ
ʾAmōṣ (also twice), and ילאYilāʾ (appears once),â•›136 all of which share the meaning ‘[DN]
has proven himself to be strong’. Purely theophoric forms derived from 3 roots have
been found. There is one probable epigraphic reference to the name, עזזיהוʿAzazyāhû
‘Yhwh has proven himself to be strong’. This name is analogous to names such as גבריהו
Gĕbaryāhû ‘Yhwh has proven himself to be superior’ (attested twice) and יהוכלYĕhôkal
‘Yhwh has proven himself to be mighty’ (ten times). All of these roots find parallels in the
onomasticons of Israel’s neighboring cultures. The use of these roots in Isa 41:9, plus עמץ
in Isa 41:10 and עזזin Ps 86:16 further suggest a possible translation of them in the transi-
tive sense, meaning that the deity has strengthened a sufferer (Albertz 1978a: 65). How-
ever, because there are other roots in this subgroup that clearly have intransitive meanings
(namely, לאה, גבר, )יכלand thus can be understood in a resultative sense,â•›137 this potential
duality of interpretation may perhaps be conceived best this way: any experience of being
strengthened by god’s assistance simultaneously reveals god’s strength in its own right.
A third subgroup consists of names that express divine assistance in the sense of God’s
raising a fallen sufferer (see appendix B1.3.3), for which the most frequent are those con-
taining the Hiphil of the verb קוםqûm ‘to stand up’ (with 6 names recorded a total of
49 times). The intended imagery of these names is אליקםʾElyāqīm ‘El has raised [me]’
and יקמיהוYĕqamyāhû ‘Yhwh has raised [me]’, as we know by referring to the individual
psalms of lament and thanksgiving (Psalms 40–41); the sufferer, whose former friends had
caused him or her to fall, first asks for Yhwh’s assistance in raising him (41:10–11), then
directly experiences Yhwh’s raising his sunken position in a muddy pit to set his feet on
a rock (40:3). The sentiments of these names thus express very typical individual experi-
ences. One rare name of interest is מקמיהוMēqīmyāhû, which is formed from the Hi-
phil participle (HAE 14.10) and should be rendered ‘[He] who has raised [me] is Yhwh’.â•›138
This name demonstrates that the sorts of experiences manifest in thanksgiving names
could also be transferred to the sorts of concepts expressed in names of praise.
135. In the salvation oracle of Isa 41:10, a similar concept is expressed with the verb תמךtāmak,
that God has supported the sufferer with his right hand.
136. The root לאהlāʾāh, which in the Hebrew Bible means ‘to be tired, exhausted’, has the op-
posite meaning in other Northwest Semitic languages; see Maraqten 1988: 126; Lemaire 2001: 16.
137. See above, p. 255.
138. A similar name is attested in the Nabatean onomasticon (mqymʾl ‘[he] who has raised [me]
is El’); whether the Phoenician name mqm (Benz 404) constitutes a parallel remains uncertain; see
Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/2.305.
Personal Names and Family Religion 307
Similar concepts of divine assistance were expressed in names derived from the Hiphil
of the root רוםrûm ‘to be exalted’ (known from 28 appearances of 2 names). In the indi-
vidual lament in Ps 3:4, Yhwh is called by the sufferer ‘the one who raised my head’, and
the hymn Ps 113:7 generalizes this statement to ‘Yhwh lifts the weak from the dust’. Thus,
the name ירמיהוYĕrīmyāhû ‘Yhwh has exalted [me]’ arises from the direct experience of
someone who had been humiliated and had sunk into the dust. This individual has been
exalted by god and is once again able to lift his or her head. Similar Ammonite and Phoe-
nician names, such as ירמאלYarīmʾil ‘El has exalted’ and מלכירםMilkyarīm ‘Milk has ex-
alted’ also express this typical individual religious experience. Finally, the name עדדʿOded
expresses similar sentiments and is known from 1 epigraphic reference (HAE 13.14) and
2 biblical appearances. This name is clearly a hypocoristicon, as shown by the Aramaic
name יעדדאלYĕâ•›ʿodedʾel (WSS 801).â•›139 Noth and others took the name to be derived from
the root ʿDD ‘to count, to reckon’, which appears in Ugaritic (DLU 73) and Aramaic (KAI
202.A12) texts. They interpreted it as referring to some sort of professional mantic, such
as a ‘seer’ or ‘prophet’ (Noth 1928: 252), thus taking the name as a Qal active participle.
However, evidence from an Aramaic seal contradicts this interpretation. And, if it’s not a
Qal active participle hypocoristicon of ʿDD, then the following DN element cannot be a
genitive; it’s grammatically no longer possible. This leaves the alternative interpretation of
ʿoded as a Polel of the root עודʿûd with the meaning ‘to help up’ (Ps 146:9; 147:6), which
was first suggested by Wilhelm Rudolph (1955: 245 n. 1) as being much more likely.â•›140 Al-
though both psalms are hymns, they use the verbal form יעדדyĕʿōded to refer to the same
kind of divine assistance for the weak as referred to in Ps 113:7, but this psalm uses the
root רום. Thus, the name under discussion should be rendered ‘[DN] has helped [me] up’.
The fourth and final subgroup of names that allude to notions of divine assistance con-
sists of 1 epigraphic name, the use of which is supported by a similar name in the Hebrew
Bible. It can thus be considered an established name that expressed the fact that God had
carefully guided a sufferer. The two versions are נהלNēhāl ‘[DN] has guided [me]’, which
was found on a seal (HAE 14.40), and יהדיYāhday ‘[DN] has guided [me]’, which appears
in 1 Chr 2:47.â•›141 The imagery expressed in these names reflects Ps 23:2, which is a psalm of
personal trust in which god is conceived as the faithful shepherd who leads the individual
to refreshing waters.â•›142 Although this usage in the psalm may allude to notions of divine
kingship, and although the verb נהלPiel can also be used in poetic contexts to denote
Yhwh’s care for Israel (Exod 15:13; Isa 40:11; 49:10), the sentiment conveyed in the names
was a form that had already been transferred to the individual sphere, as demonstrated
by Psalm 23 (see also 31:4). These concepts of divine assistance expressed in names of
thanksgiving thus usually had their origins in individual experiences.
139. For the preferable reading of this seal, see Avigad and Sass 1997: 300.
140. KLB3 752; HALOT 911 clearly preferred this interpretation; Ges18 923 remains undecided.
141. The name is probably derived from the verb הדהhādāh, which is only attested once, in Isa
11:8, in the meaning ‘to grasp’.
142. Overlooking this reference, Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/2.316) suggested the meaning “[GN]
hat [die Eltern] zur Ruhe gebracht.”
308 Chapter 5
143. The root סתרsātar ‘to hide’, which occurs among the Aramaic thanksgiving names, seems
to constitute a name of confession in Hebrew.
144. Ps 16:1; 17:8; 25:20; 41:3; 86:2; 91:11; 121:3, 5, 7, 8; 140:5; 141:9.
145. Ps 34:21; 37:28; 97:10; 116:6; 145:20; 146:9.
146. In Gen 25:26, Jacob’s name is explained with the noun עקבʿāqēb ‘heel’; in Gen 27:36 and
Hos 12:4 with the verb עקבʿāqab I ‘to deceive’.
Personal Names and Family Religion 309
will shelter the sufferer in his hut during days of misfortune. These concepts appear to
express a transferral of the asylum offered by the temple to the world of individual beliefs.
There were also names derived from a different root, חבה/ חבאḥābāh/ʾ, that had the
same meaning of ‘to shelter’. In the second Servant Song, which is analogous to the oracle
of salvation, the servant reveals that Yhwh sheltered him ‘in the shadow of his hand’ (Isa
49:2). Thus, a name such as חביהוḤābāyāhû ‘Yhwh has sheltered [me]’ would probably
have alluded to the experience of an individual in hardship who was feeling himself to
have been sheltered by Yhwh in the same way that a child might flee to his or her parents
to find comfort, with the child’s face being sheltered in their hands. The family imagery of
these names thus becomes apparent. There are 12 epigraphic records of 4 different names
derived from this root, and the Hebrew Bible contains 2 different theophoric names and
1 hypocoristicon. The Bible also records the names יחמיYaḥmay ‘DN has protected [me]’
(in 1 Chr 7:2) and יוׁשביהYôšībyāh ‘Yhwh has let [me] dwell safely’ (in 1 Chr 4:35).
Thus, names of thanksgiving reveal that there was an astonishing richness of belief in
the family religion of ancient Israelites. Aside from the exceptional allusions to concepts
of official religion (such as the divine shepherd) or their institutions (such as the asylum
offered by the Temple), family beliefs had their own symbolism, which generally alluded
to individual, family, or local referents. Names of thanksgiving reveal a high degree of cor-
respondence with the individual gattungen of the Psalms and vividly portray the prayer
practices of Israelite families in their domestic cults and beyond. However, the family
religions of ancient Israel were also inextricably intertwined with the practices of neigh-
boring cultures and, although only 58% of epigraphically attested Hebrew thanksgiving
names were also used by Israel’s neighbors, we have shown here that there was not a single
concept expressed by these names—whether concepts of divine attention, salvation, as-
sistance, or protection—that was not also expressed by other names in the neighboring
cultures.
147. These are the following nouns and prepositions: אבירʾabbîr ‘strength’, אוןʾôn ‘strength’,
אלוףʾallûp ‘friend’, אפלוʾaplû ‘inheriting son’, בעדbaʿad ‘for’, חילḥayil ‘strength’, טורṭûr ‘defensive
wall’, כסלkésel ‘trust’, מבטחmibṭāḥ ‘trust’, מגדלmigdāl ‘tower’, מןmin ‘from’, מׁשעןmišʿān ‘support’,
נוהnāweh ‘pasture’, נתיבnātîb ‘path’, and עגלʿégel ‘young steer’. Theophoric elements used in one-
word names are not included.
148. These are the following nouns, verbs, and expressions: ־â•”לâ•›+â•› יחלyāḥalâ•›+â•›lĕâ•”Ö¾ ‘to place hope in’,
עדʿēd ‘witness’, עין אלʿayin ʾĕl ‘eye on’, ׁשבעšébaʿ ‘richness’, and ׁשורšûr I ‘wall’.
310 Chapter 5
phrases, and single words. There is, however, quite a bit of overlap between the two groups
of prayer names. Nine of the nouns used in the names of confession are derived from
roots that also appear in the names of thanksgiving but in verbal form.â•›149 (Of course, one
must continue to bear in mind the difficulties involved in sorting the unvocalized epi-
graphic names into appropriate categories, as I’ve already mentioned above.â•›150) Similar to
the names of thanksgiving, the names of confession have a structural counterpart in the
confessions of confidence in the individual laments and the nominal reason clause of “Do
not fear” in the oracles of salvation. They also have close analogues in the psalms of confi-
dence, which developed from the confessions of confidence of the individual laments. In
all of these sections of prayers and expressions of divine response, the experiences of sal-
vation through intervention that are conveyed by the thanksgiving names are transformed
into confessional statements of confidence and trust.
Thus, analogous to the names of thanksgiving, the names of confession can be sub-
divided into the four categories of divine attention, salvation, assistance, and protection.
However, in the present case, these subdivisions must be expanded by introducing two
more subgroups in which religious confidence is brought to the fore. The fifth and sixth
groups are thus the names that express direct trust in god and allude to a relationship of
personal trust in god. Categorizing this sixth group as a subgroup of the prayer names is
somewhat problematic, because many nouns used in these names do not appear in the
individual prayers; however, since the nominal elements of the most common names in
this group, עבדʿébed ‘servant’ and גרgēr ‘sojourner’ of a deity, have counterparts in the
confessions of confidence in individual laments (Ps 143:12; 39:13), the group does show
demonstrable connections to actual prayers. The sixth group is an expansion of the fifth
group in that the trust in god expressed in a name becomes a statement about one’s onÂ�
going trusting relationship to a particular deity expressed in a name.
The relative uniqueness of this sixth group is reflected in a slightly lower correspon-
dence between the names of confession and those of individual prayers than between
the names of confession and those of thanksgiving. Of the 53 roots used in epigraphic
names, slightly over half (27) also appear in individual laments, psalms of thanksgiving,
and psalms of confidence. Including more-general analogues and other related gattungen
increases the correspondence to 33 instances (or 62%). Without this somewhat anomalous
sixth group, the correspondence would increase to 66% of names and 82% of instanes.
Thus, names of confession also reveal a remarkable correspondence with the individual
prayers.
149. These are אורʾôr ‘light’ and אורʾûr ‘to shine’; חזקḥézeq ‘strength’ and חזקḥāzaq ‘to turn out
to be strong’; חןḥēn ‘mercy’ and חנןḥānan ‘to be gracious’; עזʿōz ‘[strong] protection’ and עזזʿāzaz
‘to turn out to be strong’; עזרʿézer ‘help’ and עזרʿāzar ‘to help’; פלטpéleṭ ‘rescue’ and פלטpālaṭ ‘to
rescue’; צדקṣédeq ‘justice’ and צדקṣādaq ‘to be just’; ׁשועšûăʿ ‘salvation’ and יׁשעyāšaʿ ‘to save’; and
ׁשפטšépeṭ ‘legal assistance’ and ׁשפטšāpaṭ ‘to give justice’.
150. See above, p. 254.
Personal Names and Family Religion 311
derived from the root חנןḥanan. The names are חנמלךḤannīmelek ‘The [divine] king is
[my] mercy’ and חניהוḤannīyāhû ‘Yhwh is my mercy’. However, it is also possible that
these rare names should be categorized with the multitude of thanksgiving names derived
from this same root, a possibility rendered even more likely because the parallel root חנן
is absent in the confessions of confidence in the Psalms. On the other hand, because the
names are written with only one nun, and because the Hebrew Bible records the name
חניאלḤannîʾel twice (Num 34:23; 1 Chr 7:39), the nominal construction of which is indi-
cated by the suffix, it seems more likely that the above names should be derived from the
noun חןḥēn (see Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/2.219, 406) instead of the root חנן, and thus they
do fit the category of confession names.
Names containing the noun ׁשחרšáḥar ‘dawning’ are more common (with 12 in-
stances) and, although only the hypocoristicon is epigraphically attested, the Hebrew Bible
transmits full theophoric forms such as אחיׁשחרʾAḥîšaḥar ‘my [divine] brother is [my]
dawning’,â•›151 suggesting that the accurate interpretation of the shortened epigraphic name
is ‘[DN] is [my] dawning’. The name directly alludes to the fact that phenomena of divine
attention and salvation have taken place or been experienced in the morning (Janowski
1989: 1–18).â•›152 The Ammonite onomasticon also provides the name ׁשחר, which expresses
an intention similar to that of Aramaic names containing the noun נגהnĕgah ‘bright-
ness [of dawn]’ (DNWSI 714; Dan 6:20), such as נסחנגהיNasuḥnaghî ‘Nasuḥ/Nusku is my
morning light’. All names of this sort are a clear, personal reference to a sufferer.
epigraphic records and mentioned 6 times in the Bible. This name also has parallels in the
Ammonite, Moabite, and Aramean cultures—for example, in the Aramaic name צדקרמן
Ṣidqīramān ‘Rimmon is [my] justice’. From the root ׁשפטšāpaṭ ‘to judge’, only one name is
derived that we know of, which is ׁשפטןŠipṭān: it is attested once epigraphically and once
biblically. Now, although Noth (1928: 187) and Renz and Röllig (HAE 2/1.86) considered
it to be the hypocoristicon of a thanksgiving name, Stamm (1980: 170) considered it to
be derived from a nominal. Derivation from a nominal is also supported by the existence
of names in the Edomite onomasticon derived from the noun מׁשפטmišpāṭ, such as the
full theophoric form מׁשפטאלMišpaṭʾel, which is then plausibly interpreted as a construct
name meaning ‘[the] legal assistance of El’. If we consider the name ׁשפטןto share a simi-
lar derivation and interpret the ending â•‚ān not as a diminutive (Noth 1928: 38) but as a
shortened suffix of the first-person plural,â•›153 the name may then be rendered ‘our legal
assistance [by DN]’. If this is an accurate interpretation, the name was probably intended
to testify on behalf of the parents that their child served as living proof that god’s decision
of salvation had been granted to their family. The Hebrew Bible embellishes this judicial
imagery with the name, יועדYôʿēd ‘Yhwh is [my] witness’ (Neh 11:7), which is parallel to
Job’s famous confession of confidence (Job 16:19). All concepts of this sort are meaningful
only with reference to an individual.
153. For these plural suffixes on personal names, see other examples below, p. 332.
154. See above, p. 305.
155. See above, pp. 300–301, 305, 306.
Personal Names and Family Religion 313
drawn from the biblically recorded name עזריאלʿAzrîʾel ‘my help is El/god’ (Jer 36:26), as
well as the confession of confidence in the individual lament, Ps 54:6.
A number of names from several different roots express the similar concept that Yhwh
is the strength of the sufferer, such as, חזקיהוḤizqīyāhû ‘my strength is Yhwh’ (recorded 6
times), חליוḤelyau ‘[my] strength is Yhwh’ (KAgr[9]:5; in 5 variants, recorded 10 times),
אבריהוʾAbbiryāhû ‘[my] strength is Yhwh’ (recorded twice), and אניהוʾOnîyāhû ‘my
power is Yhwh’ (also recorded twice). Although names derived from the nouns חזקḥézeq
and חילḥayil, both of which denote ‘strength’, have parallels in the personal confessions
of confidence in prayers (Ps 18:2; Hab 3:19), no such counterparts are found for names
derived from the other two nouns. A name with the noun אבירʾabbîr ‘strength, the strong
one’ may represent one of the very few instances in which an official epithet of Yhwh
was adopted in family religion—in the form of the title אביר יעקבʾabbîr Yaʿăqōb ‘the
strong one of Jacob’ (Gen 49:24; Ps 132:2, 5; Isa 49:26; 60:16) and its variant אביר יׂשראל
ʾabbîr Yiśrāʾel (Isa 1:24). However, several parallels to this name also appear in the Phoe-
nician onomasticon (Benz 1972: 55, 259), such as אברבעלʾAbbirbaʿal ‘[my] strength is
Baal’, so this correspondence may just be a coincidence. Apart from חזק, all nouns in this
group also appear in the onomasticons of Israel’s neighboring environment. The Aramaic
name ביתאלעׁשניBaytʾelʿušnî ‘Bethel is my strength’ again reflects the conception of divine
strength as being personally related to the name bearer. These names of confessions thus
testify to the concurrence of god’s strength and his support for suffering individuals, as
already shown above in the corresponding names of thanksgiving.â•›156
Another subgroup of names alluding to divine assistance granted to a sufferer con-
tains names that conceive of god as personally accompanying the sufferer (see appendix
B2.3.2). Of particular interest are the names derived from the preposition עםʿim ‘with’,
such as עמדיהוʿImmadīyāhû ‘Yhwh is with me’, עמנויהוʿImmānûyāhû ‘Yhwh is with us’,
and עמדʿImmadi ‘[DN] is with me’. Although the Hebrew Bible only contains the sym-
bolic name עמנואלʿImmānûʾel (in Isa 7:14), there are 5 names of this sort known to date
in 13 different epigraphic records, as well as 1 Edomite name that may have been derived
from the same preposition. In the Aramaic and Phoenician onomasticons, names convey-
ing the same meaning were derived from the preposition אתʾet ‘with’ and include אתאל
ʾIttīʾēl ‘El is with me’ (NTA 14.1:3) and ]א[תבעלʾIttobaʿal ‘Baal is with [him]’ (Benz 73;
see also 1 Kgs 16:31). In most of these cases, divine assistance was conceived as relating to
an individual, whether formulated as the personal confession of the name bearer (Ittiʾel)
or as a confession by the parents on behalf of him/her (Ittobaal). There were also some
cases in which divine assistance was granted to a group (Immanuyahu), generally a small
familial group. There is only one exception: in naming his child, the prophet Isaiah used
this name to symbolize trust in God by the entire Judean community. Parallels of these
names appear in the confessions of confidence in prayers (Ps 23:4 and Jer 20:11) and in
the nominal clauses in the oracles of salvation (Isa 41:10; 43:2, 5; Jer 30:11 = 46:28; see also
Jer 1:8, 19; 15:20).
The concept of god’s manifest presence appears repeatedly throughout the Hebrew
Bible—particularly often, for example, in the patriarchal stories (Gen 21:20, 22; 26:3, 24;
28:15, 20; 31:3, 5; 35:3; 39:2, 3, 21, 23; 48:21). However, expressions of god’s manifest pres-
ence reflect neither nomadic nor military social traditions (Albertz 1978a: 81–87), and
two-third of all instances of these names specifically conceive of divine assistance as be-
ing bestowed on the individual, with occasional extension to include a small group (Gen
48:21; Jer 42:11; Ruth 2:4) and a few rare cases in which the concept is expanded to encom-
pass an entire people (Deut 20:1; Judg 6:13; Ps 46:8, 12; among others). This concept thus
seems to reflect origins almost entirely centered in family religion. The analogous concept
of Yhwh’s presence with his people in granting them collective support is an extension
of individuals’ experience of the efficacy of intimate support by a close companion, an
experience that can banish fear during dangerous situations. In stark contrast to these
notions, Yhwh’s proximity is typically conceived as being threatening or dangerous in of-
ficial religious expressions (Exod 24:11; 33:3, 5; Isa 6:5). Yhwh’s relation to the collective
entity of Israel is typified by the image of his preceding his people ( הלך לפניhālak lipnê)
as the chief commander (Exod 13:21; Num 14:14; Deut 1:30, 33; 31:8).â•›157 God’s manifest
company as a friend or family member who is present in order to assist someone was the
concept that typified family religion.
There are related names of confession derived from the preposition בעדbaʿad ‘for’
that are known from epigraphic evidence. Although they do not occur in the Hebrew
Bible, they appear to have been common names used by Israel’s neighbors. These names
include בעדאלBaʿadīʾēl ‘El is for [me]’ (2 variants, 4 instances). Reference to an Aramaic
name again elucidates an intended personal reference to the name bearer, in the form of,
אלבעדיʾElbaʿadî ‘El is for me’. The preposition used in this name does not appear in He-
brew prayers, although a similar confession uses the related preposition ־â•”לâ•” lĕ- ‘for’ in the
individual lament of Ps 56:10–11: “This I know: god is for me! .€.€. What can a mere mortal
do to me?” as well as in the psalm of thanksgiving, 118:6: “Yhwh is for me; I do not fear!”
There is also evidence that Aramaic names used this latter preposition (in אלהליʾIlahlî
‘God is for me’), suggesting also that the ־â•” בעדnames are closely affiliated with prayer con-
fessions. These names are once again an impressive witness to the preoccupation in family
religion of god’s power to ward off, prevent, or protect against perceived threats, dangers,
and adversaries.
A single name of the present subgroup derives from a nominal form of the root ׁשען
šāʿan ‘to support oneself with’ in the form of מׁשעןMišʿān ‘[my] buttress [is DN]’. The
same metaphor for god’s personal assistance is used in Ps 18:19 (see also Ps 23:4). Ara-
maic names that convey a similar meaning employ nominal derivations from the root סמך
sĕmak ‘to support’ and include עתרסמכיʿAttarsumkî ‘Ashtar is my support’, again demon-
strating the personal focus of divine assistance. One Hebrew name that has no parallel to
date is נתביהוNĕtībyāhû ‘[my] path is Yhwh’, which expresses Yhwh’s granting of support
to a sufferer by providing direction or orientation.
A third and final subgroup of the confession names consists of names that maintain
that god is the source of light for a sufferer (see appendix B2.3.3). These names may also
157. In Akkadian, the chief commander was called ālik pāni ‘the one who goes in front’; see also
expressions similar to יצא לפניyāṣāʾ lipnê ‘to go out in front’ in Judg 4:14; 2 Sam 5:24; and see also
Ps 44:10; 60:12; as well as עבר לפניʿābar lipnê ‘to pass in front’ in Deut 9:3; 31:3.
Personal Names and Family Religion 315
reflect the provision or at least the facilitating of direction or orientation (see Ps 119:105).
They derive from only two nouns: אורʾûr ‘light’ and נרner ‘lamp, light’, although they are
the most numerous of all confession names about divine assistance. From each of the 2
noun stems, 7 epigraphic names are derived that appear 45 and 58 times, respectively. The
most common of these names are אריהוʾUrīyāhû and נריהוNērīyāhû, both of which mean
‘my light is Yhwh’. The first has a parallel in the confession of confidence in an individual
lament, Ps 27:1; the second, in a confessional statement of the psalm of thanksgiving in
2€Sam 22:29. Directly personal references are verified not only by these confessions but
also by the first-person-singular suffix explicit in several Aramaic parallels, such as ננורי
Nannûrî ‘Nanna is my light’. Names derived from both of these nouns were also common
in the cultures of Israel’s neighbors. All these names conceive of light as being provided
for a sufferer, and many gods—not just astral deities—are capable of providing this light,
including Baal, El, Hadad, Chemosh, Milkom, Nanna, Shamash, and Sin. Thus, Yhwh
names are subsumed in the confessional statements made with reference to a pantheon of
gods venerated by families throughout the Levant.
This subgroup includes other, somewhat rare names, such as זמריהוZimrīyāhû ‘my
protection is Yhwh’, which is known from a single epigraphic artifact and alludes to Ps
118:14, which declares, “My refuge and my protection is Yhwh.”â•›159 The name יוסתרYau-
seter ‘Yhwh is [my] hiding place’ is also attested only once and alludes to the confessional
statement in the individual thanksgiving psalm, Ps 32:7: “You are my hiding place; you
protect me from distress.” Other more-personal metaphors of a deity’s being a protector,
shepherd, guardian, or watchman have been found in Aramaic and Phoenician names.
There are 2 epigraphic names derived from the noun צלṣēl ‘shadow’ (in 3 instances, along
with 4 biblical names, 4 instances), one of which is very interesting because it deviates
from the typical pattern of Northwest Semitic names by appearing to be the abbreviation
for an existing prayer confession in the form of בצלbĕṣēl, which may be rendered ‘in the
shadow [of DN]’. An expanded confession of this type is offered in Ps 57:2, “In the shadow
of your wings I seek [my] refuge.”â•›160 There are 2 probable theophoric forms of this name
in the Hebrew Bible, one of which is בצלאלBĕṣalʾel ‘in the shadow of El’. It is possible
that this sort of name was intended to reflect imagery typical of a temple (compare, for
example, the throne of cherubs in Jerusalem). It also may have alluded to the frequently
found epigraphic representations of “winged sun-discs.” The fact that this sort of name
also appeared in Babylonia (in the form of Ina-ṣilli-Nabû ‘in the shadow of Nabû’, for
example)â•›161 suggests that the interpretation probably is a more-generalized metaphor, in
which the deity is perceived as a mother bird who shelters her children beneath her wings.
Another form of adverbial name was derived from the expression יד+ בbĕ + yād
‘in the hand’ and was commonly used in Phoenicia, for example, in the form of בדבעל
Bōdbaʿal ‘in the hand of Baal’ (Benz 75; WSS 726). It also appears in the Ammonite and
Aramaic onomasticons. However, this type is rather rare in the Hebrew onomasticon, ap-
pearing in only 4 epigraphic instances of 3 different names (1 time in the Hebrew Bible).
An example of these names is בדיהוBēdyāhû ‘in the hand of Yhwh’, an expression of
religious belief that the hand of god offered refuge to a suffering individual in his/her state
of fear. This kind of metaphorical sentiment is again likely to have been evoked by typical
family imagery, such as a frightened child running to his or her mother, who lifts the child
into her arms to be comforted and caressed by her hands. The concept also expresses the
broader metaphor of trust that the destiny of all individuals is always in the hands of god.
A slightly different metaphorical slant appears in variants of these names in the Aramaic
onomasticon, for example, כלבידׁשמׁשKolbayadšamaš ‘all is in the hand of Shamash’. And
the confession of confidence in Ps 31:5, “Into your hand I commit my spirit,” conveys a
sentiment that is a hybrid of these two types of sentiment.
Another subgroup consists of names that explicitly express belief that God is a ref-
uge for the suffering (see appendix B2.4.2). Most metaphors used in the 9 names of this
group are well known from the confessions of confidence in the Psalms, such as the name
[ ]א[למעזʾE]lmaʿaz ‘El is my refuge’, which corresponds to the confession of the indi-
vidual lament in Ps 31:5, “because you are my refuge” ( מעוזיmāʿûzzî). Only two names
159. Reading זמרתיzimrātî ‘my protection’ with one Hebrew ms and the versions.
160. Compare Ps 17:8; 36:8; 63:8; and 61:5; 91:4.
161. See Stamm 1968: 276.
Personal Names and Family Religion 317
of this sort have been found in epigraphic material, each recorded only once, and the
Hebrew Bible contributes another name, מעזיהוMaʿazyāhû ‘my refuge is Yhwh’. Ara-
maic names of this kind appear to have been a little more common (with 3 names known
with 1 instance each) and included אדמעזיʾAddumaʿuzzî ‘Adad is my refuge’; this name is
again a personal reference to the name bearer. Names derived from the similar noun מחסה
maḥăsēh were more common (3 names, 16 instances), and this noun is also well known
from the confessions of confidence—for example, in the Ps 61:4 declaration, “You became
a refuge for me.” The same sentiment is expressed in the name מחסיהוMaḥsēyāhû ‘[my]
refuge is Yhwh’, which is known from 13 epigraphic records, while there is 1 biblical ap-
pearance of a slightly shortened form of this name (in Jer 32:12). No names of this sort are
known yet to have been used by Israel’s neighbors.
Names deriving from the noun צורṣûr ‘rock’, used to portray a typical place of refuge,
have appeared in both Israel and Syria. The Hebrew name אליצרʾElîṣūr ‘my god is [my]
rock’ has a counterpart in the confession of confidence in Ps 62:3, “He alone is my rock
and my salvation.” The reference to Yhwh in this name is similar to an Aramaic name
with reference to Hadad: צוריהדדṢûrîhadad ‘my rock is Hadad’. This name also is an
explicitly personal reference. One name confesses Yhwh to be a tower for the individual
who is suffering ( מגדליהוMigdalyāhû), and even this very concrete metaphor is similarly
used in the confessions of confidence (in Ps 61:4). A similar construction compares the
deity with a wall provided to support a suffering individual. An ostracon obtained on the
antiquities market (NEE 92.79:4) provides the unique name יהוטרYĕhôṭūr, for which the
editors Robert Deutsch and Michael Heltzer (1995: 98) suggested that a nun is missing
and the word is related to the root נטרnāṭar ‘to watch, to guard’. However, the noun טור
ṭûr, which denotes a kind of wall, appears in Biblical Hebrew (in 1 Kgs 6:36; Ezek 46:23),
and the Bible provides another parallel name, אביׁשורʾAbîšûr, which is derived from the
Aramaic or Hebrew noun ׁשורšûr ‘wall’ (used in poetic contexts in Gen 49:22; 2 Sam
22:30). Thus this name clearly can be rendered ‘my [divine] father is [my defensive] wall’.
There are also several Aramaic parallels to this biblical name, such as נבוׁשריNabûšūrî
‘Nabu is my defensive wall’, that further strengthen the argument that יהוטרshould be
interpreted ‘Yhwh is my defensive wall’.
It is important to note that these names make no reference to offensive weapons or
installations; only defensive functions are metaphorically ascribed to the deity. Although
many metaphors may not immediately appear to be related to family religion, rocks, tow-
ers, fortifications, and explicit places of refuge were all places to which individuals or fami-
lies might flee when they or their larger communities came under attack by an enemy (Jer
4:5–6, 29). Thus, these defensive attributions arise directly from typical village experiences
and do not necessarily connote a dedicated military function. Such military metaphors
in the belief system of family religion again reflect the keenly felt vulnerability of the in-
dividual. In this case, fear was allayed by confessing that god himself provided defense
against enemies for the name bearer and rendered all enemies powerless, whether worldly
or otherwise.
The final subgroup of protection names consists of names that express much more
peaceful sentiments, that God himself is the sheltering place of residence for the suffering
(see appendix B2.4.3). This group comprises only 5 known instances of 5 different names
318 Chapter 5
derived from 2 roots. One of these roots, from which 3 names are derived, is the noun נוה
nāwēh ‘pasture’, which is parallel to the shepherd metaphor in the psalm of confidence
Ps 23:2.â•›162 The names נויהNawīyāh and its Northern variant נויוNawīyau both mean
‘my pasture is Yhwh’ and express Yhwh’s ability to guarantee nourishment and security
of abode for the suffering. The second root of this group also describes typical pastoral
scenery, חמיאהלḤammîʾōhel ‘my [divine] father-in-law is [my] tent’. Although no names
containing נוהhave been found to date outside Israel, names formed from אהלappear in
Phoenicia, as in the example אהלבעלʾOhelbaʿal ‘[my] tent is Baal’. Names formed from
the two roots in this subgroup testified not so much to a defense against possible enemies
but a desire for the peaceful existence of being actively sheltered by the deity.
162. These names have proven difficult to explain (Renz and Röllig, HAE 2/2.303). Deutsch
and Heltzer (1997: 43) assumed that the name נויוnwyw, which was found inscribed on a fancy
silver signet, derived from the root נאהnāʾāh ‘to ornate’, which takes a waw ending in its adjectival
conjugation (see Cant 1:10). Thus they read Nōiyāw and rendered the name ‘My prettiness [grace]
is Yāū’. The ʾalep, however, which is never omitted in the texts, would not have been included on
the signet, if this were the correct reading. In a 2nd edition, Deutsch and Lemaire (2000: 14, 220)
altered the actual reading (to Naveyau) but retained the same explanation. Zadok (1988: 98) plau-
sibly interpreted the short form נויnwy as a Gentile name derived from the noun nāwēh ‘pasture’.
Personal Names and Family Religion 319
Yhwh was considered one’s very subsistence, exactly as a family’s tenured land would
have been. A special priestly decree stated that Levites could not possess shares of Israel’s
land, because Yhwh himself was their share and patrimony (Num 18:20; Deut 10:9; 12:12;
14:27, 29; 18:1–2; among others). Thus one could conjecture that these names were no-
tionally derived from this levitical law (Albertz 1978a: 70). However, because the earliest
known names of this sort appeared in the 8th century—a time prior to the Deuteronomic
reform that gave rise to the oldest formulations of levitical rule—this derivation seems
doubtful. The confessions of confidence that declare Yhwh to be one’s personal portion
(Ps 16:5; 73:26; 142:6; Lam 3:24) do not reflect levitic influence either (with the possible
exception of Psalm 73). These names are thus more likely to have emerged conceptually
from the familial sphere. Possession of a share of land on which a family was completely
dependent economically was symbolically being transferred to god in order to express
that he himself was regarded as one’s true portion of life “in the land of the living” (Ps
142:6). By identifying Yhwh as the basis of all life, these confession names aimed to ex-
press the essence of relationship between a particular individual and his/her god, and this
relationship was characterized by trust and dependence. There has been a curious absence
of names derived from this root located so far in Israel’s environment. One seal written in
Aramaic script contained the name חלקיוḤelqīyau (WSS 818), indicating that it belonged
to a North Israelite who lived in Syria. However, there are similar names (with different
deities) known from Mesopotamia that derived from the noun zittu ‘share of land’, such
as Ea-zittišu ‘Ea is his share’ (CAD Z 141b).
The second subgroup of these names explicitly states that Yhwh is the basis of trust
(see appendix B2.5.2). In the names מבטחיהוMibṭaḥyāhû ‘My trust is Yhwh’, known from
6 epigraphic instances, and כסליהוKislīyāhû ‘My trust is Yhwh’, known from 8, the deity
is simply and directly equated with the Hebrew nouns for trust. These are, of course, inex-
act expressions, because Yhwh cannot actually be trust itself; he can only be the object of
human trust. It is nevertheless in this same fashion that these nouns are used when they
appear in the corresponding confessions of confidence (Ps 22:10; 71:5; Job 4:6). Thus the
apparent regulations underlying the construction of Northwest Semitic personal names
led to an ambiguity in these statements that does not apply to most other classes of names,
and yet the very existence of these ambiguous statements must reflect the singular impor-
tance of the sentiment that personal trust could or should be placed in god.
There are other examples in which the underlying “rules” for forming Northwest Se-
mitic names appear to have been neglected in favor of grammatical constructions more
typical of Akkadian names, including 3 names requiring that one place one’s hope in god.
The name חכליהוḤakalyāhû, in which the verb is the imperative of חכהḥākāh ‘to hope’
used in connection with the preposition ־â•” לlĕâ•”Ö¾ ‘for, on, in’ (also associated with this verb
in Hab 2:3; Ps 106:13), thus uses the divine name as an object, again in contradiction of
apparent regulations. The verb in this case would normally be a Piel. However, other per-
sonal names also use stems in which the Qal has often been substituted. Thus, the name
should be rendered ‘Place your hope in Yhwh!’ A similar command is expressed in short-
ened form, חכלḤakal ‘Place your hope in [DN]!’ and also קוהQawwēh, which derives
the same meaning from the root qāwāh used in the Piel. The Hebrew Bible also contains
1 name constructed similarly. It is derived from the root יחלyāḥal ‘to wait’ in the form
320 Chapter 5
יחלאלYaḥlĕʾel ‘Wait for El!’ (Gen 46:14; see also Ps 38:16).â•›163 All of these imperative names
command not only the name bearers to place their trust in god but also all those whom
they encounter, who must call them by this name. Bearers of these names could hardly
have avoid personifying persistent commands for their families to comply with this reli-
gious attitude. The single-word name תקוהTiqwāh ‘[my] hope [is DN]’ (see Ps 62:6) ex-
presses a similar sentiment. Finally, the biblical name אליהועיניʾElyĕhôʿênay ‘To Yhwh my
eyes [are directed]’ (1 Chr 26:3; Ezra 8:4; see also Ps 141:8) accords entirely with patterns
of Akkadian confession names. Although names of this type are admittedly rare because
they deviate from conventions guiding the construction of Northwest Semitic names, they
nevertheless demonstrate more immediately than the names of any other group the cen-
trality for Israelite family religion of placing one’s trust in god. Moreover, although these
names appear to have been used even more rarely by Israel’s neighbors, they do appear
in a few examples, such as יחלבעלYaḥellĕbaʿal (?) ‘wait for Baal!’ (Benz 127; KAI 49.15).â•›164
The final subgroup of confession names consists of names that declare that God is
the joy of life (see appendix B2.5.3). This group includes 8 names derived from 4 differ-
ent nouns, most of which are rare: [ ׂשראלʾA]śriʾel ‘[my] joy is El’ (appears once), which
was probably derived from the noun אׂשרʾéśer ‘joy’; אבגילʾAbīgayl ‘[my divine] father
is [my] rejoicing’ (appears twice); and חמיעדןḤammîʿeden ‘my [divine] father-in-law is
[my] bliss’ (in 2 variants recorded once each). Only the names derived from the noun גד
gad ‘luck’ seem to have been more common (25 instances of 4 names). Examples include
the name גדיהוGaddīyāhû ‘my luck is Yhwh’, which in itself appears 9 times. Names con-
taining the nouns עדןʿéden ‘bliss’, גדgad ‘luck’, and ׁשבעšébaʿ ‘richness’ also were used
in the Ammonite, Aramaic, and Phoenician cultures (although the last of these is known
only from biblical references,â•›165 with no epigraphic evidence to dateâ•›166). Many names de-
rived from these roots were specifically female names, and it thus seems that, in contrast
to the patriarchal structures that dominated most aspects of ancient Israelite society, it was
exclusively the birth of daughters that reminded parents of the joyful, fortunate aspects of
their trusting relationship to god.
163. The verbal form should be interpreted as the imperative Piel yaḥel; the preposition ־â•” לlĕ is
intermingled with the last letter of the root, which has correctly been interpreted by Zadok (1988:
42); Noth (1928: 204) tried to derive the name from the root חלהḥālāh II ‘to be sweet’, but this does
not make good sense.
164. This is in accordance with the biblical name derived from this root. The name has previ-
ously been unexplained; Donner and Röllig (1979: 66, no. 49) suggested a consonantal shift in cor-
respondence with the name יחנבעל, which is attested in KAI 80.2.
165. See the specifically female names אליׁשבעʾElîšebaʿ ‘my god is richness’ (Exod 6:23), and
יהוׁשבעYĕhōšebaʿ ‘Yhwh is richness’ (2 Kgs 11:2)
166. But see the Phoenician name תנתׁשבעTannitšebaʿ ‘Tannit is richness’, which denotes a
goddess.
Personal Names and Family Religion 321
personal transcendence of hardship or danger, they still bear distinct connections with
the confessions of confidence in the prayers. In their individual laments, suffering people
might remind god that they were his servants or were aliens to whom he should show re-
sponsibility. For example, Ps 143:12 states, “In your faithfulness, ruin my enemies; destroy
all those who oppress me, for I am your servant [ עבדʿébed]!” and Ps 39:13 adds, “Hear my
prayer; listen to my cry; do not disregard my tears; for I am a sojourner [ גרgēr], a client
like all my fathers.” What is confessed here in a time of urgent need, partially including
the horizon of family descent, is made a prolonged statement in the names in which the
name bearer declares himself to be a servant ( )עבדor a sojourner ( )גרof a particular deity.
Including references to all the individual deities, the group consists of 25 names that
are derived from 14 different nominal elements (see appendix B2.6) and that altogether
appear a total of 87 times. These names were common in the cultures surrounding Israel,
particularly in the Phoenician onomasticon. However, they were appreciably less common
in the Hebrew onomasticon, where only the names that contain the above-mentioned
nouns are more frequently represented ( עבד46 times, גר12 times).
The first subgroup of these names declares the name bearer to be a servant of god
(see appendix B2.6.1). In most Hebrew versions of these names that appear in epigraphic
records, the name emphasizes its bearer’s personal relationship to Yhwh, as in עבדיהו
ʿAbdiyāhû ‘servant of Yhwh’, which appears 18 times, as well as 3 other variants. Iso-
lated cases in Israel also mentioned other gods, as in עבדירחʿAbdiyēraḥ ‘servant of Yeraḥ’,
who was the Canaanite moon-god (HAE 2.25). The seal on which this name appears
comes from the 7th century b.c.e., and—although the iconographic forms share Mes-
opotamian characteristics (see WSS 34)â•›167 and thus may be presumed to reflect foreign
(possibly Ammonite) influence—the script is distinctly Hebrew. Thus the seal probably
reflects the process of astralization or lunarization in Israelite religion during the Assyr-
ians’ domination, which is also reflected in biblical texts (Deut 4:19; 17:3; 2 Kgs 23:5; Jer
8:2). The inscription of the name עבדׂשהרʿAbdiśāhār on a seal from the late 8th or 7th
century, which is rightly interpreted not as a title but as a name meaning ‘servant of Sa-
har’, also contains astral symbols (see WSS 1075). Because Sahar was a moon-god well
known from Syria (for example, see KAI 202.B24) and South Arabia (WM 225–26), and
because the script reflects a degree of Aramaic influence, Renz and Röllig (HAE 21.77)
considered the name bearer to be Aramean and excluded this name from the Hebrew
onomasticon.â•›168 However, the fact that amulets called ׂשהרניםśĕhărōnîm ‘little moons’
were in use in 8th-century Jerusalem (Isa 3:18) reveals that astral or lunar symbols did
not necessarily reflect foreign elements, and this name may be considered among Hebrew
names. There is also one name in which the name of a deity is replaced by a generic di-
vine quality: עבדחילʿAbdiḥayil ‘servant of the [divine] strength’. ʿÉbed-names were also
very common in Phoenicia and referred to many different gods (including Baal, Hadad,
Melqart, Shalem, Shamash, Amun, Osiris, and Ptah), as well as several goddesses (Anat,
Ashtarte, Tannit, Bastet, and Isis). These names also appeared in female variants, such
167. On its side, the seal has a winged ibex-man, an ankh-shaped cult stand in front, and a
crescent above.
168. The name is lacking in Renz and Röllig’s list (HAE 2/2.455).
322 Chapter 5
kingdoms (Ps 80:18), in both of which the king was proclaimed to be a son of Yhwh. The
prophet Hosea and his followers even regarded the entirety of Israel to be a singular or
collective son of Yhwh (Hos 11:1; Isa 1:2; Deut 14:1; 32:5). However, traditions of family
religion seem to have had reservations about this paternal concept, even though Jeremiah
asserted (in Jer 2:27) that the people of Judah had trustfully addressed the gods and god-
desses of their local cults as they would the fathers and mothers who had borne them.
Most Israelite families apparently regarded paternal symbolism to be less appropriate for
expressing their personal relationship to god in a sufficiently intimate and faithful man-
ner. These reservations reflect the similar reservations noted above with regard to express-
ing physical or sexual concepts in birth names.â•›172 Thus, the family religion of ancient Israel
seems to have been a little more literally in awe of the distance and transcendence of the
deity than Israel’s northern neighbors, in spite of the myriad of ways in which the deity
might draw nigh.
This sort of distinction was already noted by J. D. Fowler (1988: 314), but she did not
indicate that it forms only one element in the extended spectrum of beliefs enshrined in
the Hebrew names of confession. In this chapter, we have discovered no significant dif-
ference between the family religions of Israel and its neighbors in 13 of the 15 subgroups
of confession names. Rather, there appears to have been a remarkably high degree of cor-
respondence between the various Levantine cultures on this level of religion. Major dif-
ferences are apparent in only two subgroups, the first of which (2.6.1) is the distribution
of ʿébed-names. These names constitute a considerable portion of the Phoenician names
of confession, and, to a lesser extent, of the equivalent Aramaic names, at the expense of
more concrete expressions of confidence. This difference leads to the discovery that He-
brew confession names with more concrete expressions of confidence are somewhat more
expressive and diverse. Nevertheless, the differences are very slight throughout, and it is
only the second and final subgroup above (§2.6.3) that reveals any substantial difference
in conceptions of belief. Overall, discernible differences are very few.
As with names of thanksgiving, Hebrew names of confession reveal an astonishing
richness of family belief. Furthermore, the various crises that provoked the desires for
divine attention, protection, assistance, or salvation alluded to in the thanksgiving names
actually enhanced the intimate personal relationships that individual family members had
with their gods, as we discovered during our examination of the confession names. The
direct correspondence between names of confession and the confessions of confidence
in the individual laments reveals that the amazing conceptual richness of these names
was directly related to the actual experiences faced by individuals in times of crisis. These
names provided a base on which an individual might rekindle his or her hope in god’s pro-
tection, aid, or salvation. The names of confession thus reveal the center of family religion
to have consisted of a close personal relationship with the divine. It was determined by
the mutual aspects of trust and dependence at its foundation. The importance of trust in
personal relationships with the divine is explicitly attested in the personal names of trust
that were given despite apparent Northwest Semitic traditions against the construction of
such names (see appendix B2.5). The aspect of dependence is most clearly expressed by
the names that denote the name bearer as a servant or sojourner of the deity (see appendix
B2.6.1–2). In subsequent sections of this book, we will add more detail to this understand-
ing of personal relationship with the divine by examining its interrelatedness with the
belief in individual creation.â•›173 In the meantime, it is abundantly clear that the trusting
relationships expressed in the names of confession were not derived from the beliefs or
concepts of official Israelite religion—despite the fact that they shared a few idioms and
metaphorsâ•›174—but derived from intimate individual and family perspectives.
calls to praise in their original plural forms (which are otherwise not exactly appropri-
ate as family sentiments) suggests that praise names were strongly influenced by Israelite
hymns. Thus, these names were at least influenced structurally by the official religion.
There are, however, two notable differences between praise names and hymns that
indicate the limits on these influences. The first of these differences is found in the third of
the above four subgroups, in which the vitality of god is praised, which had no clear coun-
terpart in hymnal expressions. The second difference arises from a comparison of the rates
of occurrence of etymological roots: praise names and hymnic statements share fewer
than 40%, a notably lower percentage than equivalent values for thanksgiving names and
confession names.â•›176 (Inclusion of roots shared with the related genres and other less-
direct parallels increases the amount shared to just over 60%.) Although there seems to
have been little conjunction between the semantic context of praise names and the se-
mantic contexts of thanksgiving and confession names,â•›177 there is some continuity that
may be traced, simply because any experience of god’s protection, aid, or salvation can by
extension be cause for praise.
176. Roots used in thanksgiving names correspond with roots in hymns 67% of the time in the
strictest sense, 82.5% in a wider sense. Roots in confession names correspond 51% with roots in
hymns in the strictest sense, and 62% in a wider sense, although if we include names that extend-
beyond confessions of prayer (the 6th subgroup), these correspondences increase considerably, to
66% and 81.5%, respectively.
177. See the praise names based on the roots נורnûr Hiphil ‘to lighten’ and אמןʾāmen ‘to be
faithful’, in comparison with thanksgiving names from ( אמןsee above, p.€301) and confession
names from נרnēr ‘light’ (see above, pp.€315–315). In contrast to praise names derived from the
roots רוםrûm ‘to be exalted’ and ידעyādaʿ ‘to recognize’, thanksgiving names derived from these
roots have different meanings.
178. See the reconstruction of Kottsieper (1998: 478), in which only . . . ]rm br [ . . . ‘xx is exalted
son of xx’ is readable.
Personal Names and Family Religion 327
ticons. In contrast, the rare name רביהוRabyāhû, derived from the root רבבrābab ‘to be
frequent, to be great’, has only been found one time so far, in spite of its common meaning
‘Yhwh is great’. This sentiment could also have been intended as a declaration of thanks-
giving and classified as a thanksgiving name, indicating that the deity had proven himself
to be great, strong, or mighty in his saving intervention; however, in those sentiments,
various roots were typically used, such as גדלgādal, אמץʾāmaṣ, and יכלyākol, all of which
had their counterparts in private prayers or divine answers.â•›179 What the present names
do is to render what would otherwise be statements issued in response to divine acts or
intervention as more general statements of praise for the immanent qualities of the deity.
The general nature of these statements is reflected in their semantic correspondence to
statements that are made in the hymns (Ps 97:9; 99:2; 89:8).
Two other names derived from the roots ׂשרר/ ׂשרהśārar/śārāh ‘to rule’ appear to have
been somewhat rarer, but these roots do not appear at all in the hymns and are rather rare
in biblical texts in general. The statement made in the name ׂשריהוŚĕrāyāhû, that ‘Yhwh
rules’, is a conventional expression of Yhwh’s majesty found in Israelite hymns that de-
clare him to be the ruler of history and to override and overrule the power of mortal
rulers (Ps 33:10–12; 65:8–9; 113:4; 135:8–12; 146:3–5), although again, sentiments of this
sort are made in hymns using different terms and metaphors. The name אלמׁשלʾIlmašal
‘El rules’ is epigraphically known in only 3 occurrences in the Ammonite onomasticon,
although the root from which it is derived, מׁשלmāšal, is more frequent in the Hebrew
Bible, and also appears in the hymns (Ps 66:7; 103:19). In Israel, however, names express-
ing this sentiment were preferentially derived from the roots ׂשרר/ׂשרה,â•›180 which probably
reflects the influence of official religion in Israel, especially because the important, influ-
ential ancient tribal name יׂשראלYiśrāʾel was probably derived from the same root. Al-
though this personal name may appear to have been political in nature by suggesting that
‘El/God rules’ or ‘should rule’ (Noth 1928: 207–9; Albertz 1994: 76–79), names of praise
derived from this root diminished the political impact by focusing solely on the control
by the deity over the potential enemies of the individual so named. The fact that one name
derived from this root has been found in the Phoenician onomasticon in the form of
ׂשררמןŚarramōn ‘[Baal] Rimmon rules’ (WSS 1101)â•›181 shows that any potential influence
by the official religion was simply influence on the form of the word.
‘Yhwh is good’, each of which is known from 7 instances. These names express divine at-
tention and mercy as directly experienced by families (see Ps 100:5), and the names were
used to refer to both Shalem, the old city-god of Jerusalem, and Yhwh. Shalem, who ac-
companied sunset (DDD 1995: 1428–31), was likewise mentioned in the equivalent name
in Aramaic. There are also similar names derived from the root נעםnāʿam ‘to be pleas-
ant, kindness’, which is known in 6 attestations of 3 individual names, including אבנעם
ʾAbinōʿam ‘[my divine] father is kind’ and, אחנעםʾAḥīnōʿam ‘[my divine] brother is kind’.
These 2 names are feminine and in the Hebrew Bible are the names of Saul’s wife (1 Sam
14:50) and David’s second wife (1 Sam 25:43). Another use of this root in a woman’s name
is attested in Phoenicia: נעמלכתNōʿammilkat ‘kindness of Milkat’. These names probably
reflect joy experienced at the birth of daughters that especially called for praise with re-
gard to the deity’s grace.
Two names praise the deity’s perfection or purity, each of which is known from 1 in-
scription: יהותםYĕhôtam ‘Yhwh is perfect’ and זכאZakāʾ ‘[DN] is pure’. The former also
appears 3 times in the Hebrew Bible in a shorter variant, יותםYôtam (Judg 9:5; 2 Kgs 15:5;
1 Chr 2:47) and has several parallels in the Ammonite, Phoenician, and Aramaic onomas-
ticons. The latter is also known from 1 Aramean or Ammonite seal (WSS 792), as well as
in Ammonite and Aramaic names that use the root בררbārar ‘to be pure’ instead of זכה
zākāh, as in נׁשכברNuškubar ‘Nusku is pure’. These did not refer to imminent impurity or
imperfection; the roots תמםtāmam, זכה, and בררdenoted moral rather than ritual quali-
ties, and these names ascribed purity and perfection to the deity, who was always beyond
blame or reproach in spite of doubts that may have been expressed or experienced by
fallible mortals in times of hardship. Thus, the names Yĕhôtam and Yôtam should be ren-
dered ‘Yhwh is beyond reproach’, while Zakāʾ meant ‘[DN] is blameless’.â•›182
The beauty of Yhwh is praised in 1 name found on two 7th-century seal impressions
from Lachish— יפיהוYĕpāyāhû ‘Yhwh is beautiful’—a statement that never appears in the
Hebrew Bible. Although this name may have reflected an encounter with a physical statue
of Yhwh himself, it is more likely that it was intended as a metaphorical expression about
the radiance of his grace. The final name in this subgroup praises the guiding or directing
function of the deity: מנרMēnīr ‘[DN] is enlightening’. The sort of statement frequently
made by confession names, that the deity is light ( נרnēr) incarnate for a suffering person,
is transformed here into a general laudatory statement using the Hiphil participle of the
root נורnûr. These names also appear in the Ammonite onomasticon (WSS 948). How-
ever, the last 4 names have no parallels in hymnic statements of praise, probably because
they refer more directly to existential crises.
182. The biblical name זכיZakkay (Ezra 2:9) should be understood in the same way, despite the
fact that Noth (1928: 187) interpreted it as a shortened form of names derived from the root זכר
zākar ‘to remember’.
Personal Names and Family Religion 329
183. Names from the same root but derived from the Piel stem also appear in the birth names;
they refer to the divine support granted to a newborn (see appendix B5.5.3.; and p. 284 above).
184. The plausible interpretation of אל חיʾel ḥay ‘living god’ (Josh 3:10; Ps 42:3; 84:3; Hos 2:1;
see also Dan 6:21, 27) suggests the predicative element חיḥay as the verbal adjective ‘alive’ and not
the perfect form of the verb.
185. These names also deviate from the grammatical tradition in Northwest Semitic naming
that avoided placing the deity in the position of a grammatical object.
330 Chapter 5
Less direct ways in which members of the larger community were included in collec-
tive utterances of praise to god are alluded to in the names in this subgroup that raise lau-
datory rhetorical questions, as in 2 names that have been found in inscriptions. The most
popular was מכיהוMīkāyāhû ‘Who is like Yhwh?’ This name appears 35 times distributed
in 7 variants, and is the most common of all individual names of praise. Similar names
were also very common among Israel’s neighbors, including the name מכאלMīkāʾel or
its fuller form, מכמאלMīkamōʾel ‘Who is like El?’, found in the Ammonite, Edomite,
Aramaic, and Phoenician onomasticons. Both names also appear in the Hebrew Bible,
spelled either ( מיכיה)וor ( מיכאל9 and 6 instances, respectively). This rhetorical question
was intended to place the incomparability of a particular deity as the grammatical object
of agreement; a grammatical device that was also used in hymnal praise (Ps 113:5). These
questions, as used in the domain of personal or familial religious experience would have
been intended to convince family members that what they had experienced through the
direct and personal intervention of their god was beyond all comparison.
The second name that was formed as a question appears in 9 epigraphic contexts, in 2
orthographic variants of מיאמןMîʾāmēn ‘Who is faithful [if not DN]?’ This name has no
counterpart in the hymns and seems to have arisen exclusively in the realms of family reli-
gion, because its closest parallels are names of thanksgiving. Among the names described
above that expressed divine attention was יואמןYauʾāmān ‘Yhwh has remained faithful’
(see appendix B1.1.4).â•›186 In the present context, מיאמןtransforms that former statement
of gratitude into a question of astonishment. By using it, the members of a family might
convince themselves and others that the faithful and dependable attention of their god
was incomparable.
Thus, although when considered together, these praise names appear to reflect to some
extent the influence of Israel’s official religion, especially in regard to hymnic structures,
the beliefs conveyed by these names are in most cases still firmly rooted in the same sorts
of family religious experience as the thanksgiving and confession names. The only excep-
tions to this general dissociation between official religion and the social and religious mi-
lieux of names seems to have been with regard to names that alluded to the vitality of the
deity or the deity’s ineluctable rule. However, there was still not one topic of Israel’s official
religious hymnic praise—whether the creation of the world, the exodus, Sinai, Zion, or di-
vine kingship—that was referred to by the names in this group.â•›187 Rather than expressing
these hymnal topics, the names seem to have been more-general allusions to divine great-
ness or kindness that were not restricted to Israel’s national identity or existence. They
were more likely to reflect divine greatness or kindness in relation to the families’ and
individuals’ everyday lives and unique needs. Although our recognition of this adoption
and incorporation requires that we admit to broadening the scope of potential religious
influence on religious practices and beliefs typical of Israelite families, we insist that the
family was the essential core toward which all religious experiences were directly focused.
188. Five times as אליʾelî in Ps 22:2, 11; 63:2; 102:25; 140:7; and 24 times as אלהיʾĕlōhay in Ps
3:8; 5:3; 7:2, 4; 13:4; 22:3; 25:2; 31:15; 35:23, 24; 38:16, 22; 40:18; 42:7; 42:12; 43:4–5; 59:2; 69:4; 71:4,
12, 22; 86:2, 12; 109:26; and 143:10; with both forms conveying the same meaning.
332 Chapter 5
189. ‘God of my salvation’ אלהי יׁשעיʾĕlōhê yišʿî in Ps 25:5; 27:9; אלהי יׁשועתיʾĕlōhê yĕšûʿātî in Ps
88:2; and אלהי תׁשועתיʾĕlōhê tĕšûʿātî in Ps 51:16, all of which have the same meaning.
‘God of my protection’ אלהי מעזיʾĕlōhê māʿuzzî in Ps 43:2, in a confession of confidence.
‘My God of mercy’ אלהי חסדיʾĕlōhê ḥasdî in Ps 59:18, a final address after a confession of
confidence.
‘God of my justice’ אלהי צדקיʾĕlōhê ṣidqî in Ps 4:2, as an opening address.
‘God of my praise’ אלהי תהלתיʾĕlōhê tĕhillātî in Ps 109:1, as an opening address; see also the
confession of confidence in Ps 71:6.
190. The Psalms further support the above interpretation of personal names, contrary to Noth’s
(1928: 33–36) doubt about interpreting the letter yod in names to signify a first-person-singular
suffix. His argument that the same name could be spelled with or without the interlocutory vo-
cal î merely reflects the ambiguity of older written Hebrew as used in the epigraphic names, an
ambiguity only partly ameliorated by the time of the later biblical scribes. This letter did, however,
actually represent the first-person-singular suffix of the in many cases (Zadok 1988: 51–55), and the
old constructus ending was intended only in the cases where the element appears between the two
nominal elements of a construct name; only in these cases can the survival of an old constructus
ending be suggested.
191. The spellings עמדיהוʿImmādīyāhû and עמדיוʿImmādīyau ‘Yhwh is with me’ also presup-
pose the first-person-singular suffix, because the preposition עםʿim ‘with’ uses this fuller form only
in connection with that suffix (see GKC §103c).
192. Similar interpretation of the Hebrew name ׁשפטןŠipṭān ‘our legal assistance’ (see above,
p.€312) and the Ammonite name אלעזןʾIlʿuzzān ‘El is our protection’ (see above, p.€315), however,
remains uncertain.
Personal Names and Family Religion 333
The names themselves, however, are not sufficient evidence for elucidating the origins
or foundations of these personal relationships with god. From the fact that the confession
names mentioned above were bestowed by parents on their children, we can conclude that
the intimate relationship with the divine was imparted from one generation to the next
and was not a matter of individual decision.â•›193 From the very beginning of a child’s life, his
or her identity and self-perceptions were imposed based on the religious experiences and
beliefs of the parents. But these considerations reveal the social reasons rather than the
religious. The religious foundation underlying the personal relationship with the divine is
illustrated more directly by the formal analogy between the names that express lifelong
personal relationships to a deity (such as עבדיהוʿAbdiyāhû ‘servant of Yhwh’) and equiv-
alent names of creation (such as מעׂשיהוMaʿaśēyāhû ‘work of Yhwh’ or מקניהוMiqnēyāhû
‘creature of Yhwh’). The former formulate from a human perspective what is conceived
by the latter from a divine perspective: one is related to god for one’s entire life because
god has created every individual and thus has entered into a relationship with each one.
Birth names, especially the extended group of creation names (39 names from 11 roots,
148 occurrences),â•›194 reveal the religious foundations of these personal relationships with
god that are so vividly attested in the prayer names.
Direct evidence for the religious origin of personal relationships with god is further
provided by the Psalms. In two prominent confessions of confidence found in two differ-
ent psalms of individual lament, the two topics of one’s creation by god and one’s ongoing
personal relationship with god (which are closely connected in Psalm 22) appear:
10
But you are he who drew me from the womb,
â•… who instilled confidence in me in my mother’s womb.
11
On you I was cast from the day of my birth;
â•… from my mother’s womb you have been my god.
The emergence of the suffering individual’s confidence is here traced back to his or her
birth, which is conceptualized as the personal creation of god. God draws one from the
womb of one’s mother as a midwife. The intended meaning of the participle of the root גחה
gāḥāh is the same as the intended meaning of creation names derived from other roots
such as דליהוDĕlāyāhû ‘Yhwh has drawn out’, הצליהוHiṣṣīlyāhû ‘Yhwh has delivered’, or
איץʾIṣ ‘[DN] has accelerated [the birth]’. The petitioner of Psalm 22 declares this divine
creative act to have instilled him with confidence (the Hiphil participle of the root בטח
bāṭaḥ), and the resulting sentiment is similar to the confession names derived from the
noun of the same root, such as מבטחיהוMibṭaḥyāhû ‘my trust is Yhwh’. Thus, the trust-
ing relationship between the person who is suffering and his or her personal god was the
direct result of the person’s creation by god. This trustful relationship began at the very
first instant of life and was predestined to prevail throughout this life, regardless of the
individual’s intention, volition, or deeds. Moreover, the middle two phrases of 22:10–11
193. That the personal relationship to god was inherited in Israelite families is also clear in
expressions such as “god of my father,” which occur often in the patriarchal narratives (Gen 31:5,
29, 42; 32:10; 43:23; 46:1, 3; 50:17). This expression indicates that the god venerated by the children
was identical to the god of the father. This familial divine appellative is also attested outside Israel;
see Albertz 1994: 1.27–30.
194. See above, pp. 277–281.
334 Chapter 5
reveal a lasting personal relationship with god that consists of both a strong confidence in
him and a strong dependence on him.
Similar sentiments are expressed in the confession of confidence in Psalm 71:
5
You are my hope, O Lord, Yhwh,
â•… my trust since my youth.
6
From birth I have leaned on you;
â•… you are he who cut me from the womb of my mother;
â•… my praise was ever about you.
7
I became a frightening sign for many,
â•… but you are my strong refuge.
In the needs of old age (Ps 71:18), an old man traces his lifelong trust in Yhwh back to his
youth and locates the beginning of this intimate relationship with god to his birth, when
Yhwh (once again acting as midwife) severed his umbilical cord. The expression of v.€6
derived from the participle of the root גזהgāzāh ‘to cut’ is probably directly analogous
to the hypocoristic creation name גזאGāzāʾ ‘[DN] has severed [me from the umbilical
cord]’.â•›195 Furthermore, the designation ‘my hope’ ( תקותיtiqwātî) in v.€5 has a parallel in
the Hebrew personal name תקוהTiqwāh ‘[my] hope [is in DN]’; and the similar confes-
sion of confidence in v.€6, ‘I have leaned on you’ ( סמךsāmak Niphal), is expressed in the
Aramaic name אלסמכיʾElsumkî ‘El is my support’. Psalm 71 also testifies that an indi-
vidual’s personal relationship with god, which is initiated during his or her creation and
birth, endures through the individual’s lifetime. This relationship may be revitalized time
and again in the face of actual danger or hardship. Because the psalmist’s confessions in Ps
22:10–11 and 71:5–7 show such a high degree of verbal and material correspondence with
the personal names, they can be considered additional evidence for family religion. Thus,
the hypothesis that the central feature of Israelite family religion, a personal relationship
with god, was rooted in each individual’s creation has been proven.
In being so directly rooted in the creation of humankind, the central beliefs of Israelite
family religion differed markedly from the central beliefs of the official religion of Israel
and Judah. Psalms 22 and 71 reveal that suffering individuals could attempt to gain the
attention of god by reminding him of the intimate, enduring relationship that he himself
had established at the very instant of their creation. The collective laments represent simi-
lar attempts by entire communities to remind Yhwh of his foundational actions for his
people, whether during the exodus from Egypt and the occupation of the promised land
(Ps 80:9–12; see also 44:2–4), the election of the Jerusalem Temple (74:2), or the establish-
ment of the Davidic Kingdom (89:20–38). Although Israel’s relationship to Yhwh was
also structured personallyâ•›196—a feature that stands in marked contrast to all other official
religions of the ancient Near Eastâ•›197—this relationship was deeply rooted in Israel’s politi-
cal history. In contrast, Israelite family religion was not based on political history but on
195. Thus no correction of the text based on the Septuagint or Jerome is necessary.
196. Consider Yhwh’s most frequent epithet, אלהי יׂשראלʾĔlōhê Yiśrāʾel ‘god of Israel’ (Judg
5:3, 5; 1€Sam 14:41; 1 Kgs 1:30, among others), which appears 198 times in the Hebrew Bible. By it,
Yhwh is defined as a god who is in personal relationship with a large group.
197. Here the relationship between the gods and their cities or countries comes to the fore;
therefore, the deities commissioned kings to keep their property in order (see Albertz 1978a: 152–
63, in reference to the Old Babylonian state religion). Notably, the Moabite King Mesha wrote in his
Personal Names and Family Religion 335
biological grounds, as were the family religions of all of Israel’s neighbors. The complete
absence of official religious traditions in personal namesâ•›198 testifies that family religion
existed and functioned independently of Israel’s history of national salvation and was un-
influenced by it.â•›199 Instead, family religion was in essence focused on the personal creation
of every individual.
Thus, the essential traits of premonarchic family religion in Israel can be summa-
rized based on the evidence drawn from epigraphic personal names and the prayers of
the Psalms in the Hebrew Bible. The intimate personal relationship between each family
member and his or her god primarily reflected and was determined by two contrasting
feelings: (1) trust in god and (2) dependence on god. By being based on every moment of
individual conception and creation, these relationships were predetermined for all, and
they prevailed independently of individual whim or volition. These relationships with the
divine remained as indisputable as one’s very existence and were not conditional on any
acts or instances of ritual or ethical behavior. These relationships could, however, be re-
vitalized by individuals in moments of crisis as they sought to garner god’s attention and
aid. In these moments, individuals could remind their god that he had personally created
them and therefore should act to protect and preserve them, rather than allowing them
to die (Job 10). Personal relationships with god were indestructible. These characteristics
of familial belief are not only observable from the individual prayers of the Hebrew Bible
(Albertz 1978a: 23–49) but are also reflected in the confession names that were bestowed
on Israelite children for life. Even for people whose trust in god may have faltered or failed
in times of crisis or who may have temporarily neglected or forgotten their obligation to
serve their god, the names bestowed on them by their families, whether in the form of
Mibṭaḥyāhû ‘Yhwh is [my] confidence’ or ʿAbdiyāhû ‘Servant of Yhwh’, continued to
define them and encourage them to renew their personal religious relationship.
The religious concepts revealed by the birth-experience, thanksgiving, and confession
names were derived in many cases from typical family experiences. The names discussed
here make clear that personal relationships with god as expressed by birth-experience and
prayer names were perceived similarly to the intimate personal relationships that family
members had with one another (Albertz 1978a: 94). The relationships between children
and parents reveal particularly strong analogies. Whether divine or earthly, these relation-
ships were generally unconditional, indissoluble, and indestructible, even in times of cri-
sis. The sentiments of personal names in relation to god regarding confidence, protection,
and security also describe the conditions that were ideally experienced by every infant in
relation to his or her mother or father.â•›200 This “very specifically declared relationship” that,
inscription that the national god Chemosh was angry about his land, rather than about his people
(KAI 181.5; ANET 320).
198. See above, pp. 262–269.
199. Ps 22:4–6, which reminds Yhwh of his relationship to Israel and its forefathers, who trusted
in him, is a redaction imposed on the psalm during its reuse in the community of the poor in the
postexilic period (see vv. 24–27, the later eschatological outlook of vv. 28–32, and Albertz 1978a:
30–31; and Gerstenberger 1988: 108–13).
200. See, for example, the verb חסהḥāsāh ‘to seek shelter’ in the psalmist’s confessions of con-
fidence (such as Ps 7:2; 11:1; 25:20; 31:2), which clearly reflect childhood experiences, as does the
reflection in Ps 27:10.
336 Chapter 5
according to the sociologist Rosemarie Nave-Herz (2002: 149), “distinguished the family
from any other relation of social interaction in a given society”â•›201 was also the very rela-
tionship that determined and defined the typical features of family religion. Thus the cen-
tral beliefs of family religion were predominantly influenced and formed by fundamental
social relations and the essential experiences typical of family groups.
the lives of Israelite families on the village level. From the more recent chapters of Prov-
erbs under consideration here (chaps. 1–9), which may have arisen in the court school,
only one passage—the instructive speech on the religious education of individuals, Prov
3:1–12—will be included.
Religion does not play a central role in biblical proverbs. By retelling experiences and
providing counsel, Proverbs tends to address individuals’ rationality rather than their pi-
ety. In fact, only 12% of all proverbs show any religious dimension,â•›203 a percentage that
is almost precisely opposite the percentage of names in the epigraphic onomasticon that
express theophoric (84.4%) rather than secular concepts (15.6%). There is, nevertheless, a
degree of overlap between the primary religious notions expressed in names and prayers
and those expressed in the proverbs. The divine creation of individuals that is witnessed
in many birth names (appendix B5.5.1) and private prayers (Ps 22:10–11; 71:5–7; Job 10:3,
8–12) is also mentioned in Prov 14:31; 17:5; 20:12; 22:2; 29:13; the divine provision of pro-
tection and shelter witnessed by many confession names (appendix B2.4) and the confes-
sions of confidence in the individual laments (Ps 43:2; 71:5; 61:4) is also addressed in Prov
10:29; 14:26; 15:29; 18:10 (and see also 16:3); and the trust in god alluded to in names in
the same group (see appendix B2.5) as well as prayers (Ps 13:6; 28:7; 31:7) is also a subject
in Proverbs (Prov 3:5; 16:20; 22:19; 28:25; 29:25). Although all notions expressed by names
are modified to some extent based on context or function, the piety expressed in Proverbs
may still be considered to belong to the realm of family religion.
There are a number of religious motifs used in Proverbs either to provide encourage-
ment or to warn a person. Encouragement is provided particularly for those afraid to
take appropriate or necessary action. Thus the faithful are told not to fear human beings,
because those who trust in Yhwh will be sheltered (Prov 29:25); and those who submit
all motives to Yhwh will find their plans fulfilled (16:3). One may at all times place confi-
dence in the perceptions of one’s eyes and ears and one’s analytical skills, because all were
created by Yhwh (20:12). The disheartened are informed by Prov 14:26 that their close
relationship to god—fear of Yhwh ( יראת יהוהyirʾat Yhwh)—constitutes a firm founda-
tion for trust ( מבטחmibṭaḥ), a foundation that is even capable of providing divine shelter
( מחסהmaḥăseh) for one’s children. The family was thus regarded as the nexus through
which piety was passed from one generation to the next—which is directly parallel to the
above conclusions drawn from our consideration of personal names.â•›204 God’s pleasure
might lead him to grant unexpected success (16:7), and this success might be especially
due to the presence of a woman who is a helper in the founding of a family (18:22; 19:14).
Like wisdom, piety guarantees a successful life (14:27; 19:23; 22:4; and see 13:14). More-
over, piety is required before one can be instructed by wisdom (15:33). In all cases, the
practices and beliefs of personal piety provide individuals with the essential confidence
that is necessary for making rational decisions.
203. Attribution of the religious sayings to the times of the older proverbs rather than the later
interpretations is supported by the existence of the Aramean collection ascribed to the wise Aḥiqar
(TUAT 2.320–47), which according to the editor, I. Kottsieper, comes from the south Syrian Levant
of the 8th century b.c.e.
204. See above, pp. 334–336.
338 Chapter 5
Proverbs that serve as warnings are more numerous and remind individuals of their
relationship with god in demarcating human endeavor, ingenuity, and wisdom and not
overestimating themselves or their abilities. In spite of plans and efforts that one might
make, the success of one’s work is entirely dependent on god’s blessing and decision and
remains at all times beyond one’s disposal (Prov 10:22; 16:9, 33; 19:21; 21:31). God also
decides the limits of human wisdom (21:30; 22:12); one may fail in spite of all one’s clev-
erness and must never blame God for one’s failure (19:3). Young men are warned during
their religious education not to place excess trust in their own wisdom but to place all trust
in Yhwh (3:5). All people should remain aware that Yhwh will examine their most inti-
mate thoughts and deeds (15:3, 11; 17:3; 20:27) and will uncover any self-deception (16:2;
21:2). Yhwh does not accept lying, deceit, arrogance (11:20; 12:22; 15:26; 16:5), deceptive
commerce (11:1; 20:10, 23), or unjust judgments in trials (17:15). He punishes evildo-
ers and defends their victims (10:3; 12:2; 15:25; 22:22–23). Personal piety in Proverbs is
thus strongly ethical in orientation. Divine protection is not presumed to be automatically
granted to all but is only reserved for the pious (10:29; 15:29; 18:10). The evildoer may
not claim to be a beloved creature of god as others may. Furthermore, although Prov 16:4
admits that an evildoer may be one of Yhwh’s creatures, it sardonically declares that he
was only created for the day of doom. Proverbs no longer considers a trusting relation-
ship with god to be unconditional; it is dependent on volitional acts such as avoiding evil
(16:6), deceitfulness (14:2), greed (28:25), jealousy (23:17), and revenge (20:22; 25:21–22)
and giving support to the needy (19:17). Hope placed in god thus replaces any need to
take revenge (20:22), and trusting in riches (11:28) is replaced by confidence in god. Piety
naturally restricts aspirations for personal profit (15:16). Proverbs even reveals a social
dimension to the creation motif that we saw was so central to family piety. The belief that
Yhwh created each and every individual can only mean that no human being, no mat-
ter how poor or unfortunate, should be despised and that all social stratification must
be restricted and limited as much as possible (14:31; 17:5; 22:2; 29:13).â•›205 Thus, Proverbs
considers Yhwh to be not only the creator, supporter, and protector of all individuals but
also their examiner, their judge, and the person who will retaliate on their behalf.
This sort of piety, as expressed in Proverbs, differs markedly from the piety attested
in the personal names and private prayers. Tae-Kyung Kim (2008: 15–17, 242–44) argues
that this difference reflects the different sociohistorical contexts in which these texts were
written and to which they were directed. Personal names and (especially) laments derived
from instances of personal crisis, whether illness or jeopardy during birth or times when
social relationships were contracted. Thus, individuals sought shelter in god as a small
child flees to its mother. Dominating all these statements were god’s unconditional protec-
tion of the individual and the fundamental indissolubility of an individual’s relationship
with God. In contrast, Proverbs was directed at the daily life of adults who were capable of
taking responsibility for their own deeds in their particular social environment. In these
situations, god cannot be conceived purely as the creator and supporter of the individual;
205. P. Doll (1985: 15–29) showed that in the older proverbs only the creation of man is present,
similar to the thinking of the individual laments (Albertz 1974: 33–44). The creation of the world,
which is a topic of hymns (Psalms 33; 65; 95; 104; 136; 146; 147; 148) and belongs to the stratum of
official religion, appears in Proverbs only in later wisdom poems (Prov 3:19–20; chap. 8).
Personal Names and Family Religion 339
rather, lest one forget one’s relationship with the divine, god was also considered to be
both examiner and judge of all actions throughout life. Personal piety was thus an at-
titude required of all individuals throughout their lives; moreover, it was an attitude that
required specific social behavior and forbade egotism at the expense of others. Thus, per-
sonal piety as expressed in personal names and Psalms, on the one hand, and in Proverbs,
on the other hand, can be seen to reflect two different dimensions of the same underlying
family religion but also two fundamentally different situations of family life.
In being concerned with the everyday existence of typical villagers, Proverbs was not
especially addressed to the typical locus of the family cult. Sacrifices offered by evildoers
are criticized (Prov 15:8), righteous social conduct is considered more important than
sacrifices (21:3), and divine attention granted in response to prayers is restricted to the
pious (15:8, 29). The religious education of young men, however, emphasizes the impor-
tance of the sacrifice of firstlings (3:9–10), and these typical family sacrifices directly con-
nected the household economy to the veneration of the deity that took place in local or
regional sanctuaries.â•›206 Thus, young men who would assume responsibility for the family
cult were reminded to honor god for his blessings in order to safeguard themselves and
their future.
The religious education of young men also addresses appropriate behavior in situa-
tions of distress (Prov 3:11–12). The teacher pleads for the pupils to accept distress as a
manifestation of Yhwh’s education. The teacher attempts to render divine reprimands ac-
ceptable by reference to family relationships: God acts as a father who reprimands his son,
because he loves and favors him. This, admittedly, is a rational interpretation of general
situations of distress, which often must have been incomprehensible to those who were
afflicted. Nevertheless, it identified the indissoluble relationship between parents and chil-
dren as the formative essence of relationships with the divine in family religion.
in other theophoric names,â•›211 in a few rare cases (here) they are used as substitutes for the
names of deities (1.7% of all names, 0.9% of instances).â•›212
There is a high degree of similarity in predicative statements used in the various Syrian-
Levantine onomasticons, but the theophoric elements contain a much greater diversity
of expression. The element Yhwh, for example, is found in two-thirds of all epigraphic
Hebrew names yet is only rarely attested in the onomasticons of Israel’s neighbors. No in-
stances have been found in Moabite names, and it appears in only 1.1% of all Ammonite
names, 0.8% of Phoenician names, and 4.1% of all Aramean names.â•›213 There are never-
theless a number of striking similarities in the theophoric elements used in the different
Levantine onomasticons. Table 5.8 (p. 509) reveals that there were quite a few divin-
ized kinship terms in every onomasticon: 13.1% of all names and 12.1% of instances in
the Hebrew onomasticon; 15.6% and 9.6%, respectively, in the Ammonite onomasticon;
and 15.5% and 14.9% in the Aramaic. These names arise more frequently in the Moabite
onomasticon (27.0% of names and 28.6% of instances), while they are less frequent in the
Phoenician onomasticon (7.9% of names and 5.2% of instances). However, in all Levan-
tine cultures—as demonstrated by Noth (1928: 66–82) across the spectrum of Semitic
cultures—these kinship terms constituted a fundamental element of theophoric personal
names.
All selected Levantine onomasticons show a considerable portion of El-names: 13.1%
of all names in Hebrew, and 11.1% of all instances, with similar percentages in the Moabite
onomasticon of 13.5% and 11.9%. The percentages are slightly higher in the Aramaic ono-
masticon (19.1% and 20.4%, respectively), and again somewhat lower in the Phoenician
(7.2% and 5.6%, respectively). The Ammonite onomasticon presents a special case; the
element El is contained in 67.8% of all names and 81.8% of all the instances. Thus, the god
El or Il was clearly the primary god of family religions in this region. Even if we disregard
the different possible meanings, the theophoric element El—whether used to denote a
specific deity, an appellative, or a personal god—featured prominently in all Levantine
onomasticons.
All of the selected Levantine onomasticons considered here were used in cultures that
projected central religious beliefs onto a primary deity. The percentages of names given
that referred to these deities reveal interesting cultural differences. The Ammonite ono-
masticon had the highest percentage of references to the god El (mentioned in 67.8% of
all names and 81.8% of all instances). This percentage is even higher than references to the
national god Yhwh as represented in the Hebrew onomasticon (59.4% and 67.6%, respec-
tively). The national god of the Moabites, Chemosh, appears in 37.9% of all theophoric
names in that region and 40.5% of all occurrences, in contrast to the considerably lower
211. See appendixes B5.6. (šem), 2.3.1. (ʿezrī, ḥayil), 2.3.3. (ʾûr), and 3.1. (ʿalay).
212. Including the names ׁשמידעŠemyādāʿ ‘the [divine] name has taken care’, עזריקםʿAzrîqām
‘my [divine] help has arisen’, עבדחילʿAbdiḥayil ‘servant of the [divine] strength’, קרבאורQĕrabʾûr
‘the [divine] light has come close [to me]’, and יחועליYĕḥawwīʿalay ‘the Exalted brought [the child]
to life’.
213. This phenomenon is often explained by conjecturing that some Israelites lived outside the
borders of their homeland, yet even the Hebrew Bible suggests the possible veneration of Yhwh by
indigenous peoples outside Israel (2 Kgs 5:17–19).
342 Chapter 5
percentages for the primary gods of the Aramaic and Phoenician cultures. Conflating the
largely indistinguishable and undistinguished gods Baal and Hadad, both of whom largely
shared the singular status of national god in their cultures, names alluding to this com-
pound deity amount to 23.5% of known names and instances in Phoenicia, and 18.7% and
18.1%, respectively, of all names and instances in the Aramaic onomasticon. The inclusion
of other weather-gods and related epithets in the group increases these percentages some-
what, to 24.3% and 24.0% in Phoenicia, and 21.5% and 21.4% in the Aramaic onomas-
ticon. These “weather-gods” seem to have been unique to the Aramean and Phoenician
family religions, because their names made up only a small percentage of the theophoric
elements used in the Ammonite, Hebrew, and Moabite onomasticons (varying between
2.2% and 10.8%). Thus, apparently familial religious practices and beliefs made little dis-
tinction between the purportedly “monotheistic” position exemplified by the primary god
of Israel and the more “polytheistic” practices prevailing in neighboring cultures. Only
slight differences appear in terms of preferences given to the primary gods’ names; Yhwh
held only second position in the region in terms of frequency of reference.
The main difference among the five Levantine cultures is in the number and percent-
age of references to secondary deities. The Moabite onomasticon (see table 5.9, p. 509)
attests the lowest portion of references to deities other than the primary god, Chemosh,
and the weather-gods Baal and Hadad. There are only 3 known secondary deities who
were referred to or who had epithets that were used in theophoric names (Malk, Hauron,
and Rachban). It should be noted, however, that the sample of Moabite theophoric names
is small (only 37 names and 42 instances) and consists of 10.8% of all names and 9.5% of
instances.
References to secondary deities are somewhat more common in the Ammonite ono-
masticon (see table 5.10, p. 510) where, aside from the primary god El and the weather-
gods Baal and Hadad, the names of another 6 West Semitic deities or epithets for them
appear (Malk, Milkom, Adon, Mareʾ, Mot, and Yhwh), as well 1 name referring to the
Mesopotamian deity Bel. A total of 13.3% of all known Ammonite names refer to second-
ary gods, 7.2% of all instances, and the figures in this case are drawn from a much larger
sample (90 names, 209 instances).
Names of secondary deities are similarly infrequent in the Hebrew onomasticon (see
table 5.7). Aside from the names of Yhwh and Baal, the names of 11 other West Semitic
deities or epithets for them are mentioned (Adon, Adatt, Anat, Asher, Yerach, Melek, Mal-
kah, Mot, Qos, Sahar, and Shalem), plus 3 Egyptian deities (Bes, Horus, and Isis) and 1
Mesopotamian deity, Shamash. These names are 9.9% of all known names and 7.3% of all
instances in the Hebrew sample. The larger number of individual deities probably arises
in this case from the relatively comprehensive epigraphic sample of Hebrew theophoric
names found, with 1,978 attestations of 404 different names. The percentage of names that
refer to secondary deities in this large sample may thus be presumed to reflect more ac-
curately the underlying cultural distribution of names and in this case notably amounts to
the lowest observed percentage in all the West Semitic cultures.
Analysis of theophoric names referring to secondary deities in the Aramaic onomas-
ticon reveals a strikingly different picture (see table 5.11, pp. 510–511). Aside from the
primary deities Hadad, Baal, and the other weather-gods, recorded names refer to 15 other
Personal Names and Family Religion 343
West Semitic deities, as well as 9 Mesopotamian and 3 Egyptian deities. They amount to
43.1% of all names and 42.6% of all references to secondary deities in names. Even if not
all Aramean names have been considered, the sample considered here of 246 names taken
from 275 instances is large enough to make the difference between the Aramaic and the
Hebrew onomasticons significant. The only gods used relatively frequently in this pan-
theon are Nabu, Shamash, Sin, and Yhwh, along with the epithet Mareʾ (‘lord’).
The Phoenician onomasticon reveals an even more striking diversity (see table 5.12,
pp. 512–513). Excluding references to the primary deities Baal, Hadad, and the other
weather-gods, we find that names refer to or employ epithets for another 30 West Semitic
deities, along with 8 Egyptian and 4 Mesopotamian deities. These names constitute 57.4%
of all theophoric names and 62.4% of all instances. This is the highest percentage observed
across all West Semitic lands, with more than three times as many names alluding to sec-
ondary gods as alluding to primary gods. Most common among these numerous gods are
Eshmun, Ashtarte, and Milk.
These analyses demonstrate the artificiality of any distinction between “monotheism”
and “polytheism,” at least in the practices and beliefs of family religion, and suggest that
it would be better to distinguish between different sorts of polytheism. The most immedi-
ately apparent distinction is between the southern Levantine cultures of Israel, Ammon,
and Moab, where polytheistic tendencies were relatively restricted, and the cultures of
Syria and Phoenicia. The onomasticons of the southern cultures have a limited number of
theophoric elements (28 in the Hebrew, 15 in the Ammonite, and 11 in the Moabite). Most
families seem to have venerated only a rare few gods in addition to El and the main god,
and the veneration of secondary gods does not appear to have been especially popular. In
Syria and Phoenicia, in contrast, families selected names for their children from an array
of different gods in addition to El and the primary gods. This diversity represents a much
more expansive polytheistic culture, and the onomasticons of Syria and Phoenicia reveal
considerably larger numbers of theophoric elements, with 44 and 60 different elements
known in names from these cultures, respectively.
Differences in the diversity and popularity of secondary gods would naturally have
reflected contemporary cultural, economic, and political circumstances. For example,
Phoenicia used access to the Mediterranean Sea to develop extensive trade with Egypt,
and Egyptian deities were quite popular. Thus, the names of 8 Egyptian gods or goddesses
appear in the theophoric names of Phoenicia (Amun, Bastet, Isis, Osiris, Apis, Horus,
Min, and Ptah); no less than 6.8% of all different Phoenician names and 8.0% of all oc-
currences refer to Egyptian gods. Conversely, the far greater distance between Phoenicia
and Mesopotamia meant that deities from Mesopotamia were only rarely referred to (the
names mention only the 4 gods Assur, Bel, Nabu [?], and Shamash) and appear in only
3.2% of different names and 2.6% of all instances.
The opposite conditions prevailed in Syria, where close geographic, cultural, and polit-
ical connections to Mesopotamia ensured that its deities held prominent positions in the
Aramaic onomasticon, in which names mention 9 different Mesopotamian deities (Assur,
Bel, Enlil, Haldi [from Urartu], Nabu, Nanaya, Nusku, Shamash, and Sin). These amount
to 20.0% of all theophoric names and 18.9% of instances. References to Egyptian deities
are contrastingly few, with mention made only of Horus and Osiris and occurring in only
344 Chapter 5
1.6% of names and 1.5% of all instances.â•›214 On a much lower level, the local factor can be
observed in the Hebrew onomasticon. It contains the names of 3 Egyptian deities (Bes,
Horus, Isis) from their southern neighbors, which equal 1.7% of the theophoric names
and 1.2% of their occurrences, but only 1 reference to a Babylonian god (Shamash).â•›215
The almost complete absence of foreign gods from the Moabite and Ammonite onomasti-
cons—with the latter including 1 name that refers to Bel—probably reflects the compara-
tively remote locations of these peoples. In terms of Egyptian and Mesopotamian influ-
ence, Israelite family religion seems to have been situated somewhere in between their
Moabite/Ammonite and Phoenician/Aramean counterparts. In sympathy with the family
religions of Moab and Ammon, Israelite family religion manifests a small amount of poly-
theism. The primary god assumed the dominant position, and secondary gods were only
adopted by families from among a limited number of gods considered sufficiently depend-
able and trustworthy.
There are two final important patterns that must be noted. The first is referring to
divine characteristics as substitutes for the actual names of deities. This practice is observ-
able in the Hebrew, Aramaic, and Phoenician onomasticons, but it appears to have been
relatively uncommon in the Hebrew (a mere 0.8% of names and 0.7% of instances). It
was considerably more common in the Aramaic and Phoenician cultures (3.2% of names
and 2.8% of all instances). The second important pattern appears in references to god-
desses. A few specific goddesses are mentioned in the Hebrew, Moabite, Ammonite, and
Aramaic onomasticons, ranging between 2.0% and 4.5% of names. This striking under-
representation of female deities used in names was thus not a phenomenon restricted
to the Hebrew culture, and only in the Phoenician onomasticon did names mentioning
goddesses compose a notably higher portion: 13.4% of all theophoric names and 11.0% of
their occurrences. References to female deities in personal names are considered in more
detail below.â•›216
The foregoing comparisons of theophoric elements used in personal names across the
various Levantine cultures have shown that the form of each family religion was deter-
mined by its immediate religious environment, with particularly pronounced differences
between the cultures being due to the extent of polytheism. However, even considering
these difficulties, most cultures shared a number of common features in addition to those
that have already been observed with regard to the predicative statements.
214. Including the Idumean-Arabian goddess Ada in the seal WSS 790.
215. See WSS 1075 and HAE 21.77; epigraphically, the script shows some Aramaic influence.
Renz and Röllig (2005: 404) considered the name bearer potentially to have been Syrian, because
the father’s name contained the moon-god Śāhār, showing Aramean influence. But since the predi-
cate of the name Šamašʿizrī ‘Shamash is my help’ is clearly Hebrew, and the Aramean moon-god
seems also to have had some influence on the Judean culture (Isa 3:18), there is no reason to exclude
the name from the Hebrew onomasticon. Even if the name bearer did come from Syria, he seems to
have been entirely integrated into Israelite society.
216. See below, pp. 363–366.
Personal Names and Family Religion 345
family religions, we find one curious phenomenon. While a variety of theophoric elements
were used in the theophoric names throughout these different cultures, the predicative
statements remained strikingly similar in all of them.â•›217 This similarity can be observed
both by comparing the variety of deities in each individual onomasticon and by compar-
ing the different onomasticons.
These sorts of similarities and differences may be demonstrated by presenting just
a few striking examples taken from different groups of names established above. In the
names of thanksgiving, divine attention is often expressed by the predicate ׁשמעšāmaʿ, in-
dicating that a deity heard the complaint of the sufferer (see appendix B1.1.1). The Hebrew
onomasticon contains examples of these statements made with reference to El, Yhwh, and
Baal; the Ammonite and Edomite onomasticons refer in this fashion to El; and the Ara-
mean and Phoenician onomasticons, to Baal. Thus, all three of these deities were believed
to be able to respond in this same way. An even larger diversity of deities were associated
with the fundamental belief of divine salvation as expressed by the verb יׁשעyāšaʿ ‘to
save’ (see appendix B1.2.1). Identical statements are made in the Hebrew onomasticon
in association with the names El and Yhwh as in the Moabite for the divine brother and
Chemosh; in the Ammonite for El and Baal; in the Aramean for the divine lord (māreʾ↜);
and in the Phoenician for Milk.
In names of confession, belief that a certain deity had served as the aid ( עזרʿēzer; in
Aramaic עדרʿidr) of the name bearer was commonly attested (see appendix B2.3.1). In the
Hebrew onomasticon, this aid could be attributed to the divine father, the divine brother,
Yhwh, and probably also Shamash; El was considered able to aid in the Edomite onomas-
ticon; Baal in the Phoenician; and any or all of the gods Baal, Hadad, Ashtar, Shalman,
Shamash, and Sin in the Aramaic onomasticon. Regardless of differences in name and
nature, all gods were believed able to serve this same function. Similar concurrences arise
in regard to the fundamental confession that a particular deity had provided protection
( עזʿoz) for the name bearer (see appendix B2.4.1). This sentiment is expressed in Hebrew
names with regard to El, Adon (the divine lord), and Yhwh; in Moabite names with regard
to the divine father and Chemosh; in Ammonite names with regard to El and Adon; in
Aramean names with regard to Milkom, El, and Baal; and in Phoenician names with re-
gard to Baal, Ashtarte, and Milk. Again, this familial belief remains invariant throughout
regardless of differences in the divine natures of these gods.
A central tenet expressed in names of praise is belief in the goodness of a particular de-
ity ( טבṭōb or ṭūb; see appendix B3.2). Hebrew names considered the divine brother, uncle,
El, Yhwh, and Shalem to be equally praiseworthy for their goodness; Aramaic names
considered the divine brother and Shalem to manifest the same goodness; as did Baal in
Phoenician names.
Birth names are of particular interest in potentially revealing affinities with specific
gods or goddesses in relation to fertility and birth. Divine responses granted to the prayers
and vows of women during the birth process could be especially formative for the later
experiences of mother and child (see appendix B5.2). The verb ענהʿānāh ‘to respond’ is
incorporated into statements in the Hebrew onomasticon made in connection with the
deities Yhwh, Baal, and Qos; while in the Edomite onomasticon, these statements are
217. A similar observation was previously made about biblical names (Albertz 1978a: 71–74).
346 Chapter 5
associated with Qos; in the Aramean with El and Mot; and in the Phoenician with Baal.
The reference to Baal in this context may arise from the special relevance of this god to
fertility in general, as an extension of his association with soil fertility in the Ugaritic
mythological texts (DDD 1995: 249–56). Indeed, initial consideration of the distribution
of Baal names in the Hebrew onomasticon seems to support this assumption (table 5.7,
p.€508), in that 5 of the 11 known names are birth names, represented in 5 of the 20 known
instances. Although these figures reveal a considerable percentage of birth names among
the Baal names (45.4% and 25%, respectively), which would partly exceed the average
portion of all the birth names in the Hebrew onomasticon (28.4% of different names and
29.9% of all instances; see table 5.2, p.€505), the number of known Baal names and in-
stances is relatively low, and these percentages should to be considered provisional at best.
The names Baal, Hadad, and other weather-gods appear much more often in the Aramaic
and Phoenician onomasticons, and in these cases no particular preference for these gods
can be discerned in the birth names. In the Aramaic onomasticon, 22.6% of different
names (12 out of 53) or 20.3% of all instances (12 of 59) that refer to these gods belong to
the birth-experience name group (see table 5.11, p.€510). These figures just correspond to
the average portion of Aramean birth names (22.2% of all names, 23.2% of all instances;
see table 5.3, p.€506) and do not exceed it. In the Phoenician onomasticon, only 14.8% of
the names (9 of 61) or 19.8% of the instances (22 of 111) that refer to the weather-gods
can be assigned to the birth-experience name group (see table 5.12, p.€512). These figures
fall below even the average portion of Phoenician birth names, making 26.9% or 27.9%
of the total sample (see table 5.3, p.€506). Thus the higher affinity of the god Baal with the
birth process that might be inferred from the Hebrew personal names is not supported by
names in the neighboring cultures, where the god was much more prominent. Instead, it
must be considered to be a random result.
Another interesting fact, aside from these references to Baal is the appearance of the
god Mot in the Ammonite onomasticon and in Hebrew birth names. In Hebrew, the name
מרימותMĕrêmaut ‘Mot has blessed’ appears 3 times, and ירימותYerîmaut, plausibly ren-
dered ‘founded by Mot’, appears once.â•›218 The Ugaritic mythological texts posit Mot as the
enemy of Baal who represents death and all that is opposed to the life-giving fecundity of
Baal (DDD 1995: 1122–28). However, because Mot was used in personal names, appar-
ently all the negative attributes that were once associated with Mot had been nullified.
One very important belief expressed in birth names that was central to all family re-
ligions was the divine creation of each individual. Different cultures used different verbs
and nouns to express this divine creation, but all these statements may easily be consid-
ered together in one group. The divine creator of a child could, in the Hebrew onomas-
ticon, be considered El, Yhwh, Anat, Melek (or the divine king), Mot, or Bes; while only
El was so mentioned in the Edomite onomasticon; both El and Malk in the Ammonite;
El and Hadad in the Aramean; and in the Phoenician onomasticon, the divine father,
El, Ashtarte, Milk, Shalem, or Bastet could be considered divine creators. Among these
gods and goddesses, only El or Yhwh was considered a divine creator of humankind in
its entirety.â•›219 Although none of the other gods was ever regarded a god of creation in the
associated official religions, all of them clearly assumed creation roles in the family reli-
gions—even, astonishingly, the god of death, Mot.â•›220
Finally, among the most frequent birth names were the names that stated that a certain
deity had presented ( נתןnātan, in Phoenician יתןyaton) a child to his or her parents. In
Hebrew names, this presentation could be attributed to El, Yhwh, Baal, or Melek (or the
divine king); in Moabite names, to Chemosh or Baal; in Ammonite names, to El, Baal, or
Bel (Marduk); in Aramaic names, to the divine father, El, Baal, or Hadad; and in Phoeni-
cian names, to Baal, Eshmun, Ashtarte, Milk, Sid (the city-god of Sidon), Resheph, Bel,
or Apis. Again, there is a manifold diversity of gods, each of whom was considered both
able and willing to grant the same benevolent gift to a family. In this pantheon, the name
of Resheph in the Phoenician onomasticon is conspicuous. Resheph was conceived in
Ugaritic ritual texts as a “chthonic deity, gatekeeper of the Netherworld .€.€. the lord of
battle and diseases” (DDD 1995: 1325). In Phoenician family religion, however, he seems
to have been divested of these negative attributes and was praised freely as the benefactor
of a newborn child.
All of these examples reflect the central finding of the present section: that the pred-
icative statements in names that reflected and conveyed the beliefs of family religion were
used almost completely independently from the theophoric elements. The nature of the
deities referred to in names had relatively little influence on what these deities were con-
sidered able to offer in their divine capacities to families. The functions of deities were
largely immutable, and their identities were freely interchanged. Moreover, the cases of
Baal/Hadad, Mot, and Resheph demonstrate that specific characteristics that were attrib-
uted to deities in the official religious realms were very commonly neglected or negated
in their incorporation into the realm of family religion. Rather, gods were given attributes
that reflected the immediate needs of families, and family religion as a whole often con-
ceived of gods in ways that fundamentally contrasted with the views of official theologies
and state cults. Rather than deities’ being defined according to specific characteristics de-
veloped throughout the long history of nations or their cultic practices and places, they
were defined in family religion predominantly by specific functions. There was even a
small subgroup of Hebrew, Aramaic, and Phoenician theophoric elements that replaced
the names of deities with their functions (see table 5.8 [p. 509], “divine characteristics”).
These functions were at all times intimately related to the essential needs of individuals
and their families. These needs are relatively universal and change very little even during
long periods of time, while the identities of and characteristics ascribed to deities under-
went more dynamic transformations.
Thus, the religious beliefs and practices of Levantine families exhibited an essential
tension between an apparent tendency toward an enriched polytheism and a degree of
redundancy and interchangeability of divinities. Families were intimately dependent on
219. El was considered, based on his Ugaritic title, the ʾab ʾadam ‘father of mankind’; see the
Epic of Keret, KTU 1.14 I 36–37 (and TUAT 3.1219); El also cared for Keret’s wife during her confine-
ment and delivery (KTU 1.15 II 16–28; TUAT 3.1235). For Yhwh, see Gen 1:26–28; 2:7; Job 10:8–12.
220. For the participation of goddesses, see pp. 363–366 below.
348 Chapter 5
and influenced by their immediate religious environment and generally chose family de-
ities based on whether they were regarded as efficacious or were otherwise venerated in
their particular region or land. These regional tendencies no doubt produced the differ-
ent assemblages of deities observed in the Hebrew, Ammonite, Moabite, Aramaic, and
Phoenician onomasticons. However, differences among actual deities or in the number
of deities who were commonly venerated by families were apparently only of minor im-
portance. Because deities were adopted by families in response to the very specific needs
and beliefs of the family religion, deities were commonly divested of different character-
istics with which they might otherwise or previously have been associated. They literally
were assimilated into the essence of family religion. Regardless of their names, nature, or
number, deities were believed to act similarly for all families. Thus, the family religions
in relatively less-polytheistic environments such as Israel, Ammon, and Moab find many
direct parallels with family religions in the more markedly polytheistic environments of
Syria and Phoenicia.
Thus, consideration of the family religious practices and beliefs in any or all of these
cultures may aid our reconstruction of Israelite family religion. In being assimilated as
family deities, Yhwh, El, Baal, Anat, Mot, and other deities shed their individual attributes
and were believed to act or function in largely identical ways. The question posed by Tigay
(1987: 162–67) and J. D. Fowler (1988: 29–69) regarding the extent to which the use of
divine names or epithets other than direct references to Yhwh might be considered im-
plicit references to a national god is thus uninformative, because Israelite families would
probably not have distinguished between these various gods, whether they were implicitly
or explicitly associated with Yhwh or not. Israelite families might have regarded Yhwh as
the primary divine figure, but a very important and generic function of all divine names
and appellations was simply to represent the essence of divinity.â•›221 Thus, rather than re-
flecting a confusion about deities (which Jeremiah accused Judah of in the late 7th century
b.c.e., Jer 2:27), these names reveal the profound absence of competition among the vari-
ous deities. Up to the time of Jeremiah, Yhwh was not considered by the Israelite and Ju-
dean family religions as having any particularly unique attributes; rather, he was divested
at this level of characteristics that he otherwise had on the national level of both Israelite
kingdomsâ•›222 and was generically assimilated into the beliefs typical of family religions.
It was only after the Josianic reforms that the characteristics ascribed to Yhwh on the
national level began to be reflected in the practices and beliefs of Judean family religion.
221. As exemplified by the existence of the subgroup in which generic divine characteristics are
substituted for the names of deities (table 5.8).
222. Compare the observation made above (pp. 262–269) that Hebrew personal names make
no reference whatsoever to national religious traditions.
Personal Names and Family Religion 349
name. Equating names are a relatively impoverished group compared with other Levan-
tine onomasticons, containing only 7% of the names in the Hebrew onomasticon and 8%
of all attestations (see table 5.3). However, these names offer important insights about the
ways that family religion dealt with the divine.
As previously indicated by Noth (1928: 141–43), the names in this group were pri-
marily intended to identify various divine designations that had emerged during differ-
ent stages in the histories of the ancient Near Eastern religions (see also Albertz 1978a:
73–74). This assertion was subsequently questioned by Rechenmacher (1997: 18, 24), who
classified only a few names this way, such as אלהואʾElihûʾ, which he rendered ‘Il is he’ (that
is, the gracious and powerful god). He considered most of these names to be a means by
which a named god—in most cases, Yhwh—was classified as “god,” “father,” “lord,” or
“king” (1997: 11–24).â•›223 However, these divine designations often did not remain mere
appellatives throughout religious history but became divine names in their own right (for
example, El and Baal) or else became epithets that were intimately associated with par-
ticular deities, such as Milk ‘king’ for the Tyrian god Melqart, and Malkāh ‘queen’ for the
Queen of Heaven, as we know from the book of Jeremiah (Jer 7:18; 44:17–19, 25). These
are clear cases in which epithets replaced divine names, with the epithets assuming speci-
ficity to the divine names. Moreover, there are several examples from Israel’s neighbors in
which two named deities are unambiguously equated in a name, such as Šalmānrimmān
in the Aramaic onomasticon, which can only be translated ‘Shalman is (Hadad-)Rimmon’.
Although some equating names may have served partially to qualify the divine nature,
their primary function was identification.
Interpretation of equating names demands accurate determination of the subject and
predicate of the nominal statements, even though they generally lack clear grammatical
distinctions. Although a strict progression from subject to predicate was assumed in pre-
vious works (such as GKC §141,l; Noth 1927: 17–20), extensive consideration of nominal
clauses during the past few decades has revealed a more nuanced and intricate picture.â•›224
For example, the more modern grammar of Waltke and O’Connor (1990: 130) suggests
that, “Roughly speaking, an identifying clause has the order S–Pred and a classifying
clause has the reverse.” This general pattern is confirmed in some ways by the nominal
sentences found in epigraphic Hebrew names of confession, which clearly contain classi-
fying clauses and reveal a slight bias toward predicate-subject orderâ•›225 (51.5% of the time).
However, subject-predicate ordering remains more prominent even in qualifying nomi-
nal clauses in personal names than in the literary Hebrew of the Bible, as well as in the
nominal sentences of Hebrew texts found in epigraphic records (Gogel 1998: 276). This
reflects the generally lower literary standards of epigraphic inscriptions. Because equating
223. Other than in personal names, Yhwh is rarely qualified as father and never as brother or
uncle (see p. 351 below), leading Rechenmacher (1997: 22) to believe that identification with dif-
ferent deities was intended.
224. For a broad overview of this discussion, which remains inconclusive to date, see Joüon and
Muraoka, 2nd ed. (2006: 508–43); and Michel 2004: 23–46.
225. This order seems to be normative in the confession names in which the predicate consists
of a prepositional phrase, as in ʿImmadīyāhû ‘with me is Yhwh’ or Baʿadīyāhû ‘for me is Yhwh’.
This rule also holds true for nominal sentences in epigraphic inscriptions; see Gogel 1998: 277.
350 Chapter 5
226. The strict criterion for distinguishing the two types of functions on the basis of the defi-
niteness of the subject or the predicate is of little aid in interpreting equating names, because articles
are not used in personal names, and many divine designations may be understood as both divine
names and appellatives.
227. The alternative explanation by Stamm (1968: 279–84), that most of the Akkadian names
containing kinship terms were correctly interpreted as substitute names for deceased human rela-
tives, was restricted to a few cases by Di Vito (1993: 90–92, 254, 264).
228. The term ʿam, which denotes not only a father’s brother but also kin and related people in
a wider sense, was never used as an epithet for Yhwh.
Personal Names and Family Religion 351
differed only slightly from activities that families typically believed their gods were ca-
pable of undertaking. Thus, all divinized kinship terms may be considered semantically
equivalent to designations of family gods. These terms characterized the god of a family, to
whom the members felt themselves personally related; this notion was directly analogous
to the “very specifically declared relationship” that existed between family members and
that was considered so unique by the sociologist Nave-Herz (2002: 149). The foregoing
discussion demonstrates that the structures and beliefs of family religion were shaped and
defined to a very great extent by the character of intrafamilial social relationships,â•›229 and
it should thus not be surprising that a family deity would be referred to by terms that were
otherwise employed to denote specific family relationships.â•›230
Ancient Near Eastern societies were predominantly patriarchal. The father at least
symbolized (or assumed, in practice) all responsibility, care, and protection for his entire
familial group, and thus family gods were naturally commonly referred to as “father.”
Gods were also often named “brother,” which reflected the practice of an older brother’s
assuming responsibility for the family after the unavoidable absence or death of the fa-
ther (see, for example, Genesis 44). References to the father’s brothers appear for similar
reasons.â•›231 The issue of whether or not equivalent feminine terms such as “mother” and
“sister” were actually intended as divinized designations will be discussed below.â•›232 The
roles of father, mother, and brother also had social connotations and symbolism beyond
the mere family domain, as illustrated in a 9th-century b.c.e. inscription dedicated by
King Kilamuwa of Samʾal (KAI 24.10–11, 13) that declared: “Before the former kings,
the mškbm went [cowed] like dogs. I, however, to some was a father, to some a mother, to
some a brother. . . . I took the mškbm by the hand. They were disposed [toward me] as an
orphan is to his mother.”â•›233 References made to family gods by using similar kinship terms
were intended to evoke exactly this sort of idealized image.
In regard to the designations for gods, Israelite family religion again manifests a degree
of disjunction with the official religions of Judah and Israel. There are only a few known
cases from official religious realms in which Yhwh was referred to as or compared with a
father, suggesting that official theologians had reservations about using this familial title
for him during most of the monarchic period.â•›234 Moreover, Yhwh was never referred to
as or compared with either a brother or an uncle.
Presuming that all divinized kinship terms were intended to denote family gods en-
ables unambiguous translation of all equating names that were formed with the initial
elements ʾāb, ʾāḥ, or ʿam and followed by the name of a deity (see appendix B4.1). For
example, אבבעלʾAbībaʿal would be translated ‘[my divine] father is Baal’, אביוʾAbīyau as
‘my [divine] father is Yhwh’, אחיאלʾAḥîʾēl as ‘my [divine] brother is El’, אחחרʾAḥīḥūr as
‘[my divine] brother is Horus’, and עמׁשלםʿAmmīšālēm as ‘[my divine] uncle is Shalem’.
In all of these names, the family god, who is the subject of the nominal sentence, is predi-
cated by the higher god being named. These names thus allowed families to integrate
higher gods—who could have been adopted from their wider religious and social envi-
ronments, whether El, Yhwh, Baal, Shalem, or Horus—into their own symbolic world of
familial beliefs and traditions. By inheriting aspects of these higher deities, family gods
could be rendered more powerful or efficacious. At the same time, this sort of assimilation
would have required a certain redefining of these higher deities as they were adopted to
suit familial purposes and considered to offer the benefits of a protective father or brother.
A parent’s intention of integrating personally the gods identified by the names is clear
in cases in which the divinized kinship term is written with a first-person-singular suf-
fix, as in the example אחיאלʾAḥîʾēl ‘my [divine] brother is El’. A family god could also
be regarded as personally related to an entire family group, as was probably intended by
the Phoenician name אבנׁשמׁשʾAbinušamaš ‘our [divine] father is Shamash’. The Hebrew
name mentioned above, ʾAḥīḥūr, the Aramean name אבחלדיʾAbīḥaldî ‘[my divine] fa-
ther is Haldi’ (a deity from Urartu), and the Phoenician name אחמןʾAḥīmin ‘[my divine]
brother is Min’ (a deity from Egypt) attest that even deities from distant areas could be per-
sonally integrated into the intimate environments of individual families in this fashion.â•›235
It is also likely that names in which the second position expressed a divine epithet
rather than a named deity had the same purpose. Thus the very popular name אחמלך
ʾAḥīmelek should be rendered ‘[my divine] brother is king’ or ‘the king’, and the prob-
ably feminine pendant with the name אחמלכהʾAḥīmalkāh meant ‘[my divine] brother is
queen’ or ‘the queen’. While equivalent counterparts from the Aramaic and the Phoeni-
cian onomasticons probably intended explicit references to actual deities (Malik or Milk/
Melqart), the Hebrew names were more likely meant to be implicit references to major
deities, most likely Yhwh or El, but also Asherah.
The third way of constructing these names employed kinship terms in both the first
and second positions of the nominal sentence. These forms are more difficult to interpret
than the above two. In spite of the divinized interpretation that he had established, Noth
(1928: 222) interpreted the popular name אחאבʾAḥʾāb (34 instances) as being secular and
meaning ‘brother of the father’, alluding to the physical similarities of the newborn to
his father. Stamm (1980: 76) also read this name as a construct clause but considered it a
substitute name indicating that the newborn was felt to be the restored deceased brother
of the father. In contrast, Zadok (1988: 47) proposed that the name meant the same as
all other names containing divinized kinship designations, and thus he interpreted it as
‘The [divine] brother is [my] father’. This view subsequently gained additional support
235. See also the name אבלחיʾAbīluḥay in the Samaria papyri of the 4th century, in which the
remote Arabian deity Luḥay was integrated into the world of a Samarian family (see Cross 2006: 76).
Personal Names and Family Religion 353
by the discovery of three instances of the name spelled אחיאבʾAḥîʾāb, in which the plene
spelling suggests a first-person-singular suffix instead of a construct.â•›236 The name is thus
interpreted here as ‘My [divine] brother is father’, in which case it would not have been
intended to integrate a national or regional deity into the realm of the family but to be a
statement of trust that the god of the family is a faithful, reliable god.
Acceptance of this interpretation, however, raises the question whether the name אחאם
ʾAḥʾēm, which also has the plene-written variant אחיאםʾAḥîʾēm, should be understood in
a similar way as ‘My [divine] brother is mother’. Because of the vocalization in 2 Sam
23:33 and 1 Chr 11:35 of the similar name Aḥîʾām, Renz and Röllig (1995: 57–58; 2005:
131) followed Noth in proposing the interpretation ‘My brother has ruled’ (derived from
the Arabian root ʾāma), while Zadok (1988: 55) considered it more likely to be a shortened
form of ʾAḥîyamm ‘My brother is Yamm’ (the sea-god). But both explanations remain
contentious. Stamm (1980: 76) proposed the reading ʾAḥîʾem but conjectured that again
it was intended as a substitute name and should be translated ‘brother of the mother’.
Defectively spelled versions of this same name also appear in the Moabite and Philistine
onomasticons. But since we now also know names from Phoenicia that express the op-
posite sequence of kinship terms, as in אמיאחʾImmîʾāḥ, which is analogous to אמעׁשתרת
ʾImmīʿaštart ‘[My divine] mother is Ashtarte’,â•›237 it is highly plausible that all of these
names, including the Hebrew names, should be interpreted along the lines of ‘My [divine]
mother is brother’ or ‘My [divine] brother is mother’. The appearance of females in both
kinship terms presents no obstacle to this interpretation, because there are other known
examples of cross-sex combination.â•›238 If we accept these interpretations, the name אחאמה
ʾAḥīʾimmōh would also need to be interpreted, not as a substitute name (Renz and Röllig
2005: 121: ‘the [divine] brother of his mother’),â•›239 but as a nominal-sentence name, ‘The
[divine] brother is his mother’, with the predicate designating the mother of the child. Al-
though these interpretations must remain speculative to a certain extent, the existence of
names of this sort would reflect the belief that the family god had the qualities of a divine
mother. Even Yhwh was able to be compared with a mother (Num 11:12; Isa 49:14–15;
66:13), and thus no objections may be raised against this direct equating of God with a
mother figure at the level of Israelite family religion. Regardless, in all cases in which two
kinship terms are equated, the names were intended as declarations of trust: the family
god cared as a father, brother, or mother cared, and thus was acting as a true family god
for the benefit of his or her particular family.
236. Peculiarly, Zadok (1988: 59) considers the name ʾAḥʾāb to be a genitive construction.
237. Considering it to be the construct expression ‘the mother of [my] brother’ seems unrea-
sonable, because such a person would also be one’s own mother.
238. See the female Aramaic name ʾAḥatmalik ‘[My divine] sister is Malik’; the previously men-
tioned male Hebrew name, ʾAḥīmalkāh ‘[my divine] brother is the queen’; the female Phoenician
name, Milkatbaʿal ‘The queen is Baal’; and the Edomite name Qausʾimmī ‘Qos [?] is [my] mother’
(WSS 1056; although the reading of the divine name in this case is uncertain). See also the Punic
name, ʾImmi(ʿ)ešmun ‘My mother is Eshmun’ (Benz 57), for which Noth’s (1928: 71) explanation of
the first element as having been a poorly written version of ʾamot ‘maid or servant of ’,remains far
from convincing.
239. See also the parallels collected by Mähner 1992: 68–81.
354 Chapter 5
240. See Kottsieper (1997: 41 n. 57) and the newly restored line 2 of combination 1 in the re-
construction of Blum (2008: 377), which should be rendered ‘To him [Bileam] the gods came in the
night . . . his [vision] according to the saying of El’.
Personal Names and Family Religion 355
21:33), while Yhwh predominated in the political sphere. Thus, El seems to have held a
special affinity with family religion in the 1st millennium, and his presence and function
in the Levantine onomasticons of this period must be taken into consideration.
The volitional activity of ʾēl in the designations of the Levantine onomasticons is re-
flected in the high percentage of thanksgiving names that include this element and also
refer to specific activities of the divine. These names constitute 16.3% of all thanksgiving
names in the Hebrew onomasticon and 17.2% of all instances, compared with averages
(out of all names) of 13.1% and 11.1%, respectively (see table 5.7). Although these propor-
tions are not especially high, they are the most frequently occurring type of thanksgiving
names after those containing the theophoric element Yhwh. In the Aramaic onomasticon,
designations containing ʾēl are found in 34.9% of all thanksgiving names and 38.7% of all
their instances, compared with percentages from all name groups of 19.1% and 20.4%, re-
spectively (containing either ʾēl or ʾilāh; see table 5.11). The portion of thanksgiving names
in the Ammonite onomasticon that contain ʾil is extremely high, 88.9% of all names and
96.1% of all instances, in comparison with respective amounts across all name groups of
67.8 and 81.8% (see table 5.10). The Moabite sample is insufficiently large to permit any
statements of this kind. However, in the Phoenician onomasticon, the theophoric element
ʾēl is clearly underrepresented in the group of thanksgiving names and appears in only
5.6% of all such names and 4.0% of instances (see table 5.12). Percentages across all name
groups are in this case only slightly larger, at 7.2% and 5.6%, respectively. It thus appears
that it was not only the morphologically unambiguous references in the Aramaic ono-
masticon that intended explicit references to the god El but also most of the theophoric
elements in the Ammonite onomasticon. The Hebrew epigraphic onomasticon probably
also reflects the lingering significance of the god El because, even if reference to his name
developed into the more appellative sense, the Hebrew Bible still attests his name in about
one-third of all theophoric personal names during the 10th century (see J. D. Fowler 1988:
367–68). It was only in Phoenicia that El seems to have lost his significance.
It is thus apparent that El assumed the position of the most important family god in
the Ammonite culture where, like Yhwh in the Israelite onomasticon, personal names
that referred to him formed the highest percentage in all name groups except the equating
names. With averages of 67.8% of all names and 81.8% of all instances, his popularity ex-
ceeded even that of Yhwh (59.4% and 67.6%, respectively; see table 5.10). Remarkably, the
Ammonite national god Milkom has appeared only twice to date in the Ammonite ono-
masticon, in the names מלכמאורMilkomʾûr ‘Milkom is [my] light’ (WSS 860), and מלכמגד
Milkomgad ‘Milkom is [my] luck’ (WSS 940; see appendixes B2.3.3 and B2.5.3). This is
the same number of instances referring to this deity known in the Aramaic onomasticon
(WSS 792, 853; see appendix B2.4.1). Even if we assume that the 3 Ammonite names con-
taining the theophoric element malk ‘Malk’ or ‘king’ were intentionally associated with
Milkom, these percentages only increase from 2.2% to 5.5% of all Ammonite names and
from 0.9 to 2.4% of all occurrences. Thus, the choices of family gods manifest a profound
discontinuity between family and state religions in the Ammonite culture.
In contrast to divinized designations of kinship, the theophoric element ʾēl appears in
only a small percentage of equating names, ranging across the cultures between 5% and
11%. It is only noticeably higher in the Ammonite onomasticon. This element or name
356 Chapter 5
thus appears to have been less important in distinguishing among the various gods in fam-
ily religion than divinized designations of kinship. Most if not all of the cases in which the
element ʾēl stands in the first position of the nominal statement and a named god appears
in the second (see appendix B4.2) should be interpreted—as illustrated by the biblical par-
allels—as designations for the tutelary or personal god, even though the first-person-sin-
gular suffix is not explicitly written. Thus, the famous example of the Hebrew name אליהו
ʾElīyāhû ‘my god is Yhwh’, which is attested in 13 inscriptions, can now be seen to have
been an ordinary personal name, as can the Phoenician name אלבעלʾElībaʿal ‘my god is
Baal’, and probably also the Ammonite name אלמלךʾElīmalk ‘my god is king/Milkom’.â•›241
Similar to gods in the names that contain divinized kinship terms, the personal god of the
family is predicated by a higher god; the former inherits the power of the latter, while the
latter is integrated into the personal, symbolic world of family religion.
There are a few different cases in which the tutelary god was equated with a divinized
kinship term, as in the Phoenician name אלעםand the Aramean or Ammonite counter-
part אליעםʾElîʿam ‘my god is [my] uncle’ (which may also have included a written suffix;
see WSS 1105). As for the names that included two divinized kinship terms, a trusting,
intimate relationship is being acknowledged with the family god, who acted as a true fam-
ily god by caring for the family as an uncle (father’s brother) would.
In the cases in which the theophoric element ʾēl, written without a suffix, holds the sec-
ond position of the nominal sentence, with the first position designating the family god,
it is likely that the god El was meant, as clearly exemplified in the Ammonite name מראל
Māreʾil ‘[My] lord is El’, which appears 4 times (see appendix B4.5.1). This is also probably
the case with the Hebrew name אחיאלʾAḥîʾēl and its shortened form חיאלḤîʾēl, both of
which may be translated ‘My [divine] brother is El’ (see appendix B4.1.2). The family god
is predicated in these cases by El, from whom he gains his power; again, such construc-
tions indicate the ongoing integration and assimilation of El into the religious world of
the family. These sorts of integrative and assimilative process are especially noticeable in
the Ammonite culture, where El became the favored family god,â•›242 as did Yhwh in the
Israelite culture. Thus, to a certain extent, these equating names mirror the more-general
aspects of religious historical development.
241. It remains uncertain whether the identically written Aramean name would also have been
intended in the same sense, as ‘My god is Malik’, or as an identification with the two gods El and
Malik. For the god Malik, who seems to have had a funeral and underworld character, see DDD
1995: 1005–12.
242. In the few cases where it is likely that the shortened form of the word ʾēl with a suffix
was being written, such as אחליʾAḥlay ‘[My divine] brother is my god’ in Hebrew and ססליSāsilî
‘Shamash is my god’ in Aramaic, the tutelary god would again have been intended.
243. See above, p. 341.
Personal Names and Family Religion 357
general distribution across all Hebrew personal names. His name is especially prevalent
in names of thanksgiving (72.3% of names and 77.0% of all instances) and birth names
(73.4% of names and 83.5% of all instances) but also appears to have been common in
names of confession (82.6% of all instances; see table 5.7). It is only in equating names that
the number that refer to Yhwh is far below average—attested in only 24.4% of names and
24.6% of instances.
The name Yhwh was nevertheless a frequent theophoric element in Hebrew equating
names, occurring in 19 different names, 104 instances. In 14 names and 86 instances, his
name assumes the second (predicate) position, while in 5 names and 18 instances, it ap-
pears in the first (subject) position in nominal statements. Thus in most cases, the family
or the personal god was predicated by Yhwh. This accords with the process discussed
above in which Yhwh, the national god of Israel, was becoming integrated and assimilated
into the personal, symbolic world of Israelite families.
There are, however, a few cases in which Yhwh was predicated by other gods (see ap-
pendix B4.4), who could of course have been family gods, for example, the names יהואב
Yĕhôʾāb or יואבYauʾāb ‘Yhwh is [divine] father’ and יהואחYĕhôʾāḥ ‘Yhwh is [divine]
brother’. These sorts of name expressed other aspects of identity. In being adopted by
families, Yhwh inherited family characteristics in sympathy with family gods, and he was
thus subject to expectations that he would act as a father or brother in being responsible
for the care and protection of a family. The same processes led to his being divested of
the military and political characteristics that had been so important for the state religion.
Yhwh thus became a typical family god, who was believed to act for the benefit of (his)
families precisely as other family gods had always done and would continue to do.
The present epigraphic sample also suggests that Yhwh was only predicated by one
other primary god, El, in the equating name יהואלYĕhôʾēl or יואלYauʾēl (Joel) ‘Yhwh
is El’. The spelling of this name in the Hebrew Bible proves that it was not referring to a
tutelary god. Of course, ʾēl could be regarded as an appellative in the sense ‘Yhwh is god’,â•›244
but since we know from the Hebrew Bible that Yhwh was in fact equated with the older
god, El—the former king of the gods—during the preexilic period,â•›245 it is more likely
that this name, at least as originally formulated, would have been intended in the more
concrete sense that Yhwh inherited the power and position of El. Presuming this inter-
pretation, the name Joel would then mirror these general religious-historical processes on
the family level. The Hebrew Bible records almost the same percentage (around 30%) of
Yhwh-containing names from the 10th century as El-containing names, with Yhwh later
assuming dominance (see J. D. Fowler 1988: 366–67). Therefore, by choosing the name
Joel, the families who had formerly venerated El as their family god confessed that Yhwh,
after taking over the position, acted exactly as El previously had. By these means, families
were able to express their confidence that the gods they chose to venerate remained es-
sentially identical, regardless of changing religious-historical conditions.
244. This wider understanding is evident in, for example, the postexilic name from Samaria
יהובגהYĕhôbaga, which according to Cross (2006: 79) uses the Iranian word baga ‘god’ to declare
that ‘Yhwh is god’; by being correlated with a foreign appellative, Yhwh inherits a degree of Iranian
flavor and is defined as a god who fits into the international culture of the Persian Empire.
245. See Albertz 1994: 1.77–78, 132–35, 137–38, 144.
358 Chapter 5
The epigraphic Hebrew onomasticon includes only one name known to date in which
the god Baal is equated with another god (see appendix B4.3), בעלאBaʿalāʾ ‘Baal is [DN]’,
although this is a hypocoristicon and does not unambiguously indicate by which god Baal
should be predicated. The shortened form of the same name is also attested in the Moabite
and Ammonite onomasticons, while the Hebrew Bible records the name בעליהBaʿalyāh
(one of David’s warriors, 1 Chr 12:6). This name is rightly rendered ‘Baal is Yhwh’. The
rendering supposed by some scholars (such as J. D. Fowler 1988: 55), ‘Yhwh is the Lord’,
would require the opposite sequence of elements. In my interpretation, ‘Baal is Yhwh’
reflects a similar process, in which Yhwh was substituted by Baal as the god of the family,
and the name attests that Baal is identical to Yhwh. The foundation of this name posited
here is also supported textually by the accusations of the prophets that the people pre-
ferred to venerate Baal at the expense of Yhwh (2€Kgs 1:3; Hos 11:2; 13:1; Zeph 1:4; Jer
2:23; 7:9; 12:16).
Similar patterns, in which a primary or major god holds the subject position in the
nominal statement and is predicated either by a family or a personal god or some other
important god, can also be observed in the onomasticons of Israel’s neighbors (see ap-
pendix B4.4). The Moabite onomasticon contains the name כמׁשעםKamōšʿam ‘Chemosh
is [divine] uncle’, in which the Moabite national god is defined based on the family god’s
qualities; and the name כמׁשאלKamōšʾēl ‘Chemosh is El’, in which he inherits El’s position.â•›246
The Aramaic onomasticon includes the name ׁשמׁשיב, plausibly interpreted as Šamšîʾāb
(Lemaire 2001: 45) and conveying the meaning ‘My Shamash is [my divine] father’. Here
the Babylonian sun-god is qualified based on the family god and even inherits from him
the personal connotation. The personal god becomes the qualifier for high gods in the
names ססליSāsilî ‘Shamash is my god’, סיראדניSîrʾadōnî ‘Osiris is my lord’, and ׁשאדני
Šēʾadōnî ‘Sin is my lord’, where suffixes are explicitly written. In these cases, ʾadōn clearly
designates a personal god, thereby suggesting that names in which the specific Aramaic
term מראmāreʾ ‘lord’ was written without the suffix might also have intended a connec-
tion with a personal god—for example, נבמראNabūmāreʾ ‘Nabû is lord’, read in the sense
of ‘my lord’. The identity of two different major deities is clearly attested in the names ׁשידד
Šēdad ‘Sin is Adad’ and ׁשלמנרמןŠalmānrimmān ‘Shalman is [Hadad-]Rimmon’. In the
first of these, the Aramean weather-god Hadad is substituted by the Babylonian moon-
god Sin; while in the second, the same deity, here called by his epithet ‘the thunderer’ (see
2 Kgs 5:18) is substituted by the horseman’s deity Shalman (see DDD 1995: 1431–33). In
both cases, the deities who were adopted in this way by these two families were considered
to have inherited the powers of the prominent Aramean god.
No such clear patterns of association arise in the Phoenician onomasticon. There are
clear identifications of major deities with divinized kinship terms and with personalized
divine epithets, as in מלקרתאבMelqartʾāb ‘Melqart is [my divine] father’, by means of
which the city-god of Tyre was being assimilated to and modified in accordance with the
family god. The same would have occurred with the Phoenician god Eshmun in relation
246. The Edomite onomasticon possibly contains two names of this sort; both of their readings
remain uncertain. One name refers to a family god ( קוסאםQausʾimmī ‘Qos [?] is [my] mother’; WSS
1056); the other refers to a personal god ( קוסאדניQaus[?]ʾadōnî ‘Qos [?] is my lord’; WSS 1057).
Personal Names and Family Religion 359
247. The predicate statements of the names that contain Eshmun are not specifically affiliated
with healing; for example, none of the names is derived from the root rāpāʾ ‘to heal’.
248. See p. 360.
360 Chapter 5
Phoenician onomasticons and together amount to 5.5% and 3.8% of Ammonite, 5.7% and
5.1% of Aramaic, and 4.0% and 5.0% of Phoenician names and instances, respectively.
These two epithets are absent only from the small Moabite onomasticon. But with this
small exception of Moabite names, all of these old epithets were clearly common features
in the Levantine onomasticons. Naturally, they appeared in the forms of the local variants.
Like the divinized kinship designations, the epithets ʾadōn and māreʾ appear especially
frequently in the equating names group. In the Hebrew onomasticon, ʾadōn is present in
71.4% of all names and 85.7% of instances. I demonstrated above that ʾadōn in the predi-
cate position of equating names and when provided with a first-person-singular suffix
probably designated the tutelary god in the Aramaic and the Phoenician onomasticons.
Similar designations were probably also intended in the Hebrew onomasticon, where
ʾadōn took the first position (see appendix B4.5.1). Parallels in the Hebrew Bible suggest
that the name אדניהוʾAdōnīyāhû and its variants were considered to have the first-person-
singular suffix and thus should be rendered ‘my lord is Yhwh’. Just as the theophoric ele-
ment ʾēlī ‘my god’ represented the integration of the national god Yhwh in an individual’s
personal relationship with his or her deity, the Phoenician name אדנבעלʾAdōnībaʿal ‘[my]
lord is Baal’ represented the same process with regard to Baal. The appearance in the
Ammonite onomasticon of the name אדנאבʾAdōnīʾāb ‘[my] lord is the [divine] father’,
in which the personal god is predicated by the family god, is not evidence against this
argument, because combinations of this sort also appear with ʾēlî, as in the Aramean or
possibly Ammonite name אליעםʾElîʿam ‘my god is the [divine] uncle’.
In Aramean names, the epithet māreʾ ‘lord’ seems to have been intended in some
cases (particularly in thanksgiving and birth names) to represent a primary god, possibly
Hadad. But the equating names group reveals a different association. Because the name
מריחלדMārayḥaldi ‘my lord is Haldi’ is explicitly written with the first-person-singular
suffix, all other equating names containing māreʾ or māre in first position may plausibly
be interpreted in the same way. Take, for example, the name מראהדMāreʾhadd ‘[my] lord
is Hadad’, which is evidence that the primary god in the Aramaic onomasticon, Hadad,
had been integrated into the familial sphere of personal gods, just as Yhwh was in Israel
and Baal was in Phoenicia. Thus the theophoric elements māreʾ, ʾadōn, and ʾēl, which take
first position in nominal statements, along with the similarly positioned divinized kinship
terms, whether or not they contained the first-person-singular suffix, probably all had
very similar functions in these equating names.
The second of these old epithets, ‘king’, seems to have been used a little bit more di-
versely in the Levantine onomasticons. It was relatively less frequent in equating names
and also appears in all the other groups. The Hebrew onomasticon reveals this epithet in
only 5 of 13 personal equating names (or 39%), but these names are 88.5% of all recorded
instances. The Hebrew, Edomite, Moabite, and Ammonite onomasticons seem to reflect
the tradition or rule that, when an epithet was used as the second element in verbal- or
nominal-sentence names, it was always a substitute for the name of a major deity, whether
Yhwh, El, Milkom, or someone else.â•›249 When it was used in the first position, the epithet
249. See the Hebrew names Yĕkolmelek ‘the [divine] king has proven himself to be mighty’
(thanksgiving), Śĕrāmelek ‘the divine kings rules’ (praise), ʾAḥīmelek ‘[my divine] brother is king’
Personal Names and Family Religion 361
always seems to have designated a personal god. This rule even appears to have guided
the construction of the Moabite name of thanksgiving מלכיעזרMalkî↜ʿazar ‘my king has
helped’, in which the first-person-singular suffix is explicitly written,â•›250 and the Hebrew
name of confession מלכיצדקMalkîṣedeq ‘my [divine] king is [my] justice’, with a similarly
explicit first-person-singular suffix. This rule probably also led to the formation of the
name מלכנרMalkīnēr ‘[my divine] king is [my] light’, although the suffix is not written in
this case. We may therefore assume that equating names in which the epithet is in first po-
sition were meant in the same sense. The very common name ( מלכיהוrecorded 32 times)
and its rare Northern counterpart מלכיוcan with certainty be transcribed Malkīyāhû and
Malkīyau and be rendered ‘my [divine] king is Yhwh’, although the first-person-singular
suffix is concealed by the first letter of the divine name. This interpretation is also sup-
ported by the Masoretic punctation (Jer 38:6). The last two names have the same gram-
matical and logical structure as the name אליהוʾEliyāhû ‘my god is Yhwh’, in that the per-
sonal god is predicated by Yhwh, from whom he draws his power, and Yhwh is integrated
into the personal sphere of family religion. The only difference is that the personal god
in the present case is referred to as ‘my king’. Thus, just like ʾelî and ʾadōnî, whenever the
theophoric element melek—which was probably always intended to be read as containing
the first-person-singular suffix—appears in the first position in Hebrew personal names,
it designates the tutelary or personal god of the family.
The “rule” discerned above does not appear to have applied in the Aramaic and Phoe-
nician onomasticons because, in these cultures, the element MLK was used in either first
or second position to denote the specific deity Malik or Milk/Melqart. There are only a few
instances in which the element in the first position appears with a first-person-singular
suffix.â•›251 It is thus unclear whether the Phoenician equating name מלכׁשמׁשMilkšamaš
meant that the god Milk or the personal god was supposed to be equated with Shamash.
The first of these possibilities seems more plausible and would thus have been equating
two major or primary gods.
In conclusion, the hypothesis that equating names primarily served to identify various
deities and achieved this through the structured ordering of subject and predicate leads
to clear and coherent results. The equating names evidence four distinct possibilities for
correlating two deities, which are analogous to observations previously made in regard to
the predicates of theophoric personal names (see table 5.13, p. 514).
(equating); Miqnēmelek ‘creature of the [divine] king’ (birth); and Bōmelek/milk ‘in the hand of
the [divine] king/Milk’ (confession). Only in the last case are we uncertain whether the name was
meant to refer to an epithet or to the god Milk/Melqart, because the form of this name is typically
Phoenician. These names may be compared with the Ammonite names Yĕrīmmalk ‘the [divine]
king has exalted’ (thanksgiving), ʾIlīmalk ‘[my] god is the [divine] king’ (equating), and Miqnēmalk
‘creature of the [divine] king’ (birth), and the Edomite and Moabite names Padamalk ‘the [divine]
king has ransomed’ (thanksgiving).
250. See WSS 1039; here the editors interpreted the yod as a prefix of the verb, but since there is
no other instance in which a name containing the verb עזרʿāzar ‘to help’ is constructed with a prefix
conjugation, this interpretation is much less plausible.
251. The clearest of these is the Phoenician name מלכיעזר, traditionally transcribed Milkyaʿzor
‘Milk has or will help’, which could also be read Milkîʿazor ‘my king has helped’.
362 Chapter 5
In the first case, either the family god (Type 1a) or the personal god (Type 1b) is predi-
cated by a major deity, from whom it inherits its power. Through this equating, the major
deity becomes integrated into the personal sphere of the family and the symbolic world
of its religion. This process corresponds to the observation made aboveâ•›252 that all deities
assimilated into family religion were given personalized characteristics and assumed very
similar functions, which were of direct benefit to families.
In the second case, a major deity was predicated either by the family god (Type 2a) or
the personal god (Type 2b). Through this equating, the major deity became shaped by the
characteristics of the personal family god and was largely divested of the characteristics
that had been ascribed to it in the sphere of official religion. This process reflects various
observations of deities’ losing specific characteristics when integrated into familial realms.
Even the deities with largely negative connotations in spheres of official religion, such as
Mot and Resheph, could act for the benefit of individuals on the level of family religion.â•›253
Moreover, the activities that so clearly characterized Yhwh on the national level are absent
from the predicative elements used in Hebrew personal names.â•›254
In the third case, different types of deities from the same family level are predicated by
one another, whether the personal god by the family god (Type 3a), the family god by the
personal god (Type 3b), or the family god by the family god (Type 3c). These names are
confessions of trust that the chosen god of a family is a true family or personal god. They
reflect the strong influence of the intimate social and emotional relationships of family
members on family religion.â•›255
In the fourth and final case, a major god is predicated by a major god (Type 4). During
the changing conditions of the polytheistic religious environments, these names allowed
families to adhere to the identity of the gods they had chosen. Thus this type of equating
name corresponded to the observations made above that on the level of family religion
all the deities were furnished with the same functions. Because family religion placed
primary emphasis on personal relationships with the divine, it manifested a tendency to-
ward monolatry, in which all gods, however they might be named, were expected to act in
the same way for the benefit of a family. Each god would have represented the complete
divinity for each family, and the only possible debate might have been over which of the
various divine representations was the most effective. Thus this last subgroup of equating
names can be regarded as reflecting the response of family religion to its encounter with
the larger, variously polytheistic environment. By making these various gods identical,
family religion effectively pled for an inclusive sort of monolatry.â•›256
252. See above, pp. 332–333 and 341–344.
253. See above, pp. 346–347.
254. See above, pp. 262–269.
255. See above, pp. 331–333.
256. This tendency toward monolatry can also be observed in the names in which the sec-
ond theophoric element is simply the pronoun הואhûʾ ‘he’, such as in the Phoenician name אבהא
ʾAbīhūʾ ‘[my divine] father is the one [who is god]’, which also appears in the Hebrew Bible (Exod
6:23), and in the epigraphic and biblically attested Hebrew names אלהואʾElīhûʾ ‘[my] god is the
one [who is god]’ and יהואYēhûʾ ‘Yhwh is the one [who is god]’. In the case of Abihu and Elihu,
the pronoun refers to major deities; and in the case of Yehu, it refers to the family gods, who are
confessed to be true gods.
Personal Names and Family Religion 363
A final look at the theophoric element Yhwh in the Hebrew equating names reveals
that polytheism as encountered by Israelite families was apparently rather limited. The
vast majority of the Yhwh-names belong to the above Types 1a (31.6% of names and
21.2% of instances) and 1b (41.1% of names and 61.5% of instances), in which the family
or personal god is predicated by Yhwh. Taken together, these two groups comprise 73.7%
of all names and 82.7% of all instances. Type 2a, in which Yhwh is predicated by the fam-
ily god, contains a smaller number (15.8% of names and 15.4% of instances), but in only
10.5% of names and 1.9% of instances is Yhwh predicated by the god El (Type 4). Even
through the presence of the name Baʿalyāh in the Hebrew Bible suggests the possibility of
more names of this type than have been found to date in epigraphic material, it is never-
theless apparent that under the relatively restricted polytheistic conditions of Israel, the
overwhelming function of the equating names was to integrate Yhwh into the sphere of
family religion and not to identify him with other major deities.
[ʾA]ḥatʿazzāt, which may be plausibly rendered ‘[divine] sister, you have proven yourself
to be strong’. Assuming that female kinship terms were used as theophoric elements not
only in Akkadian but also in Levantine personal names allows similar interpretations of
the Hebrew names אחיאםand אחאםʾAḥîʾem as ‘my [divine] brother is mother’ and אחאמה
ʾAḥīʾimmōh ‘[my divine] brother is his mother’.â•›261 The second name is also attested in
the Moabite and Phoenician onomasticons. A number of families acknowledged in these
names that the family god addressed as the brother (who was responsible for fostering and
protecting the family) also acted as an ideal divine mother (see appendix B4.1.2).
In two cases from the Hebrew onomasticon, goddesses are named by their titles. In
the name אחמלכהʾAḥīmalkāh ‘my brother is queen’ or ‘the Queen’ (see appendix B4.1.2),
the title seems to refer to a major goddess such as Asherah, Ashtarte, or Ishtar. The He-
brew Bible refers to one of these goddesses (or a mixture of them) as ‘Queen of Heaven’
()מלכת הׁשמיםâ•›262 (in Jer 7:18; 44:17–19, 25). Since the ostracon that has this name (NEE
79.92–102) can probably be dated on epigraphic grounds to the late 7th or early 6th cen-
turies, it would have been contemporary with Jeremiah’s polemic against this goddess.
The editors Robert Deutsch and Michael Heltzer hesitated to accept the feminine ending,
because the text denotes the name bearer as male. They therefore suggested a scribal er-
ror, based which the final he should be replaced by a yod, and the name should be read
ʾAḥīmalkî ‘[My] brother is my king’ (NEE 79.93). But this conjecture is unconvincing,
because the name ʾAḥimelek is common both epigraphically and biblically, yet it is never
spelled with the first-person-singular suffix. Moreover, in the epigraphic Hebrew onomas-
ticon, the theophoric element melek appears with this suffix only in the first position of a
nominal sentence and not in the second. Thus, the final he of the name most likely actually
refers to a female ending. The fact that a man is denoted as a worshiper of the Queen of
Heaven presents no contradiction for two reasons. First, there are many examples in the
Phoenician and Aramaic onomasticons where men appear as servants of goddesses such
as ʿAbdimilkat ‘servant of the [divine] queen’ or ʿAbdbaʿalat ‘servant of the [divine] lady’.â•›263
Second, Jer 7:18 describes the Queen of Heaven as being eagerly worshiped by all family
members, including husbands. There would thus have been no reason that a Judean fam-
ily might not have called their newborn son ‘[my divine] brother is the Queen’, by which
statement they would have been identifying their own family god with the goddess. Other
examples of cross-sexual identifications in Levantine equating names have been discussed
above.â•›264
In the hypocoristicon אדתאʾAdattāʾ ‘[my] mistress is [DN]’, attributed to a woman,
the female title would probably have referred to the personal goddess, as in the equating
names in which the male counterpart ʾadōnî ‘my lord’ was used in the first position of the
divinized female kinship terms came to the Levant from Mesopotamia, they still demonstrate an
incontrovertible reality.
261. For similar supporting arguments, see p. 353 above.
262. As LXX Jer 44:17 shows, the divine title was originally read malkat haššamayim, and the
reading mĕleket or mĕleʾket in the sense of ‘hosts of heaven’ in later Hebrew manuscripts is a deliber-
ate distortion.
263. See below, p. 366.
264. See above, p. 353.
Personal Names and Family Religion 365
nominal-sentence names. The name verifies that, in individual cases, female deities could
also be chosen as the personal gods of Israelite families, which we know was done by some
of Israel’s neighbors (see appendix B4.1.–2.).
A named female deity is clearly attested in the name בנענת, which has two plausible
interpretations. The first of these derives from the noun בןben ‘son’, producing the trans-
literation Benʿānat, which is translated ‘son of Anat’. This name also seems to have been
present in the Phoenician onomasticon (see appendix B2.6.3).â•›265 However, because this
type of name is extremely rare in the Hebrew onomasticon, the name is perhaps more
likely to have derived from the verb בנהbānāh ‘to build, to create’ and thus transliterated
Bĕnāʿānat and rendered ‘Anat has created’.â•›266 The goddess Anat is depicted in Ugaritic
texts as the consort and sister of Baal and is not known as a creator. She seems to have
been affiliated more with warriors than with sexuality (see DDD 1995: 63–66). These char-
acteristics, however, do not mean that she was not adopted for use in the present context
because, in family religions, the characteristics of all deities were altered in accordance
with family needs.
In the Hebrew onomasticon, the second and final female deity called by name is the
Egyptian goddess Isis (see appendix B2.6.2). There are no less than six appearances of the
name מאסknown to date. With Zadok (1988: 175), I propose that this name be read Mēʾis
‘from Isis’. This interpretation is debatable, however. There may be a formal parallel in a
personal name that was formed by combining the preposition מןmin ‘from’ and a theo-
phoric element: the Phoenician name מחדׁשMēḥōdeš ‘from the new moon’. Because this
name was recorded in this form too many times to be a scribal error, and because negative
statements would have been implied if the name were derived from the verb מאסmāʾas ‘to
reject’ and would not have been used in personal names,â•›267 Zadok’s explanation remains
the only plausible suggestion to date. Accepting this interpretation, I think that the name
meant that the child who came from Isis would belong to Isis for his or her entire life.â•›268
Even though there are a few uncertainties regarding potential references to female
deities in the Hebrew onomasticon, the discussion above seems to provide irrefutable ev-
idence of their incorporation into personal names. Five different female theophoric ele-
ments presented here were used in the Hebrew onomasticon; they appeared in 7 names
culled from 17 instances. These represent only 1.7% of all epigraphically attested names
and 0.9% of their occurrences. In terms of numbers of goddesses, the epigraphic Hebrew
onomasticon is similar to the Aramaic onomasticon, and while the number of goddesses
in the Moabite and Ammonite onomasticons was even smaller, their overall percentages
were similar. The only onomasticon in which the number and percentage of goddesses
were considerably higher was the Phoenician (see table 5.14, p. 514).
265. This name in the Ugaritic onomasticon is interpreted by Gröndahl (1967: 321) in this
direction.
266. This interpretation is supported by Renz and Röllig 2005: 376, 172–74.
267. Moreover, rejection by Yhwh of a person, king, or his people seems more likely to have
been a concept of the official religion; see, e.g., māʾas in Jer 14:19; Ps 89:39; and Lam 5:22; and zānaḥ
in Ps 44:10; 60:3, 12; 74:1; 89:39; and Lam 2:7.
268. See also the birth name אסיתןʾIsiyaton ‘Isis has given’, which appears in Samarian papyri
from the 4th century b.c.e.; and Cross 2006: 76.
366 Chapter 5
No immediate reasons can be offered for the paucity of references to goddesses in the
Hebrew, Moabite, Ammonite, and Aramaic onomasticons. The societies of both Phoeni-
cia and Mesopotamia, where the proportions of female deities mentioned in names were
considerably higher, were relatively more developed and urbanized. Women in these so-
cieties occupied more important, prominent positions in public life. In contrast, in other
Levantine areas, where societies were less developed and were defined by more-rural tra-
ditional values, women were often marginalized. Under such conditions, male deities may
also have been presumed to be more powerful or efficacious. The prominent position of
Ashtarte among the female deities of the Phoenician onomasticon would certainly have
been due to the fact that she enjoyed the rank of a national deity with her own temples in
Sidon and other Phoenician cities (1 Kgs 11:5).
The sex of a divinity seems, however, to have been of limited consequence in family
religion, and what was true for male deities seems also to have been true for female equiv-
alents. There were no specific functions for which goddesses would have been thought
to have special responsibility, as exemplified most clearly in the fact that they in no way
assumed more prominent roles in birth names. There is only 1 birth name in the Hebrew
onomasticon that refers to a goddess, while there are 6 names in the Phoenician onomas-
ticon that refer to goddesses (Ashtarte, Bastet, or Isis), known from a total of 8 references
(see table 5.12). In this latter case, the names are 17.4% of 34 total names and 15.6% of
51 instances (see table 5.14). Among these goddesses, Ashtarte is the only goddess who
gains any noticeable prominence, by appearing in 5 records with 4 different Phoenician
birth names. These are 23.5% of all names that refer to Ashtarte and 20.8% of all instances.
Although this proportion may seem impressive initially, compared with the number of
general Phoenician birth names, however, which constitute 26.9% of names and 27.9% of
instances (see table 5.3), the Phoenician goddesses, including Ashtarte, are actually rela-
tively underrepresented. The goddess Anat is the only female deity referred to in a Hebrew
birth name who can be demonstrated to have lost all of her typical warrior characteristics,
which also happened to all male deities.â•›269 There were thus no perceptible differences in
the roles played by goddesses and the roles of their male counterparts in the Levantine
onomasticons.
One might expect that a goddess would be more likely to be mentioned when par-
ents were naming a newborn daughter, yet this does not appear to have been a common
practice either. There were only a few women with a name that referred to a female deity:
נעמלכתNoʿammilkat ‘kindness of the Queen’ and חנעׁשתרתḤannaʿaštart ‘Ashtarte was
gracious’ in the Phoenician onomasticon; אחתאבʾAḥatʾab ‘my sister is father’ in the Am-
monite; אחתמלךʾAḥatmalik ‘my sister is Malik/king’ in the Aramaic; and אדתאʾAdattāʾ
‘[my] mistress is [DN]’ in the Hebrew onomasticon. However, these cases, especially the
names in the Phoenician onomasticon constitute only a minor percentage throughout.
In fact, there are a number of just the opposite: boys were given a name that referred to a
goddess—for example, עבדלבאתʿAbdlabiʾt ‘servant of the lioness’ (Anat) and גרעׁשתרת
Gerʿaštart ‘sojourner of Ashtarte’ in the Phoenician onomasticon; עבדבעלתʿAbdbaʿalat
‘servant of the Lady’ in the Aramaic; and אחמלכהʾAḥīmalkāh ‘[my divine] brother is the
Queen’ in the Hebrew onomasticon. This reflects the fact that, in the majority of cases
in which a woman can be identified as having a theophoric name, the deity referred to
is male: אמתׁשמןʾAmotʾešmun ‘maidservant of Eshmun’ and ארׁשתבעלʾArūštbaʿal ‘[she
who] was desired from Baal’ in the Phoenician onomasticon; בתאלBatʾil ‘daughter of
El’ in the Ammonite; and אחנעםʾAḥīnōʿam ‘[my divine] brother is kindness’ in the He-
brew onomasticon. It seems that it was only in when divinized kinship terms were used
for a female infant that the rare term ḥam ‘father-in-law’ was preferred, as in חמיאהל
Ḥammîʾohel ‘my [divine] father-in-law is [my] tent’ and חמיעדןḤammî↜ʿeden ‘my [divine]
father-in-law is [my] bliss’ in the Hebrew onomasticon; and חמדןḤammīdan ‘my [divine]
father-in-law has given [me] justice’ in the Ammonite onomasticon. It may be that the
choice of a male or female deity in the name of a newborn reflected to a much greater
extent the religious experiences of the mother than the sex of name bearer, although for
the moment, we must content ourselves with saying that more investigation is needed. A
significant methodological problem is that the indeterminate sex of many name bearers
as recorded in epigraphic material and our uncertainty about the (presumably limited)
extent to which women were allowed public roles in most Levantine societies affect our
determination of the extent of female names in the epigraphic material. In the meantime,
it is difficult to quantify accurately the frequency of occurrence of female names and of
references to female divinities.
Although further investigation is needed, the above investigations have shown the ben-
efits of a detailed comparison of the Hebrew epigraphic onomasticon with other Levantine
onomasticons. It not only provides insight into the beliefs of the family religions of Israel
and its neighbors but also into the various intriguing strategies that the family religions
used to confront the challenges presented by their variously polytheistic environments.
(1993: 275) remarks: “A customer’s choice, even when facing a limited offer, is as much a
choice as that of the manufacturer, and we may understand any owner of a name-seal to
have adopted a certain motif, be it local or foreign, as his own, personal sealing object.”
There can be no doubt that the iconography of seals witnesses elements of personal be-
liefs and piety as well as more-general, supraregional religious trends. Nevertheless, analy-
ses of iconographic repertoires are also limited in a number of potentially important ways.
It must be understood at the outset that the iconography of seals does not necessarily re-
flect an entire religious, symbolic system. Figurines of naked females holding their breasts,
for example, although represented in more than 2,000 JPFs, are almost entirely absent in
the Iron Age IIC glyptic repertoire; there are also no motifs that can be directly identified
with Yhwh or Asherah (except, perhaps, WSS no. 173).â•›270 Nevertheless, there are symbols
that are common in the West Asian glyptic repertoire, such as the winged sun-disc and
winged scarab, which may represent Yhwh (see Schmitt 2001: 171–83). Yhwh is virtu-
ally absent in the iconographic evidence considered in isolation, and the Iron IIC–period
Judeans appear to have been dedicated followers of the moon-god of Haran (see GGG
figs. 296–310). Furthermore, although glyptic material may represent an entire symbolic
system, it may also represent a self-contained symbolic system committed to its own tradi-
tions of craftsmanship and its own repertoire of motifs. Two glyptic traditions are found
in Iron Age glyptic repertoires, both expressing parallel but unique symbolic systems. One
was the Egyptianized Phoenician koiné style (dominant during Iron IIB but still well rep-
resented up to Iron III and even later) that was both imported and locally produced; the
other was a style dominated by Aramean and Assyrian influences (dominant during Iron
Age IIC). These traditions raise the question of the extent to which a largely imported
iconography can be interpreted as evidence for local beliefs. Patterns of belief expressed
in motifs found in glyptic material concur surprisingly well with biblical evidence for the
astralization of the cult in the Assyrian period. It is possible to identify celestial beings
mentioned in the Old Testament, such as the seraphim, although it is not always possible
to clarify understandings of adapted motifs. Finally, interpreting iconographic repertoires
with regard to larger symbolic systems is also limited when we are considering unique
seals, because firm conclusions can only be drawn from repeated series of motifs (on this
methodological fundamental, see Parayre 1993: 28–29; and Uehlinger 1993: 260, 277).
Another challenge is to relate the often ambiguous evidence presented by glyptic ma-
terial to the existence and function of internal religious pluralism; this challenge is exac-
erbated by the existence of elements in the seals that represent aspects of both personal
piety and official religion (especially the official religion of Judah). In Keel and Uehlinger’s
(1998: §152) conception of symbolic systems, any differentiation between these religious
spheres is difficult. Even though the authors occasionally consider the concepts of pri-
vate or family religion when dealing with particular groups of objects such as terra-cotta
figurines (§376), they do not generally distinguish between different religious strata. One
possibility is that the glyptic material should be considered, in line with Dever (1990: 162;
cf. 2005: 5–31), within a paradigm of folk religion that presupposes “unsophisticated folk
. . . always inclined with syncretism.” Alternatively, the symbolism of the seals could be
considered in accordance with Keel and Uehlinger (1998: §152), who rejected the popular
religion paradigm (1998: §376, n. 345) and thought that glyptic icons reflected their adap-
tation by the elite of society. In §5.5.2, I will demonstrate that the problems and discrepan-
cies that arise in attempts to interpret the symbolic system of 1st-millennium Israel—or
its internal subsystems—are best understood in the broader context of internal religious
pluralism.
symbolic system and the retreat of the role of protection by deities. In addition to the
character and origin of these foreign elements, we should discuss the identity of the Queen
of Heaven. Was she a local or regional deity akin to Asherah or Ashtarte who underwent
an astral transformation? Or is she more accurately identified with the Assyrian Ishtar (in
line with Spieckermann 1982: 221)?
The iconography of Iron Age II private seals was dominated by motifs from the Egyp-
tianizing Syro-Phoenician koiné repertoire, such as griffins, winged uraeii and scarabs,
and winged deities for human protection. With the exception of the winged sun-disc from
the older LB tradition, astral symbolism was almost entirely absent. This pattern under-
went considerable change, however, in the period of Assyrian hegemony in Iron IIC. De-
spite the persistence of Egyptianizing Phoenician motifs, the Aramean and Assyrian influ-
ence, which had already penetrated the official glyptic repertoire in Iron IIB (see Schmitt
2001: 100–102), became dominant by the time of the Iron Age IIC personal seals. Some of
the novel features that appeared in the iconographic repertoire of this time were heavenly
bodies, mainly the symbols of the astral deities Sin (a crescent), Ishtar (a star), and the
Pleiades, as well as anthropomorphic representations of deities.
Stern 1987: 69]). While the identification of Ishtar is clear, the identification of the nude
winged goddess depicted in Phoenician style in fig 5.14 (WSS no. 112 = GGG fig. 331a) is
contentious (see Keel and Uehlinger 1998: §197). In my view, there is hardly any evidence
for identifying it with the Phoenician Ashtarte or a syncretistic form of Ishtar and Ashtarte
(Olyan 1988; Ackerman 1992: 34), because the iconography of the nude goddess differs
greatly from the seals that depict Ishtar. It therefore seems more plausible that she was
associated with the local deity Asherah, who was also represented in epigraphic sources.
In any event, this material provides no definite additional iconographic evidence for this
goddess. Both Asherah and Ishtar were referred to in Mesopotamia as šarrat šamē, but
whether the same referent is intended by malkat haššamayîm is uncertain. Both goddesses
were venerated alongside one another and were referred to with this epithet, and there is
thus no need to construct a syncretistic form of Asherah/Ishtar (see Keel and Uehlinger
1998: §197). The fact that the local goddess Asherah is depicted with the star alludes to the
more general tendency toward astralization, although not necessarily to a direct identifi-
cation with Ishtar. However, the iconographic evidence clearly shows the impact of both
Assyrian iconography and religion on the local symbolic system in the Iron IIC period.
372 Chapter 5
Fig. 5.15.
lated with Egyptian prototypes. The Egyptian type of sun-disc was still dominant in the
Egyptianizing Phoenician glyptic style of Iron Age IIB. The Iron IIC seals, including the
type III lmlk-stamps (for the typology of which, see Welten 1969; a survey of the lmlk-
stamps found up to 1999 is given by Vaughn 1999), show another type of winged sun-disc.
Its uplifted wing tips, tail, and upper volutes are clearly Assyrian in design (fig. 5.15. and
5.16.; Welten 1969: 40, Z II B 2; S II A 1). The same adaptation of the Assyrian winged
sun-disc can be seen in contemporary Phoenician and Aramean glyptic art, as well as on
reliefs from northern Syria (see Parayre 1993). The Assyrian-style sun-disc as a sole motif
on the official lmlk-stamps fits particularly well with the trend toward the astralization
of the national god. This trend was still encountered in postexilic texts such as Mal 3:20,
where it was said that the “sun of righteousness” would rise with healing in his wings (see
Arneth 2000). The lmlk-stamps also manifest the trend of associating the king with solar
qualities, as in Ps 72:5, 17. This is a development that was encountered in Assyria as early
as the 9th century, when the king was given epithets such as the ‘Sun-god of all mankind’
(dšamšu kiššat nišemeš; see Podella 1996: 151–54). It is therefore quite likely that not only
were Assyrian motifs assimilated but also solar elements of the Assyrian kingship ideology
(see Schmitt 2001: 174–76). The Assyrianizing winged sun-disc thus clearly shows the As-
syrian impact on the symbolic system of the official religion. The Assyrian type of winged
sun-disc is not only represented on official seals but also on private seals such as a stamp
seal from Gezer that shows a worshiper in front of a griffin beneath a winged sun-disc and
374 Chapter 5
crescent (fig. 5.17; GGG 293a), the seal of Gemalyahu [ben] Adonyeḥi (fig. 5.18; WSS 122)
and others (WSS 3b; 267, 284, 343, 349, 373, 685; GGG 293a, 293b).
After the winged sun-disc, the most frequently occurring solar symbol is the winged
beetle, which appears on a wide range of private seals, the seals of officials (fig. 5.19: WSS
16; 662; fig. after Sass 1993: fig. 85), and even on the seals of the king himself (Hezekiah;
fig. 5.20: Cross 1999: 43). It also appears on several hundred lmlk-stamps (fig. 5.21: Type 1
naturalistic; fig. 5.22: Type 2 stylized; fig. 5.23: Type 3 mixed; after Welten 1969: 36; on
their typology, see Schmitt 2001: 172). The scarab, which first appeared in Egyptian ico-
nography of the Middle Kingdom, found its way to Palestine during the Middle Bronze
Age and—becoming winged during and after the Late Bronze Age—became an important
motif of the Syro-Phoenician koiné style of the Iron Age (Schmitt 1990). The twoâ•‚ and
four-winged scarabs on Iron II Israelite/Judahite seals therefore have no direct Egyptian
connection. It is note�worthy that the scarab associated with solar symbology is one of a
number of motifs of the Syro-Phoenician koiné style that were not superseded by Assyr-
ian motifs but flourished throughout the West Semitic realm during Iron Age IIC. The
immense popularity of the motif in Judah is apparent both in official iconography and
private glyptic representations. This popularity may have occurred because the symbol
amalgamates both aspects of the twoâ•‚ and four-winged protective spirits and the more
universal aspects of solar symbolism (Schmitt 2001: 174; Keel and Uehlinger [1998: §§151;
164] tend to interpret the winged scarab as the sun-god himself). The presence of both
the winged sun-disc and the winged beetle on private and official seals shows the strong
interdependence of the realms of official religion and private piety.
5.5.3.5.╇Constellations
Only one constellation that appears on Iron Age stamp seals from Israel can be iden-
tified with certainty: that is, the Pleiades or (in Akkadian) the Šibitti (fig. 5.24–26; GGG
282c; 315b; 316; with no occurrence in the corpus of inscribed seals). Though we do not
have many examples of the Pleiades icon on seals (see table 5.15), the local reception of
this motif (which was also common in Assyrian glyptic representations) shows that the
Personal Names and Family Religion 375
Fig. 5.24.
Fig. 5.23.
impact of this even-more-abstracted astral symbol was similar to the impact of the bet-
ter-known great astral deities Shamash, Sin, and Ishtar, each of whom was also depicted
anthropomorphically.
At least 10 seals displayed a rhombus (WSS 86, 152, 338; GGG 284a, 300, 302c, 308,
315a, 315b, 317a), which always appeared together with a star or crescent (fig. 5.27: GGG
315a). Because this figure cannot be identified or interpreted with reference to any par-
ticular heavenly body, and because it always occurs along with a star and crescent, it seems
likely that it symbolizes a constellation (Sass 1993: 240). There is no evidence for Ueh-
linger’s (1990: 328) interpretation of this rhombus as a more general symbol of holiness.
The motif seems to have appeared first in Kassite glyptic art, often in association with a
star, cross, and dog (see Moortgat 1940: 554, 556, 558; Porada 1948: 583, 584), and was still
common on Neo-Assyrian seals (Collon 1988: 344, 345, 783). It is likely that the rhom-
bus symbolizes a constellation of four stars, such as the cup in the southern hemisphere.
The rhombus was generally positioned vertically rather than horizontally, making it also
unlikely to have been intended as symbolizing an eye (Moortgat 1940: 57; Brentjes 1983;
Bordreuil 1993: 96 n. 28).
376 Chapter 5
The meaning of the astral symbol of a fish as represented on more than 10 Hebrew
seals (figs. 5.28 and 5.29; Sass 1993: figs. 96, 97) remains uncertain. Sass interpreted the
fish as a symbol for plenty and fertility. A fish also appears together with a scorpion on
an imported Assyrian cylinder with astral symbols from Megiddo (fig. 5.30; GGG 290),
although we are uncertain whether the appearance and symbolism of the fish on Hebrew
seals was connected with the Assyrian symbolic systems, since the fish generally appears
only as an isolated motif.
271. The material evidence for Philistia is small but distinctive. For instance, the royal iconogra-
phy of Philistine seals is very much the same as the contemporary Judahite; cf. Schmitt 2001: 27–28.
Personal Names and Family Religion 377
(who was more likely to be the solarized Yhwh in Israel/Judah), Sin, Ishtar, and the Šibitti
in realms of personal piety, and therefore also of family religion, in the West Semitic re-
gion. Besides the canon of Aramean/Assyrian motifs, a few Egyptionizing Phoenician
motifs found their way into the general West Semitic repertoire, including the twoâ•‚ and
four-winged beetles, with 9 Israelite specimens found (not including lmlk-stamps), 5 Am-
monite specimens, 1 unambiguously Phoenician, 8 Aramean, and 17 of indeterminable
Phoenician, Aramean, or Hebrew origin (see table 5.15). The winged beetle was also a
common astral motif in the whole West Semitic realm.
the highest god on Iron Age IIA Taanach cult stand no. 2 (contra Keel and Uehlinger 1998:
§98) and the winged beetles found on Iron Age IIB seals from the Northern Kingdom (see
Keel and Uehlinger 1998: §151; Schmitt 2001: 130–31). In this case, Assyrian influence
appears to have been more iconographic, finding expression in the Assyrian-style winged
sun-disc.
In contrast, the veneration of constellations (such as the Šibitti/Pleiades and the con-
stellation represented by the rhombus) is a phenomenon that was novel in Iron Age IIC.
The iconography of Iron IIC private seals follows Assyrian models, which is firm evi-
dence that the veneration of constellations was the result of Assyrian-Aramean influence.
As indicated by the appearance of combined astral symbols on seals (such as a star and
crescent; a crescent and star or the Pleiades; or any of these together with the anthropo-
morphic Ishtar), there was widespread communal assimilation of astral symbols from the
Aramean-Assyrian models, particularly the symbols of the night (see Keel 1998: 100–
101), and these were reproduced by local carvers. Thus, there appears to have been a kind
of collective veneration of celestial bodies, as indicated in the enumerations of Deut 4:19
and 2 Kgs 23:5.
The veneration of Ishtar was also an imported phenomenon during Iron Age IIC and
existed alongside continuing traditions of a local goddess (Asherah) represented by differ-
ent iconography. It seems especially likely that Ishtar—as the war-goddess of the victori-
ous Assyrians—proved quite attractive to the inhabitants of Assyrian vassal states or occu-
pied provinces. Because both goddesses were represented by astral symbolism, the epithet
מלכת הׁשמיםmalkat haššamayîm might be attributable to both of them. Besides the fact
that the powerful Assyrians enhanced her appeal, she also seems to have been an intimate
and personal goddess, based on all the seals that depict male and female worshipers of her.
Trade opportunities furthered through the expansion of the Assyrian Empire would
also have played a role in the transport and wider dissemination not only of goods, but
also of ideas and beliefs in those realms subject to Assyrian control (see Theuer 2000:
442). This must have strongly affected all levels of religion. The visibility, accessibility, and
consequent plausibility of the astral gods were all aspects that were popularly enhanced
through the apparent success of the Assyrians (2000: 440). Such processes, however, did
not detract from the relevance of the national god Yhwh, as evinced in the Judean ono-
masticon of the Iron IIC age, which is clearly dominated by yahwistic names. Moreover,
the large number of Iron IIC seals depicting astral symbols was not reflected in an in-
creased occurrence of personal names carrying the element Sin or Shamash. In neither
Judah, nor in the Aramaic onomasticon did the frequency of such names increase (WSS
lists justs one for the former, ʿabdyrḥ: no. 34). Aramaic names containing elements such
as sn or šn were mostly Mesopotamian (WSS 537; 542), but were too few in number to de-
termine whether the carrier groups of the cult were predominantly Mesopotamian or not.
Finally, the astralization of the symbolic system was a development shared among all
peoples of the west semitic realm, further demonstrating the international character of
family religion. Not only did family religion fulfill the basic religious needs of individuals
and collective families, but the astralization of the symbolic system attests to reciprocal
relations between family and official religion, both of which exhibited the general tenden-
cies described above.
Personal Names and Family Religion 379
5.5.4.2.╇Anthropomorphic
protective spirits
The apparent aversion to
depicting major deities on
West Semitic seals stands in
stark contrast to the relatively
large number of seals that de-
pict anthropomorphic protec-
tive spirits. The twoâ•‚ and four-
winged genies of Phoenician
iconography appear on He-
brew seals, occasionally with
a partially debased double-
crown, and usually carrying
lotus-flowers (fig. 5.34 = GGG
211c = WSS 1165; cf. Keel
and Uehlinger 1998: 211a, Fig. 5.31.
211b = WSS 1149 [probably
Moabite], 212 a, 212b). The
winged male genius also ap-
pears on Ammonite seals
(Eggler and Keel 2006: Safut
4), Moabite seals (WSS 1020;
1030), Phoenician (WSS 715,
729 [?], and 730), as well as on
Aramaic (WSS 844) and other
undefined seals (WSS 1087;
1092; 1114; 1119; 1134; 1147;
1149; 1154; 1155). The mo-
tif was also found on a bone
handle from Hazor (Yadin
1958: pl. 151) and on the Sa- Fig. 5.32. Fig. 5.33.
maria Ivories (e.g., Crowfoot
and Crowfoot 1938: pl. 14.2). The four-winged figure was identified by Keel and Uehlinger
(1998: §121) as being either the youthful Baal or one of the numinous beings from his
realm. Grounds for this identification seem scant, however, because none of these seals
contains the sorts of divine emblem typically associated with Baal, such as lightning or
the bull, which were typical of the 1st-millenium iconography of the weather-god. A more
plausible interpretation of the winged figures would therefore be as protective spirits, akin
to the twoâ•‚ and four-winged Assyrian Apkallus, although they are clearly of Phoenician
origin (Gubel 1993: 124). A variant of this type was the protective deity with the head
of a bird, probably a falcon, who appears on one Hebrew name seal (WSS 320) and an
uninscribed seal from Tell el-Farʿah South (fig. 5.35 = GGG 213) and on one Ammonite
Personal Names and Family Religion 381
specimen with the unwinged figure flanking the sacred tree (Eggler and Keel 2006: Mazar
23). Phoenician seals depicting a falcon-headed figure closely resemble the Egyptian ico-
nography of Horus/Re-Harachte (WSS 728, 735) rather than the typical iconography of
protective spirits. In one case of unclear origin (WSS 198; possibly Hebrew), an Assyrian
lahmu is depicted. Images of lahmu and il bīti are also found on Ammonite (Keel and
Eggler 2006: Safut 4) and Aramaic seals (WSS 763; 802; 845). However, it would have been
unlikely for the lahmu to have been seen as anything other than some kind of protective
figure, because the motif was not particularly popular in West Semitic glyptic arts.
5.5.4.4.╇Bes
The Egyptian god Bes appears occasionally on seals from ancient Israel (fig. 5.38 =
GGG 226b; also 226a; 226c; 227; 228; Eggler and Keel 2006: Amman 62; WSS 769; 786;
829). It appears more frequently, however, on amulets. Herrmann (1994: 319; 2002: 20)
382 Chapter 5
lists a total of 54 Iron IIB–C Bes amulets, of which up to 14 belong to Iron Age IIC. The
function of Bes in this West Semitic environment remains unknown, however, and one
can only speculate about some sort of protective or apotropaic function that was ascribed
to the grotesque appearance of his face (also Keel and Uehlinger 1998: §131).
from places such as Nimrud and Arslan Taš (see Barnett 1982: pls. 47a, 49e, 50a, 51, 53).
In Israel, they appear on the Samaria ivories (for example, Crowfoot and Crowfoot 1938:
pls. 5–7, 14.5–7; see also Schmitt 2001: 129–30) and on the fragment of an ivory pyxis
from Hazor (Barnett 1982: pl. 45e). In the Iron age, sphinxes also occasionally appeared
as Egyptian-type object amulets (Herrmann 1994: cat. nos. 277, 278; Herrmann 2002: cat.
no. 40). One terracotta-figurine of a sphinx was found in Beersheba (fig. 3.9; see Kletter
and Herzog 2003). As convincingly argued by Keel (1977: 15–45) and widely accepted,
the sphinx was almost certainly associated with biblical cherubim (kĕrûbîm; also Akka-
dian kāribu ‘protective spirit’). Biblical sources portray a special relationship between the
cherubim and Yhwh, who was described as sitting on a cherubim-throne according to
the traditions about the sanctuaries at Shiloh (1 Sam 4:4; 2 Sam 6:2) and Jerusalem (Isa
37:16). These cherubim were therefore an integral part of the symbolic system of official
Judean religion. Although there are not enough sphinxes on Hebrew name seals for us to
observe a significant series (further suggesting that these symbols were not as popular as
other symbols such as the winged Uraei), this may merely reflect the random nature of the
discoveries, especially since the motif is well represented in other media.
5.5.4.5.4.╇Lamassu/aladlammû
In the corpus of Iron Age II Judean stamp seals, a Lamassu-like creature appears on
one seal (fig. 5.31: GGG 331b = WSS no. 173). The creature was depicted in accordance
384 Chapter 5
with Assyrian conventions as a male bull with bearded face and a horned polos, crowned
with a sun-disc. A similar creature but lacking the horned crown was depicted on an Am-
monite seal that has been dated to the second half of the 8th or early 7th century (WSS
no. 925). This latter creature is generally considered to have been a sphinx (Hübner 1993:
144; WSS 344). The motif is clearly borrowed from the contemporary Assyrian repertoire,
where the winged-bull creature was often represented either as a singular motif (see, for
example, Porada 1948: 633; although these sorts of representations are sometimes difficult
to distinguish from similar sphinx-like creatures with leonine bodies) or as part of larger
contest scenes (for example, Porada 1948: 611–15). It was also present on Syrian seals
that imitated the Assyrian style (Collon 1988: 385–86). The use of winged-bull creatures
as pedestals for higher deities, although not represented in contemporary Mesopotamian
iconography, may suggest local association between the aladlammû and cherub (Keel and
Uehlinger 1998: §197).
5.5.5.╇Conclusions
The material discussed above reveals that anthropomorphic representations of major
deities—with the exception of the astral deities of Assyrian or Syrian origin—did not play
an important role as motifs and even seem to have been entirely avoided on personal
seals in both Israel and Judah, as well as by their West Semitic neighbors. The major dei-
ties probably were not considered to require anthropomorphic representation because of
the prevailing trend toward universalizing the major gods in 1st-millenium West Semitic
religions, by which means these gods also became iconographically transcendent. These
trends toward both transcendence and universality as well as an aversion to anthropo-
morphic representations coincided in Judah with the usage of both the winged sun-disc
and the winged beetle as more-abstract symbols for Yhwh. Similar conditions seem to
have influenced solar representations of major gods in other West Semitic religions (see
table 5.15). The presence of both winged sun-discs and winged beetles on private and of-
ficial Judean seals reveals the strong relation between official and private religion in using
identical symbols—at least in glyptic media. In contrast, the symbolic system pertaining
to personal piety reveals perceived needs for protection in a more general sense, as repre-
sented by the various motifs of protective spirits and apotropaic monsters. An interesting
phenomenon that again reflects the coincidence of the symbolic systems of official and
personal religion is the frequent presence of winged Uraei in Israelite iconography. Par-
ticularly in Judean iconography, this stands in stark contrast to the very few occurrences
on other West Semitic seals (table 5.16). The winged Uraei, which have generally been
associated with biblical seraphim, along with the sphinxes, who were in turn associated
with cherubim, may together be considered protective lower deities who would have been
of some importance for personal piety and possibly also as mediators of Yhwh. The popu-
larity of the seraphim in particular reveals that elements of the official symbolic system,
especially aspects of an apotropaic or protective nature, were eminently able to be assimi-
lated in realms of personal piety. There is a notable absence of impact by Mesopotamian
protective spirits on the Judean repertoire of symbolic motifs, even though they seem to
have influenced both Ammon and the Aramaic states, although this latter influence oc-
curred again through adoption of more-general cultural norms rather than of directly
religious functions.
Iconographic evidence in total is nevertheless of no great use in considering personal
and familial piety, because by far the greatest number of motifs were the general apotro-
paic symbols that seem either to have followed broader trends in West Semitic glyptic arts
386 Chapter 5
or to have been adopted due to the cultural influence of the great powers of Assyria and
Babylonia. Nevertheless, a number of observations may be made to connect the official
symbolic system of the Judean state and practices of personal piety. Both of these religious
realms shared the motif of the winged sun-disc as a representation of Yhwh and the motif
of seraphim as protective spirits (even though distinctions among the various religious
strata must be acknowledged; see Keel and Uehlinger 1998: §4). Moreover, although sym-
bolic systems seem to have converged as far as the glyptic arts are concerned, different me-
dia that served different purposes often evolved their own distinct symbolic patterns. This
was true, for example, in the coroplastic arts and their predominant symbolism of fertility.
The fact that the various media fostered unique symbolic systems is also attested by bibli-
cal texts, especially for the Jerusalemite theology of Zion, which seems not to have been
represented in any concrete medium used on smaller objects. The coincidences between
general, official symbolism and private religious preferences must also be understood with
regard to distinctions between the public and private characteristics of glyptic media.
Notions of internal religious pluralism are helpful to resolve ambiguities that might
otherwise arise in attempting to understand the symbolism of iconic seals, because they
permit the existence of different spheres of coincidence and interaction between re-
ligious strata in spite of their differences and contradictions. In contrast, the model of
folk versus official religion used by Dever (2005: 5–31) is far less flexible and tends to
foster antagonism between the two realms. In short, the official Judean religion and the
personal-and-family-religion complex coincide in their use of Yhwh symbols such as the
winged sun-disc and beetle as well as in the use of symbols representing protective spirits
such as the seraphim. However, they differ in that private seals were dominated more by
general apotropaic and protective symbols, while official (or royal) Judean iconography
tended to employ either solar symbolism or symbols expressing power and strength (see
Schmitt 2001: 161–83), both of which accorded with Assyrian and Babylonian conven-
tions. The overlapping of symbols in both of these realms represented two fundamental
needs: (1) the divine support of the national god associated with the power and strength
of the state; and (2) divine protection for individuals and their families, as reflected by the
symbols of winged sun-discs and scarab beetles. In addition, certain symbols, depending
on the private or public character of the seals on which they were placed, were probably
signs of loyalty (see Keel 1995: §722; Schmitt 2001: 117–20, 166–88)—especially on seals
used in official realms.
Chapter 6
6.1.╇Introduction
The Old Testament describes familial rites relating to processes from birth to burial or,
in the words of K. van der Toorn (1994), from cradle to grave. These rites, rituals, beliefs,
and observances of family religion were the manifestations of families’ religious and spiri-
tual needs and values, and they also provided a means by which families could internalize
their primary religious experiences (Sundermeier 1992; 1999). Both annual cycles and the
various phases of human life itself were accompanied by a variety of rites and rituals with a
variety of functions for both individuals and families. Rituals fixed by the annual calendar
were associated with the Sabbath, the new moon, the giving of firstlings, Passover, and
Maṣṣot. Other rites of passage and rituals were associated with circumcision, marriage
(for which, there are no accounts describing the nature of the ritual performances), bless-
ings, and complex rites for the dead, including burial, which will be discussed in chap. 7.â•›1
Other rites were performed to address situations such as infertility, distress, and danger
or to bestow blessings or curses, with these occasional rites taking the form of vows or
ceremonies of petition or thanksgiving. There were also prohibitions that were ritualisti-
cally adhered to within family contexts, some of which were associated with agriculture
and livestock, others with aspects of sexuality or gender. Anthropological records provide
firm evidence for the use of apotropaic magical rites in family contexts. Such apotropaic
rites played especially important roles in the greater Near Eastern environment of ancient
Israel in protecting families from sickness and from mischievous acts or threats by gods,
demons, or human witchcraft. There is both textual and archaeological support for the use
of apotropaic practices.
Examination of the role of ritual performances in the familial realms requires con-
sideration of the relationship between magic and religion. The term magic traditionally
denotes ritual practices that mobilize supernatural forces or use hidden causes (Ratschow
1947: unio magica) to achieve certain outcomes. There is no denying that the Hebrew Bible
contains passages that could clearly be considered to describe magic, even though the
practices described would have been inherited either from Canaanite practices or from
Assyria and Babylon, especially, by intrusions into the originally “pure” religion of ancient
Israel (for instance, Fohrer 1969: 19). Relationships between religion and magic have been
387
388 Chapter 6
considered in enormous depth through all ages and places of human social development;
in the modern European context, notable contributions have been made by Edward Bur-
nett Tylor (1873), William Robertson Smith (1967), James George Frazer (1989), Emile
Durkheim (1981), and Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss (1989). In considering trajecto-
ries of human social development from the 19th century onward, many people (including
those associated with the so-called phenomenological school and the German “ReligionsÂ�
geschichtliche Schule” of the first half of the 20th century) assumed an evolutionist para-
digm and were misguided into thinking that human progress had followed a path from
“savagery, through barbarism, to civilization” (Morgan 1877). According to this evolu-
tionist paradigm, magic was an expression of the first and most-primitive forms of human
religion, born of belief in the hidden powers of nature (as in manaism or dynamism) or
of spirits (as in animism). Up to the second half of the 20th century, many exegetes and
scholars of religious studies believed that monotheistic religion had supplanted beliefs in
magic with conceptions of the absolute dependence of man on the one true God, and thus
this dependence was in no way amenable to manipulation through magic.
For von Rad (1962: 1.47–48), for example, Israel’s conception of Yhwh was therefore
utterly incompatible with magical practices and beliefs. Moreover, religion was defined as
a collective phenomenon in which rituals and prayers were esteemed because of their con-
tributions to collective betterment, while magic was thought to be an individual practice
designed for one’s own benefit. According to Durkheim (1981), a magician had clients but
no church. The Old Testament as a document of monotheistic religion was then read as
opposing any form of magical thought or practice. This perception of magic can be seen
to have influenced more-recent discourses on magic somewhat (see, for example, Douglas
2004: 194). Over the last decade, however, as anthropology has turned more directly to-
ward cultural phenomena, the perception of “magical” practices in Old Testament studies
has changed (Cryer 1991; Jeffers 1996; Schmitt 2004), as it has also in studies of the ancient
Near East (for example, Thomsen 1987; Abusch 2002; and Schwemer 2007) and Egypt (for
example, Assmann 1991 and Ritner 1993). Magic and divination have come to be seen
more as performative acts and comprising the more integral part of religion and the entire
symbolic system of a culture. Accordingly, magic in the Old Testament, as in the ancient
Near Eastern world, was not so much a manipulation of matter and beings through the use
of dynamistic or animistic powers as it was the result of a belief in the absolute power of
the divine. The absolute divinity was the final or sole authority able to intervene by super-
natural force in the human realm. Magic as a descriptive term denotes ritual practices that
were intended to effect particular results through rituals or acts performed in anticipation
of divine intervention (see Schmitt 2004: 92–93). Thus, the rites and rituals of family reli-
gion—as well as the rituals of official cults—were strategies of ritual behavior that must be
seen as genuine expressions of religion, regardless of differences in socioreligious settings.
6.2.╇ Rites and rituals associated with the cycle of human life
6.2.1.╇Birth
The investigation of epigraphic Hebrew personal names in chap. 5 revealed that the
birth process was accompanied by various ritual activities in ancient Israelite family reli-
Rites of Family and Household Religion 389
gion.â•›2 Although, in contrast to Mesopotamia, Anatolia, and Egypt,â•›3 no direct sources for
birth incantations with ritual instructions have been found for ancient Israel, the evidence
provided by the personal names and the evidence scattered throughout the Hebrew Bible
make it possible to describe roughly the main ritual elements connected with typical birth
processes. Of all of the typical rites de passage of human life, birth seems to have been
universally the most preoccupied with religious rituals.
In the ancient world, childlessness was an economic threat for families and a social
humiliation for afflicted women; therefore, the lament of an infertile woman uttered either
at home (Gen 30:1–2) or at a local sanctuary (1 Sam 1:4–8) was a semiritual reality in the
environment of birth. The sorrow of childless women found ritual expression in prayers
to the deity for a child, especially a son (1 Sam 1:10–11), and prayers were provided with
even more urgency when accompanied by promissory vows (1:11; Prov 31:2: “son of my
vows”).â•›4 The prayers of barren women could also be supported by the ritual interces-
sions of their husbands (Gen 25:21). The inclusion of animal sacrifices in ritualistic family
prayers and vows for infertile women overlapped with the symbolic and ritualistic worlds
of the priestly sphere of local and regional sanctuaries.
Either spontaneously or in response to laments, birth oracles could be given to barren
women (Gen 17; Judg 13:3, 5; 1 Sam 1:17; 2 Kgs 4:16) or to pregnant women whose lives
were endangered (Gen 16:11; 25:23). In encountering difficulties, a pregnant woman could
make a request to god (dāraš ʾet-Yhwh) for the provision of a divine prognosis (25:22). In
cases where these divine oracles were mediated by priests (1 Sam 1:17) or “men of God”
(2 Kgs 4:16), male religious functionaries were included in the rituals that accompanied
the birth process. In some cases, however, the Bible indicates that unknown visitors, who
were later revealed to have been divine messengers (malʾak Yhwh), delivered birth oracles
to infertile women (Gen 18:10, 14; Judg 13:3, 5). Thus, the birth oracles represent a specifi-
cally female religious experience that was not completely subject to the control of men. All
such birth oracles are considered to be the intuitive mantic type. Some personal names,
however, suggest instrumental mantic practices such as the casting of lots.â•›5 According to
the Hebrew Bible, priests administered oracular instruments (1 Sam 14:41; 23:2, 6), but
the presence of equipment for oracles in private dwellings suggests that birth oracles could
also be given in the domestic cult.
Because every conception was conceived as a divine work (Ruth 4:13), especially con-
ceptions that followed periods of apparent infertility (Gen 20:17–18; 21:1–2; 29:31–32;
30:17, 22; 1 Sam 1:19–20)—whether by God’s healing (rāpāʾ↜) the barren woman (Gen
20:17) or opening (↜pātaḥ) her womb (29:31; 30:22)—it also seems likely that the situation
of procreation and conception was accompanied in ancient Israel by specific rites within
the domestic cult. Ritual objects found in dwellings suggest that these rites may have
2.╇ See above, pp. 252–253, 269–293
3.╇ For ancient Mesopotamia, see Krebernik 1984: 36–47; Farber 1989; van der Toorn 1994:
77–110; 1999: 139–47; Stol 2000: 49–89; and earlier on, Albertz 1978a: 51–55; for Anatolia, see
Beckman 1983; for Egypt, see, for example, Borghouts 1971: 28–32.
4.╇ For more details on vows, see below, pp. 403–410.
5.╇ See, for example, the Aramaic name ʾAḥlakad ‘[my divine] brother has picked [me by draw-
ing lots]’ or the Hebrew Baʿalnāḥāš ‘Baal has predicted [a good omen]’; see above, pp. 274–275;
and appendix B5.3.
390 Chapter 6
included the offering of libations and incense, and prayers offered at portable cultic instal-
lations placed next to sleeping chambers. It is also possible that the Judean pillar-figurines
depicting women with prominent breasts played important roles in these rituals in the
later monarchic period. Because there are no signs of their being goddesses, these figu-
rines would have functioned instead as mediators, transferring the prayers for a child to
the deity, and the fertility and divine support from the deity to the women.â•›6 The personal
name Šĕkanyāhû ‘Yhwh was present’, which is epigraphically attested nine times between
the 9th and 6th centuries, suggests that the divine presence was experienced during these
domestic ceremonies and later confirmed by the woman’s pregnancy and fortuitous birth.
The period of pregnancy—that is, the time when the deity created a child in the womb
of the mother (Jer 1:5; Ps 139:13; Job 10:8–11; 31:15)—could be accompanied by vari-
ous rites in case of difficulty. The Hebrew Bible refers to laments and requests to god
(Gen 25:21). Specific incantations and “magic” practices were found in Mesopotamia that
served to protect pregnant women from the nefarious influences of sorcery to ensure that
the fetus would not be lost (Farber 1989: 111–13). Pillar-figurines may also have played a
role in these cases.
During the confinement itself, the pregnant woman was separated from her family (Jer
20:15). The birth took place either in the inner room of the dwelling (Cant 3:4) or some-
where outside the village (Cant 8:5). Only women were permitted access to women in the
final stages of pregnancy (Ruth 4:14–17).â•›7 Parturition took place under primitive condi-
tions: a woman in labor knelt on the two birth stones (ʾabnáyîm) mentioned in Exod 1:16
and was assisted by a midwife (mĕyallédet), at least in difficult cases (Gen 35:17; 38:28;
Exod 1:15). These midwives were particularly important, and even Yhwh was metaphori-
cally represented in their role (Ps 22:10; 71:6). As wise women, they are plausible candi-
dates for transmitting the knowledge and practices of birth rites and incantations that
they would have performed to control a delivery. In Gen 35:17, the midwife uttered a form
of a salvation oracle to Rebecca, whose vitality had faded. Evidence from Mesopotamia
suggests that midwives activated the mythological background of birth in order to ensure
a safe and happy end to the confinement for the mother and child. Birth was extremely
dangerous under the medical and hygienic conditions of the ancient world. For example,
an Old Babylonian incantation states:
In the waters of intercourse, the bone was created;
in the flesh of muscles, the baby was created.
In the ocean waters, fearsome, raging,
in the far-off waters of the sea:
where the little one is—his arms are bound!—,
inside which the eye of the sun does not bring light.
Asalluḫi, the son of Enki, saw him.
6.╇ See, for example, an Egyptian birth ritual (Papyrus Leiden I 348:369–72), where the healing
spell in which the goddess Hator and the god Horus are promising their help is spoken over a Bes-
figurine placed on the brow of the woman (Borghouts 1971: 29).
7.╇ Even in the Hittite birth rituals, in which a purificatory priest (lúpatili) played an important
role, this male priest was never directly involved with the delivery: “this function seems to be the
preserve of the midwife in the Hittite texts” (see Beckman 1983: 238).
Rites of Family and Household Religion 391
8.╇ See van Dijk (1973: 503–5); the translation is almost the same as in Stol 2000: 10–11; for ad-
ditional examples, see Stol 2000: 59–72; and earlier, Albertz 1978: 51–55.
392 Chapter 6
the physical and religious experiences she encountered during the birth and would have
proudly presented her new child to them. The name of the newborn would have emerged
during the conversations about these experiences. The naming of the baby, whether by
mother, father, or both,â•›9 also served as a thanksgiving ceremony for the family group, who
also may have invited the midwife, other relatives, and neighbors. It is likely that name-
giving ceremonies would have included a meal, along with offerings of food and drink to
the deity.
For boys, the family name-giving feast later became the feast of circumcision, when
this apotropaic rite, which was originally connected with a rite de passage for older boys (at
maturity and before marriage), was transferred to the newborn stage. This feast is explic-
itly dated to the eighth day following birth (Gen 17:12; 21:4) and therefore would probably
have overlapped with the older name-giving feast on this date, after the end of the period
of impurity. According to new evidence provided by the personal name Malyāhû ‘Yhwh
has circumcised’, this practice had already begun in the 7th century b.c.e. (see appendix
B5.6). This rite served not only to integrate the newborn into the familial group but also to
protect him from the dangers of demons and evil powers. During the period of exile, the
circumcision of infants became a religious badge of integration into the people of Yhwh.â•›10
The survival of newborns was far from certain, given the medical and hygienic condi-
tions of ancient times. Infant mortality rates were very high and, although precise numbers
are difficult to determine for Cisâ•‚ and Transjordanian societies in the Iron Age, according
to the recent calculations of Willett (2008: 2), “On average, 35 percent of all individuals
died before age 5.” Protracted crying and screaming of infants could be warning signs of
of lethal danger. Therefore, in ancient Mesopotamia, for example, special “baby incan-
tations” existed that were used to calm crying infants (Farber 1989: 34–97), along with
other rituals performed to protect an infant from being attacked by Lamashtu, the promi-
nent she-demon of infant mortality, or the lilûâ•‚, or a bad alûâ•‚ demon.â•›11 We are uncertain
whether comparable rites existed in ancient Israel,â•›12 but we know that the weaning of a
child was celebrated in families by a “large banquet” (Gen 21:8). In Egypt, birth and birth
rites were closely associated with the Egyptian god Bes (Ritner 2008: 179–81), and protec-
tive amulets representing the deity appear to have been common items. In Iron Age Israel
and Judah, Bes appears 5 times in personal names (4 times in the confession name בסי
Besay ‘who belongs to Bes’ and once in the birth name קדבׂשQadbeś ‘Bes has formed’; see
appendixes B2.6.2. and 5.5.1). Bes is also attested in the graffiti at Kuntillet ʿAjrûd (Beck
1982: fig.€5) and by more than 50 Iron IIB–C Bes-amulets, of which up to 14 came from
Iron Age IIC (Herrmann 1994: 319; 2002: 20). According to Herrmann, this type was not
particularly popular in Iron Age Palestine compared with other types. The function of Bes
in his West Semitic reception is unknown. We can only speculate that some protective and
apotropaic purpose was ascribed to the grotesque appearance of his face (see also Keel and
Uehlinger 1998: §131).
The period of breast-feeding was long in ancient Israel; according to 2 Macc 7:28, it
ended after two–three years. The weaning feast was considered a family thanksgiving cer-
emony for the fact that the child had surmounted the perils of infancy and had grown up
(see גדלgādal ‘to grow up’ in Gen 21:8).
Thus, the rites and ceremonies that accompanied the protracted process of birth were
central elements of the domestic cult of ancient Israel.
6.2.2.╇Circumcision
One of the most important familial rituals both in antiquity and in modern Judaism is
the rite of circumcision. The rite of circumcision was performed in accordance with Gen
17:12; 21:4; and Lev 12:3, on the eighth day following the birth of a male child.
According to Jer 9:24, circumcision in the preexilic period was a practice shared by Ju-
deans, Egyptians, Ammonites, Edomites, and Moabites and, according to Ezek 28:10, the
Phoenicians as well. In Judg 14:3; 15:18; 1 Sam 14:6; 17:26, 36; 18:25, 27; 31:4; 2 Sam 1:20;
and 3:14, the Philistines were reported to be uncircumcised, in contrast to the common
practices of the Judeans and their neighbors.
Although it seems clear that circumcision was a common preexilic practice, its origi-
nal meaning and context in the circle of life are still a matter of discussion. Many scholars
share the opinion that Exod 4:24–26, the story of the ‘bridegroom of blood’ (חטן דמים
ḥaṭan dāmîm), attests the originally apotropaic character of this rite, based on the assump-
tion that the numinous aggressor must originally have been a demon (e.g., Gunkel 1921;
Beer and Galling 1939: 37–39; Noth 1961: 35–36; Coats 1999: 45–46; for discussion, see
Schmidt 1985: 220–22). However, “Few texts contain more problems for the interpreter
than these few verses which have continued to baffle throughout the centuries. The diffi-
culties cover the entire spectrum of possible problems” (Childs 1974: 95). The apotropaic
meaning, particularly of an allegedly older tradition—not to mention the general plausi-
bility of this sort of reconstruction—has been refuted by a number of scholars (including
Childs 1974: 100; and Durham 1987: 57–58). Most more-recent interpretations share the
opinion that the text is not an etiology of circumcision (Childs 1974: 100; Schmidt 1985:
232–34; Houtman 1993: 447–48). Moreover, several scholars have opined that the story of
the bloody bridegroom was composed for the contemporary context in order to prepare
Moses for what was to come, the exodus (Weimar 1980: 284–90; compare with Houtman
1993: 447), and also, at the beginning of the exodus, to allude to the circumcision at the
beginning of the conquest story in Josh 5:2–3.
In spite of the problems with reconstructing an older tradition and the sometimes-
fanciful interpretations such as: the demon was claiming for himself the right to the first
night (for example, Gressmann 1913: 58); it was an atonement rite (Gunkel 1910: 269); it
was a rite of family solidarity on the eve of exodus (Propp 1999: 515); it expiated the blood
guilt caused by the slain Egyptian (Propp 1999: 238); it was an apotropaic rite to prevent
incestuous relations between mother and son (Lescow 1993); or it replaced an originally
practiced circumcision of the groom before marriage (for example, Wellhausen 1927b:
175; van der Toorn 1994: 72)—despite these fanciful ideas, there nevertheless are several
elements in the text that support the view that the story reflects an originally apotropaic
394 Chapter 6
meaning for the rite. First, the attack takes place in the wilderness and at night; second,
the attack was unprovoked and endangered the life of Moses; and third, the attack was
repelled by a rite that included the application of blood and the severed foreskin. Even
without assuming the continuance of an older tradition or the substitution of an origi-
nally demonic being with Yhwh, the text in its final form is in essence an apotropaic act
in which the blood and foreskin serve as ritual media to repulse the attack (Blum 1998:
1355; Gerstenberger 2001: 35). Mary Douglas (1999: 181) also notes that the rite had a
prophylactic purpose: “Whatever the dangers that menace new male babies, the rite gives
them some protection.”
Moreover, Exod 4:24–26 was also read in later traditions as an attack by a numinous
being and therefore as an apotropaic rite. Although the Septuagint replaced Yhwh with
an angel that attacked Moses, probably because the encounter had become dogmatically
problematic, the fact of warding off an attack by a numinous being nevertheless remains.
In Jub. 48:2, the encounter with Yhwh is replaced by a demonic attack by the prince of de-
mons, Mastema. This tradition, especially, shows that the rite of circumcision during the
Hellenistic period was still understood apotropaic, in addition signifying the covenant of
belonging to God’s people. An apotropaic reading is also attested by Tg. Pseudo-Jonathan
on Exod 4:26, in which Zipporah says that is was the blood of circumcision that saved
Moses from the hand of the Angel of Death. Thus, there is a great deal of support for the
thesis that circumcision was essentially an apotropaic rite.
Several biblical texts support the view that circumcision was originally practiced either
as a rite of maturity or as preparation for marriage. Despite the above-mentioned difficul-
ties, the term ḥaṭan dāmîm ‘bridegroom of blood’ in Exod 4:25 and the story in Genesis
34 about the circumcision required of the Shechemites prior to marriage also suggest that
circumcision was originally associated with marriage. The circumcision of the thirteen-
year-old Ishmael in Gen 17:25 and the circumcision of the generation who had grown up
in the wilderness in Josh 5:2–9 may allude to a rite de passage performed on the cusp of
adulthood. The Egyptian practice of circumcision was also performed in the second de-
cade of life, and thus at the same point in the life cycle (see Ritner 2008: 178), as was the
analogous Arabian practice. Nevertheless, the somewhat ambiguous picture of preexilic
maturity rites probably reflects the fact that knowledge of its original context had faded,
thereby opening space for speculation on the part of the exilic and postexilic writers. Ac-
cording to the epigraphic evidence of the personal name ( מליהוMalyāhû), which is at-
tested four times,â•›13 the circumcision of infants as presupposed by the Priestly tradition of
Gen 17:12; 21:4; and Lev 12:3 seems to have commenced during the 7th century b.c.e. The
overlap between circumcision and the feast of name giving provided circumcision with an
apotropaic function, with Yhwh integrating the newborn into the family and protecting
the infant from demons and evil powers.
In spite of the fact that the rite of circumcision bore a variety of meanings (many of
which must now remain elusive) and that it was etiologized in various ways, it neverthe-
less remains clear that the common practice of circumcising male infants arose during
the period of exile and was partly a cultural product of the need to define and defend
the religious and national identity of the exilic community (Grünwaldt 1992: 222–24; Al-
bertz 2003: 107). Because circumcision was not common in Mesopotamia, it became a
confessional badge for the Babylonian golah by which the head of every family could de-
clare his membership in the community of exiles and his fidelity to the ancestral religion.
The father’s responsibility for the performance of circumcision again made the family the
nucleus of national and religious identity. Circumcision eventually became the most im-
portant hallmark of the Jewish faith, a practice that was also required of converts (Albertz
1994: 407–8; 2003: 107). The possibility of integrating individually alien people into a
family by circumcision (although not by general proselytizing) is reflected both in the
story of the circumcision of Ishmael and the household slaves in Gen 17:23–27, and by the
permission granted to circumcised foreign slaves in Exod 12:43–49 to participate in the
Passover.â•›14 Although circumcision became a potent sign of Jewish national and religious
identity, it was always intimately connected with characteristic family rites.
6.2.3.╇Marriage
Surprisingly, there is a complete absence of Old Testament accounts about ritual ac-
tions associated with the institution of marriage. Marriage contracts such as were found
at Elephantine are purely legal in character and do not mention ritualistic actions or ele-
ments. Moreover, the biblical rules for levirate marriage in Deut 25:5–10 are essentially
secular, despite their integration within a collection of divine law. This did not, of course,
mean that marriage was an entirely profane institution. Although the essence of marriage
may have lain in its legal status, it was associated with a variety of religiously motivated
observances and performances.
The patriarchal narratives of the Bible seem at first to support rather strongly the no-
tion that polygyny was a common phenomenon. Lamech was married to Adah and Zillah
(Gen 4:23); Abraham was married to Sarah as well as to Hagar and Keturah (Genesis 16;
25:1–6); Jacob’s primary wives were Leah and Rachel (chap. 29), and Bilhah and Zilpah
were his “second wives” (Gen 30:1–13); Esau in Gen 26:34 was married to the Hittite
women Judith and Basemath as well as to Mahalath, the daughter of Ishmael in Gen 28:9;
and, according to Gen 36:1–5, to Adah the Hittite, to Oholibamah the Hivite, and to Ish-
mael’s daughter Basemath.
The patriarchal narratives, however, are suffused with archaic imagery such as no-
madic wanderings, living in tents, and especially the archaic or pseudoarchaic imagery of
religious practices and beliefs. Polygyny would have fitted quite well into such an imag-
ined archaic patriarchal age. Note that the Deuteronomistic History does not mention
polygyny except for the two wives of Elkanah in 1 Sam 1:2 (which also may have merely
reflected an imagined archaic practice); the polygamy of the kings David (in 1 Sam 18:17–
30; 25:38–43; 2 Sam 3:2–5) and Solomon (in 1 Kgs 3:1; 11:3); and that of Gideon (in
Judg 8:30). Royal polygyny was viewed by the Deuteronomists as the reason for Solomon’s
veneration of foreign gods (1 Kgs 11:11–13), and in 2 Chr 11:21, it was mentioned in the
context of Rehoboam’s failures. Rather than aiming to suppress polygynist practices, the
Deuteronomistic writings and Chronicles were directed more toward practices that would
ensure exogamy.
Monogamy as the dominant form of marriage is explicitly evinced in stories such as
Bathseba, the wife of Uriah, in 2 Samuel 11 and the Shunammite couple in 2 Kgs 4:8–37.
Other biblical sources compiled both before and after the exile also show that monogamy
generally prevailed, such as the description of Isaiah’s wife the “prophetess” in Isa 8:3, and
Hosea’s wife Gomer in Hos 1:2–3. Accounts of women and their marital relationships in
the Old Testament wisdom literature, especially Prov 31:10–31 and Ben Sira 26, also seem
to presuppose monogamy (with the possible exception of Sir 25:14, the meaning of which
is unclear). Although Old Testament legal codes do not explicitly refer to polygyny, it is
nevertheless clear—particularly in Deut 21:15–17, which describes the rights of the first-
born—that it was generally legal.
It has been suggested that polygyny flourished in the upper classes, although there is
no epigraphic evidence to support this assertion. The 7th-century b.c.e. inscription from
Silwan 1.B (Renz and Röllig 1995: 264–65, Jer [7]:2) mentions an ‘ אמהslave girl’ or ‘sec-
ond wife’, merely indicating that the man’s wife—and only one wife is mentioned—was
of (perhaps much) lower social status. The marriage contracts from Elephantine (Porten
and Yardeni 1989: B 3.8:36–7; B 6.4:1) forbade a male partner to marry a second wife,
lest he face divorce, loss of dowry, or the exclusion of certain heirs (Porten and Yardeni
1989: B€2.6:32–5). Thus, monogamy seems to have been the rule in the Persian period, and
preexilic evidence also suggests that monogamous marriages reflected common practice.
Polygyny was an exception and was generally practiced only when a woman was barren or
had borne only girls. Both New Testament and talmudic sources also portray monogamy
as the general rule. The social inclination toward monogamy in ancient Israel and its con-
temporary environment may have reflected an awareness that polygynous marriages were
known to provoke considerable tensions among the women of a family (in Gen 30:1–24;
Rites of Family and Household Religion 397
see Gunkel 1910: 332; Friedl 2000: 275–85; Marsman 2003: 141) and also to raise serious
legal problems (Deut 21:15–17).
his brother if she has no offspring, to ensure “that his brother’s name may not be blotted
out in Israel” (Deut 25:6). The redeemer can also, according to Gen 38:6–26, be the father-
in-law (Judah) or even a man from the wider family, such as Boaz in the book of Ruth. If
the gōʾēl refuses to marry the yĕbāmāh, a rite of public humiliation is performed before
the elders at the city gate, in which she removes the sandals from the feet of the redeemer
and spits in his face. The unwilling redeemer then must bear the shame of having refused
to support and continue his brother’s house (Deut 25:9). The law is directed primarily at
continuing the lineage,while also serving the secondary purpose of ensuring social and
economical protection for the widow (Pressler 1993: 73–74). The rites described in Deu-
teronomy 25 are purely legal and entirely free of religious practices or connotations. The
humiliation is not even accompanied by a curse that invokes Yhwh. In Ruth 4:11–12, the
legal act is followed by a blessing performed by the witnesses, which in turn is merely an
expression of joy. Levirate marriage in general is directed against exogamy and is there-
fore implicitly connected with the stereotype of foreign women as being likely to seduce
men into alien cults. The book has often been interpreted within the broader context of
postexilic discourses regarding exogamy (see I. Fischer 2001: 86–93), according to which
the prohibition against exogamy in the so-called reforms of Ezra are based on explicitly
religious arguments. The book of Ruth itself, however, does not use explicitly religious
arguments; instead, it presents a legal framework that also calls for human compassion.
70–72; cf. Gerstenberger 2001: 43), because there is no further evidence from biblical or
other sources for these sorts of practice. The same is true of a wider interpretation of the
solitary remark in Mal 2:14–15 about the bĕrīt between the man and woman with Yhwh
as witness. Thus, based on this admittedly meager evidence, we see that blessings were ap-
parently the only rites of a religious nature performed during marriage ceremonies, while
the form of the entire ceremony was entirely legal in nature, as was acknowledged as early
as 1914 by Jahnow (1994: 34).
17.╇ In Exod 12:1–13:16; Lev 23:4–8; Num 9:1–14; Num 28:16–25; Deut 16:1–8; Josh 5:10–12;
2 Kgs 23:21–23; Ezek 45:21–24; Ezra 6:19–22; and 2 Chronicles 30; 35:1–19.
18.╇ This is different from Veijola (1996: 63) and Prosic (2004: 70), who propose that Deut
16:1–8 is the oldest account. The theory of a development the other way around, from a seasonal,
communal, Temple festival performed by the official cult to a commemorative festival performed
by families and kinship groups is not likely to have many followers, because it is contrary to much
of the textual evidence.
19.╇ See below, pp. 419–420.
400 Chapter 6
to Dahm (2003: 162–65), the festival served both to establish borders between the world
of the family and the wider (non-Israelite) world beyond, and to secure the identity of
lineages and households during the exile. The chronicling of the feast and its connection
with the exodus may already have been part of its essence, regardless of its unverifiable
age, or may have been introduced during the postexilic period to ensure national and
religious identity by means of a commemorative rite (Dahm 2003: 165–66). In contrast
to its original ritual setting in a family context, Deut 16:1–8 depicts a centralized Pass-
over Festival in which the slaughter and consumption of Passover animals (here including
bovines) needed to take place at the Temple. The character of the consumed animal had
thus been transformed into a zebaḥ-offering, and the Passover as now associated with
the agricultural Festival of Unleavened Bread (maṣṣot) was thus transformed into a pil-
grimage festival. In its form as a pilgrimage festival, it could no longer be celebrated after
the destruction of the Temple and the deportation to Babylon and wider regions of the
(Neo-)Babylonian Empire. The Priestly adoption of the Passover in Exod 12:1–13 is thus
a response to the needs of exilic communities for families living abroad to be permitted to
celebrate Passover. Only the slaughtering of the Passover lambs takes place communally
(Exod 12:6), but the Passover meal proper is explicitly held in family contexts (12:8–11).
Following the exile, the Holiness Code (Lev 23:4–8) again promoted the character of the
Passover as a pilgrimage feast, analogous to the maṣṣot Festival (Exod 12:14–17). More-
over, access to the festival was restricted to participants who were circumcised (Exod
12:43–50). In an even later stage of the feast’s postexilic development, the maṣṣot rite was
also opened to the Diaspora (Exod 12:18–20) and was thus transformed once again into
a familial rite. The accounts of Passover in 2 Chr 30:1–31:1; 35:1–19; and Ezra 6:19–22
reflect the strict centralization of this rite and emphasize its sacred character, in that the
Levites are doing the slaughtering, while the priests pour the blood on the altar (2 Chr
35:11). Thus, all ritual actions were performed by priests and not by laymen, and even
the animals used for offerings were officially sanctioned. The strict claim regarding the
centralization of Passover is also reflected in Jubilees 49.
In spite of these attempts at centralization and the “ritual expropriation” of laypersons
by the priests, the familial character of the feast and even the active role of laypeople ul-
timately prevailed. According to Philo (Questiones in Exodum 1.10), the sacrifices were
commonly performed at the sanctuary by laymen who had been endowed with priestly
authority for one day (Schlund 2005: 55–76). A hybrid form prevailing during the 1st cen-
tury a.d. consisted of a public slaughter performed at the Temple and a family celebration
of the Passover meal itself (Mark 14:12–25; Matt 26:17–19; Luke 22:7–23). This hybrid
form also appears in m. Pesaḥim, with public slaughter (m. Pesaḥ. 5:5–9) and domestic
preparation and consumption (m. Pesaḥ. 10:8). Thus, centralization of this ritual did not
ultimately prevail during the Second Temple period.
The impassioned Old Testament discourse over the familial versus centralized setting
of the Passover feast and the familial character that ultimately prevailed following the de-
struction of the Second Temple reveal the central importance of the familial nature of this
feast throughout its entire history until the present day.
Rites of Family and Household Religion 401
detailed legislation of the early postexilic Holiness Code, Lev 25:1–7, uses the term šabbāt
(or ׁשבת ׁשבתוןšabbāt šabbātōn ‘great Sabbath’), where it explicitly calls it a ׁשבת ליהוה
šabbāt laYhwh (‘Sabbath for Yhwh’). In the Holiness Code, the agrarian fallow year is
rehabilitated, and debt relief is transformed into the year of jubilee (Lev 25:8–55). It seems
likely that the regulation that appears in the Book of the Covenant refers to an individual
observance by single families and that different fallow periods were prescribed for differ-
ent agricultural products (see Gross 2000: 7–11). It therefore seems unlikely that Exod
23:10–11 promoted a sabbatical year as a common observance of all people. The Holiness
Code adopted older preexilic observances governing the agricultural lives of families and
proclaimed a divinely sanctioned sabbatical year to be adhered to by the whole commu-
nity. Although Neh 10:32 might be taken to suggest that these descriptions were provided
merely for theological reasons, the sabbatical year in actual practice is attested in both
biblical (1 Macc 6:49, 53) and extrabiblical sources (Josephus, Ant. 8.8.1; 14.10.6; 16.2).
This regulation about a sabbatical year both reflected and alleviated social problems. The
observance as described in the Book of the Covenant was designed both to encourage
compassion for society’s poor (Childs 1974: 482) and to prevent exploitation of fields,
which would only have diminished future agricultural returns (Albertz 1994: 102). There
is no textual evidence to support contrived theological interpretations, such as the theory
that the sabbatical year marked the temporary restitution of a primeval peace (Noth 1961:
153–54).
the agricultural cycle that signified the beginning of the grain harvest in the month of
Abib (March/April). The most important characteristic of the festival was the unleavened
bread that was baked from freshly harvested grain. The prohibition against using leaven in
the maṣṣot-bread most likely served to distinguish it from everyday food. Offerings were
not explicitly mentioned in Exod 23:15 and 34:18–20, although it must be assumed that
firstfruits would also have been offered to Yhwh based on the practices of other festivals
throughout the agricultural year.
Before the exile, rituals associated with these offerings, although related to local or
regional sanctuaries, were essentially performed independently by each family. The late-
monarchic Deuteronomistic reform movement sought to incorporate the rites and rituals
of family religion into those of the official cult. The regulations of Deut 26:1–11 provided
a liturgy for this ritual, made it compulsory to offer the firstfruits at the centralized sanctu-
ary, and introduced a rite of confession to be performed by the head of the family in order
to acknowledge Yhwh as the deity who had liberated the people from Egypt and had
given them the land (see Albertz 1994: 103).
Yhwh’s claim on the human firstborn (bĕkōr; see Exod 22:28; 34:20; and Num 8:17;
18:15) did not refer to an actual human sacrifice (for discussion of which, see Milgrom
2000: 1586–91) but (as already noted by de Wette 1842: §206; and W. R. Smith 1899: 189)
ascribed to him/her a special, sacred dignity (see Douglas 2004: 170). The claim on the
firstborn in Exod 13:11–16 was derived from narratives about the killing of the firstborn
in Egypt. Claims on human firstborns were thus theologically motivated, and each claim
needed to be redeemed (Exod 34:20), according to Num 3:50, with a prescribed amount
of silver. Num 3:12, 40–41; and 8:17–18 proclaimed that Levites were a substitute for all
human firstlings (see Noth 1964: 33). It is unlikely, however, that these descriptions reflect
the supplanting of ancient forms of human sacrifice with offerings of animals or other
substitutes. As concluded by Milgrom (2000: 1590), “There is no evidence that the first-
born, except in crisis situations (e.g., 2 Kgs 3:27), were sacrificed; there is no indication
that Israel’s God ever demanded or even sanctioned this practice.” The demand that the
firstborn be offered therefore represents thanksgiving to Yhwh for granting the first child
and for enabling the mother and child to survive the birth.
for a male child, who would in turn be promised as a nazirite for Yhwh. The vow was
offered at the local sanctuary in Shiloh although, rather than being spoken publicly, the
words of the vow were offered in silence. As emphasized by Berlinerblau (1996: 66–82),
the making of vows was primarily a private affair, and it required no cult apparatus. The
making of vows by females in return for (particularly male) children is also reflected in
the teaching of King Lemuel’s mother in Prov 31:2, in which Lemuel is addressed as the
‘son of my womb’ (־בטניâ•” ברbar-biṭnī) and the ‘son of my vow’ (־נדריâ•” ברbar-nĕdāray). Vows
made in situations of personal distress, sickness, or hostility are recorded in the individual
thanksgiving psalms (Ps 22:26; 56:13; 66:13–15; and 116:18–19) and in Jonah 2:10 and the
individual complaint psalms, as in Ps 61:6–9. Vows were also made to ensure divine pro-
tection and the general welfare of individuals or families (the latter through the provision
of such things as bread and clothing), as demonstrated by Jacob’s dream in Gen 28:20–22.
There is biblical evidence for the making of promissory vows to secure progeny, to prevent
or alleviate sickness or social distress, and to ensure general welfare. The general welfare
requested in the vow of offerings to be made to the Queen of Heaven in Jer 44:17–18
was especially for ensuring abundance of food and absence of misfortune. Vows were not
necessarily as simple as direct exchanges of offering and promise, however. Numbers 30
regulated that vows made by women could be nullified by the father or husband to prevent
economic problems that might arise by making too many vows or by promising too much
to the deity. Typical offerings of vows were calves, cows, rams, and lambs (Num 15:1–11),
all of which would have been of considerable value. Some biblical texts even recommended
the exercise of restraint in regard to vows, including Num 30:3; Deut 23:22–24; Qoh 5:3–6;
and Prov 20:25. Although Deut 12:5–7 and 11–12 stipulated that vows in postexilic times
had to be made at the central sanctuary, these stipulations included explicit descriptions
of the family contexts expected of such vows, with Deut 12:7 commanding the presence
of “you and your households” and Deut 12:12 the presence of “you and your sons, and
your daughters, and your menservants and your maidservants.” The public fulfillment of
vows at the temple is also indicated by Ps 22:26; 66:13; and 116:14–18. The usual type of
offering according to Ps 116:17 and 107:22 was the זבח תודהzebaḥ tōdāh ‘thanksgiving
offering’, while in the priestly offering regulations of Lev 7:11–17, the zebaḥ hattōdāh was
classified as the זבח ׁשלמיםzebaḥ šĕlāmîm ‘offering of well-being’ of a cow, sheep, or goat
(see also Lev 22:19; Num 15:1–11) and was to be accompanied by offerings of bread and
cakes. Additional libation offerings were mentioned in Num 15:5, 7, and 10, while Lev
22:18 and Num 15:1–11 also mentioned that an offering made for the fulfillment of a vow
could take the form of an עלהʿolāh-offering. According to Jer 44:17, the offerings vowed
to the Queen of Heaven included libations, cakes, and burnt incense. These items could
also be offered in domestic environments or in profane public locations, such as a street
(Jer 44:21).
Prior to the exile, vows would most likely have been made at a local or regional sanctu-
ary, as occurred in the Valley of Ben-Hinnom (2 Kgs 23:10; Jer 7:31–32; 19:6, 11–14). The
making of vows thus represented a point of intersection between the realms of familial
religion and official religion. Vows were made in both private contexts (as presupposed in
Numbers 30) and public contexts (in the sanctuary in 1 Sam 1:9–11), while rituals follow-
ing their fulfillment were performed in communal sanctuaries.
Rites of Family and Household Religion 405
The existence of both legislative and biblical texts recommending restraint in the mak-
ing of vows provides strong evidence that vows were not only entered into in response
to severe danger or distress but also frequently to address situations of perceived need
(Berlinerblau 1991: 555).
In KTU 1.22 II, Danil made a vow to the deified ancestors of his royal house, the ra-
piuma, and invited them to a sacrificial meal, if his son would sit on his throne (although
it is unclear whether the text meant Aqhat or a second son after Aqhat).
Although the vows made by Keret and Danil were motivated to ensure the continua-
tion of their dynasty, the practice of males undertaking vows in exchange for children or
for the protection of an existing child may have been commonplace, as indicated by Phoe-
nician dedicatory inscriptions, such as stele P 11.38 (TUAT 2.620), which declare that,
TUAT 2.620
1
Guddbaal, son of Hannibaal, 2set up the stele for his daughter 3and has redeemed
his vow.
The Phoenician epigraphic material also evinces that vows were made to prevent or
alleviate illness, as in KAI 66 (2nd century b.c.e.):
KAI 66
1. lʾdn lʾšmn mʾrḥ mzbḥ nḥšt mšql lṭrm mʾ 100 ʾš ndr ʾklyn šḥsgm ʾš bmmlht šm[ʿ
2. [q]lʾ rpyʾ bšt špṭm ḥmlkt wʿbdʾšmn bn ḥmlk
1
To the Lord Ešmun-Mʾrḥ: An altar of copper of 100-litra weight,â•›23 which has
been vowed by Kleon, the (servant) of Šḥsgm, who is over the saltworks. He
has hear[d] 2his ca]ll (and) has healed him. In the year of the špṭm Ḥmlkt and
ʿBdʾšmn, the sons of Ḥmlk.
Most private inscriptions do not, however, mention the circumstances of or occasions for
the vows, as in the unique votive inscription on one (presumably) Ammonite seal from
the 7th century b.c.e. (WSS no. 876), which reads:
The Abinadab seal was made to be used repeatedly, most likely in conjunction with regular
donations (Avigad 1966: 250; Berlinerblau 1991: 551–53), demonstrating that vows were
made not only in response to individual situations of distress but also regularly. Many
Phoenician dedicatory inscriptions also mention vows but do not mention any related oc-
casion. Punic dedicatory inscriptions demonstrate that vows were made not only by men
but also commonly by women, as in KAI 109:â•›24
KAI 109
1
lʾdn lbʿl ḥmn mlk 2ʾmr ndr ʾš ndr ʾ 3kbrt bt [.╯.╯.]
1
To the Lord, Baal Hammon, a molk-2lamb. A vow, vowed by A3kborat, daughter
of [.╯.╯.]
The erection of stelae to mark the fulfillment of vows is also described in Gen 28:20–22,
although there is not yet any archaeological evidence from ancient Israel of dedicatory
inscriptions that mention vows. The extrabiblical evidence, especially Phoenician and
Punic inscriptions, demonstrates that these dedications also represented an intersection
of familial and official cult practices, because the dedicatory inscriptions were installed
in sanctuaries, thereby making both the undertaking and the redemption of vows a
public affair.
Misgav, and Tsfania 2004). Although these periods do no overlap with those of the present
study, these inscriptions are nevertheless worthy of mention because of their demonstra-
tion of the ways that familial and official cult practices intersected and overlapped.
The inscriptions were found upon building and pavement stones in the general area
of the sacred precinct, although none of these stones appear to have been in their original
positions, with a single exception (no. 223) being used a second time as part of a monu-
mental staircase. The dedicatory inscriptions were made using two forms of the Aramaic
script: lapidary Aramaic as commonly found in other inscriptions from the Persian and
early Hellenistic periods, and proto-Jewish script. These two styles occurred alongside one
another, although those inscriptions in the lapidary style perhaps originated somewhat
earlier (Magen, Misgav and Tsfania 2004: 41).
Two types of dedication formula are represented in the inscriptions. The first type
opened with the expression zy (or dy) hqrb ‘that which [PN] offered’. A typical formula
(from no. 1) reads:
Document no. 1 from the Samaritan Temple on Mount Gerizim
1
zy hqrb ʾlzʿr [br . . . ʿl npšh] 2[w]ʿl ʾmh ʾntth wb[nwhy . . .]
1
That which Elʿazar [son of PN] offered [for himself] 2[and] for his wife Imma
and [his]so[ns]
The second type of formula again began with zy/dy hqrb ‘that which [PN] offered’ but
ended with the expression ldkrn ṭw ‘for good remembrance’. A typical version of this for-
mula (from no. 147) reads:
Document no. 147, Samaritan Temple, Mount Gerizim
dy hqrb dlyh br šmʿn ʿlwhy wʿl bnwhy ʾbnʾ [dh l]dkrn ṭw qdm ʾlhʾ bʾtrʾ dnh
Delayah, son of Šimʿon, offered [this] stone for himself and his sons for a good
remembrance by God in this place
Several inscriptions describe the dedications of women, whose names are either men-
tioned alone (as in nos. 17, 45) or together with their husbands’ names (in nos. 18, 19):
The female donor of no. 17 who was mentioned without her husband would most likely
have been a widow occupying the role of pater familias after the death of her husband. This
sort of change to women’s social roles also seems to have included their responsibility to
undertake ritual activities, including donations to the temple. Inscription no. 19 further
indicates, however, that women whose husbands were presumably still alive were also able
to donate to the temple on their own behalf.
408 Chapter 6
Those who edited and compiled the records for these inscriptions assumed that the
expression zy hqrb, or ‘that which [PN] offered’, referred to a monetary contribution, be-
cause the only inscription (no. 199) that mentions the sacrifice of animals (in the form of
pryn ‘bulls’) used the sacrificial term dbḥ—equivalent to the Hebrew zbḥ—in a different
formulation from the standard dedicatory inscription (Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania 2004:
17). Inscription nos. 147 (cited above) and 148 suggest that the votive object was the actual
stone that bore the inscription (ʾbnh/ʾbnʾ dh), although this does not exclude the likeli-
hood that monetary contributions were also included.
The general absence of explicit reasons or circumstances for these inscribed references
to vows along with the high degree of stereotypy in the inscriptions prevent much specula-
tion regarding the motivations and reasons for undertaking these vows. Most inscriptions
merely express a wish for a good remembrance (ldkrn ṭw) by God and can thus be inter-
preted as being general petitions for welfare. It must naturally be assumed that donors
were beholden to their vows. One case (no. 157) used the expression [.╯.╯.] ḥyy npšh ‘[for]
his own life’ or, literally, ‘the life of his soul’, rather than the more customary ʿl npšh ‘for
himself ’, suggesting a severe threat to the life of this donor should his vows not be fulfilled.
Parallel formulas have been found on 5th- and 4th-century b.c.e. Aramaic inscriptions
from Teima. For example,
KAI 229
1
mytbʾ zy qr 2[b] mʿnn br ʿm 3[r]n lṣlm ʾlh 4ʾlḥyy npšh
1
The pedestal that offer2ed mʿnn, son of ʿm 3[r]n, to Ṣalam, the go4 d, for the life
of his soul.
Some scholars have proposed that these dedications reflected atonements being offered
for misdeeds (Magen, Misgav and Tsfania 2004: 20), because of the alleged similarity be-
tween the formulas zy hqrb, ldkrn ṭw, and ʿl npšh; and Exod 30:16, which states, “You shall
take the atonement money from the Israelites and shall designate it for the service of the
tent of meeting. Before Yhwh it will be a reminder (lĕzikkārōn) to the Israelites of the
ransom (lĕkappēr) given for your lives (ʿal-napšōtēkem).”
Although this verse contains both lĕzikkārōn and ʿal-napšōtēkem, the key term used
to refer to atonement rituals (kpr) does not appear in the Samaritan inscriptions. The Sa-
maritan formulas, however, lack sufficient details for us to infer that the dedications were
being made for atonement; furthermore, we do know from other formulas that ldkrn ṭw
refers to the more general desire for welfare rather than the more severe ritual quest for
atonement.
These dedicatory inscriptions from the Gerizim sanctuary were generally intended to
achieve a blessing or God’s good remembrance for the dedicator himself and for the mem-
bers of his family, especially his wife and sons. Dedicators were, however, also women, who
had most likely been widowed—as indicated by nos. 17 and 45—but also may have been
married, as suggested by nos. 18 and 19. In all cases, the inscriptions followed the same
formula used by male dedicators, including a reference to sons. Dedicatory inscriptions
intending to ensure the welfare of a family provide strong evidence for the intersection
of familial religion and official cults. Families as mentioned in the inscriptions seem to
have been nuclear types, comprising parents and sons (daughters were not mentioned in
Rites of Family and Household Religion 409
any of the inscriptions). One case (no. 149) depicts an extended family by mentioning the
father of the donor. These dedicatory inscriptions permitted concerns for family welfare
to be voiced in the public realm, and public cults granted an official place for this expres-
sion. As observed in the records of these inscriptions, their uniformity and their place-
ment on building and pavement stones indicates official involvement in their preparation.
They would most likely have been composed by temple scribes and executed by dedicated
craftsmen employed by the temple authorities (Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania 2004: 14, 20).
Thus, a family’s religious needs were granted a place in the official cult, but the expression
of these needs was subject to the control of temple authorities. The large number of these
inscriptions and the considerable size that would have rendered them clearly readable
even when incorporated into walls of considerable height are firm evidence for the im-
portance of this practice in the Samaritan Temple. This Samaritan evidence elucidates the
cultural intersections between familial and official religious practices. The nature of these
intersections accords with previous observations drawn from biblical evidence for Judaic
practices following the exile (Albertz 1994: 508–11).
and Punic inscriptions—these official dictates had little impact on general practices as-
sociated with the offering of vows.
requested in the presence of the family and god—who was, according to Gen 27:7 (ואברכה
לפני יהוהwaʾabārekkā lipnĕ Yhwh ‘that I may bless you before Yhwh’), also the divine
witness and guarantor of the blessing—the circumstances surrounding the blessing were
part of irrevocable societal conventions, especially the conventions that served to prevent
controversy over the line of succession. Moreover, the formula ‘that my soul may bless
you’ ( תברכה נפׁשיtĕbārekkā napšī) in Gen 27:4, 19, 25, 31 was not an argument for an ani-
mistic transfer of power (Leuenberger 2008: 237–41) but pointed out the fact that it was
the personal, emotional relationship between the father and son that made the situation
appropriate for uttering a blessing. According to Gen 48:14–21 (and also implicitly, Gen
25:5), the pater familias had authority to determine which heir was granted the blessing of
the firstborn. In Genesis 48, Ephraim is chosen over his older brother Manasseh, regard-
less of the custom of blessing the firstborn and thereby anointing him heir. This is also
exemplified by Noah’s blessing of Shem and his subordinating of Canaan under him in
Gen 9:25–27. For families with no pater familias, the widow was ceded authority to grant
the blessing, as described in Judg 17:2: After Micah returned the 1,100 pieces of silver to
his mother, she blessed him ( ברוך בני ליהוהbārūk bĕnī laYhwh) and endowed him with a
newly founded sanctuary. Although the narrative does not directly address the succession
of family authority, it does indicate that widows could act in the role of pater familias. The
blessing of the pater familias was also sometimes accompanied by a laying on of hands,
especially the right hand (Gen 48:14). A blessing was also uttered by the pater familias
when members of his household, whether servants or sons, had to undertake journeys
(Gen 24:7; Tob 5:17). A special occasion for blessing was the departure of a daughter from
her father’s house to join her husband’s house. Laban blessed his daughters Leah and Ra-
chel in Gen 32:1 before they left with Jacob; and, in Gen 24:60, Rebekah was blessed by
her brothers before beginning her journey to marry Isaac. Another blessing is described
in Tob 7:13, where Raguel bestows blessings on both his daughter, Sarah, and her groom,
Tobias, on the occasion of their marriage. The public pronunciation of Boaz as redeemer
and his acquisition of Ruth as wife in Ruth 4:9–12 were also followed by a blessing by the
witnesses for a good marriage and many children. 1 Sam 1:17 also describes a blessing
bestowed by the priest against female infertility when the barren Hannah makes a vow in
front of Eli, who then utters a blessing for a male heir.
In contrast to this evidence for blessings, there is considerably less evidence for the
utterance of curses or for rituals associated with them. Biblical law (as expressed in Exod
21:17; Lev 20:9; Deut 27:16) expressly forbids the cursing (here, qll↜) of one’s parents (see
Albertz 1978b; Schmitt 2004: 347–50). In the Book of the Covenant, in Exod 21:17, the
cursing of parents is mentioned along with other crimes deserving of the death penalty,
because it violates the commandment to honor one’s parents and disturbs both societal
and divine order. The regulation of the Holiness Code in Lev 20:9 was drawn from Exod
21:17 and reinterpreted as a violation of God’s claim of holiness for his people. Although
Deut 27:16 (the so-called decalogue of curses) contains no judicial proscription; never-
theless, cursing one’s parents is seen as a violation of God’s covenant, and the ארורʾārûr
(‘forbidden’) formulation threatens violators of the law with divine reprobation.
The blessing of Jacob by Isaac in Gen 27:29 includes a curse on those who curse Ja-
cob ( ארריך ארור ומברכיך ברוךʾōrĕrĕykā ʾārūr ûmĕbārăkeyka bārūk ‘Cursed [be he] who
curses you and blessed [be he] who blesses you’), although the primary intention of the
412 Chapter 6
phrase would have been to ensure blessings rather than curses. The Noah curse on his son
Canaan in Gen 9:25–27 serves more as an etiological synecdoche for Israel’s superior-
ity over Canaan. The curses uttered by Jacob in Genesis 49 on his sons Ruben, Simeon,
Levi, and Issachar reflect an artificial composition unrelated to actual practices of family
religion. The curse of Micah’s mother in Judg 17:2 was not directed at her son but at an
unknown thief. In situations of deep personal distress, one may curse the night of one’s
conception (Job 3:8) or the day of one’s birth (Jer 20:14), although these curses reflect uni-
versal social practices more than they do contemporary religious rites or rituals. The re-
ligious practices of Israelite families during Old Testament times were primarily directed
at ensuring their own welfare, and thus the utterance of curses would not have been a
particularly prevalent practice, nor was it frequently recorded in texts.
EGed [8]:2
1
ʾrr ʾšr ymḥh (. . .) 4brk yhw[. .] (. . .) 6. brk bgy[.╯.╯.] mlk 7. brk ʾdn[.]yh[.] (. . .)
1
cursed who erases (this) (. . .) 4blessed is Yeho[. .](. . .) 6blessed is BGY[.╯.╯.] MLK
7
blessed is ʾAdoniya
The Ketef Hinnom amulets (Renz and Röllig 1995: 447–56, Jer [x]:34–35) also contain
blessings (similar to the priestly blessing in Num 6:24–26)—in this case addressed to the
owners of the objects and serving to ensure the blessings of Yhwh in postmortem exis-
tence. The existence of this blessing, originally associated with ritual actions performed
in the Temple, again reveals the convergence between family and official religion (Leuen-
berger 2008: 153, 155–77).â•›25
An even broader context is suggested by the Kuntillet ʿAjrûd inscription on pithos
no. 2 (a school exercise), which contains a greeting formula along with a blessing that may
be considered typical for written communication:
25.╇Nevertheless Leuenberger’s (2008: 175) assertion that the Ketef Hinnom amulets are to be
interpreted in the context of secondary religious experience is without evidence: They belong to an
individual or family context and have nothing to do with confession. Moreover it seems unlikely to
me that such things as “theologies of blessings,” as reconstructed by Leuenberger, ever existed or
that these “theologies” can be reconstructed from random inscriptions.
Rites of Family and Household Religion 413
Kuntillet ʿAjrûd inscription, pithos no. 2 (Renz and Röllig 1995: 62, KAjr [9]:9)
4
brktk ly 5hw[.╯.╯.] 6w lʾšrth yb 7rk wyšmrk 8wyhy ʿm ʾd[n] 9y [.╯.╯.]
4
I bless you by Y5hw[h] [of Teman?] 6and by his Ašerah. May he b7less you and
protect you, 8and may he be with my lo[r]9d
BLay [7]:4
1
ʾrr 2↜ʾšr ymḥh
1
cursed (is) 2whoever erases (this)
A similar formula was used in inscription 1B from Silwan (Renz and Röllig 1995: 264–65,
Jer [7]:2):
Silwan inscription 1B, Jer [7]:2
1
zʾt [krbt . .]yhw ʾšr ʿl hbyt : ʾyn [p]h ksp : wzhb 2[ky] ʾm [ʿṣmtw] wʿṣmt ʾmth ʾth : ʾrwr
hʾdm ʾšr 3yptḥ ʾt zʾt
This is [the tomb of XY]yahu, who is over the house. [He]re is no silver or gold;
1
[on]ly [his bones] and the bones of his slave-girl with him. Cursed (is) the man
2
These inscriptions that served to protect graves belong to the realm of familial care for the
dead, as will be discussed more comprehensively in chap. 7.â•›26 Suffice it to say here to say
that curses on graves were similar in purpose to familial blessings: they were intended to
protect a family from mischief and distress perpetrated from beyond and, if not securing
welfare, then at least serving to ensure a peaceful rest.
Blessings in the context of family religion had important functions, especially with
regard to delegating a succeeding pater familias (Genesis 27; 48), or the widow who was
acting in this role (Judg 17:2), and maintaining social cohesion and adherence to social
conventions. The latter concern was especially prominent in curses.
importance of these sorts of domestic ritual. Both Gerstenberger (1980: 132–47; 1988:
30–34; 1996; 2001: 40–41) and I (Albertz 1978a: 23–49; 1994: 100–101; 2008: 102–3) ar-
gued that the psalms of individual complaint and thanksgiving originated in domestic cer-
emonies. Although those psalms were composed by religious professionals and officials,
and although their recorded forms reflect the terminal point of an extended process of
derivation, they nevertheless reflect the beliefs and religious experiences of families. The
psalms of complaint in particular lack elements that would otherwise be expected if they
merely reflected official religious traditions, because their forms were clearly based on the
intimate relationship between the individual and the divine. Thus, the deity invoked in the
psalms of individual complaint is addressed as “my god” 29 times,â•›27 and an additional 19
times in psalms of confidence and other related genres.â•›28 Such personal intimacy with the
divine is also reflected in the use of phrases such as “my help,” “my protection,” “my trust,”
and “my hope.”â•›29 In chap. 5 above, we noted the considerable correspondence between the
semantic structures of these individual psalms of complaint or thanksgiving and Hebrew
personal names that appear in both epigraphic and biblical sources.â•›30 Choices of personal
names and these psalms of individual complaint and thanksgiving are all deeply rooted
in the primary religious experiences of families. They convey similar desires for comfort,
stability, and harmony (see Sundermeier 1992: 7–8; 1999: 34–36). The intimacy of a re-
lationship with Yhwh and the practice of placing personal trust in him are expressed,
for instance, in Ps 22:9–10 and 71:5–6, both of which refer to divine protection during
gestation.
Although the psalms of individual complaint present highly stylized formulas ad-
dressing a variety of distressing occasions, they provide insight into the sorts of situation
in which they were used as ritual prayers. These include general experiences of divine
absence,â•›31 facing the wrath of God,â•›32 sickness,â•›33 the fear of death,â•›34 social conflict, un-
usual hostility,â•›35 and perhaps also demonic threats (or at least the perception of demonic
threats).â•›36 The situations presented in the psalms of individual complaint reflect existen-
tial experiences typical of individuals within their immediate social contexts. There thus
appears to be strong evidence to support the thesis that this genre of psalms had its origin
in rituals conducted in and for the benefit of the domestic environment.
Domestic ceremonies of petition, lamentation, and thanksgiving may have involved
the recitation of a psalm prayer that expressed the occasion for the ritual, as well as in-
27.╇ ʾĒlī: Ps 22:2, 11; 63:2; 102:25; 140:7. ʾĔlōhay: Ps 3:8; 5:3; 7:2, 4; 13:4; 22:3; 25:2; 31:15; 35:23–
24; 38:16, 22; 40:18; 42:7, 12; 43:4–5; 59:2; 69:4; 71:4, 12, 22; 86:2, 12; 109:26; 143:10.
28.╇ Such as in Ps 18:3; 30:13; 91:2.
29.╇ See, for example, Ps 18:3; 27:1; 31:4; 38:16; 40:18; 54:6; 59:17–18; 62:3, 7; 71:5–7; 94:22;
140:8.
30.╇ See above, p. 252.
31.╇ In Ps 13:2; 22:2–3; 42.
32.╇ In Ps 6:2; 38:2–3; 39:11–12, 14.
33.╇ In Ps 6:3; 22:15–16; 38; 41:4–5; 88; 102.
34.╇ In Ps 9:14b; 22:15–16; 88; 141:7–8.
35.╇ In Psalm 3; 6:6, 11; 7; 9:14a; 10; 13:2; 17; 25:19; 27:2; 31:12–14; 35; 43; 54; 55; 56; 57; 59; 64;
69; 70; 71; 86:14; 109; 140; 142; 143.
36.╇ In Ps 22:17; 91:5–6.
Rites of Family and Household Religion 415
volving the performance of specific ritual actions. Gerstenberger’s (2001: 40) speculative
reconstruction of these domestic ceremonies included the ritual elements of cleansing,
offerings, and petitional prayers. These were followed by public offerings of thanks�giving
( זבח התדהzebaḥ hattōdāh) that were performed at local sanctuaries in preexilic times
and at a central sanctuary in later times (see Gerstenberger 1996: 75–84). The forms of
these ceremonies would likely have been influenced by the forms of other ceremonial rites
of passage described in Old Testament sources such as Leviticus 12–14, which included
acts of ritual separation, cleansing, and offering, as well as ritual reintegration into one’s
broader social group. These sorts of ceremony were often conducted to aid the healing,
recovery, and reintegration of sick members of a family (see Gerstenberger 1980: 168). The
public celebration of the zebaḥ hattōdāh included a tribute given to the saving deity and
both communicated and celebrated publicly the reintegration of an individual into his or
her broader society.
Domestic ceremonies of this sort could have been performed by the pater familias.
Most common domestic ritual activities were performed by and within families them-
selves without external support or direction from priests or other religious devotees.
Chapter 3 demonstrated the frequent archaeological presence of objects such as offer-
ing stands, libation vessels, incense burners, miniature altars, and votive figurines that
were used as ritual media in domestic contexts. The abundance of these objects is good
evidence that rituals associated with the offering of food and liquids and the burning of
incense were often performed for purposes of petition and thanksgiving by families in
their domestic environment. Although families themselves would generally have been the
intended public recipients of these rites, the common presence within domestic ritual
assemblages of the sorts of bowls and tripod incense cups that are also found at gate and
local sanctuariesâ•›37 suggests that, for some occasions at least, these smaller-scale rituals
were performed in a more public situation. The presence of burned animal bones at some
neighborhood and local sanctuariesâ•›38 also suggests that sacrificial animals were offered in
thanksgiving (zebaḥ hattōdāh) by individuals or families. Although it is unclear whether
the performance of occasional ceremonies at local sanctuaries that included a zebaḥ re-
quired the assistance of a priest, as described in 1 Sam 1:21 and 2:13, ritual specialists were
certainly needed for rituals that addressed cases of sickness or unusual distress.
especially those that required rituals that lay outside the usual family repertoire (Albertz
1994: 100; Gerstenberger 1996: 72–74; 2001: 40–41). In 2 Kgs 4:8–17, Elisha saw fit to
intervene on behalf of a barren wife and promised her a son. The boy died but was raised
to life again according to 2€Kgs 4:18–37 by the man of God through prayer and sym-
bolic actions. The mother in this case had to go to Mount Carmel to consult the man of
God. A similar miracle story appears in 1 Kgs 17:17–24, where Elijah revived the son of
a widow in Sarepta. The primary activity of the ʾīš hāʾĕlōhîm was this sort of ritual inter-
vention, which also seems to have been the case for later prophets, such as Isaiah in 2 Kgs
20:1–11 and Isaiah 38. According to 1 Kings 17 and 2 Kgs 4:8–17, men of God were oc-
casionally hosted by families, who were reimbursed by his performance of ritual services.
However, the miraculous stories in 1 Kgs 17:8–16 and 2 Kgs 4:1–7 describing wondrous
bounties of flour and oil also reflect the expectations of households that the presence of an
ʾīš hāʾĕlōhîm would bring material benefits. According to 2 Kgs 4:23, regular consultations
with the ʾīš hāʾĕlōhîm outside the domestic environment did occasionally occur on new
moons and Sabbaths. The men of God often represented the conjunction and communion
of several religious realms by being directly affiliated with certain cult places or sanctuar-
ies (such as Elisha and his community with Carmel and Gilgal, in 2 Kgs 4:25 and 4:38;
and perhaps also Elijah with Carmel), performing rituals and uttering oracles on official
occasions (see 2 Kgs 13:14–19) and being ritual practitioners for individuals and families
in cases of infertility, death, sickness, loss of valuable goods, and other distressing situa-
tions. In these narratives, the men of God performed miracles in response to overt pleas
or requests presented by supplicants, thereby demonstrating the benefits of overcoming
passive submission or acceptance of circumstances (particularly in 2 Kgs 4:1–7; 5:1–19;
and 6:1–7) and the need to have faith for salvation (see S. Otto 2001: 226; Schmitt 2004:
299–300). These tales of miracles thus encapsulate the one essential axiom, that god saves
(Moore 1990: 151–52).
Narratives about miracles in the Old Testament, especially 1 Kgs 17:17–24 and 2 Kgs
4:32–37, suggest that associated rituals required the separation of the sick person (thereby
also marking their liminal status), the utterance of intercessory prayers by the man of God
along with the performance of symbolic actions, and finally, the ritual reintegration of the
healed person. This final act was also a public demonstration of the efficacy of the man
of God. Another final action in the ritual process was sometimes the giving of thanks to
the man of God or the ritual specialist (see 2 Kgs 5:16; Ezek 13:19). An additional zebaḥ
hattōdāh may also have been performed occasionally at a local sanctuary, although there
is no record of this associated with the prophetic miracle stories. Psalms of lament would
probably have been recited as ritual prayers by the men of God, analogous to the Meso-
potamian ašipu (Gerstenberger 1980: 168–69; 1988: 30; 2001: 40–41). Moreover, although
the Psalms contain no actual oracles of salvation (Begrich 1964: “priesterliches Heilsor-
akel”; see Janowski 2003: 75–84), it is also possible that oracles were spoken as a part of
these ritual proceedings (Albertz 2001: 101).
The patriarchal selection of the Old Testament texts left little room for evidence of
ritual authority held by women, and there is scant mention of female ritual specialists or
their actions. The most important evidence appears in 1 Samuel 28 and Ezek 13:18–21.
1€Sam 28:3–25 describes Saul’s visit to the בעלת אבbaʿalat ʾōb (‘mistress of a conjura-
Rites of Family and Household Religion 417
tion pit’, with Ebach and Rüterswörden 1977; 1980), which attests the presence of female
necromancers in ancient Israel, similar to the Hittite SALŠU.GI or ḫaššawa (the ‘wise’ or
‘old woman’). Although this text may reflect other traditions, it presupposes the Deutero-
nomic injunction in Deut 18:11 against necromancers and thus may have been intention-
ally directed at female ritual specialists contemporary with the Deuteronomistic redac-
tors. It is impossible, however, to ascertain how common or uncommon necromancy was
during this period.╛39 A ritual mask and a cult stand found at Hazor Locus 44 (fig.€3.27)╛40
may be evidence that domestic necromantic consultations occurred prior to the exile. The
polemics of Ezek 13:17–21 against the “daughters of Israel” were directed at female healers
and ritual specialists acting under their own aegis who misused (according to the prophet)
the name of Yhwh by performing “black” magic rituals such as the tying of knots or who
may have constructed unauthorized instruments used in magic, performed unauthorized
healing rituals, or engaged in deadly witchcraft (see Schmitt 2004: 283–87, 360–62). The
profanation of Yhwh’s name in Ezek 13:19 reflects magic deeds that were performed in
the name of Yhwh, both to mobilize him against a ritual enemy so that the enemy would
be injured or killed (“putting to death persons who should not die”) and to heal (“keeping
alive persons who should not live”).
These biblical texts reveal that ritual specialists were consulted when rituals that a pa-
ter familias or other family member might have been able to perform were inadequate (or,
perhaps, inappropriate). Infertility and severe sickness especially required consultation
with men of God or female ritual specialists; but the female ritual specialists were usually
consulted for their capacity to conjure love charms and perform various kinds of “black
magic” rituals.
10
Why is this house coughing? 11Why does it look to heaven? 12Either someone has
sworn wrongfully or performed a deed of blood 13and has thrown his coat over it;
14
or someone has been “cut off ” or spoken a curse; 15or someone afflicted with a
deed of blood has come in; or someone who has sworn wrongfully; 16or someone
has practiced black magic and gone in; 17or in the house itself, a deed of blood was
done.
Mesopotamian Namburbi rituals against the domestic katarru fungus similarly dem-
onstrate that omens regarding fungus on walls were interpreted as indicating guilt by a
house’s owner, by its other inhabitants, or by visitors (Maul 1994: 354–66). Lev 14:33–53
describes a similar situation, in which Yhwh inflicted ṣāraʿat on a house to reflect or
indicate the guilt of one of its inhabitants. The disease was often inflicted not only on indi-
viduals but also on the houses themselves, necessitating ritual purification of the afflicted
house. Rabbinic sources also describe houses as being afflicted with the sins of their own-
ers, and domestic fungus was understood as a punishment for unrepentant sinners (Pesiq.
Rab. 17). There thus seems to have been a strong, direct association of sin with defilement
(see Schmitt 2004: 307–34), contrary to previous assertions by Milgrom (see especially
1991: 864–65; and the studies compiled in Milgrom 1983), and in agreement with him,
Wright (1987: 85) and Douglas (1999: 185). The apotropaic character of purification ritu-
als has often been assumed to reflect the textual transformation of an originally exorcistic
ritual (Elliger 1966: 186; Gerstenberger 1993: 161). The texts themselves, however, betray
no underlying suggestions of exorcism or of demonic causes for the defilement. Instead,
Lev 14:34 declares Yhwh to have been the direct cause of the defilement, acting in re-
sponse to sin. These rituals were apotropaic simply because they prevented (or at least
discouraged)further misfortune from befalling a house due to the sins of its inhabitants.
All the inhabitants of a house probably would have had to undergo ritual purification for
ṣāraʿat, as in Lev 14:1–33, because people considered ritually impure were prevented from
participation in official cult activities and many other aspects of normal social life.
Lev 14:33–53 clearly demonstrates one way that official cult offices and activities inter-
sected with domestic religious practices by providing one of the few examples of priests’
officiating on behalf of people infected with disease by conducting rituals in domestic
settings. Official priests considered ṣāraʿat to induce defilement of such severity that it
could not be addressed by any domestic rites that a pater familias could perform; rather, it
afforded priests an opportunity to perform the kipper ritual, for which they were the only
sanctioned officials. A priest was necessary for the kipper ritual because it involved blood
rites that were considered a חטאתḥaṭṭāʾt ‘sin offering’ (in Lev 5:9, the offering of a bird was
explicitly called a ḥaṭṭāʾt). The general authority that priests held for performing rituals
was absolute in the case of purification rituals, particularly for family purification rituals
that required blood rites. Priests probably would have been present throughout preexilic
times in cases of severe defilement, as was the case in Mesopotamia. However, the control
exercised by priests over all rites against defilement (from initial diagnosis through to final
purification and reintegration) also reflects the broader practices of postexilic theologians
who emphasized the importance of surveillance over domestic ritual activity. Priests also
had sole authority for making purity decisions in cases of genital discharge or menstrua-
tion, or following the postnatal period of confinement discussed above.
Rites of Family and Household Religion 419
and in the rich magical literature of late antique Judaism (see Naveh and Shaked 1985;
1993)—all reflect the importance of beliefs and traditions associated with demons in the
daily religious lives of families throughout this entire period. The scarcity of demonic nar-
ratives in the Old Testament thus more likely reflects the selectiveness of their compilation
rather than the lack of relevance of these themes during the more ancient times of the Old
Testament books (Frey-Anthes 2007). This theory is corroborated by the wealth of archae-
ological evidence for apotropaic practices, especially the abundance of amulets that served
to ward off various nefarious influences.
42.╇ While not withdrawing from this original position, she later emphasized (1972a, b) the
function of prohibitions in maintaining and unifying an otherwise precarious social identity and
adopted yet another position in subsequent works (1999: 134–75; 2004: 159–60, 170–73), accord-
ing to which the impurity of animals arose because of their analogical symbolism: “The animal that
is taken into the body by eating corresponds to that which is offered on the altar by fire; what is
disallowed for the one is disallowed for the other; what harms the one harms the other” (Douglas
1999: 134). Domestic ruminants belonged in the realms considered under Israel’s covenant, while
all other animals (which symbolized the fertility of creation) were forbidden for human consump-
tion and protected in Yhwh’s covenant after the flood. Thus, the food taboos are seen in the context
of religious competition, in the process of which the writers of Leviticus promoted their views on
animal welfare (1999: 171–74). Critics of this position emphasize that animal welfare is a modern
concern, not a concern of ancient agrarian societies (Grabbe 2004: 159).
Rites of Family and Household Religion 421
Young goats were not to be cooked in their mother’s milk according to Exod 23:19b;
34:26b; and Deut 14:21b, although the reference to prohibited animals in Deut 14:21 is
only incidental. This curious taboo has generally been interpreted as a verdict against a
Canaanite fertility rite (see Noth 1961: 156; von Rad 1964: 73; Childs 1974: 485–86). Keel
(1980), however, argued that this prohibition was more likely to have been both ethically
and religiously motivated. It was rooted in respect for the aspect of divine creation that is
present in the loving care of a mother. Milgrom (1991: 741) argued that the prohibition
was the result of the simultaneous fusion of and confusion between the life expressed
in the mother’s milk and the death embodied in the cooked kid. The mother’s milk was
part of the essence of life and was therefore not to be associated with death. The prohibi-
tion originally only applied to official cult activities; however, Deuteronomy rendered it
a dietary law to which every household must adhere (see Houtman 2000: 269). However,
Exod 23:19 seems to extend a literary tradition designed to maintain the distinct, Israelite
character of the feasts mentioned in Exod 23:14–17 (Dohmen 2004: 191, 372; with Knauf
[1988: 166], who proposed that it was a festive meal of the nonurban populations of Pal-
estine). In spite of a lack of consensus regarding the interpretation of this prohibition
and the ritual that it implied, it certainly served to distinguish Israel from its neighboring
nations. The maintenance of this distinction was also the aim of the privileges in Exod
34:10–26.
Whatever the interpretation, it seems likely that the food taboos formulated in Exod
23:19b; 34:26b; Leviticus 11; and Deuteronomy 14 (which may already have been conven-
tional in Israelite society) became increasingly important during the exile. In the general
absence of official religious authority during the exile, the family would have been the
only institution able to maintain national and religious identity by observing traditional
customs. Food prohibitions thus would have become a means for exiled families to focus
on their personal identity, their identity as members of the ethnic Judean community, and
their adherence to their own religious traditions (Albertz 2003: 107–8).
of trees in Lev 19:23–25 are, however, not so readily explained. It was forbidden to pick the
fruit off trees for three years after planting, and fourth-year fruits were to be consecrated
to Yhwh. Only from the fifth year on were fruits permitted for human consumption.
One suggestion has been that these practices were intended to ensure a blessing on future
harvests, particularly in reflecting a reverent awareness that shorter-term exploitation of
nature’s bounty endangers its future fecundity (Albertz 1994: 102–3; and see Milgrom
2000: 1684).
plicitly proscribed. However, as Rattray (1987: 542) has argued, the key to understanding
this omission is found in the opening verse of the incest prohibitions, Lev 18:6, which
states that one may not marry close kin (šĕʾēr bĕśārō), which according to Lev 21:2 are
one’s mother, father, son, daughter, brother, or maiden sisters. Thus, incest with daughters
is explicitly forbidden by Lev 18:6.
Lev 18:3–4 mentions incest as being an abomination of Egypt and Canaan, with the
biblical interdictions again serving to distinguish Israel from its neighbors. However, legal
traditions in Israel’s ancient Near Eastern environment reveal widespread prohibitions on
incest, for example in §§189 (75) j; 190 (76) j; 195 A–C (81a–c) of the Hittite Laws; and
§§154–58 of the Hammurapi Code, and breaking laws §155 (intercourse with the wife of
one’s son) and §§157–58 (intercourse with a mother or stepmother) was punishable by
death.
A variety of anthropological explanations have been offered to explain the prohibi-
tion of incest. Early studies emphasized the function of sexual prohibitions (including
incest) in preventing the mobilization of negative forces (W. R. Smith 1899; Frazer 1922),
while functionalistic interpretations inspired by the works of Freud on totemism and ta-
boos (1989 [1912–13]) have long dominated the discussion. Malinowski (1986 [1927])
described prohibitions on incest as the very foundation of culture. They ensured harmo-
nious relationships between parents and children; but, more generally, the family was the
nuclear source of social harmony, and incest thus had the potential to destroy the very
foundation of society. Prohibitions on incest also immediately require and foster alliances
with other, external social groups (Lévi-Strauss 1981) and serve to maintain both social
and cosmic order (Douglas 1966: 53).â•›45 According to Sundermeier (1992: 7–8), small-
scale societies can only survive when behavior is based on commonly accepted models of
behavior that strengthen and stabilize its basic structures, as well as refusing and prevent-
ing the negation and deterioration of life. Prohibitions on incest also demarcate families,
including extended families, from external social groups. The biblical regulations against
incestuous practices almost certainly reflect these more-general purposes (Hartley 1992:
298–99; Milgrom 2000: 1530; Ellens 2008: 99, 147), especially in protecting families from
the destructive consequences that are engendered by sexual relationships between close
relatives. There was also probably the secondary social rationale of ensuring procreation
within and in accordance with the predominating patriarchal form of family government
(Milgrom 2000: 1530). Suggestions that verdicts against intercourse with one’s sister, who
in cuneiform sources was referred to as “the daughter of one’s god,” were motivated by
the perceived violation of a divine ancestor (van der Toorn 1996b: 58) rely on the widely
refuted totemistic theories of Smith.
Similarly harsh verdicts against homosexual intercourse are found in Lev 18:22 and
20:13, with 20:13 indicating that the appropriate punishment was death. This prohibi-
tion of homosexuality once again allegedly distinguished ancient Israel from its ancient
Near Eastern neighbors (see, for example, Douglas 1999: 235–39). There are, however,
no ancient Near Eastern sources that connect homosexuality with cult practices. Semitic
45.╇ Later (1999: 236–39), Douglas adopted a different position, explaining the laws as inescap-
ably cultic and motivated by a demarcation against the practices of foreign religions.
424 Chapter 6
symbolic systems viewed homosexual behavior as a violation of both social and cosmic
order, just as in intercourse with animals and other forms of sexual deviation. Reflecting
the perceived severity of these violations, the Middle Assyrian Laws (§20) sentenced any-
one engaged in homosexual conduct to rape and castration.
Sexual liaisons with members of the same sex and with animals were perceived as
dangerous transgressions of social and cosmic boundaries. “Perhaps the insertive partner
was originally condemned as a boundary violator because his act ‘feminized’ his part-
ner or because he did not conform to his class (male) when he chose another male as
a partner in intercourse” (Olyan 1994: 206). Gender roles were rigidly prescriptive, and
sexual penetration was strongly associated with—and indicative of—social submission
(Stone 1996: 75–79). Transvestitism was also prohibited (Deut 22:5) because it blurred the
boundary between genders and rendered the definition and social understanding of one’s
own gender ambiguous. The proscriptions against homosexuality in the Holiness legisla-
tion similarly served to protect social distinctions, as noted by Olyan (1994: 205): “The
primary concern of the H tradents responsible for framework materials in chapters 18 and
20 is preserving the purity of the land, which itself is threatened by the defiling sexual acts
enumerated in Lev 18 and 20.”â•›46
Sexual prohibitions on incest and homosexuality reflected nontheocratic and non-
theological laws designed to promote the integrity of families, to ensure their social func-
tions, and to prevent internal conflicts that might otherwise have threatened the contin-
ued existence and functioning of families in a very general sense.
46.╇ The other assumption, that “the laws of Lev. 18:22 and 20:13 in their final setting may
well be part of a wider effort to prevent the mixing of semen and other defiling agents in the bod-
ies of receptive women, men and animals, mixings that result in defilement of the individuals in-
volved” (Olyan 1994: 205), seems less plausible because homosexual contact does not necessitate
anal intercourse.
Rites of Family and Household Religion 425
separate from that of life. These Priestly regulations thus served both to ensure that ritual
purity was upheld in the tabernacle and to ensure that the realm of death was kept at bay.
These absolute and ineluctable priestly demands for the ritual purity of cult partici-
pants must have affected the ongoing business of domestic life to a great degree (see Al-
bertz 1994: 464), especially activities related to the production and processing of food
by women, who were required to stop during times of uncleanness. Although these pro-
hibitions would have offered a certain degree of respite for women following childbirth
and menstruation (see Gerstenberger 1994: 190; Douglas 1999: 181), they must also have
forced a potentially unwelcome degree of social isolation and inactivity, particularly by
imposing the regulations on the woman’s own home.
harvesting; and used animals in regard to their primary function, which for asses was
transport and for oxen was labor.
6.6.╇ Family rites and rituals and their significance for the
symbolic system of the family
The essential interests of families and the actions required to meet these interests
largely determined the symbolic systems that were then used to express and manifest
family religious beliefs and practices. Rites and rituals of familial religion thus directly
expressed family values and were largely shaped by the personal relationships of the family
members, especially the relationship between children and their parents. Idealized fam-
ily and environmental qualities required during infancy, such as protection, security, and
trust (by the parents), also described the general qualities attributed by families to their
personal relationships with their gods.â•›47 The primary religious experience, according to
Sundermeier (1992: 3), is intended “to strengthen, stabilize, multiply and preserve it as
well as to refuse and prevent the negation and deterioration of life.” In a world that was of-
ten subject to intractable threats to family perpetuity—such as illness, death in childbirth,
famine; or shortages of food or water; war, plunder, foreign rule, and burdensome taxes—
the essential religious desires of the family microcosm for peace, stability, harmony, abun-
dant progeny, and general welfare were mirrored by the divine order of the macrocosm.
The rites and rituals that accompanied the cycles of life were directed at ensuring the
safety and success of birth and infancy. The rite of circumcision served to protect male
children from dangers encountered during childhood. Marriage rules and customs re-
garding endogamy tended to protect and enlarge a family’s property, often through mar-
riages between cousins. Thus, family rites that governed progeny and the perpetuation
of the patriarchal blood line were closely connected to ensuring material property. The
various sexual taboos with regard to family life served to maintain its functionality as an
essential unit of society, to prevent tensions between different members and generations
of a family, and ultimately to ensure fecundity. The family truly was a synecdoche for
cosmic order. What was destructive to the microcosmic order of the family also endan-
gered the divine order of the world on the macrocosmic level. The maintenance of world
order by avoiding the blurring of boundaries due to intermixing or sexual transgressions
also served to maintain the harmony of families and the cosmos. The domestic patriarch
strove to maintain his microcosmic order (in direct analogy with god’s strivings to main-
tain the macrocosmic world order) by strictly observing the rules, customs, and bound-
aries regarding family conduct. This general framework aids our understanding of many
regulations and prohibitions, but for a number of dietary and agricultural prohibitions we
can find no obvious explanation. These restrictions may reflect accumulated pragmatic
knowledge regarding the effects of procedures such as the mixing of seeds, which became
canonized and were later prohibited by divine order.
Before the exile, the religious practices of families existed alongside religious practices
performed on the local, regional, and official levels of society. All of these levels interacted
and intersected with one another. There was of course no single, definitive preexilic reli-
gion of ancient Israel; instead, there was a constantly evolving internal religious pluralism.
During the exile and in the subsequent Diaspora, many observances, rites, and rituals of
family religion became symbolic of national and religious identity and served to maintain
an otherwise precarious existence. Particularly effective in this case were the rites and
rituals of circumcision, Sabbath, and the dietary customs, which both strengthened the
collective identity of exiled communities and marked them as distinct from the outside
world. The Feast of Passover demonstrated a particularly dynamic evolution and trans-
formation, from originally being a familial celebration, to later becoming a feast of the
official cult in the Second Temple period, the whole time maintaining important elements
gleaned from its family roots, before reverting once again to a primarily family celebration
after the destruction of the Second Temple.
The rites, rituals, and observances of a family not only communicate their identity on
the family, national, and confessional levels; they also manifest and mediate the cultural
memory of their larger society. The observance of rites, rituals, regulations, and prohibi-
tions indoctrinates and internalizes the values of a society. Family religion, as a primary
religious experience, therefore, “imparts knowledge and is conveyed by means of rite and
word, i.e., it denominates and can be handed over from one generation to the other” (Sun-
dermeier 1992: 2).
Along with the changes to Passover, other family religious beliefs and practices were
probably also affected by the transformation from preexilic Yahwism to postexilic early
Jewish religion. In Douglas’s most recent books (1993; 1999; 2004), she emphasizes the
roles of the Priestly writings in prohibiting not only magic and divination but also many
other rites and rituals that were being performed in family settings. These prohibitions
established a starkly revised religion that promoted a radically different symbolic sys-
tem. Douglas wrote, “In defining the central doctrine of monotheism, the priestly editors
thought out all its implications. They had to exclude blasphemy and vain superstitions”
(2004: 193). Furthermore, “For that to be achieved the Bible religion had to be radically
reconstructed: kings not to be mentioned, dead ignored, and diviners and seers excori-
ated; no magic, no images; mutual accusations to be ended, all potential divisive doc-
trines eliminated” (2004: 194). The position recently adopted by Douglas thus accords
with widespread perceptions of family religion as consisting of peripheral, superstitious,
or folkloric practices—a religion that was effectively supplanted by official rule during the
exile. Douglas’s interpretation, however, makes no distinction between the various social
levels of religion and assumes that the Priestly literature directly reflected the religious
reality. All of her statements are therefore guided and determined by the Priestly positions.
Similar positions have also been taken in recent anthropological discussions of pri-
mary and secondary religious experiences, in particular by Jan Assmann (1997; 2003;
2006; and see Schmitt 2006), who describes the transformational process from exilic to
postexilic Yahwism as an assertion of the supremacy of secondary religious experience
over the primary experiences of family religion. However, the primary religious experi-
ences of families were not in fact overruled or eliminated but prevailed within their own
social and domestic religious environments. Although novel aspects of religious belief and
practice were introduced during their evolution toward their postexilic forms, the changes
428 Chapter 6
that occurred between the late monarchic period and the Second Temple period were
primarily the integration of many preexilic official and family beliefs and practices and
the integration of the preexilic and exilic reform movements. The final products of this
transformation in many cases bore little resemblance to their original forms, but many of
the family religious beliefs and practices persisted. Sabbath, Passover, and circumcision
survived the destruction of the Second Temple but took on a completely new charac-
ter as family rites that has survived to this very day. In spite of attempts by the Priestly
and Deuteronomic or Deuteronomistic schools to marginalize, control, and even abol-
ish certain observances, rites, rituals, and feasts of family religion, the official religion of
the Second Temple period was influenced by elements of family religion to a far greater
extent than the preexilic cult in Jerusalem was. Due to the failure of state restoration and
the continued influence of communities in the Diaspora, official and family religion drew
closer together, producing a form of early Judaism in which family beliefs and practices
were the essential elements of the postexilic symbolic system (see also Albertz 1994: 510;
2008: 105). This basic system, with its values of family harmony, welfare, and many prog-
eny actually did not change very much, even though the religious “superstructure” was
transformed.
Chapter 7
7.1.╇Introduction
For a long time, ritual communication with and care for the dead have been inter-
preted in the context of the evolutionary and animistic/dynamistic paradigm of late-19th-
century anthropological scholarship. One of the most influential concepts has been the
notion that ancestor cults were the oldest form of human religion, as supported by Numa
Denis Fustel de Coulanges’ Ancient City (English ed. 1873 [repr. 1963]), Edward Burnett
Tylor’s theory of animism (1873), Herbert Spencer’s Principles of Sociology (1874), and
Robertson Smith’s (1967) notion of the development of Israelite religion from an ancient
totemistic cult of the clan to a sacrificial meal. In the context of the evolutionary animis-
tic/dynamistic paradigm, cults of the dead were often viewed as “survivors” of the older
Canaanite religion that were overruled by Yahwism. Furthermore, in Gerhard von Rad’s
thinking (1957: 290), Israel demythologized and desacralized death, its cult of the dead
being fundamentally incompatible with the cult of Yhwh. However, social-anthropologi-
cal concepts of the evolution of religion led to many erroneous assertions that culminated
(in the present context) in the supposed antagonism between Canaan and Israel.
Research conducted since the final two decades of the last century has greatly enriched
understanding of ancient Israelite conceptions of death and the netherworld, as well as
their care for and the communication with the dead.â•›1 Because the history of scholarly
thinking up to the mid-1980s has been meticulously described by Spronk (1986: 3–85),
only a few remarks on the state of research are necessary. There is general acknowledg-
ment that pursuit of the animistic/dynamistic paradigm has not aided the reconstruc-
tion of the history of ancient Israelite religion in general or the development of thought
about the dead and afterlife in particular (Spronk 1986: 84–85; Schmidt 1994: 1–3; Jeffers
1996: 4–16; Schmitt 2004: 5–12, 29–34). On the other hand, the development of mod-
ern social anthropology and cultural hermeneutics has raised new questions and revealed
1.╇ On beliefs about the dead and mortuary rites in general, see A. A. Fischer 2005; Janowski
2001; Kühn 2005; Olyan 2004; Pham 1999; Podella 1986; 1988; 1989: 100–116; 1998; 2002; Schmidt
1994; Spronk 1986; van der Toorn 1997. On necromancy, see Cryer 1994; Jeffers 1996; Lewis 1989;
Podella 1997; Tropper 1989; 1999. On the archaeological evidence, see Bloch-Smith 1992a, b; Wen-
ning and Zenger 1990; and Wenning 1991b; 1997; 1998; 2005.
429
430 Chapter 7
new modes of research on symbolic systems, cultural remembrance (Podella 2002), and
ritual theory (Olyan 2004: 1–13)—issues that are still subject to a great deal of ongoing
debate. The last decade has also seen attempts to integrate textual and archaeological ev-
idence (Bloch-Smith 1992a; Wenning and Zenger 1990; Wenning 1997; 2005). However,
there are still gaps between them, because the archaeological evidence is in many ways not
reconcilable with the text (Bloch-Smith 1992a: 151–52; Podella 2002: 530). The relation-
ship between typical household assemblages and burial assemblages, especially, remains
unclear.
Before examining the textual and archaeological evidence, we must clarify the termi-
nology to be used in this context. The terms cult of the dead and ancestor cult are often
used without distinguishing between veneration of the dead as quasi-divine beings and
the honoring of ancestors. However, it is still an issue of discussion whether a cult of the
dead (in the sense of venerating ancestors similarly to the divine) ever existed in ancient
Israel or not.â•›2
We differentiate between (1) cults of the dead and ancestor cults in the sense of cultic
veneration of the dead as divine beings, which is not attested in Old Testament sources;
and (2) the beliefs and rites practiced by living kinsmen with regard to deceased ancestors.
Modern anthropology is duly averse to referring to rites involving ancestors as “ancestor
cults,” emphasizing instead the social functions of the associated practices (Fortes 1965;
Thiel 1984: 138–42; Sundermeier 1988: 142–59). Rites addressed to ancestors may, on a
purely descriptive level, look like cultic rites addressed to a god, but they are essentially
different. They do not deal with an almighty divine being but solely with familial kinship.
The phenomenological approach that conflates gods with ancestors neglects their differ-
ent functions. Modern anthropology has acknowledged that ancestors played important
roles in cases of family distress such as illness, death, or infertility, as well as in cases of im-
portant family enterprises, but not in larger issues such as national concerns (Thiel 1984:
143–44). Along with Fortes (1965: 124), we define the term ancestor as “a named dead
forebear who has living descendants . . . representing his continued structural relevance.”
Therefore, what makes a dead kinsmen an ancestor is described in modern anthropology
not as a kind of apotheosis but as an ongoing social relationship between that ancestor
and his or her living kin. An ancestor is defined therefore by his or her social function and
status, not by his or her numinous qualities, which are secondary and of course culturally
contingent. In this book, therefore, the neutral term care for the dead, in the sense of Ger-
man Totenpflege, is preferred as a more-general term; thus we avoid the problems associ-
ated with expressions such as ancestor cult and cult of the dead.
Moreover, certain differentiations are required with regard to various mortuary rites.
Schmidt (1994: 13) distinguished primary, situationally observed rites (including the
funerary rites of burial and mourning); secondary, regularly instituted cults (including
mortuary rites of care, feeding, and commemoration; and rites of veneration and worship
2.╇ For the existence of a cult of the dead, see: Spronk 1986: 247–50; Ackerman 1987; Lewis
1989: 171–81; Loretz 1992; Bloch-Smith 1992a: 121–22, 146; 1992b: 787; van der Toorn 1996: 206–
35; 1997: 119; Niehr 2003.
For disagreement that a cult of the dead existed, see: Schmidt 1994: 292; Podella 1998; 2002:
535; Schmitt 2006.
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 431
of the dead or their ancestors); and tertiary, magical mortuary rites (particularly nec-
romancy). Regarding mortuary rites in particular, Podella (2002) distinguished among
mourning rites that address, for one thing, the social lacunae left by the dead among the
remaining members of the family; rituals of care for and commemoration of the dead as
expressions of cultural remembrance; and rituals performed directly on behalf of the dead
or on the dead body.
1.╇ Šĕʾōl as part of the visible world located in the far west or north;
2.╇ within the empirical realm of death: the grave and the necropolis;
3.╇ a liminal realm with ambiguous borders: for instance, caves, graves, the
necropolis, the desert; but also the sea;
4.╇ a mythical realm of the netherworld, underneath the waters.
Thus, the conceptual topography of the netherworld either distinguished between the
world of the living and the world of the dead by positioning Šĕʾōl in distant regions in-
accessible to the living; or imagined realms of conjunction between these two distinct
worlds, mostly in realms of chaos and danger, or in liminal realms such as a necropolis or
caves; caves also provided entrance into the earthly netherworld.
In later texts, especially 1 Enoch 22, a more elaborate conception of Šĕʾōl and its to-
pography was described, with four valleys, three dark and one bright; the bright valley
had a well of living water reserved for the righteous. Interestingly, in Hellenistic times,
the netherworld became ever more mythologically “charged”—analogous to the growing
hosts of heaven and their demonic counterparts. Thus, the necropolis as visible entrance
3.╇ See also Podella (2002: 545), who distinguishes three realms.
432 Chapter 7
to both the liminal realm and the netherworld became the dwelling of demonic beings, as
reflected in the story of the Gerasene demoniac in Mark 5:1–20.
According to Ezek 32:17–32, the dead lay in their graves in Šĕʾōl, as they did in vis-
ible reality. Special honor was given to the fallen warrior, who was buried with his shield
as a cover and his sword as a neck-rest (Ezek 32:27). The uncircumcised lay together in
a separate place. Their dead existed in quietness and sleep as indicated in Isa 16:9, or in
unconsciousness as in Qoh 9:4–6. The dead were separated from god (Isa 38:18; Ps 6:6;
88:11–14) and were powerless (Isa 14:10; Ps 88:5). Even kings and their armies lost their
power (Ezek 32:17–32). Both their resting place and their cover were worms and maggots
(Isa 14:11). Even social ties were loosened and inverted: in Šĕʾōl, the dead welcomed the
worm as mother or sister (Job 17:13). Thus, their existence was the very opposite of life.
Several scholars have interpreted the Hebrew kinship terms that appear as theophoric
elements, such as אבʾāb, אחʾāḥ, and עםʿam, as referring to deified kin (van der Toorn
1996: 228–31). Of course, ancestors and spirits of the dead can be addressed as אלהם
ʾelōhîm, as in 1 Sam 28:13 and Isa 8:19–20, although the concept of the deification of ances-
tors is problematic. First, West Asian kinship names mostly refer to gods (Albertz 1978a:
74–77; 1992: 147),â•›4 not to ancestors. Second, there is no clear indication in any biblical
text that the ancestors were worshiped as gods. Ancestors were to be honored (Albertz
1978b) but not worshiped. This being the case, one would expect harsh polemics against
ancestor worship. However, there are none in the Deuteronomic/Deuteronomistic texts,
the Priestly law codes, or the prophetic texts against practices considered incompatible
with Yahwism. Third, there is no evidence that ancestors were considered able to trans-
form themselves into divine beings, and thereby requiring (as in many cultures) ritual
support by the living. Thus arises the question how the rendering of the dead as ʾelōhîm in
1 Sam 28:13 and Isa 8:19–20 should be understood. In the Ugarit text KTU 1.6 VI 45–48,
the terms rpim, ilnym, ilm, and mtm were used synonymously to refer to the inhabitants of
the netherworld. Likewise, in the Ugaritic king list KTU 1.113, the deceased are referred to
as il. A Phoenician inscription from Pyrgi (KAI 277.8–9) also indicates that the dead could
be referred to as ʾilm, and both Ugaritic and later Phoenician texts show that mtm and ilm
could be used synonymously to refer to the deceased. Thus, the use of ʾelōhîm in 1 Sam
28:13 and Isa 8:19–20 is perhaps best understood as ascribing special status to the dead
as preternatural beings (Lewis 1989: 115–16), who thereby possessed qualities not shared
by the living, especially knowledge of things to come. This preternatural status should
not, however, be confused with the status of divine or semidivine beings. The concept of
the deification of the dead as a universal religious phenomenon belongs to the evolution-
ist paradigm of 19th-century scholarshipâ•›5. Because the Hebrew Bible contains almost no
evidence that family (or royal) ancestors were worshiped, it seems to provide a strong
argument against the universality of this phenomenon. This does not mean, however, that
beliefs about the dead and the honoring of ancestors were considered meaningless in an-
cient Israel. On the contrary, especially as witnessed in the patriarchal stories, ancestors
were an important focus of family identity.
were separation rites but with different addressees (see Schmidt 1994: 5, 13; Podella 2002:
542–43; Olyan 2004: 6–13). The biblical rites of mourning (ספד/ אבלʾābal/sāpad) were a
set of rites and behaviors established to express grief and sorrow about the deceased by
alteration of the regular behavior and appearance of the mourners themselves. Mourn-
ing rites can be differentiated between those altering garments or bodily appearance and
those of self-mutilation and abasement (Kutsch 1986), including self-laceration and other
forms of bodily violation and changed social behavior. Mourning rites, especially those
of self-mutilation and fasting, were not restricted to mortuary contexts but also appeared
in situations of danger and calamity as petitional or prophylactic acts of collective or in-
dividual mourning (Kutsch 1986; Podella 1989; Olyan 2004: 25–27). However, petitional
mourning transcends its original context of mourning a beloved person. The focus of the
present study is the complex of family mortuary and mourning rites.
One immediately apparent feature was the changed appearance of the mourner, which
found expression in the tearing of clothes (attested in mortuary contexts in Gen 37:34;
Lev 10:6; 21:10; 2 Sam 1:11; 3:31; Job 1:20); the donning of a special mourning garment,
the סקśaq (Gen 37:34; 2 Sam 3:31; Ezek 27:31; Jdt 8:5); and the removal of headdresses
and sandals (Ezek 24:17; Jdt 10:3–4), as well as jewelry (Jdt 10:4). Hair was also loosened
and left uncombed (Lev 10:6; 21:10; Jdt 10:3), cut off (Lev 21:5; Job 1:20; Jer 16:6; Ezek
7:18), or shaved off the forehead (Lev 19:27; Deut 14:1). Sometimes beards (Ezek 24:17) or
heads were covered (2 Sam 19:5). Washing and anointing were also halted (2 Sam 14:2; Jdt
10:3). Instead, one put dust and ashes on one’s head (Josh 7:6; 1 Sam 4:12) or rolled in the
dirt (Jer 6:26). Behavioral changes included fasting (1 Sam 31:13; 2 Sam 1:12) and sitting
in dust and ashes, which was typical of the inverted structure (which Turner 1969 called
antistructure) of funerary rites. Rites involving dust also symbolized that the mourners
were like the dead. The strongest behavioral expressions of mourning were rites of self-
laceration (Lev 19:28; Deut 14:1; Jer 16:6; 41:5) and other forms of self-violation, such as
beating oneself on the breast (Isa 32:12) or lumbar region (Jer 31:19). Other expressive
rites included uttering mourning cries such as הויhoy ‘alas’ (1 Kgs 13:30; Isa 1:4; etc.), הו
הוhōâ•‚hō ‘oh, oh’ (Amos 5:16), and אךʾēkā ‘oh, how .€.€.’ (in Lamentations); and lament-
ing and singing wailing songs ( ספדsāpad in Gen 23:2; 1 Sam 25:1; 28:3; 1 Kgs 13:30). The
performance of mourning rites was primarily the duty either of the nuclear family, repre-
sented by the pater familias as in Gen 23:2, or of the joint family as indicated in Gen 25:9
and 35:29, but mourning was not restricted to the members of a family. Mourning rites of
self-laceration, however, were most likely restricted to the nearest kin and wailing women.
For public lamentation, wailing women were engaged to mourn and cry aloud, sing the
wailing song ( קנהqīnāh), and perform expressive body rites (Jer 9:16, 19; Ezek 32:16; 2
Chr 35:25). The inclusion of wailing woman, most likely recruited from the larger fam-
ily and neighborhoods, illustrates that mourning the dead crossed the realm of nuclear
and joint families to include the broader community (such as the co-residential lineage
[ מׁשפחהmišpāḥāh], the village, or the neighbors) and to make public the hole that had
been made by the death.
The literary genre of the qīnāh, or wailing song, was first analyzed in detail by
H.€Jahnow (1923), who distinguished between (1) “profane” wailing songs sung on behalf
of a dead person and (2) lamentations that were performed on behalf of live individuals
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 435
who were suffering (whether because of sickness, war, or other causes), and the laments
were addressed to god. In accordance with Jahnow’s criteria, only 2 Sam 3:33–34 and Jer
38:22 are authentic wailing songs, while David’s wailing song in 2 Sam 1:19–27 is more like
an elaborate poem. Other genres, especially the prophetic oracles and the book of Lam-
entations, use typical motifs yet transcend their original genres. However, the distinction
between “profane” wailing songs and lamentions addressed to Yhwh does not mean that
wailing was performed in a religious vacuum, because it was nevertheless a fundamental
religious duty, as observed by Gerstenberger (1996).
Many 19th- and early-20th-century scholars interpreted mourning rites, based on the
animistic/dynamistic paradigm, as ritual behaviors intended (for one thing) to support
the dead with the powers of life, to protect the living from threats of dead spirits and
the negative powers of a corpse, and to establish a unification with the dead or a ritual
connection between the living and the dead.â•›6 The rites of self-abasement enabled tempo-
rary identification between the mourners and the dead that reestablished and ensured an
ongoing social relationship between them (Spronk 1986: 245; Podella 1989: 85, 114–16;
Schmidt 1994: 290; Olyan 2004: 42–45).
Rites of abasement and altered appearance communicated that mourners no longer
held their usual social statusâ•›7 but had assumed a liminal status somewhere between the
dead and the living and were temporarily suspended from participating in various social
activities. The separation of the mourner generally lasted 7 days, according to Gen 50:10;
1 Sam 31:13; and Sir 22:12, but a mourning period of 30 days is also attested (Num 20:29;
Deut 34:8). For non-relatives, a mourning period of 1 day was sufficient (2 Sam 1:11–12;
3:35). The 7-day period corresponded to the 7 days of uncleanness after contact with a
corpse in Numbers 19, but it is unclear whether the strict regulation about corpse contact
found in the late, Priestly texts existed in preexilic times. However, social separation did
not mean that the mourners were ritually impure in general, because according to Jer
41:4–5 they were allowed to bring offerings to the house of Yhwh. The strong biblical
prohibitions against laceration and shaving of the forehead for the dead in Lev 19:28; 21:5;
and Deut 14:1 have nothing to do with apotropaic rites or offerings (as proposed in Loretz
1990: 112), because the texts include no suggestions about offerings or connections with
Baal rites (Spronk 1986: 246–47). The negative attitude toward laceration is perhaps best
explained by the fact that rites of this sort leave marks that remain throughout the time of
mourning and are therefore “out of place” (Olyan 2004: 123).
Mourning rites highlighted not only the relationships of the bereaved to the dead but
also the social relationships among the living. The rites that afflicted the appearance and
body of the mourner were severe expressions of the utter debasement of life and emotion
resulting from the death of the loved one. The altered, humble appearance communicated
the hole left by the deceased (Podella 2002: 543) and appealed to the public (in the form of
kin, friends, village, and neighborhood) to join the mourners. In this way, people revealed
their need to be comforted and to establish new or renewed communitas among the liv-
6.╇ See, among others, W. R. Smith 1967: 282; Frazer 1989: 99; Bousset 1906: 37–41; Jirku 1912;
Bertholet 1907: 1256; Mowinckel 1953: 68.
7.╇Contra Olyan 2004: 35.
436 Chapter 7
ing. As Olyan (2004: 148–53) has pointed out, mourning rites also served to renegotiate
status and roles, especially in the political realm. In the context of family, neighborhood,
and friends, the two-way participation in mourning rites and comforting of the bereaved
by relatives (Gen 37:35) and friends (Job 2:11–13) strengthened social ties and nurtured
a spirit of community that lasted at least throughout the time of mourning. Furthermore,
mourning and burial were occasions to negotiate roles and status within the family. For
example, in Gen 50:14–26, following the death of Jacob, Joseph’s brothers submitted to
him, accepting his status as pater familias, even though he was younger than they. Thus we
assume that establishing succession rights was an important aspect of mortuary rituals.
pater familias, the greater family was also responsible. His tomb was of utmost importance
to the identity of the family and individual. Thus, in Neh 2:1–5, Nehemiah’s hometown of
Jerusalem was described as the place of his fathers’ tombs.
The most prominent example of family burial is the patriarchal narrative about the
family tomb at Machpelah that Abraham purchased from the Hittites (Gen 23:1–20;
49:29–31). In this narrative, not only did the burial at Machpelah symbolize the identity
of the family but it also came to symbolize the identity of the nation. Interpretations of the
biblical texts regarding burials are in many cases difficult to reconcile with the archaeo-
logical evidence, especially regarding the character of the cave as נחלהnaḥalāh ‘property,
inheritance’. Tombs were located in clusters (as in Lachish) or in graveyards comprising
numerous burials (as in Beth-shemesh) outside a city in an agricultural area; they were
not single graves. Interment in a family tomb was probably not intended to support a con-
tinuous claim to the naḥalāh, as was proposed by Bloch-Smith (1992b: 150) and van der
Toorn (1996: 233). There is thus no archaeological evidence for the picture presented in
the patriarchal narratives in which the dead were buried on the property of the family (see
also Wenning 1997: 84–85), even though the grave itself was most likely the property of
the family. It appears that the connection of the grave with naḥalāh in the patriarchal nar-
ratives served the purely ideological purpose of claim to the promised land. In two cases,
burials under trees are mentioned (Gen 35:8 and 1 Sam 31:13). Whether this indicated
perpetuation of memory or the sacred connotation of trees, as supposed by Bloch-Smith
(1992a: 785), is not clear, because there are not many biblical references to this custom.
The Hebrew Bible provides no information on the treatment and preparation of the
dead or burial practices in general, other than a few references to practices in royal buri-
als. Treatment of the dead does appear in later sources such as the New Testament and
even rabbinic sources. According to Mark 15:46 and b. Ketub. 8b, the corpse was wrapped
in a linen cloth and anointed with spices (see Mark 16:1; Luke 24:1; m. Šabb. 23:5). Ac-
cording to rabbinic sources, the corpse was also washed before being buried (m. Šabb.
23:5). Accoutrements found with cloth remains have been discovered in Iron Age burials,
such as toggle pins and fibulas (Wenning 1997: 88). Storage jars found outside tombs in
the Hellenistic–Roman period (Hachlili and Killebrew 1983: 121) may have been used as
containers for water for the cleansing of corpses. According to the New Testament (Mark
15:42–47 and parallels), not only were family members involved in the burial and its
preparation, but also close friends of the deceased.
The cremation of the bodies of Saul and Jonathan in 1 Sam 31:12–13 may be historical
reminiscence or intentional fiction. Since no cremation burials have been discovered in
either Israel or Judah from Iron Age I, and because this custom was also quite rare from
Iron IIA on (see Bloch-Smith 1992a: tables 2–3), one might conjecture that the crema-
tions of Saul and Jonathan do not reflect historical fact. On the other hand, because the
narrative about Saul’s death describes no negative attitudes toward the fallen king or his
son, it seems unlikely that Saul’s cremation was fictitious. Nevertheless, the report about
the unusual custom of cremation remains a mystery: Was it done because the corpses
were beheaded? Because of their advanced state of decomposition (Hertzberg 1964: 233)?
Or was it just to have the bones stripped and cleaned for burial (J. Preuss 1923: 615–16)?
These questions must for the moment remain unanswered.
438 Chapter 7
IIA–B, 52 examples have been found on the northern coast, in the Shephelah, the south-
ern highlands, and the Transjordanian Plateau; and 29 Iron Age IIC examples have been
found in similar geographic regions as the Iron IIA–B examples.
The seventh type was the arcosolia or bench tomb,â•›8 which usually consisted of a square
chamber used for multiple burials, in which the bodies were lain on benches or in loculi
cut into the rock. Forty-four Iron Age I examples have been found, mostly on the northern
and southern coasts; 63 Iron Age IIA–B examples, mostly in the Shephelah and southern
highlands; and 184 Iron Age IIC examples, mostly in the southern highlands.
The eighth type was cremation, which was restricted to the northern and southern
coasts. Two of these were found dating to Iron Age I, 96 to Iron Age IIA–B, and 109 to
Iron Age IIC. A survey of the various burial types in Iron Ages I–II shows strong local
traditions. The dominant burial types in Israel and Judah during these periods were bench
and arcosolia tombs and cave tombs. The underrepresentation of simple earthen graves in
Judah and Israel may be because these are difficult to discover and are easily destroyed by
such things as erosion, agriculture, and earth works. Therefore, we assume that this type of
burial was much more common than suggested by the actual numbers (Zenger and Wen-
ning 1990: 286; Wenning 1997: 86).
The types of tomb described above are mostly clustered in the vicinity of towns or cit-
ies, as exemplified by the necropolis of Silwan in Jerusalem. During the Second Temple
period, the city was surrounded on all sides by graveyards. At Megiddo, the necropolis
excavated by Guy was located on the southeastern slope of the tel and comprised quite
a dense cluster (see Guy and Engberg 1938: fig. 2 and pl. 1). At Lachish, the tombs were
located in several clusters in proximity to the tel. For example, the EB “2000” cemetery
consisted of 120 densely packed tombs on the northwestern slope of the tel. At Gezer, the
graveyards were also grouped in clusters around the city, but here they were 200–500 m
away from the city wall and the gate (see Macalister 1912: vol. 2, pl. 8), while at Beth-
shemesh, the necropolis was located just 50 m west of the wall and about 170 m outside
the gate (Mackenzie 1912–13: pl. 1). Cemeteries seem generally to have been located near
cities, with a few minor exceptions due to topographical idiosyncrasies. Moreover, not
only were graveyards generally located near cities, they also seem to have been situated so
that they were clearly visible from many parts of the city.
8.╇ Wenning (1997: 86–87; 2005: 122–23) has classified the arcolosolia type as quadrosolia tombs
(because of the square loculi) and (with Mackenzie 1912–13) the bench tombs as “diwan”-type.
440 Chapter 7
concentrated in one recess, which had been used as receptacle, and contained more than
100 vessels that included an anthropoid vessel, bowls, cup-mouthed lentoid flasks, over 40
lamps, several Philistine and Cypro-Phoenician bichrome black-on-red vessels, a chalice,
beads, a decorated ivory comb, rings, an arrowhead, two flint knives, and a Bes-amulet.
Along with the human remains, the tibia of a goat was found that was most likely part of
the food provisions for the dead.
Megiddo Tomb 39 (see fig. 7.2, from Guy and Engberg 1938: 17–119 with fig. 143 and
pls. 68.9–20; 69.1–4; 164–68) is a rock-cut shaft tomb with two irregular chambers that
was built in the MB period and reused in Iron I. Unfortunately, the number of human re-
mains was indeterminable. The pottery consisted of 3 flasks (among them a cup-mouthed
lentoid flask), 2 lamps, 1 cooking bowl, 6 bowls, 1 krater, 1 multihandled krater, 2 juglets,
1 pyxis, 2 chalices, and 4 jars, as well as a fragmentary fayence vessel. Among the small
finds were 11 seals, 3 amulets (one Ptah-Sokar, one Bes, and one crocodile), 4 gold rings,
2 gold earrings, 3 gold plaques, a gold medallion, 2 gold pendants, 1 bone pendant, a bone
comb, 8 bone inlays, a tournette, 9 weights, and 6 whorls. The fine pottery is of the same
type as the Stratum VI domestic assemblages. The rich jewelry finds fit well with the Stra-
tum VI evidence, which suggests that the inhabitants had lived in an unusually wealthy
settlement.
objects (including a cosmetic palette, a pounder, and a spindle whorl), a bone pendant,
and 15 beads. Pit V contained a high bowl, 5 saucer bowls, a rattle, a dipper juglet, a lamp,
2 iron arrowheads, and a small stone polisher. Pit VI contained large and small bowls, a
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 447
“footbath,” jugs, a rattle, 1 pair of bronze tweezers, and a pottery spindle whorl. Pit VII
contained a bowl and a dipper juglet. The resemblance of the pottery from Tomb 103 to
the material from Locus E207 was well noted by the excavators as was the fact that figu-
rines and other figurative objects were absent from the cave (G. M. Crowfoot in Crowfoot,
Crowfoot, and Kenyon 1957: 135).
Lachish Tomb 4002 (see fig. 7.6; Tufnell 1953: 239–40, fig. 28; cf. Bloch-Smith 1992a:
176) is a cave tomb with five loculi that was in use from the Middle Bronze Age to the Late
Bronze Age and was subsequently reused in Iron IIB. The Iron Age burial of two adults
was accompanied by a bowl, 2 lamps, a dipper juglet, a cup, a storage jar, an iron knife,
and 53 beads. The tomb and its contents can be seen as a typical example, with a relatively
small assemblage of burial gifts for each person (see Wenning 2005: 128).
448 Chapter 7
Table 7.7.╇ Lachish Tomb 106 Iron Age IIC objects other than pottery
Lachish Tomb 1002 (Tufnell 1953: 229–36 with pls. 43, 44, 57; no usable drawing pro-
vided) is—despite its collapsed structure—especially remarkable, because it contained
burial remains of about 600 vessels accumulated in 13 layers from Iron IIB (layers 11–13)
to early Iron IIC (layers 1–5). The pottery content is shown in table 7.1. ����������������
Besides the pot-
tery, there were many smaller pieces, including an unusually high number of zoomorphic
vessels (see table 7.2).
especially apparent if we compare the deposits on the single benches of Tomb 7 (Wenning
2005: 131); see table 7.4. The small finds from the above-mentioned tombs are shown
in table 7.5 (after Mackenzie 1912–13). Lachish Tomb 106 (Tufnell 1953: 179–87) was a
triple-chambered-bench or diwan tomb, with recesses in two chambers (denoted B and C;
fig. 7.10). The pottery of this tomb has been dated to the late monarchic period (670–580
b.c.e). The tomb was reused for burials in the late Roman / Byzantine period. The Iron
Age IIC pottery is shown in table 7.6. Objects in the cave other than pottery are shown in
table 7.7. From the human remains, at least 25 skulls have been reported. Thus, Lachish
Tomb 106, with its three chambers and its finds has been interpreted as the burial place
of a rather well-to-do family. It is especially noteworthy that in Tomb 106 the number of
pieces associated with each burial is more than the customary number of 5–7. If the pro-
posed number of around 25 burials is correct, the average number of pottery items used
for each inhumation would have been about 19.
followed by food-preparation and storage vessels (such as cooking pots and large bowls
or kraters). Very few specialized ritual vessels such as stands or incense burners have been
found in graves, with the notable exception of a few examples of zoomorphic and an-
thropomorphic vessels from Lachish and Ain Shems, which seem to reflect a regional
custom. Libation vessels have only rarely been found in Iron IIC burials. The appearance
of zoomorphic vessels in Lachish Tomb 1002 seems to reflect a custom unique to one
family, because no vessels of this type have been found elsewhere. On the other hand,
figurative ritual objects that have frequently been found in Iron IIC domestic assemblages,
such as JPFs, horses and riders, model furniture, and animal figurines, are commonly
found in graves as well. Thus, these burial assemblages are clearly a subset of domes-
tic utilitarian pottery assemblages, although they do differ significantly in their lack of
specialized ritual vessels, such as stands, tripod incense burners, or libation vessels. The
only specialized object that seems to have been typical for Iron IIC graves is the rattle. As
Wenning (2005: 130–33; see also Bloch-Smith 1992b: 80) has shown, there was no typical
Judean “standard” assemblage, but there existed strong local traditions regarding content
454 Chapter 7
that mostly followed the earliest burial in a cemetery. For example, the Beth-shemesh
tombs contained many lamps that have no functional explanation; at Tell en-Naṣbeh, the
tombs yielded more storage jars than other places have. In some cases (such as Lachish
Tomb 1002), burials seem to have followed specific family traditions. Large storage vessels
such as jars and vessels for the preparation of food, have seldom been found in burials
from Iron Age I and were introduced into common use in the 10th century (Bloch-Smith
1992b: 75–76). Most individual burials, however, seem to have followed a general pattern
of including a standardized repertoire of 5–7 vessels of the types described above, and
1–3 items of jewelry and personal adornment, including amulets. Sometimes a weapon,
such as an arrow, spearhead, or knife was added to the grave goods (Wenning 2005: 128).
The significant omission of specialized vessels for libation and incense burning is perhaps
best understood by presuming that the dead in Šĕʾōl did not need to sacrifice anything.
Moreover, no sacrifices were performed by the bereaved in the cave proper. Conversely,
the presence of other ritual media such as terra-cotta figurines of various types, amulets,
and perhaps weapons suggests a perceived need for protection. The function of the rattles
is puzzling. It may be assumed that the act of rattling or the mere presence of the instru-
ment had some apotropaic effect in protecting the dead.
The relatively small number of vessels that accompanied each inhumation does not
support the supposition that they served as supplies either in the grave or in Šĕʾōl for lon-
ger periods extending into eternity. It seems more likely that the food provisions served
for shorter, transitional phases during which the person may have been believed to be
present, or possibly until the body had decomposed (Wenning 2005: 129–30). The latter
case was apparently the opinion in rabbinic sources (see b. Šabb. 152b; m. Nid. 10:4).
Interestingly, burial customs in ancient Israel do not show great social differentiation
(except for the burials of the administrative and royal elites in Jerusalem). Differences in
status can be discerned through the quality or apparent value of individual grave goods,
but generally the burial customs in Israel and Judah during Iron IIA–IIC seem to have
been egalitarian. There also appears to have been no difference in burial customs among
men, women, and children (see Wenning 2005: 128). A slight contrast to the situation
that prevailed in the central and southern hill country during Iron I appears in Megiddo,
where exceptionally rich caves reflect the wealth of the Iron Age I (Stratum VI) residential
quarters. Both the size and content of the tombs, which clearly represent a subset of do-
mestic assemblages, lead to the conclusion that one tomb was generally used per nuclear
family or at least per extended family, as most strikingly confirmed by the evidence from
the Beth-shemesh tombs. Unfortunately, very few accurate numbers with regard to human
remains have been obtainable due to both the advanced state of decomposition of the bod-
ies and inadequate records. Nevertheless, even caves that were used over long periods (of
up to 200 years) contain maximal numbers of 25–54 individuals (Wenning 1997: 90). The
mixture of skeletal remainsâ•›9—insofar as they were discernible or recorded at all—mirrors
the stratification of ages and also suggests use by nuclear or extended nuclear families.
9.╇ Bloch-Smith (1992b: 70) records a ratio of 15.4% infants, 7.7% children, 7.7% adolescents,
and 69.2% adults for cave tombs; and 8.3% infants, 25% children, 25% adolescents, and 41.7%
adults for the bench tombs.
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 455
The most significant social functions of burial practices in Israel and Judah during
Iron Age II seem to have been the creation, maintenance, and continuation of identity
both on local and family levels. The grave goods, with their regional and sometimes indi-
vidual differences, may be seen as both markers and communicators of family and local
identity. As in Neh 2:1–5, the family tomb was a symbol of the location one identified
with and a symbol of family identity. The tombs communicated the cultural and symbolic
systems of the burial rites performed, as did the grave goods and the treatment of corpses
(see also Wenning 2005: 109–12). The personal identity of the deceased was indicated on
seals and objects of personal adornment such as jewelry and fibulae. When a grave was
opened again for additional burials, the dead were easily identifiable by their objects of
personal value. Even after bones were stored in a recess after decomposition, the personal
items remained features of continuing remembrance. The treatment of the corpse and the
nature of the grave goods were important indications of the identity and values of the fam-
ily who gathered together at the burial. By performing the burial rites and observing the
burial practices, children and young people were able to internalize the customs, values,
and other elements of the symbolic system that constituted family and local identity.
and therefore also the tithe for the house of Yhwh. Though the text does not refer to a
regular portion for the dead, it makes clear that tithes of the produce of the field were oc-
casionally given to the deceased and, furthermore, that the pater familias was responsible
for offerings to the ancestors.
Ps 106:28€mentions sacrifices for the dead in connection with the Baal of Peor: “Then
they attached themselves to the Baal of Peor and ate sacrifices offered to the dead (זבחי
מתםzibḥē mētîm).” This has been interpreted to suggest an ancestor cult requiring sacri-
fices to the dead (Lewis 1989: 167) or a cult of the dead associated with the Baal of Peor as
a chthonic deity (Spronk 1986: 232). However, in concurrence with Schmidt (1994: 266)
and numerous others, this is better understood as a polemic against sacrifices to dead
idols in reference to Num 25:2.â•›12
Food provisions for the dead were still common in Hellenistic times. According to Sir
7:33, providing food for the dead was a holy duty: ‘Give graciously to the living and do not
withhold kindness from the dead’ (χάρις δόματος ἔναντι παντὸς ζῶντος καὶ ἐπὶ νεκρῶι μὴ
ἀποκωλ``ύσηις χάριν). In Tobit’s instructions to his son, Tob 4:17 mentions placing a gift of
bread on the tomb of the righteous (ἔκχεον τοὺς ἄρτους σου ἐπὶ τὸν τάφον τῶν δικαίων)
as one of the duties of the living for the dead. Thus, in the realm of family religion, care
for the dead was—even in Hellenistic times—an orthodox practice in the true sense of
the word. Notably, the text states that the gift for the deceased was placed on the tomb
proper, which appears to indicate a regularly performed rite of giving portions to the dead
at burial sites.
Because textual evidence is scarce with regard to occasional gifts to the dead (other
than Deut 26:14; Sir 7:33; and Tob 4:17), we cannot reconstruct any institution of regular
care for the dead. However, it seems possible that these gifts were—as in Babylonia—occa-
sions that were fixed by the calendar, even though they are not reflected in the text. Never-
theless, the texts do reflect the fact that ritual care for the dead—either occasionally or
regularly—was indicative of ongoing social relationships between the living and the dead.
The פגרpgr mentioned in Ezek 43:7–9 has been interpreted as sacrifices for the king
(see Kühn 2005: 384–86; Dietrich and Loretz 2005: 236). This interpretation, however,
does not correspond to the use of pgr elsewhere in the Old Testament (see HALOT 911),
where it clearly refers to a ‘corpse’. Therefore, Ezek 43:7–9 does not have had anything to
do with a cult for dead kings but was instead a polemic against burying kings in the palace,
which might have polluted the neighboring Temple.
2 Chr 16:14; 21:19; and Jer 34:5 mention fires lit on the occasion of the death of a
king. These fires were not burnt offerings (Bloch-Smith 1992b: 119) or food portions for
the dead king. As parallels from Mesopotamia show, the fire was an independent rite that
most likely had an apotropaic function and thus was adopted from Assyria during the late
monarchic period (Zwickel 1989).â•›13
12.╇ There is no evidence that Baal of Peor was a god of the netherworld. Moreover, it is obvi-
ous that Ps 106:28 depends on Numbers 25, which has no association with the cult of the dead. See
Kraus 1989: 904; Seybold 1996: 423–24. For discussion, see also Schmidt 1994: 266.
13.╇ Texts analyzed by Zwickel (K. 164; K. 12 = ABL 670 = LAS 4; ABL 378 = LAS 195; K. 168 =
ABL 437 = LAS 280) show that items such as furniture and other household items of the deceased
were burned during these rituals.
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 457
as the tomb of Rachel and the oak of Tabor. The latter was most likely the oak of weeping
in Gen 35:8, which was the tomb of Deborah.
Funerary and commemorative meals for the dead are explicitly mentioned in Jer
16:5–8 and Isa 65:3–5. The former referred to a funerary ritual banquet in the context of
a מרזחmarzeaḥ:
5
For thus says Yhwh: Do not enter the marzeaḥ-house, or go to lament, or bemoan
them; for I have taken away my peace from this people, says Yhwh, my steadfast love
and mercy. 6Both great and small shall die in this land; they shall not be buried, and no
one shall lament for them; there shall be no laceration, no shaving of the head for them.
7
No one shall break bread for the mourner, to offer comfort for the dead; nor shall any-
one give them the cup of consolation to drink for their fathers or their mothers. 8You
shall not go into the house of drinking to sit with them, to eat and drink.
The marzeaḥ mentioned in this context of mourning rites has been interpreted as a special
ritual meal, as attested in the Ugarit texts (see KTU 1.21, 1.114; 3.9; 4.642). However, it
is now widely acknowledged that marzeaḥ was not a technical term for a ritual meal of
the dead but was more likely an institution such as a club or association, or a public place
such as a public drinking house (Spronk 1986: 196–202; Lewis 1989: 80–94; Schmidt 1994:
246–49; McLaughlin 2001: 214–17; McGeough 2003: 410–11). Furthermore, Jer 16:8 uses
the term ‘drinking house’ in parallelism with the marzeaḥ-house in 16:5. This is further
confirmed by the use of the term in Amos 6:7, where it refers to a kind of symposium of
the upper class of Samaria (see Schmidt 1994: 144–47). Although the textual evidence
does not support the meaning of marzeaḥ as a ritual funeral meal, ritual feasts on the
occasions of funerals could have taken place at a common place, the marzeaḥ-house, out-
side the mourning house itself, and could have involved the family and friends of the
deceased.â•›15 The text thus provides evidence for both the public nature of mourning rites
and the fact that they were not performed in the house of mourners itself. The funeral
meal at the marzeaḥ-house involved the breaking of bread and the offering of the ‘cup of
consolation’ ( כס תנחומםkōs tanḥūmîm) by the participants to the bereaved on behalf of
the father and mother of the deceased. The consolation rites performed by the comfort-
ers, the breaking of bread, and the offering of the cup of consolation (Jer 16:7) were all
intended to strengthen and renew the social ties between the bereaved and the guests,
their family, their friends, and their dependents (see Olyan 2004: 57–59). We can assume
that the location of the funeral in the marzeaḥ-house was because the consumption of
alcoholic beverages would commonly have been accepted there. Alcohol may have served
as a “comforter” in the literal sense of the word. Drinking together and sharing the cup
and bread were expressions of solidarity and community.â•›16
Another type of ritual meal is mentioned in Isa 65:3–5:
15.╇ For Ugarit, McGeough (2003) has tried to identify as a marziḥu-house the so-called bâti-
ment au vase de pierre, with its large main hall of 10 × 10 m, in which big stone vessels and a great
number of kraters have been found.
16.╇ In many regions of Germany, funeral ceremonies are traditionally held in taverns or bars.
Drinking to excess is acceptable and common, especially in rural environments.
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 459
3
a people who provoke me continually to my face, who sacrifice in gardens, burning
incense on bricks; 4who sit in tombs and spend the night in secret places; who eat the
flesh of swine, and in their vessels is the broth of a desecrated sacrifice (piggûl↜);â•›17 5who
say: “Stay where you are; do not come near me, for you will become holy (qedaštīkā).”
The polemic of Trito-Isaiah was in opposition to the custom of ritual meals for the dead
involving the consumption of certain kinds of unclean flesh, which was forbidden else-
where in the Bible. We may suppose that the consumption of pork occurred during a
special mortuary meal. In fact, it seems that Isa 65:3–5 was not a polemical distortion at all
but a real practice (at least in offering provisions for the dead), because swine bones were
discovered in two Iron Age IIC graves in Lachish (Tufnell 1953: 187, 193.). The ‘desecrated
sacrifice’ (piggûl) refers to sacrificial meat that had to be consumed in two days and that
became unsuitable on the third day and had to be burned (Lev 7:18; 19:7). The rules of
suitable meat seem to have been inverted with regard to this kind of ritual meal, creating
a death-related antistructure. Due to proximity of the dead and the meat, the participants
were in a special state of holiness ( קדׁשqdš ‘holy’ but not—as might be expected in accor-
dance with Num 19:11— טמאṭmʾ ‘unclean’). This included the danger of contaminating
individuals who were not involved in the ritual (19:5). According to the LXX, mortuary
meals were accompanied by necromantic practices (v. 4a: δι’ ἐνύπνια), although it remains
unclear whether the addition in the Septuagint reflected older traditions or came from
Hellenistic-era dream-oracle practices. Because the LXX evinced little understanding of
Hebrew magic and mantic terms, and there is no equivalent to δι’ ἐνύπνια in the Hebrew
text, this was most likely added by the translators. The ritual meal provided at the grave
that included unclean meat was a sort of upside-down or antistructural ritual that used
the strong opposition between life and death, clean and unclean, and suitable and unsuit-
able meat to express a change in social status.â•›18 By eating unclean meat and sleeping in
the grave, the participants temporarily became as the dead: participating in taboo social
practices and being unable to come into contact with the living. Thus, this kind of mor-
tuary meal would have served to strengthen and renew ties to ancestors by sharing the
ancestors’ “home” and provisions and by temporarily assuming their status. This meant,
however, that one temporarily became a social “outsider.” The polemics of Trito-Isaiah
may have been prompted by the exaggerated character of the ritual itself and by the use of
the desecrated portions of offerings, which were not otherwise available legally.
From the textual evidence, it is difficult to discern the typical size of groups who held
commemorative meals at a grave site. Because the text does not mention the burial itself,
perhaps this sort of ritual was a commemorative meal that was held on special occasions
or at regular intervals fixed by the calendar. And because the burial cave itself or some
other hidden place was used, we may conclude that the participants and thus the range of
rituals were not identical with the burial. We can only conjecture that the nuclear or joint
family participated in these meals, which generally took place in rather small burial caves.
Valley, for he said: “I have no son to keep my name in remembrance.” He called the
maṣṣebāh by his own name. It is called Absalom’s monument (yād) to this day.
The note about Absalom’s maṣṣebāh or yād was a late addition to the story about suc-
cession to the throne, as noted by Rost (1943) and others subsequently. It is uncertain
whether this verse reflected preexilic traditions or folkloric associations that were preva-
lent at the time of a later compilation of the preexilic sources.
Furthermore, in Isa 56:4–5, memorials were thought to ensure eternal remembrance:
4
For thus says Yhwh:
To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,
who choose the things that please me
and hold fast my covenant.
5
I will give, in my house and within my walls,
a monument and a name (yād wāšem)
better than sons and daughters.
I shall give them an everlasting name,
that shall not vanish.
As both 2 Sam 18:18 and Isa 56:4–5 show, memoria were not placed at the grave or in
its vicinity, as the pillar was at Rachel’s tomb in Gen 35:20; instead, it was to be placed
in a temple or some other location. As the text indicates, a memorial to one’s name in
the presence of the Lord in his Temple was considered an exceptional honor. In the case
of Absalom’s pillar, we presume that a place was chosen that would include other royal
commemorative stelae as well. This place could have been the עמק ידתʿmq ydt ‘valley
of monuments’, as attested twice on an ostracon from Jerusalem (Renz and Röllig 1995:
310–11, Jer [7]:5). Unfortunately, however, no archaeological evidence of memorials in
the form of stelae have been found in Iron Age Israel.â•›19 Nevertheless, in contemporary
Syria and Phoenicia, memorials in the form of stelae were common, especially in honor
19.╇As Wenning (2005: 120) has noted, Iron Age tombs lack markers or any other installations
on the outside. The arrangement of stelae and the seated figurine at the Hazor Stelae Temple (Yadin
1985: 83–92) may have been related to the worship of a royal ancestor, which is the case at Tell
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 461
of kings, but also for common people (see Moscati 1988). In Iron Age Jordan, memorial
pillars with anthropomorphic features (such as noses or, in one case, ears) were placed
over graves discovered in the Wādī Fīdān cemetery (Levy et€al. 2005: 471–72, figs. 23, 24,
38–40). These stones stood about 30 cm high and were surrounded by stone circles that
indicated the position of a cist grave beneath. It was supposed by the excavators that these
monuments were representations of the deceased. However, the Iron Age tomb monu-
ments of Silwan were not examples of the sort of memorial under discussion; they were an
expression of royal power. Absalom’s maṣṣebāh and the yād in Isa 56:4–5 can be compared
with both the Wādī Fīdān stones and the npš-pillars found in the context of Hellenistic
Jewish (see Hachlili 1981; Hachlili and Killebrew 1983: 114–15 and fig.€5; Kuhnen 1990:
80) and Nabatean (see Kühn 2005) tombs. Absalom’s pillar and the yād wāšem for the eu-
nuchs must be understood as memorializing the names of the dead, ensuring the durabil-
ity of their commemoration. The finds from Wādī Fīdān support the same conclusion, but
this representation is not to be confused with identification with the dead spirit or with
his or her powers in any animistic sense (contra Schroer 1987: 370–71). There is no textual
evidence at all that stelae were inhabited by dead spirits or that acts of veneration were
performed in front of them. As Kühn (2005: 280) has observed, the presence of the dead
as marked by stelae was not intended to denote any sort of actual presence; it was intended
to represent symbolically an ongoing relationship between the dead and the bereaved.
The use of stelae and comparable elements in the context of funerary architecture is
also attested by Josephus (Ant. 13.211–12), who mentions the monuments that Simon
erected for his father and brothers:
Simon also erected a very large monument for his father and his brothers, of white
and polished stone, and raised it to a great height, to be seen from a long distance, and
made cloisters about it, and set up monolithic pillars (στύλους μονολίθους), a work that
was wonderful to see. Moreover, he built seven pyramids also for his parents and his
brothers, one for each of them, which were made very surprising, both for their size
and beauty, and which have been preserved to this day.
Thus, the erecting of commemorative monuments by a son or brother may be traced from
the Hellenistic period back to preexilic times. In Hellenistic–Roman times, at least (based
on archaeological evidence from Jericho; see Hachlili and Killebrew 1983), this was a cus-
tom not only for the tombs of royalty and high priests but also for the tombs of affluent
families. Because of the lack of archaeological evidence from this period, however, and
because the textual evidence speaks only of memorial stelae for royalty and the adminis-
trative elite, one must not conclude that the erection of pillars was a common practice in
the Iron Ages.
The most important commemorative structure of the Hellenistic period is the monu-
mental Herodian Tomb of the Patriarchs (Ḥaram el-Ḥalīl) in Hebron, a commemorative
place that also served as a symbol of national identity. However, because no archaeological
work is possible there today (and also, taking into consideration the fact that Josephus
Mišrife/Qatna (see Landesmuseum Württemberg 2009: 85–87). Setting up statues and stelae seems
to have been a Middle–Late Bronze Age practice that was not continued into the Iron Age.
462 Chapter 7
himself does not mention the building or its history),â•›20 it is not possible to explore its
architectural heritage prior to the days of Herod.
20.╇ Josephus (Ant. 1.237 and J.W. 4.531) only refers to the sepulchers (μνημεία) of the patriarchs.
21.╇ See above, pp. 60–65.
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 463
2 miniature altars, 1 intact fenestrated cult stand, and fragments of 2 more items, as well
as 3 chalices (Holland 1977: 139 and figs. 7–9; Franken and Steiner 1990: 48; fig. 7.3; Eshel
1995: figs. 31–33).â•›22 A sample of these objects is shown in fig. 7.11 (compiled after Hol-
land 1977: figs. 7–9). According to Eshel (1995: table 3), the pottery consisted of typical
household items, especially vessels for the consumption of food (which numbered 511
bowls, or 42.5% of the total number of items), for the preparation of food (with 168 cook-
ing pots, or 14% of all items), and for the storage of dry goods and liquids (including 261
jugs, 51 juglets, 62 jars, and 5 kraters), as well as 105 lamps. In total, 63% were used for
some aspect of food consumption, 9% for the preparation of food, and 24% for storage
(Franken and Steiner 1990: fig. 7.3). Moreover, because a tabun and animal bones were
found in the cave (Lernau 1995), it is likely that the preparation and consumption of food
took place in the cave itself. Among the pottery pieces, there were also a number of vessels
and sherds that were inscribed with names (Renz and Röllig 1995: 267–72; Jer [7]:12–29)
indicating dedications for rituals.
In Cave II, a similar assemblage of about 288 vessels was found. Eshel (1995: 19, table
2) listed a total of 159 bowls (or 55.2% of the total), 1 krater, 13 cooking pots (or 4.5% of all
items), 53 jugs (18.4%), 33 juglets (11.4%), 2 jars (0.6%), 21 lamps (7.3%), and 6 miscella-
neous vessels. Here too, the majority (72%) were food-consumption vessels, while vessels
for the preparation of food made up 3%, and vessels for storage made up 18% (Franken
and Steiner 1990: 26 and fig. 7.3). Only 2 fragments of ritual objects were found: 1 frag-
ment of a model chariot, and 1 leg from an animal figurine (Prag 1995: 217). Fifty-eight
percent of all vessels from a third assemblage, excavated from Cave III, were used for the
consumption of food, 12% for its preparation, and 12% for storage (Franken and Steiner
1990: fig. 7.3). In contrast to Caves I and II, Cave III yielded no specialized objects.
A fourth, smaller assemblage otherwise similar to that of Cave I was discovered in
a rock-cut chamber (Locus 6015) on the eastern slope of the Ophel (Mazar and Mazar
1989: 50–53, plan 20, pls. 25–29; a plan and a sample of objects are shown in fig.€7.12).
The chamber was roughly square but rounded to the north. It spanned between 2.15 and
3.90€m and had a height of 3.5€m. It was accessible through a small square shaft in the
west. An opening in the ceiling of the chamber was a kind of square chimney of 0.8 × 1€m.
Like Caves I–III, Locus 6015 yielded no human remains or other suggestions of burial,
but again many pottery and ritual objects were found, and the chamber was therefore
considered by the excavators to have been a repository or storeroom (Mazar and Mazar
1989: 53). The pottery assemblage consisted of vessels for the consumption of food (in the
form of 40 bowls), for the preparation of food (in the form of 8 cooking pots and 2 baking
trays), storage vessels (including 6 large bowls, 1 krater, 4 jars, 3 pithoi, and 3 hole-mouth
jars), vessels for liquids (including 6 jugs, 4 decanters, and 6 juglets), as well as 2 pyxides
and 3 lamps. The assemblage of category A ritual objects consisted of a cylindrical stand,
1 chalice-like stand, the torso of a JPF, a bearded male head with helmet (which had most
likely been part of a horse-and-rider figurine), a fragment of a horse figurine, and a rattle.
22.╇ There are some differences in the total number of vessels presented by Franken and Steiner
(1990) and by Eshel (1995).
464 Chapter 7
As argued above,â•›23 cylindrical stands were typical in ritual assemblages but not in burials.
The high percentage of vessels for the preparation and consumption of food suggests that
meals accompanied by ritual actions were performed using the stand and the figurines.
One of the jars had an inscription on the shoulder that read ליׁשעיהוlyšʿyhw ‘belonging
to Yešaʿyāhû’ (Mazar and Mazar 1989: pl. 27.5; Renz and Röllig 1995: 274–75; Jer [7]:29),
which seems to suggest a votive or dedicatory function.
The finds in Jerusalem are comparable to the materials found by the Joint Excavations
at Locus E207 in Samaria. This locus was interpreted by the excavators as having been an
Israelite shrine (Crowfoot, Kenyon, and Sukenik 1942: 23–24, fig. 11; Crowfoot, Crowfoot,
and Kenyon 1957: 76–82, 137–39 with figs. 13–33, fig. B, pls. 11–12; see fig. 7.13a/b.),â•›24
and was located about 700 m east of the Israelite royal enclosure. It was located in a trape-
zoidal hewn rock trench that measured about 26 × 30 m. The trench itself was 3.3–3.75 m
deep × 4 m wide. The unbuilt center of the trench was accessed by a bridge to the west.
Several shafts and tombs were cut into the outer wall of the trench. Locus E207 yielded a
great number of category A objects, especially figurines, including 23 female, 2 male, and
120 zoomorphic figurines; the latter included 34 horses, 83 cows or bulls, 1 camel, 1 sheep,
and 1 donkey. Other ritual objects included several tripod incense cups, a perforated
goblet, and 2 rattles. Although details were not provided in the original report—which
merely mentioned a total of 155 items—McClellan (1975, cited by Eshel 1995: table 4)
has since enumerated this collection of typical household items thus: 403 bowls, 1 krater,
2 platters, 4 cooking pots, 52 jugs, 62 juglets, 13 jars, and possibly 4 lamps.â•›25 A number
of high-status vessels were also found in the assemblage, such as decorated chalices and
Cypro-Phoenician ware. A sample of pottery and other objects is presented in fig. 7.13b.â•›26
Remarkably, the proportion of cooking pots was only 0.5%, which was a much smaller
percentage than was found in Cave I, where cooking pots constituted 14%. It thus appears
that little cooking was done in this locus, suggesting that food was brought here already
prepared for consumption.
Of particular interest are a number of ostraca and whole pots from E207 with incised
inscriptions, mostly names, and an animal figurine incised with a name (Birnbaum in
Crowfoot, Kenyon, and Sukenik 1957: 9–25; Renz and Röllig 1995: 140–42, Sam [8]:3–7,
9–11, 13). The inscription on the animal figurine read lʿzʾ hḥṣʾ [. .] ‘belonging to ʿUzzā [╇ ]’,
although it is unclear whether hḥṣ [. .] denoted a place-name or a patronym (see Renz and
Röllig 1995: 140 with n. 2, Sam [8]:3). The inscriptions show that personal votive figurines,
as well as dedicated jugs, bowls, and their contents were used in ritual procedures in this
locus.
As noted by several others (H. Weippert 1988: 622; Zwickel 1994: 248; Zevit 2001:
208), Locus E207 was quite unusual for a shrine, because no architectural or other struc-
tural features such as cult installations were discovered here, which provides opportunity
for alternative interpretations of the function and purpose of this structure.
Kenyon first interpreted Caves I–III in Jerusalem as favissae for a nearby sanctuary,
as indicated by standing stones (Kenyon 1967: 138–40). Because the adjacent structures
that were originally interpreted as maṣṣebōt are more akin to pillars designed to support a
roof, Franken and Steiner (1990: 125–29) proposed that Caves II and III were storerooms
for a guesthouse. In agreement with Holladay’s earlier theory (1987) that Cave I was a
place for “nonconformist” cultic practices, Franken and Steiner considered this cave pos-
sibly to have been the cult place where a popular heterodox cult practiced magic rituals.
The rooms above the cave would have served a prophet or another functionary as both
a dwelling and a place to receive visitors. Similar conclusions regarding Samarian Lo-
cus E207 were reported by the excavators themselves (Sukenik in Crowfoot, Kenyon, and
Sukenik 1942: 23–24; Crowfoot, Crowfoot, and Kenyon 1957: 137–39), as well as by Hol-
laday (1987), Franken and Steiner (1990: 25), and Moorey (2003: 55). Furthermore, the
exceptional Tell ʿĒtūn Tomb 1 (see Ussishkin 1974) was suspected of having been a place
for a cult of the dead (Zevit 2001: 241–47),â•›27 although there is scant evidence for this sort
of function. In comparing the finds from Samaria E207 with the contents of Jerusalem
Caves I and II, Eshel (1995: 22–23) pointed out that the Samarian assemblage differed in
its relative number of category-A and -B objects, which was between 2.0 and 2.2% of the
finds from Jerusalem Caves I and II but 32.6% of the finds from Samaria E207. He con-
cluded that the assemblages of Caves I and II were essentially related to domestic storage
and production, despite the presence of ritual objects. Eshel therefore tried to categorize
the contents of the assemblage according to patterns of usage and interpreted the ritual
objects as having originally belonged to a public cult center rather than to the cave itself.
A noncultic interpretation of Cave I (first as a storeroom, then as a dump) that reflects the
functions of the nearby buildings was also preferred by Prag (1995: 213–16), but he did
not deny that the figurines and other specialized objects in Cave I may also have served
ritual purposes. Zevit (2001: 206–9) considered Cave I to have been a cult place in its first
stage and a favissa in its second.
The Deuteronomic/Deuteronomistic prejudices inherent in interpretations of these
caves as locations of “nonconformist” or “heterodox” cults unavoidably entail their own
problems, as discussed in chap. 3. The dissociation of the Jerusalem assemblages preferred
by Eshel and Prag is, however, not convincing. The presence of ritual objects together with
items for the preparation and consumption of food that was common in domestic assem-
blages as described in chap. 3â•›28 clearly indicates ritual actions associated with meals per-
formed in or near the caves. As indicated by the animal bones (Kenyon 1967: 136; Franken
and Steiner 1990: 26; Lernau 1995) and the oven in Cave I, ritual actions were enacted in
the subterranean chamber itself, at least in this cave, while the smaller Caves II, III, and
Locus 6015 may have served as storerooms for supplies used in ritual meals outside or
nearby. Therefore, Moorey (2003: 55) interpreted the cave deposits as indicating places
where rituals were “performed by the common people in family groups or communally.”
Dever’s interpretation was similar. He classified Cave I as a bamah (2005: 155). Animal
bones were also found in Samaria Locus E207 (Crowfoot, Crowfoot, and Kenyon 1957:
138), indicating that meals occurred in the trench proper.
27.╇ Despite the unique sculptural decoration of the tomb, Tomb 1 was almost certainly used
for burials. The fact that cooking took place in the tomb, as indicated by the ashes and blackened
cooking pots, may point to occasional ritual or burial procedures (such as cleaning and preparing
the tomb for burial) but not to long-standing rituals.
28.╇ See above, pp. 172–175.
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 469
Except for Cave III, which had no ritual objects, all other places mentioned above
had several things in common: a subterranian location, a large utilitarian assemblage for
the preparation and consumption of food, the presence of ritual objects and vessels, and
also—in the case of Jerusalem Cave I, Locus 6015, and Samaria E207—the presence of
votive vessels inscribed with names. These locations were not a matter of happenstance;
it appears that locations for ritual meals beneath the earth were chosen solely to provide
proximity to the dead and the netherworld. As in the Hebrew Bible, the caves or cisterns
were a metaphor for death and the netherworld (Keel 1972: 54–57; 60–63; Janowski 2003:
30–35). Thus, one may interpret them as a kind of forecourt of the netherworld, where the
world of the living met the world of the dead (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: §201). It therefore
seems plausible to interpret Caves I–III, Jerusalem Locus 6015 (which was located near
a cemetery), and Samaria Locus E207 as places for ritual communication with the dead,
especially commemorative meals, whereby the living shared community with the dead,
as in Isa 65:3–5. We posit that the terra-cotta figurines served as representations of an-
cestors, who were honored by burning incense on the altars and offering them portions
of food on the stands. Another argument for interpreting these places as hosting rituals
associated with the dead comes from the presence of rattles, which have otherwise been
found mostly in graves and only rarely in domestic contexts (Tufnell 1953: 376; Bloch-
Smith 1992b: 102–3). Rattles are the only specialized items that are distinct from the usual
domestic assemblages. The assemblages from the Jerusalem caves and from Samaria 207,
which were designated in chap. 4 as Type IV cultic structures, were identical in content
to domestic assemblages. Both of these types of assemblage included similar percentages
of utilitarian vessels and ritual objects; the differences between them was only in terms
of absolute numbers. The grave assemblages are thus an enlarged subset of domestic as-
semblages. As in domestic ritual assemblages, the presence of a deity was not indicated by
permanent representations but was evoked by ritual acts. One can therefore conclude that
these caves served the families of the deceased, who met to commemorate their ancestors
with meals that included the giving of portions to relatives who were residing in the neth-
erworld. Although Jerusalem Cave I could have accommodated quite a large group, it is
nevertheless likely that the cave served only nuclear or joint families. The number of accu-
mulated vessels gradually increased as the cave was used over an extended period of time.
29.╇ Lev 19:31; 20:6, 27; 1 Samuel 28; 2 Kgs 21:6; 23:24; Isa 8:19; 19:3; 29:4; Ezek 21:26; Zech
10:2; 1 Chr 10:13; 2 Chr 16:12.
30.╇See Spronk 1986: 251–57; Lewis 1989; Tropper 1989; Podella 1989: 103–6; 1997; Cryer
1994; Schmidt 1994; Jeffers 1996.
470 Chapter 7
Judgments against necromancy are found in the prophetic law in Deut 18:11, which
prohibits the interrogation of אובʾōb, ידעניםyiddĕʿōnîm, and מתיםmetîm, as well as in
the Holiness Code in Lev 19:31 and 20:6, which mentions the interrogation of ʾōbōt and
yiddĕʿōnîm as forbidden practices (see Schmitt 2004: 345–46). The much discussed ʾōbōt
were most likely pits, as in the Hurrite and Hittite rituals evoking the gods of the nether-
world (see Ebach and Rüterswörden 1977; 1980; see also Otten 1961), but are also under-
stood in the Old Testament as having been spirits of the dead.â•›31 The ‘wise ones’ (הידענים
hayyiddĕʿōnîm) can also be understood as spirits of the dead (see Tropper 1989: 317–19;
Cryer 1994: 260–61; Loretz 1990: 140; 2002: 509) or representations of them (Loretz 2002:
509–10).
The most noteworthy description of necromancy is found in the famous story of Saul’s
consulting the “witch” of Endor in 1 Sam 28:3–25. The location of the conjuring pit, the
ʾōb, seems to have been inside the home of the בעלת עובbaʾălat ʾōb. We suppose that the
ʾōb inside the house was comparable to similar installations such as the pits or cisterns that
were common in Iron Age Israelite houses. Although this text refers to an old tradition
that provides insight into practices of divination by death spirits, it is dependent on the
Deuteronomic pronouncements against necromancy. In following the Deuteronomistic
guidelines, Chronicles also considered necromancy to be a punishable crime. King Asa’s
consultation of the רפאיםrĕpāʾ↜îm in 2 Chr 16:12 actually led to his death. Prophetic po-
lemics such as Isa 8:19–20 also alluded to Deuteronomy 18:
19
Now if people say to you, “Consult the ʾōbōt and the yiddĕʿōnîm that chirp and mut-
ter!”; should not a people consult their ancestor spirits (ʾĕlōhîm),â•›32 the dead on behalf
of the living?” 20To the law and to the testimony! They are speaking according to this
word, which has no power.
None of the biblical texts that mention necromantic practices (except 1 Samuel 28) pro-
vide clear evidence of domestic consultations. Zech 10:2 mentions tĕrapîm as being used
in divination but, because this was a late text that used stereotypical terminology with
its concomitant negative connotations (see Tropper 1989: 337–38; and also Loretz 1990:
140), it offers little insight into domestic practices.
One reason for the biblical proscriptions against necromancy is that the Deutero-
nomic/Deuteronomistic, Priestly, and prophetic lines of tradition considered the con-
sultation of other authorities besides Yhwh to be insubordinate to his sovereignty. An-
other reason is the Deuteronomic/Deuteronomistic tendency to maintain a distinction
between the worlds of the living and the dead (Schmidt 1994: 290; Olyan 2004: 122–23).
The Priestly lines of tradition were also concerned with the authorization of ritual per-
formances (Schmitt 2004: 345–47). Because most of the texts on necromancy arose in
consultation with Deuteronomy 18, and because the texts do not provide clear evidence of
domestic forms of necromancy, the practice of consulting spirits of dead family members
could only have been either a marginal phenomenon or some sort of official religious
practice (Schmidt 1994: 286–87). Rather than supposing that necromantic practices were
31.╇ For discussion, see Tropper 1989: 189–204; Jeffers 1996: 169; Loretz 2002.
32.╇ Taking into consideration the context and 1 Sam 28:13, we suggest that אלהיםʾēlōhîm is
best translated here as ‘ghost’ or ‘spirit of the dead’ (see Podella 1988: 87).
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 471
a late introduction during the time of Manasseh, however, we must consider the tradition
behind 1̣Samuel 28 to indicate that domestic necromancy was known and practiced in
ancient Israel, even though it may never have been a very well-known practice.
personality of the deceased was represented by items of personal adornment and jewelry.
Thus, a (nuclear) family tomb became an expression of broader family and local identity.
Burial and mortuary rites performed by family members were an act of family solidar-
ity. The family was accompanied and assisted by local members of their lineage and by
friends, clients, and members of the local community. Burial and mourning rites thus
clearly were public due to the involvement of local individuals, such as wailing women
from the neighborhood. The burial itself and its contents were a means of communicat-
ing local and family identity and values. Mortuary rites such as mourning made tangible
the gap left by the deceased; grief and sorrow were expressed and enacted in physically
expressed rites. During mourning rites, the living temporarily became like the dead, able
to express the ongoing social relationship between the deceased and the bereaved. Mourn-
ing rites were also an occasion to strengthen and renegotiate the social roles of the living,
especially within the realm of the joint family, such as among Joseph and his brothers, but
also within the larger co-residential lineage and the local community as a whole.
The second category (regularly observed mortuary rites) was more contracted. These
rites addressed ancestors by involving the nuclear or joint family and included individu-
als up through the lineage group of the mišpāḥāh. There are textual witnesses to annual
commemorative meals, such as 1 Samuel 20, involving the mišpāḥāh at the time of the
new moon, and thus we can presume that there were gatherings (which perhaps included
members of the joint family) at the same fixed time each month. Rituals conducted more
frequently concerned daily care for the dead and were performed in a home by nuclear or
extended family members. The existence of such practices is supported by archaeological
evidence that suggests the frequent use of domestic ritual objects.
Family commemorative meals were evidence of the ongoing social relationship be-
tween the living and the dead. These relationships were also reflected in rites performed
in special locations such as in Jerusalem Cave I. The large assemblages that were used
over longer periods of time in Jerusalem Caves I–III, Locus 6015, and Samaria E207
are suggestive of ritual meals held by groups such as nuclear or joint families. The textual
evidence reveals that portions of food for the dead and sacrificial meals held on their
behalf more likely served as symbols of the ongoing social relationship between the dead
and the living rather than as provisions for their existence in the netherworld. The entire
complex of mortuary rites together expressed the importance of the role of the family and
the maintenance of its solidarity in ancient Israelite society.
The social groups who performed rites or cared for the dead are diagramed in fig. 7.14.
The nuclear family was responsible for the basic, more frequently performed rituals of
care for the dead. The rites that were less frequently or only occasionally performed be-
longed to the realms of the co-residential lineage and the local public. The rituals that
were performed by the nuclear family itself, especially rituals for daily care, ensured the
well-being of a family by maintaining a connection between the living and their ancestors.
Even though ancestors were not considered divine or semi-divine, the maintenance of on-
going relationships with them provided positive benefits for the surviving nuclear family.
These benefits included, in particular, reinforcing the endurance of the family itself as well
as their prosperity and general welfare. A common function of burial-related rites in all
three of the realms depicted above was the renegotiation of socials roles, which could have
Care for the Dead in the Context of the Household and Family 473
public
lineage
Fig. 7.14.╇ Categories of social groups performing rites for the dead.
various degrees of importance depending on the role of the deceased and the role of the
male descendants in each of the three realms. The middle realm of the lineage was of less
importance, because its members only needed to perform commemorative rites, while
the nuclear or joint family were always responsible for the more important functions.
Chapter 8
Summary
Because later developments in Israelite family religion have been described elsewhere
(Albertz 1994: 2.399–411, 507–22, 556–63), the reconstruction in the present book is lim-
ited to the preexilic period (11th–7th centuries), a period that had barely been verified in
the Hebrew Bible before Israelite family and household religion came under the control of
state officials (Deut 13:7–12), and family rituals were subsumed within the official cult of
Jerusalem (16:1–8; 26:1–11).
8.2.╇Methodology
In order to overcome particular uncertainties and controversies in previous scholarly
works, we found it necessary to clarify several terms and concepts at the outset. According
to Nave-Herz (2002: 148–49), the term family is defined by four distinct features: its dual
biological and social nature, its distinguishing of the generations, its structuring of spe-
cific roles, and the unique cooperation and solidarity of its family members. Pre�industrial
families such as those living in ancient Israel undertook four main functions: the basic
functions of reproduction and socialization, and the economic functions of production
and consumption. Because of the ambiguity of the term family, especially in English, it is
helpful to combine it with the term household. A household is defined as a “group of co-
residents, people who live under the same roof and typically share in common consump-
tion” (Kertzer 1991: 156). Referring not only to the co-residents themselves but also to
their production and consumption activities, the term household extends beyond the liv-
ing area to include the hardware of the family (e.g., tools, granaries, wells, livestock, fields,
orchards), as Meyers (1988: 130) has pointed out. The two terms—family and household—
overlap because both include the functions of consumption and production. Incidentally,
the combination of the two terms corresponds to the biblical terminology; the Hebrew
term for family, which is בית אבbeit ʾāb ‘house of the father’, also combines a location
term with a kinship term. Moreover, members of the household who were not actual rela-
tives, such as slaves or resident aliens, can easily be included in the term family household.
The specific familial functions of reproduction and socialization, however, foster a sort
of cooperation and solidarity that, as Nave-Herz (2002: 149) has emphasized, can differ
in form and content in different cultures and historical periods but “always [constitute] a
very specifically declared relationship, which is distinguished from any other relation of
social interaction in a given society.” This structural, sociological difference seems to be
one of the reasons for the existence of family religion as a distinctive phenomenon.
While biblical and archaeological scholars have debated at length whether ancient Is-
raelite family units should be considered nuclear or extended—or, better, joint—fami-
lies, sociologists such as Laslett (1974: 28–32) and Kertzer (1991: 158–59) have identified
many other types as well. For these types, the number of conjugal units—that is, married
couples including their children—is the distinguishing factor. Following their lead, we
distinguish here among five different types of families: (1) the nuclear family household
consisting of one conjugal unit, which runs the entire household; (2) the extended family
household consisting of single relatives beyond the conjugal unit; (3) the paternal joint
family household consisting of more than one conjugal unit while the father of married
sons is still alive; (4) the stem family household consisting of the conjugal units of the
476 Chapter 8
father and a single son; all other sons function as unmarried workers or leave the house-
hold when they marry; and (5) the fraternal family household, in which two or more mar-
ried brothers live together after their father has died. Sociologists emphasize the dynamics
of family structure; the same individuals can belong to different types of families over the
course of their life cycles.
An investigation of biblical terminology and texts shows that different types of families
coexisted side by side. The term beit ʾāb, often denoting a paternal joint family (Gen 46:31;
47:12; 50:8), may have constituted the ideal form of family in the opinion of the biblical
tradents (Schloen 2001: 148–50), but it did not predominate in Israelite and Judahite so-
ciety during the monarchic period. A detailed investigation of the typical living spaces of
excavated domestic buildings in Cisâ•‚ and Transjordan has revealed (cf. Faust 1999a; 2000)
that joint family households (roughly 10–20€members) prevailed only in rural settlements
and among the wealthy inhabitants of the towns, whereas in urban settlements, nuclear
or extended family households (about 5–7€members) probably composed the vast major-
ity (up to 70%). Thus, nuclear families played a much more prominent role in ancient
Israelite society than several biblical scholars seem to have thought (Gottwald, van der
Toorn, Schloen, et€al.). Because both the biblical (several בתיםbātîm within one ּבית אב
beit ʾāb) and the archaeological (higher numbers of rooms in the large dwellings of rural
settlements) data show that the conjugal units within joint family households enjoyed
some degree of independence and privacy, the conjugal family unit formed the heart of
all types of family households—nuclear, extended, or joint. Thus, it is no coincidence that
many beliefs and rituals of Israelite family and household religion were focused on the
conjugal unit.
It has sometimes been presumed that the ties between a given family household and
the co-residential clan (lineage) to which it belonged were so close that the borders be-
tween the two social units became blurred, and the religious practices of family and clan
intermingled (Gottwald 1981: 282–84; van der Toorn 1996b: 246–55; Meyers 1997: 39).
Archaeological remains in rural settlements (only a few wine presses and common store-
houses) seem to indicate that there was, indeed, agricultural cooperation among families
who probably were related (Faust 2000: 23, 31). This cooperation in the production of
food, however, was only one of the four main family functions. The function of repro-
duction was strictly limited to the conjugal family unit, and common consumption was
also normally restricted to the family group because of the limited space of its dwelling.
Only during certain feasts did the whole clan customarily participate in a common meal.
Socialization was primarily the function of the nuclear family unit but could be supple-
mented with or replaced by other members of the joint family or the clan. Finally, there
were only a few other non-family kin who might have been part of a household “living
under one roof.” The same was true for participation in the domestic cult, especially if it
occurred on the second story. Thus, even though there were social ties to other kin, an-
cient Israelite families in all their variant types were well-defined social units. Therefore,
family and household religion, as practiced by these units, can also be reconstructed as a
specific phenomenon.
Taking the various functions and social ties of Israelite family households into consid-
eration, we distinguish three circles of family and household religion. First, we assign to
Summary 477
the inner circle all rituals that were performed in the residential dwelling—rituals that we
refer to as components of the “domestic cult,” such as birth rituals for a pregnant mother,
prayer rituals for ill members, daily care for the dead, and apotropaic rituals to protect
the house. Second, we discern a middle circle that comprised all the rituals that were per-
formed outside the house but within its vicinity, such as visits to neighborhood shrines
to uphold the promise of a vow, or commemorative meals held regularly for the dead and
performed at family grave sites. Third, an outer circle consists of the rites that would have
been performed by the family within the sphere of the public cult at local, regional, or
state sanctuaries, such as sacrificial meals to celebrate the healing of a family member, or
offerings of agricultural “firstfruits” and firstborn domestic animals. Here, family religion
came into contact with the sphere of regional or state religion.
In previous works, scholars have used various concepts to explain the various layers
or segments of ancient Israelite religion. We discussed in detail the merits and disad-
vantages of the concepts of syncretism (Smend 1899; von Rad 1962; Ringgren 1988), ap-
proaches to life (Fohrer 1973), popular religion (Vorländer 1975; Holladay 1987; \ 1992;
Dever 1991; 2001; 2005; et al.), primary and secondary religion (Sundermeier 1980; 1999;
Niehr 1999; Wagner 2006; Leuenberger 2008), and internal religious pluralism (Lancz-
kowski 1981; Albertz 1978a; 1994; 1995; M. Weippert 1997; van der Toorn 1996; Stolz
1996; Miller 2000; Gerstenberger 2001). We consider the latter to be the most suitable
for describing family and household religion as a self-contained unit that was also related
to other segments of Israelite religion—whether local or state religion. The concept of
internal religious pluralism avoids pejorative categories (“syncretism,” “popular”), mere
dichotomies (primary–secondary), and questionable notions taken from outside the an-
cient world (“orthodoxy”). In contrast to other concepts, it is sociologically grounded and
distinguishes at least three segments of religion based on three levels of social groups:
those of the family, the local community, and the entire people (federation of tribes, or
state). Although mutually related, these three segments of religion—family and household
religion, local religion, and official or state religion—differ from one another in terms of
their adherents, their target groups, their degree of institutionalization, and their religious
beliefs, practices, and functions. The concept of internal religious pluralism also allows for
open debate about the degree of continuity and discontinuity between family and house-
hold religion, on the one hand, and local and state religions, on the other hand (Albertz
2008: 102–4; Olyan 2008: 121; Bodel and Olyan 2008a: 278). We maintain, however, that
the exploration of family and household religion is a meaningful enterprise only if it can
be defined at least partially on the basis of its own unique characteristics, which contrast
with other segments of the religion of Israel.
than ever before. Our investigation reexamined domestic and related structures from Iron
Age I to Iron Age IIC by analyzing their contents based on three categories: category A:
unambiguous ritual objects such as stands, altars, figurines, amulets, etc.; category B: ob-
jects with possible ritual use such as chalices, goblets, cosmetic items, lamps, collectibles,
etc.; and category C: utilitarian objects such as cooking pots, storage vessels, stone and
other tools, etc. Insofar as it was possible to judge from the published materials, we re-
constructed assemblages of ritual objects or at least determined typical usage patterns
of ritual objects and their relation to architectural features and to utilitarian objects in
category C. In our study, we surveyed 29 Iron Age I structures containing category A and
B artifacts. Of these, about 53% yielded stands or fragments thereof, and 46% had chalices
or goblets that could be associated with them. Approximately 31% of the assemblages
contained zoomorphic terra-cotta figurines or vessels, although a few (around 14%) were
anthropomorphic terra-cotta. Miniature shrines were rare, appearing in only two of the
assemblages. The predominant ritual actions performed with the vessels seem to have
been libations and, possibly, dry offerings such as bread, grain, or fruit. One-third of the
assemblages clearly belonged to kitchen installations, and 76% of all domestic assemblages
that contained category A or B objects also contained vessels for the production or con-
sumption of food.
Of the 19 Iron IIA assemblages, around 36% contained stands, and a further 26%
contained chalices or goblets. About a third of all assemblages contained zoomorphic
figurines or vessels, while female figurines were present in 21%. Model shrines made up
around 10%. Similarly to the Iron Age I assemblages, one third of all structures examined
contained category A and B artifacts that could be attributed to kitchen installations.
In the 20 surveyed Iron IIB structures that contained category A and B artifacts, stands
appeared less frequently than in Iron Age I and IIA structures—in only 15% of struc-
tures—although a third of the domestic ritual assemblages contained tripod censor-cups
(35%), and around 20% contained either zoomorphic vessels or kernos fragments. Chal-
ices and goblets also appeared less often during these times—in about 10% of assemblages.
Approximately 80% of the assemblages were directly associated with pottery designed to
be used in the preparation and consumption of food; in some cases, this pottery also ap-
peared in kitchen facilities.
Of the 42 Iron IIC structures and their contents surveyed in chap. 3, around 53% con-
tained the typical Iron IIC Judean pillar-figurines (JPFs) or fragments of other anthro-
pomorphic figures, and 48% yielded zoomorphic figurines or vessels. Around one-tenth
of the assemblages yielded male horse-and-rider figurines. About 9% of the assemblages
contained stands, and around 9% contained altars. The tripod incense burners, frequently
found in Iron Age IIB, were found in only one of the assemblages. One-tenth of the ritual
objects or assemblages of objects were associated with fireplaces, and over 40% contained
or were related to kitchen tools or to pottery used for the production of food.
Based on the analysis of more than 80 instances of cultic items found in domestic
and related contexts from Iron Age I to Iron Age IIC and the ritual paraphernalia found
in these contexts, we can conclude that ritual objects were often assembled and arranged
near fireplaces or other facilities associated with the processing and consumption of food
Summary 479
on the ground floor. Additionally, ritual objects were located in storerooms (being stored
away when not in use) and also occasionally in debris from second stories, pointing to
ritual actions that were occasionally performed in upper rooms or on the roof. In Iron
Age I–IIC, there is no evidence of fixed ritual installations such as domestic shrines or
sacred corners of the house. Rather, ritual objects were arranged and used situationally
and simultaneously in different rooms according to the demands of the ritual. As dem-
onstrated in chap. 2, most houses in Iron Age I–II Israel and Judah would have contained
nuclear or extended families, who would thus have been the social carriers of the domestic
cult activities represented by the ritual objects. Contemporary Transjordanian structures
manifest closely related ritual practices, as was true in Iron Age Phoenicia and Syria and
perhaps also in Mesopotamia.
Based on the cultic apparatuses found in the domestic structures, we can conclude that
the predominant ritual actions were libation rites with stands and zoomorphic vessels,
dry offerings in the stand bowls, the burning of aromatic compounds, as well as votive
practices and other ritual actions with human and animal figurines. The ritual apparatuses
suggest that daily offerings and gifts were given to deities and ancestors, the latter of which
may have been represented by human figurines. The human representations, predomi-
nantly the JPFs in Iron Age IIC, are not divine representations, given their lack of divine
emblems, but more probably likenesses of humans, expressing human needs and wishes
such as fertility, plentiful progeny, ample lactation for the mother, etc. They were gener-
ally multipurpose objects used in various contexts (domestic residences, temples, graves),
especially for votive practices. We define votive practices as the use of the figurine as an ex
voto, both to give thanks for a benefit from the gods and to give to the gods in exchange
for a benefit; they also served as media for prayer by representing the petitioner, and for
magical rites such as love charms and apotropaic rituals (see Schmitt 2004: 187–89). Un-
ambiguous divine figures (carrying divine emblems) used in domestic cult activities have
not been found in Iron Age Israel, but they are occasionally found in Transjordan and
Phoenicia and also in Philistia, where they were more common. Note also that, in Trans-
jordan and Phoenicia, divine representations are not commonly found in domestic con-
texts but human representations are. Other figures such as the commonly found animal
figurines represent families’ requests, especially for abundant livestock. Apotropaic rituals
in domestic contexts are attested by a great number of Egyptian-type amulets and (much
less commonly) by apotropaic figurines, such as the Beersheba cherub. Most likely the
rituals associated with the objects were performed by the women in charge of the kitchen
facilities. Thus, women played an important role in the ritual activities of everyday life.
These ritual acts, such as votive and magic practices with the figurines, libations, food
offerings, and the burning of aromatic compounds would have provided a means for de-
ities or ancestors to participate in the daily lives of families, thereby ensuring the family’s
continuation, whether in terms of health, wealth, or prosperity. With regard to both the
periods and the regions observed in our study, it can be said that there was a great deal of
continuity among Iron Age domestic ritual practices in the West Semitic world in the ap-
paratuses employed (although types of objects might change) and in the associations with
food production and consumption.
480 Chapter 8
• Type IA: The usual domestic cult, with the nuclear or extended family as carrier
group
• Type IB: A large-scale domestic cult or domestic shrine (also with the nuclear or
extended family as carrier group) that could be used for ritual activities by the
inner circle
• Type II: Work-related cults of various sizes
•â•‡ IIA: Small-scale, inner circle, nuclear family
•â•‡ IIB: Large-scale, inner and middle circles, extended/joint family, wider kin
• Type III: Neighborhood cult installations or shrines (medium circle, ranging
from the nuclear or extended family to the co-residential lineage and the
neighborhood)
• Type IV: Places for the cult of the dead, also in the medium circle
• Type V: Village sanctuaries, outer circle, with the co-residential lineage and/or the
local community as carrier group
•â•‡ VA: Shrines
•â•‡ VB: Open-air cult places
•â•‡ VC: Gate sanctuaries
• Type VI: Palace shrines, an official variant of large-scale domestic cultic practice,
carrier group being the local military and administrative elites
• Type VII: Regional sanctuaries, with the regional tribe, the inhabitants of the
regional communities, or an official body as carrier group, and with priests
maintaining the cult
•â•‡ VIIA: Shrine/temple
•â•‡ VIIB: Open-air
• Type VIII: Supraregional temples of the official cult, carrier group was the king or
an official body, maintained by a priesthood
One important fact that we discovered is that a considerable number of structures from
Iron Ages IIA–IIC that seem to have been work-related areas or workshops exhibit features
similar to residential structures. Domestic cultic assemblages (Type IA) and small-scale
industrial structures (Type IIA) share the same contents in terms of ritual paraphernalia
and therefore the same carrier group, the nuclear family. Likewise, large-scale industrial
installations (Type IIB) such as the olive-oil production area at Tel Miqne/Ekron also con-
tained ritual objects and even built-in ritual apparatuses such as limestone altars, but they
belonged to the medium circle, above the nuclear family level and were used by wider
kin, members of the co-residential lineage, the neighborhood, and perhaps servants and
clients. Permanent installations with a clear cult focus and enlarged ritual assemblages
Summary 481
within a domestic context, which can be seen as domestic shrines (Type IB), are only at-
tested in one early case (Megiddo Locus 2081) and may have served an elite family. Cultic
structures in the medium circle were neighborhood shrines (Type III, predominantly in
Iron Age I sites); they were small cultic buildings or rooms within or integrated into a
residential area. They were also places for the care of the dead, as illustrated by Jerusalem
Cave 1 (Type IV).
While Type IV places for the care of the dead yielded enlarged and more-differentiated
subsets of domestic ritual assemblages, large-scale industrial cult installations and neigh-
borhood shrines also had permanent installations, such as platforms and benches, and
(in the case of the Tel Miqne olive industry) larger limestone altars, some of which were
attached to the building. The predominant ritual actions carried out here—dry offerings,
libations, and burning aromatic compounds—were similar to domestic ritual activities
and did not require specialized personnel. They could be carried out by the pater familias
and other family members. Permanent installations fall in the Type V category; they were
found mostly in rather small village or city shrines or temples and cult installations situ-
ated at gate areas. They were subsidized by the local communities and, in the case of village
shrines and temples, may have been maintained by priests, as indicated by evidence of
animal offerings at the structures in Tell Michal and Tel Reḥov. Palace shrines (Type VI)
are exemplified by only one structure (Megiddo Room 338). It had features similar to do-
mestic shrines, with evidence only for dry offerings, libations, and incense burning. How-
ever, it was used by administrative and military elites and therefore must be categorized
in the realm of official religious activities. Likewise, regional (Type VII) and supraregional
sanctuaries (Type VIII) were maintained by official bodies. One example of the regional
sanctuary type is the Arad fortress temple. It was part of the official structure and had a
large sacrificial altar that most likely accommodated animal offerings. Based on excavated
sacrificial dishes inscribed with qob-qab = qōdeš qōhānîm (‘set apart for the priests’), we
know that it was maintained by an official priesthood. Similar features also characterize
supraregional sanctuaries (Type VIII) such as the Tel Dan temple, with its differentiated
structures and rich ritual apparatuses (large sacrificial altar, multiple small altars, stands,
and bathtub).
However, we can also discern several levels of cultic activities with enlarged subsets
of ritual paraphernalia by the size of the cult places, and their ritual apparatuses show
on�going interdependence and interaction among the levels. Typical votive objects from
Iron IIC domestic contexts, such as figurines, were also found at the regional sanctuary
in Arad (see Kletter 1996: fig. 35), and other types of votive figure were uncovered in the
Northern Kingdom’s sanctuary at Dan, indicating votive practices by families or individu-
als. However, these votive practices did not play an important role in the earlier neighbor-
hood or small-village shrines of Iron Ages I–IIA. For the Persian–Hellenistic periods, the
hundreds of votive inscriptions from the Samaritan sanctuary on Mount Gerizim are a
witness to the ongoing importance of family ritual practices at official cultic sites. This
interdependence and coexistence of various layers and realms of cultic activity is best
understood by reference to the concept of internal religious pluralism, which allows for
multiple intersections between the circles of domestic, local, and official religion. But, de-
spite this continuity among the segments of religion with regard to ritual artifacts and cult
482 Chapter 8
places, the cultic facilities that show evidence of blood sacrifices and permanent priest-
hoods were clearly cult places that were used by the public (Types V, VII, VIII). Evidence
of sacrifices and priesthoods is missing in cult remains on the domestic, neighborhood,
and work-related levels (Types I, II, III, IV, VI).
The secular names vary from 6% to 15% in the different cultures; they were not popu-
lar, except in Syria (12.9%), because their occurrences are less than 10% in all the other
cultures. This striking result suggests that family religion in Israel was similar in structure
to the family religion of the other cultures in Syria and the Levant during the first half of
the first millennium b.c.e. The similar pattern of name distribution among the six name
groups also provides an argument against the suspicion that a significant portion of the
Hebrew name seals and bullae were forged. Because the epigraphic Hebrew names ac-
cord with those of the neighboring cultures, and because the seals and bullae that almost
certainly come from the antiquities market show the same pattern of distribution as the
inscriptions and ostraca found in controlled excavations, the authenticity of most of the
material that came from antiquities markets is very likely.
One of the most interesting results related to the debate about the continuity or dis-
continuity between Israelite family and household religion, on the one hand, and the of-
ficial or state religion, on the other is that unambiguous allusions to the specific traditions
of official Israelite religion—the exodus, conquest, or kingship; Sinai, Zion, or Bethel the-
ology—are nonexistent in predicative elements in the epigraphic Hebrew personal names.
There are no names derived from the verbs יצאor עלהin the Hiphil (‘to lead out’ or ‘up’),
which appear frequently in exodus theology, and none with the verbs נחלin the Hiphil (‘to
give an inheritance’) or נוחin the Hiphil (‘to provide a resting place’), which are common
in conquest theology. Likewise, the verbs ‘( רעהto graze’), used metaphorically in kingship
theology, or ‘( יׁשבto take a seat’), prominent in Zion theology, are lacking in the personal
names. And the same is true for priestly concepts, such as ‘( קדׁשto be holy’), ‘( טהרto be
clean’), and כפרin the Piel (‘to make atonement’). In the case of the name ( עגליוʿEgelyau
‘young steer of Yhwh’), one could posit an allusion to the theology of the sanctuary at
Bethel, but because the Deuteronomist used the term ‘calf ’ in a pejorative sense and simi-
lar names also appear in Syria and Phoenicia, this suggestion is highly unlikely; rather, the
name probably denotes a desire for the child to be a small companion of the deity. Noth
(1928: 213, 194) considered two names to be allusions to Israel’s national history. Accord-
ing to him, ʾElyāšīb (‘El may bring or has brought back’) expresses a wish for Israel’s return
from exile, and Šĕkanyāh (‘Yhwh has taken up his abode’) refers to the reconstruction
of the Temple in 520–515 b.c.e. Both names, however, have now appeared in epigraphic
evidence from the preexilic period. Thus, the first name was interpreted by J.€J. Stamm
(1980: 71) as a substitute name (for another child who died); and the second name prob-
ably refers to the domestic cult where the presence of the deity was noteworthy. There is
only a small overlap of personal names with Priestly terminology: names regarding the
fulfillment of vows (Dĕrašyāhû ‘Yhwh has asked for [the payment of a vow]’; cf. Deut
23:22) and the offering of sacrifices (Ḥăšabyāhû ‘Yhwh has taken [the vow/sacrifice] into
account’; cf. Lev 7:18). These are precisely the areas where family and priestly ritual activ-
ities came into contact in the outer circle of family religion. Whether names that seem to
refer to a storm theophany really existed is uncertain. Thus, as far as the beliefs of family
and household religion are concerned, there is primarily discontinuity in relation to other
domains of Israelite religion.
Not all of the details of the many family beliefs enshrined in the personal names can
be presented here; only a few generalities can be outlined. Because of the large number of
484 Chapter 8
birth names, which comprise 28.4% of all names and 29.9% of occurrences, we conclude
that the birth of a child played a central role in the symbolic world of family religion. No
less than 74 different roots were used to express a great variety of religious notions ac-
companying the long birth process from the distress of infertility, through conception
and pregnancy, to confinement, care for the newborn, his/her integration into the family
group, and the potential of infant mortality. Each of these phases was regarded as having
its own religious or even mythological dimension. The deity was believed to overcome
the infertility of women, to accept their prayers and vows, to bestow benevolent oracles
on them, and to cause their conception and pregnancy. During the phase of pregnancy,
the deity was believed to create the child in the womb of its mother (Sĕbakyāhû ‘Yhwh
has woven [the child in the womb]’; cf. Ps 139:13; Jer 1:5; Job 10:8–11), and during her
confinement he was believed to be active as a midwife (Daltāyāhû ‘You, O Yhwh, have
drawn out [the child]’) who delivered his new little creature and cared for it (Pĕqaḥyau
‘Yhwh has opened [the eyes of the child]’). The many creation names (39) derived from
11 different roots—such as Bĕnāyāhû (‘Yhwh has created’), ʾElʿāśāh (‘El has made’), and
Miqnēmélek (‘creature of the King’), which occur no less than 148 times—verify that the
creation of the individual was one of the central beliefs of the family and household reli-
gion of ancient Israel. Every wonderful, dangerous birth was experienced as an encounter
with the divine (Šĕkanyau ‘Yhwh was present’) and considered to be a continuation of the
mythological creation of man (Gen 2:7; 4:1). The newborn was integrated into the family
group by accepting it as a present from the deity (Mattanyāhû ‘gift of Yhwh’). It seems that
this act, celebrated during the naming feast on the 8th or 15th day after birth, began to be
replaced by the ritual of infant circumcision (Malyāhû ‘Yhwh has circumcised’) during
the 7th century b.c.e. The high rate of infant mortality is reflected in the large number and
variety of substitute names (20 names and 219 occurrences).
Next to birth names, the names of thanksgiving and confession constitute a consider-
able portion of epigraphic Hebrew personal names; thanksgiving names make up 24.3%
of all the names and 34% of occurrences; confession names are 17.6% of all names and
14.9% of occurrences. Although the two sets of names are different in size, the combined
sets contain 53 different roots, with 9 occurring in both sets. The names of thanksgiving
and confession also reveal an amazing number and variety of family beliefs. These deal,
on the one hand, with divine attention, salvation, assistance, and protection of the indi-
vidual during suffering or danger and, on the other hand, with trust in and dependence
on the deity. Of course, many of these names can also be related to the dangers of the birth
process, but they point more generally to a wider range of crises. This accords well with
the fact that both groups of names often correspond to the individual complaints, thanks-
giving psalms, and oracles of salvation in the Hebrew Bible. First, there is a fundamental
structural correspondence between the names of thanksgiving and the petitions for divine
attendance and salvation that one finds in the individual complaints and in the corre-
sponding reports of the thanksgiving psalms; there are also correspondences between the
names of confession and the confessions of trust in the individual complaints including
the corresponding statements in the oracles of salvation. Second, there is a close verbal
correspondence with the individual Gattungen of the Psalms: 67% of all roots that appear
in the epigraphic names of thanksgiving are also attested in the biblical thanksgiving texts;
Summary 485
and the verbal correspondence of the names of confession varies between 51 and 66%,
depending on how they are delineated. This verbal correspondence is even a bit higher
than the correspondence between the biblical names and the individual psalms (a little
more than 50%; see Albertz 1978a: 49–50). Based on these results, one can infer that these
personal names actually reflect the prayer customs of ancient Israelite families and that the
individual psalms, although given a ritual shape by professionals and often edited in much
later periods, still reflect ancient family piety in some way.
On the basis of the personal names mentioned above, the structure of family piety can
be reconstructed insofar as it was related to crises. The names of confession, especially,
show an intimate personal relationship with the divine; the deity was often addressed as
“my god,” although in the epigraphic material the first-person-singular suffix was nor-
mally not written during this period. But names such as ( אליסמךʾElîsāmāk ‘my god has
supported me’), ( אליעזʾElîʿoz ‘my god is my [strong] protection’), or ( עמדיהוʿImmādīyāhû
‘Yhwh is with me’) unambiguously verify the intimate relationship between the individual
who bore this name and his or her personal god. Sometimes even the whole family group
could be included in this personal relationship ( עמנויהוʿImmānûyāhû ‘Yhwh is with us’).
Generally speaking, this personal relationship with the divine had two aspects: a strong
sentiment of trust in (e.g., מבטחיהוMibṭaḥyāhû ‘my trust is Yhwh’) and a sentiment of
dependence on the personal deity (e.g., עבדיהוʿAbdiyāhû ‘servant of Yhwh’). This re-
lationship lasted for the entire life of the name-bearer; it was not a matter of personal
choice but a relationship inherited from the parents who bestowed the name on their
child. We showed that the creation of every individual by the deity, as reflected by the
creation names, was the foundation for this intimate, trustful relationship with the deity
(cf. Ps 22:10–11; 71:5–7). Because it was based on a biological connection, this individual
religious relationship differed significantly from Israel’s relationship with Yhwh, which
was based on political history. In its broadly unconditional, indissoluble, and indestruc-
tible character, this individual relationship had strong analogies with the social relations
between family members, especially the relationship between parents and their small chil-
dren. Thus the “very specifically declared relationship” that, according to the sociologist
R.€Nave-Herz (2002: 149), “distinguished the family from any other relation of social in-
teraction in a given society” was also the very one that determined and defined the typical
features of family religion.
The names of praise (48 names and 135 occurrences) compose a much smaller por-
tion of the epigraphic corpus (7.1% and 4.6%, respectively). Dealing with the greatness,
kindness, and vital activity of the deity and calling for praise and veneration of him, these
names have structural parallels with the hymn Gattung, with which they also exhibit some
verbal correspondences (40%). Hymns were used in the services of the state cult and the
great pilgrimage feasts of the regional and central sanctuaries in which many Israelite and
Judahite families participated. Thus, the praise-name group verifies that there was influ-
ence by the official religion on the family and household religion, but it also demonstrates
that it was rather limited.
A detailed comparison of all the predicative elements of the theophoric personal
names of Israel’s neighbors reveals that there were only slight differences between Israel
and other peoples in the distribution of religious statements among the name groups, and
486 Chapter 8
there were only a few variations in motifs and metaphors. There were no significant differ-
ences from the corpus of Hebrew names. The metaphorical nature of the Hebrew names
may have been somewhat richer than in Moabite, Ammonite, Aramean, and Phoenician
names. This impression may obtain merely because of the greater size of the attested He-
brew onomasticon. But in any case, there is no subgroup of prayer names mentioned
above for which a parallel from Israel’s neighbors cannot be found. The only difference
worth mentioning is the apparent reservation of Israelite parents to express the relation-
ship with the divine in sexual terms; here, the names of the type “son/daughter of DN” that
appear frequently in the Aramean (Barhadad ‘son of Hadad’) and Phoenician (Batšaḥar
‘daughter of Shachar’) onomasticons are clearly underrepresented and only are attested as
loan-names (e.g., from Egypt, Pašḥur ‘Son of Horus’). The main differences between the
personal names of Israel and its surrounding cultures are related not to the predicative
elements but the theophoric.
That the birth and prayer names do not represent the entire range of family and house-
hold religious beliefs was demonstrated by a brief consideration of the biblical proverbs
(Proverbs 10–29), because no epigraphic Israelite proverbs are available. While the names
focused on crises, the proverbs were intended to provide counsel for the conduct of life
in times of relative peace and equanimity. Although the proverbs are directed more at
individuals’ reasoning skills than at piety, they have some features in common with the
theophoric names, such as references to the divine creation of the individual (Prov 14:31;
17:5; 20:12; et al.), divine protection (10:29; 14:26; et al.), and trust in the deity (Prov
3:5; 16:20; 22:19; et al.) and an absence of national religious traditions. The proverbs not
only encourage people to act with trust in the deity (16:3) but also warn them against
over�estimating their own abilities. God recognizes the limits of their wisdom (21:30), he
examines their most intimate thoughts and deeds (15:3), and he will punish evildoers
and defend victims (10:3; 12:2; et al.). Thus, the piety of the proverbs has a strong ethi-
cal orientation; the deity is not only the benevolent creator of the individual but also the
examiner and judge. As far as conducting one’s life was concerned, the guiding family re-
ligious beliefs were the dependence of each individual on the deity and the idea of moral
and social responsibility.
In contrast to the predicate statements, the theophoric elements of personal names
differ much more among the various Levantine onomasticons. The Hebrew onomasti-
con manifests 28 different theophoric elements, with a strong preference for Israel’s na-
tional god Yhwh; he appears in 59.4% of the 404 theophoric Hebrew names (excluding
the hypo�coristica) and in 67.6% of all 1,978 occurences. An even higher percentage of
names that contain the references to the god El appears in the Ammonite onomasticon.
He was referred to in 67.8% of the Ammonite names and 81.8% of the occurrences within
a small pantheon of 15 deities. The small Moabite onomasticon consisted of 11 different
deities; among them, the national god Chemosh held a lower position, appearing in 37.9%
of the Moabite names and 40.5% of the occurrences. In contrast to these rather limited
pantheons, the Aramaic pantheon had 44 different deities who were referred to in the
onomasticon; and the Phoenician, 60 different deities. The main gods Baal and Hadad
(including all other weather-gods) were referred to in only a small portion of the names—
about 21% or 24%. In spite of these obvious differences, all Levantine onomasticons share
Summary 487
some common ground: they all contain a similar percentage of divinized kinship terms;
they all know the god El, the appellative, or a tutelary god; and they all refer to only a small
number of female deities. These observations lead to the conclusion that, as far as a choice
of deities was concerned, Levantine families obviously adapted themselves to the religious
environment of their societies, whether it was a less developed polytheism such as in Am-
mon, Moab, and Israel; or a more highly developed polytheism such as in Syria and Phoe-
nicia. Nevertheless, they all had some features in common, especially their preference for
calling their family deities by kinship terms (ʾāb ‘father’, ʾāḥ ‘brother’, ʿam ‘uncle’, ḥam
‘father-in-law’, ʾēm ‘mother’, and ʾaḥat ‘sister’) or taking them as their personal gods (ʾēlī
‘my god’, ʾădōnī, māray ‘my lord’, malkī ‘my king’)—both of which were less common no-
tions in the official religions of the Levantine cultures.
In spite of their adaptation to a more or less polytheistic environment, the Levantine
family and household religions manifested one curious characteristic: a variety of theo-
phoric elements were used in the personal names throughout these different cultures, but
the predicative elements remained strikingly similar in all of them. This similarity can be
observed both by comparing the variety of deities within the individual onomasticons and
by comparing the different onomasticons. This means that, regardless of name, nature,
or number, all deities were believed to act similarly on behalf of their families. They were
divested of the individual characteristics that they had acquired on the level of state and
temple religion over a long period of time and became associated with the divine func-
tions (attention, salvation, protection, support) that correspond to the typical needs of
family members. In being assimilated as family deities, Yhwh, El, Baal, Anat, Mot, and
other deities attested in the Hebrew onomasticon shed their specific individual attributes
and were believed to act or function in largely identical ways.
This convergence and identification of deities on the family level of religion are like-
wise attested by the group of equating names, in which two divine designations are closely
connected in a nominal sentence. Although these names constitute only a small group
within each of the Levantine onomasticons (varying between 5.5% and 10.9% of all the
names and 4.9% and 12.7% of the occurrences), they are of great theological significance.
Four types can be distinguished. In the first type, the family gods or personal gods are
predicated by a major deity (e.g., ʾAḥīḥur ‘my [divine] brother is Horus’; ʾElīyāhû ‘my god
is Yhwh’), from whom they inherit their power. By this equating, the major deity becomes
integrated into the personal sphere of the family and the symbolic world of its religion.
In the second type, a major deity is predicated by either the family god or the per-
sonal god (Kamōšʿam ‘Chemosh is [my divine] uncle’; ʾEšmunʾadōnī ‘Eshmun is my lord’).
Through this equating, the major deity was shaped with the characteristics of the per-
sonal family god and largely divested of the characteristics ascribed to the deity within the
sphere of official religion. This corresponds to the observation that the national character-
istics of Yhwh are absent in the religious sphere of the personal names.
In the third type, deities on the same level are predicated by one another—the personal
god by the family god, the family god by the personal god, or a family god by a family god
(ʾElîʿam ‘my god is the [divine uncle]’, ʾAḥlay ‘[my divine] brother is my god’, ʾAḥatʾab
‘[my divine] sister is father’). These names are confessions of confidence in the chosen god
of the family, that he or she acts as a true family or personal god.
488 Chapter 8
In the fourth type, a major god is predicated by another major god (Šēdad ‘Sîn is Ha-
dad’; Šalmānrimmān ‘Shalman is [Hadad-]Rimmon’). These names allowed families to
retain the identity of the gods they had chosen, despite changing conditions in their poly-
theistic environment. This type corresponds to the observation that on the level of family
religion all the deities were furnished with the same functions. It appears more often in
cultures with a more-developed polytheism (Syria, Phoenicia).
Most of the Hebrew equating names belong to types 1 and 2, in which a major god, in
most cases Yhwh, was integrated into the world of family religion. In Israel, where poly-
theism existed in a relatively restricted form, equating names of the fourth type are rather
limited (Yĕhôʾēl ‘Yhwh is El’, Baʿalyāh ‘Baal is Yhwh’ [from the Hebrew Bible]). Never-
theless, the very existence of these names verifies a clear tendency toward an inclusive
monolatry in Israelite and all others Levantine family and household religions.
In spite of the important role that women, especially mothers, played in developing
the belief system of family and household religion, female deities are noticeably under-
represented in the theophoric elements of personal names. This oddity is not limited to
the Hebrew onomasticon, where goddesses appear in only 1.7% of all theophoric names
and 0.9% of the epigraphic names (in precise figures, 7 and 17, respectively). Similarly
low percentages occur in the Moabite and Ammonite onomasticon (2.7% and 2.0% of the
names). Goddesses are found somewhat more frequently in the Aramaic onomasticon
(4.5%); only in the Phoenician onomasticon is there a higher proportion—13.5% of the
theophoric names and 11.0% of the occurrences. It may be that goddesses became more
prominent only in more urbanized societies such as Phoenicia and Mesopotamia, where
women occupied a more important position in public life, while in more rural societies
such as Israel, Ammon, and Moab, where patriarchy dominated, male deities were nor-
mally considered more effective. In any event, on the level of family religion, female deities
were also divested of their special characteristics and were believed to act as family deities
like their male counterparts. Thus the Levantine onomasticons not only provide detailed
insights into the beliefs of the family religion of Israel and the family religion of its neigh-
bors but also reveal interesting strategies by which family religions met the challenges of
their various polytheistic environments.
In contrast to the personal names, the iconographic evidence from the private Iron
Age stamp seals of Israel and Judah shows a rather close affinity of family religion to the
religious symbol system of state and temple religion. On these personal seals, anthropo-
morphic representations of major deities seem to have been avoided altogether; instead,
an abstract symbolization of Yhwh was used, such as the winged sun-disc and the winged
beetle. The presence of both the winged sun-disc and winged beetles on private and of-
ficial Judean seals reveals a strong continuity between official and private religion in use of
symbols. The same is true for the use of winged Uraei (which can be associated with bib-
lical seraphim), cherubim (in the appearance of a sphinx), and Temple iconography; on
the seals, they may have functioned as lower protective deities and mediators for Yhwh.
The characteristics that were unique to family religion are reflected in the decided prefer-
ence for protective spirits and apotropaic monsters on private seals; based on the personal
names on the seals, divine salvation, protection, and support were of central importance
to families. The difference in the evidence provided by the glyptic media and the personal
Summary 489
names may have to do with the fact that the professional manufacturers who engraved the
seals were constrained by an iconographic repertoire that was taken from many different
international, regional, and local sources, including the official religion. Thus their icons
did not directly reflect the beliefs of the seal owners. The second reason may have been
the double function of the seals, which were used not only for private purposes but also to
represent individuals in the public sphere.
40. The counterpart of the family blessing, the curse, is less prominent in biblical texts;
nevertheless, biblical law contains strong verdicts against curses in the realm of the family,
especially against cursing one’s parents (Exod 21:17; Lev 20:9), to prevent family and so-
cial disorder caused by curses and related practices of witchcraft. In this case, biblical law
was largely shaped by family values. The most common context for curses in epigraphic
sources is tomb inscriptions to prevent the family’s cave from being disturbed or robbed.
As I emphasized in previous works (Albertz 1978a: 23–49; 1994: 100–101; 2008: 102–
3), ceremonies for sickness, distress, bad omens, and other types of misfortune were origi-
nally performed by the pater familias in domestic settings. Although the Old Testament
does not refer explicitly to these rituals in family contexts, the Psalms in particular and
also analogies from Mesopotamian incantations support the theory that they were family
rituals. Most likely, the psalms of individual complaint and thanksgiving originated in the
domestic sociohistorical context, because they strongly reflect the beliefs and religious
experiences of families. The deity invoked in the psalms of individual complaint and in
psalms of confidence and related genres is often addressed as ‘my god’ (אלי, אלהיʾēlî,
ʾĕlōhay). This sort of personal intimacy with the deity is also reflected in the use of phrases
such as ‘my help’, ‘my protection’, ‘my trust’, and ‘my hope’. As shown in chap.€5 above,
there is considerable correspondence between the semantic structures of these individual
psalms of complaint and thanksgiving and the Hebrew onomasticon. Furthermore, the ar-
chaeological evidence presented in chap. 3 supports the idea of domestic ceremonies: for
example, the presence of ritual objects such as offering stands, votive figurines, apotropaic
amulets, and so on. This archaeological evidence, the biblical texts (e.g., Exod 12:21–23; Tob
3:7–9; and 6:1–9), and several psalms of individual complaint (Ps 22:17; 91:5) attest do-
mestic prophylactic and exorcistic measures against the threat of demons. As mentioned,
these domestic ceremonies were usually carried out by the pater familias. But in situations
of extreme distress, a ritual specialist such as a man of God ( איׁש האלהיםʾîš hāʾĕlōhîm)
needed to be consulted. These actions by religious specialists are reflected in the miracle
stories of the men of God Elijah and Elisha in 1 and 2 Kings, especially the case of the bar-
ren wife in 2 Kgs 4:8–17 and the death of the son in 1 Kgs 17:17–24 and 2€Kgs 4:18–37.
In these passages, men of God were occasionally hosted by families, and they paid for
this provision with ritual services. As evidenced by the polemics in Ezek 13:17–21 (cf.
1€Samuel 28), there were also female ritual specialists who could be consulted in situations
of sickness and distress; however, the patriarchal selection of biblical texts included almost
no references to ritual authority held by women. In postexilic times, the Priestly writers’
bias was toward confining domestic ritual procedures to the official sphere of religion,
as can be seen in the ritual purification of the house afflicted with a skin disease (צרעת
ṣāraʿat) in Lev 14:33–53. But we should also realize that, even during the preexilic period,
purification rituals involving blood rites would only have been performed by priests.
The values and the symbolic system of family religion were also strongly emphasized
in the complex of taboos and related ritual observances. Largely due to the groundbreak-
ing study on Purity and Danger by Mary Douglas (1966), there is quite a broad consensus
among Hebrew Bible scholars that food taboos (Exod 22:30; Leviticus 11; Deut 14:3–21)
and related taboos such as the prohibition against cooking a young goat in its mother’s
milk (Exod 23:19b; 34:26b; Deut 14:21b) were linked to societal ideas about sanctity and
492 Chapter 8
cosmic order, which were reflected in the classification systems. Thus, certain animals that
did not fit into the classification system were rendered unclean. Although the food taboos
may already have been conventional in preexilic times, their observance later became a
badge of national and religious identity and were primarily maintained by families.
Also strongly shaped by family values were the sexual taboos against incest (Lev 18:6–
18; 20:11–12, 14, 17). The most important reason for the incest taboo was to ensure har-
monious relationships between parents, children, and other close kin. Thus, the family as
the central source of social harmony was protected. The taboos regarding bestiality (Exod
22:18; Lev 18:23; 20:15–16) and homosexuality (Lev 18:22 and 20:13) were more complex
and stemmed from cultural conventions as well as views about the cosmic order. Acts
of this sort were considered a blurring of boundaries that endangered the cosmological
order. This was also the case for the more general prohibitions on intermixing, such as in
Lev 19:19 and Deut 22:9–11. As can be shown by prohibitions against sexual deviations
in the law codes of Israel’s ancient Near Eastern neighbors, specifically against intercourse
with animals and homosexuality, the biblical prohibitions do not serve the purpose of de-
marcating Israel in contrast to foreign cults and their practices but simply reflect common
ancient Near Eastern conventions. Obviously, small-scale societies stressed the impor-
tance of conducting one’s life according to the commonly accepted models of behavior in
order to strengthen, stabilize, and ensure the survival of their basic structure and institu-
tions, especially the family. More closely related to the requirements of official religion
were the taboos about genital discharges in Lev 12:1–8. These allegedly archaic taboos
were adapted to the Priestly ritual system in postexilic times and strongly affected family
life because they enforced periods of isolation and inactivity, especially for women. Other
taboos, such as harvesting the edges of a field or stripping a vineyard bare (Lev 19:9–10;
Deut 24:19–22) were socially motivated, to sustain the poor and aliens.
Obviously, the rituals, rites, and observances of family religion expressed family values
such as harmony and solidarity and were strongly influenced by the personal relationships
of family members, especially between children and their parents. The rites and rituals of
family religion, including the ritual care of the dead, were aimed at the essential religious
desires of the familial microcosm, such as peace, stability, harmony, abundant progeny,
and general welfare. Moreover, these family values were mirrored by the divine order of
the macrocosm.
Historically, we can observe that, before the exile, family religious practices existed
alongside religious practices performed on local, regional, and official levels of society and
that all of these practices interacted closely with one another. Thus, there was no single
definitive preexilic religion of ancient Israel but a highly differentiated internal religious
pluralism, aspects of which frequently intersected with each other. During the Babylonian
Exile and throughout the subsequent Diaspora, many observances, rites, and rituals of
family religion became symbolic of national and religious identity and served to maintain
this otherwise precarious identity. Particularly effective in this regard were the rites and
rituals of circumcision, Sabbath, and dietary customs, which in turn began to create and
maintain the religious identity. Passover especially went through a dynamic evolution and
transformation, from originally being a family celebration to later becoming a feast of the
official cult in the Second Temple period. It nevertheless maintained important elements
Summary 493
from its origin and eventually reverted once again back to being a predominantly family
celebration, after the destruction of the Second Temple. Rites, rituals, and observances
of the family as well as burial practices and commemorative rituals for the deceased (see
below) not only communicated national and religious identity but also manifested and
mediated the cultural memory of ancient Israel and early Judaism. One of the most im-
portant observations of our investigation is that the basic symbolic system of family reli-
gion—with its values of family harmony, welfare, and abundant progeny—did not change
a great deal, even when the religious “superstructure” was transformed. Thus, postexilic,
early Judaism also shared the essential features of its symbolic system and its religious
expressions with its contemporary neighbors.
assisted by local relatives and by friends, clients, and members of the local community.
Thus, burial and mourning rites were clearly public due to the involvement of members of
the greater community, such as wailing women drawn from the neighborhood. Mortuary
rites such as mourning made conspicuous the gap that had been left by the deceased; grief
and sorrow were expressed and enacted by expressive physical rites, such as wailing aloud,
tearing clothes, sitting in the dirt and rubbing oneself with dirt and ashes, self-laceration,
beating one’s breast and head, shaving the forehead, and so on. With these expressive rites,
the living temporarily became like the dead. Mourning rites were used as occasions for
strengthening and renegotiating the social roles of the living members of the family or
clan, as well as the roles of the co-residential circle of relatives and the local community.
Among the regularly observed mortuary rites were annual commemorative meals,
such as the meal mentioned in 1 Samuel 20 that involved the מׁשפחהmišpāḥāh at the new
moon, and we may assume that there were monthly gatherings, perhaps including mem-
bers of the joint family. Rituals conducted with greater frequency involved the daily care
for the dead and were performed in houses by the nuclear or extended family. The exis-
tence of these practices is inferred from archaeological evidence that suggests the frequent
use of domestic ritual objects. The post-mortem relationship between the living and the
dead is reflected in the rites that were performed in special locations, such as in Jerusalem
Caves I–III, Locus 6015, or Samaria E207. These locations appear to have been special
subterranean places for ritual performances focused on the dead (cf. Isa 65:3–5), espe-
cially ritual meals held by such groups as nuclear or joint families. In any case, the ritual
apparatus found at these places is identical to domestic ritual assemblages or an enlarged
subset of them. The textual evidence of Deut 26:14; Sir 7:33; and Tob 4:17 reveals that
portions of the meals for the dead served as symbols of the ongoing social relationship
between the dead and the living and also as sustenance for the dead in the netherworld.
The entire complex of burial and post-mortem rites expressed the importance of the fam-
ily and maintaining its solidarity in ancient Israelite society.
A special form of ritual communication with the dead was interrogation of the dead,
or necromancy, as narrated in the famous story about Saul and the “witch” of Endor in
1 Samuel 28 and other, mostly polemical accounts in the Hebrew Bible (e.g., Deuteron-
omy 18). The strong opposition of the biblical writers to necromancy can be explained by
necromancy’s being viewed as a violation of Yhwh’s sovereignty and denial of his being
the only source of divination. Furthermore, the blurring of boundaries between the living
and the dead must be taken into account, because interaction with the spirits of the dead
is dangerous. Although a mask was found together with an offering stand, which could be
interpreted as evidence for necromancy, there is no textual or archaeological support for
necromancy as a common domestic ritual practice.
From the historical perspective, the rites, rituals, and observances of ritual care for the
dead were relatively stable from preexilic to postexilic times and even into the Hellenistic
and Roman periods, although certain practices, such as expressive mourning rites and
necromancy were eliminated because they were associated with foreign beliefs and there-
fore no longer regarded as Yahwistic.
Consequently, based on the archaeological, epigraphic, and biblical evidence pre-
sented in this volume, we conclude that the family and household religion of ancient Israel
Summary 495
from the 11th to the 7th centuries b.c.e. was a vivid, rich segment of Israelite religion. It
was carried out by family members at various locations, whether in their own dwelling,
at the shrines or burial places in their neighborhoods, or at local, regional, or even state
sanctuaries. Although it intersected in many ways with the local and official segments of
Israelite religion, it nevertheless formed a religious symbolic world with its own charac-
teristics and typical ritual activities that were based on the particular social relationships
of families and that were focused on their specific needs.
Up to the 7th century b.c.e., the Israelite family and household religion manifested
almost no unique features but was quite similar to other family and household religions
of the Levant. Thus, for the preexilic era, it should be characterized as a mere variant of
a common Levantine religious phenomenon. Only from the 6th century onward did the
family religion of Israel acquire a distinctive, Israelite shape. But even as the distinctly
Jewish family religion of the Persian and Hellenistic periods (as evidenced, for example,
by “Torah piety”), it never completely lost the customs and traditions of its family roots.
Additional Tables:
Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16
Table 3.6.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages from Iron Age I
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Ai Iron I Locus 69, bench cultic stands collectibles bowl libation, neighborhood
integrated platform animal fig. lamp jar food/drink shrine
channel (?) frag. consumption
Beth- Iron IA Locus 1342 storage/ fem. fig. frag. fayence obj. jars worship/ work related
shean industrial 2 kernoi pyxides bowls votive
jugs libation
Hazor Iron IB Stratum XI, platform sanctuary 3283: stand ivory handle cooking pot libation village shrine
Room 3283 benches foundation storage jar food
and adjacent standing stone offering in basalt bowls offering/
structures jug 3307: 2 and pestles consumption
(Loci 3307 stands 3275: 3307:
and 3275) 2 stands ╇bowl
freestanding(?) ╇ store jar
3275:
╇bowl
╇ tripod bowl
╇ cooking pot
╇krater
╇ store jar
Tel Iron I House 314 ovens kitchen / food pot stand bowls food / drink
Masos Room 343 preparation / chalices kraters consumption
consumption lamps cooking jugs
cooking pots
jugs
strainer jug
juglets
store jars
hole-mouth
jars
amphoriskos
pyxides
pilgrim flask
flower pot
working
stones
Tel Iron I House 314 platform kitchen animal collectibles bowls worship/ domestic,
Masos Room 307 oven figurine ? cooking pots votive house shrine
jugs food / drink
juglets consumption
pyxides
lamp
krater
pithos
storage jar
Tel Iron I House 314 stands collectibles? jug libations domestic
Masos Room 331 (bowls) (copper) jar and/or dry
ivory spout lamps pithos offerings
(lion’s head) bichrome
vessel frag.
496
Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16 497
Table 3.6.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages from Iron Age I
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Tell Iron IB Mound A benches storage fenestrated chalices storage jars libations domestic
Mazar Room 101 (Rooms 100, stand cooking pots and/or dry
102 only) kraters offerings
flasks
jugs
Megiddo Iron IB Courtyard storage stand chalices storage jars libations domestic
house 00/K/10, zoom. vessel cooking pots
Locus 98/K/77 bowls
jugs
juglets
flasks
lids
Megiddo Iron IB Courtyard oven, tabun kitchen zoom. vessels storage jars libations domestic
house 00/K/10, zoom. figs. cooking pots votive
Locus bowls
00/K/87and jugs
89/K/70 juglets
flasks
Megiddo Iron IB Area AA, storage mini shrine chalice pyxis worship/ domestic
Locus 2159 double bowls libations
Courtyard pyxis jug
house jars
spouted
amph.
pilgrim flask
lentoid flasks
bottle
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, oven, pit, kitchen: fem. fig. head 3 chalices pilgrim flasks worship/ domestic
Locus 1727 basin storage, food lamp jugs votive
processing pilgrim flasks
and pyxis
consumption bowls
cooking pots
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, storage, food stand goblet bowl libation domestic
Locus 1729 processing lamp pyxis and/or dry
pilgrim flasks offerings ?
jugs
juglets
strainer cups
baking tray
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, storage bronze calf chalices amphoriskos votive/ domestic
Locus 1732 amulet goblet jugs libation
zoom. vessel lamps juglets
kernos flask
cooking pots
bowl
jars
basalt bowl
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, tree unbuilt area zoom. spout strainer jar libation domestic
Locus 1737 or juglet and/or dry
courtyard jugs offerings
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, oven kitchen or stand bowl libation domestic
Locus 1731 storage flask and/or dry
jars offerings
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, oven kitchen or stand chalices basalt bowl libation domestic
Locus 1735 storage amphoriskos and/or dry
jugs offerings
juglet
pilgrim flasks
jars
498 Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16
Table 3.6.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages from Iron Age I
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food kernos painted Jugs libation domestic
Locus 1736 processing/ pyxis lentoid flasks and/or dry
storage painted jugs kraters offerings
bowls
spouted
amphoriskos
strainer jug
baking tray
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food stand (bowl goblets strainer jug libation domestic
Locus 1740 processing/ of) cymbals strainer cup and/or dry
consumption jugs offerings
bowls music
flasks
cooking pots
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food stand (base) chalice strainer jug libation domestic
Locus 1744 processing/ painted jug pilgrim flask and/or dry
consumption/ funnel offerings
storage bowl
cooking pots
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food fem. fig. frag. lentoid flask worship/ domestic
Locus 1780 processing/ krater votive
storage cooking pot
jug
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food / drink bone anim. 3 fayence bowl votive domestic
Locus 1741 consumption? fig. frag. amulets basalt bowl
pyxis jugs
lamp painted jug
goblet lentoid flask
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food stand 2 seals cooking pots libation domestic
Locus 1752 processing/ goblet jug and/or dry
storage lamps lentoid flask offerings
cup&saucer jars
Megiddo Iron IB Locus 1750 trees unbuilt area kernos frag. unlikely:
fayance dump?
amulet
ivory animal
frag.
Megiddo Iron IB Locus 1760 ovens kitchen fem. fig. torso chalice bowl worship/ domestic
flask jugs votive
jars
amphoriskoi
Tell Qiri Iron I Str. VIIIB–C benches cultic stand+bowl chalices bowls libation neighborhood
building, platform libation vessel miniature cooking pots animal shrine
integrated stone basin vessel krater offerings/
amulet jug meals
cooking jar
pithos
Ḥirbet Iron I Cluster S benches domestic stands? libation? domestic
Raddana platforms decorated
ovens krater
Shiloh Iron I Room 335, stand frags. bowls libations and domestic
debris 623 frags. of cooking pots dry offerings
zoomorphic pilgrim flask
appliques jug
pithoi
storage jar
Tell el- Iron I NE room basin kitchen none none remains of none none
Wawiyat ovens butchered
cow
Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16 499
Table 3.7. Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages from Iron IIA
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Tel ʿAmal Iron IIA 12 ovens kitchen stand lamp bowls libations domestic
zoom. spout juglets
Tel ʿAmal Iron IIA 34 ovens, bench industrial stand krater libations/ work related
dry
offerings
Beth-shean Iron IIA Locus 1564 basin? domestic fem. fig. and ivory object flask libation, domestic
2 zoom. frags. votive
2 stands music
Beth-shean Iron IIA Loci 1557 storage 2 fem. fig. frags jar worship/ work related
62 1 zoom. juglets votive
63
Tell Iron IIA House 440 oven domestic, model shrine millstone worship/ domestic
el-Fārʿah Room 439 food votive
preparation
Tell Iron IIA House 440 oven domestic, fem. fig. and game piece jug worship/ domestic
el-Fārʿah Room 460 food zoom. frags. juglets votive
courtyard preparation bowls
Tell Iron IIA House 440 model shrine ? worship/ domestic
el-Fārʿah Room 437 votive
Tell Iron IIA House 175 zoom. vessel game piece libation domestic
el-Fārʿah Room 174 mini juglet
Tell Iron IIA House 161 benches food game piece jugs unlikely none
el-Fārʿah Room 157 storage/ bead juglets
back room preparation lamp cooking pots
jar
Tell el- Iron IIA Structure on L basins industrial/ kernos ring multihandled storage jars libation work related
Ḥammah Terrace agricultural fem. fig. frag. krater
Cypro-Phoen jugl.
Pyxides
astragali
Lachish Iron Room 49, platform cultic altar clay basin chalices bowls offerings village shrine
IIA–IIB isolated benches 4 stands lamps jugs meals
oven juglets
cooking pots
storage jars
Megiddo Iron IIA/ Locus 2081, built in-corner, cultic 2 horned altars chalices jar libations, large-scale
IIB Integrated in bench, stone 3 stands astragali (in bowl) juglets incense domestic
house slab big censor jar axhead bowl burning and/or
mortar and burnt neighborhood
rubbing stone offerings cult
Megiddo Iron IIB Room 340 bench, cultic schematic stone cup and saucer juglets libations Palace shrine
integrated platform, object strainer jugs burnt
in palatial pillars, stone model shrine frag. basalt bowl offerings
structure 338 slabs
Tell Michal Iron IIA Building 300, platform sanctuary 3 goblets libation/ village shrine
isolated drink
Tel Iron IIA Pit 253 kernos bowl globular jug, black bowl foundation domestic
Qashish on red handmade bowl or ritual
jars deposit
krater
Tel Reḥov Iron Area E mud-brick open-air stand chalices bowls animal open-air
IIA–B open-air platform, cult place fem. fig. frag. cooking pots slaughter village
structure masṣṣebōt, jugs libations sanctuary
ovens jars votives
Ḥorvat Iron IIA Locus 16 fortress/ zoom. vessel chalice bowls libation work related
Rosh Zayit Str. IIa storage Cypro-Phoenician juglets
facility ware
500 Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16
Table 3.7. Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages from Iron IIA
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Ḥorvat Iron IIA Locus 47 fortress kernos Cypro-Phoenician libation work related
Rosh Zayit tower tower ware
Taanach Iron IIA Room SW 2-7 basin kitchen stand astragali 26 storage jars libation domestic or
and/or censor cup 3 pyxides 2 amphorae and dry work related
storage 10 jugs offerings,
11 juglets censing,
1 krater casting
63 bowls lots
3 cp
Table 3.8.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages from Iron IIB
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Beth-shean Iron IIB/C Loci 298/293 domestic tripod incense bowls incense domestic
burner cooking pots burning,
stand jars libation
zoom. frag. jug
ʿEin Gev Iron IIB Locus 11 domestic, tripod incense nephrite ax jugs incense domestic
storage cup cosmetic bowl beer jug burning,
decorated jug jar votive
bone pendant store jar
worked holemouth jar
gazelle bone pestle
mortar
scraper
bone spatulae
bronze funnel
Tell Iron IIB Locus 429a, tripod censor cooking pot incense domestic
el-Fārʿah back room cup bowl burning
Hazor Iron IIB Room 239a guardroom 1 zoom. vessel Cypro- 12 bowls libation work
Tower of gate frag. (spout) Phoenician 2 jugs drinking, related—
juglets 1 basalt bowl meals? military?
2 lamps
2 cups and
saucers
Hazor Iron IIB House food zoom. spout jugs libation domestic
48/63/47a/35a preparation/ cooking pot
consumption bowl
Hazor Iron IIB House food ivory handle bowls
48/63/47a/35a preparation/ cooking pots
consumption juglets
krater
Hazor Iron IIB House stand jug offering/ domestic
13-16, 44 mask store jar divination ?
(back room)
Kinneret Iron IIB Building 683, storage? fem. fig. torso bowl domestic
Tripartite barracks krater and/or work
building juglet related
storage jar
Tel Kedesh Iron IIB chamber with sunk-in jar industrial limestone altar libations, dry work related
courtyard bases offerings/
incense
burning
Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16 501
Table 3.8.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages from Iron IIB
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Kinneret Iron IIB Room 221 oven dwelling animal fig. frag. cooking pots votive domestic
bowls
Kinneret Iron IIB Room 328 dwelling rattle jugs uncertain
goblet juglets
storage jars
Megiddo Iron IIA/IIB Locus 2081, built cultic 2 horned altars chalices jar libations, large-scale
Integrated in in-corner, 3 stands astragali (in juglets incense domestic
house bench, stone big censor jar bowl) bowl burning and / or
slab axhead mortar and burnt neighborhood
rubbing stone offerings cult
Megiddo Iron IIB Room 340 Bench, cultic schematic stone cupandsaucer juglets libations Palace shrine
integrated platform, object strainer jugs burnt
in palatial pillars, stone model shrine basalt bowl offerings
structure 338 slabs frag.
Megiddo Iron IIB Room 332 in cultic ? limestone altar/ bowl burnt/dry/ Palace Shrine
Building 338 storage room stand jug libation
for 340? 2 pottery stands flask offerings
model shrine juglets
frag. 1 jug
Megiddo Iron IIB Locus 94 H 8 storage and incense cup basins incense domestic
food stand storage jars burning,
preparation zoom. vessel bowls libations and
frag. kraters dry offerings
cooking pots
jugs
beer jug
juglets jars
lamps
assyrian bottle
Tell Iron IIB Room 430 censor cup incense domestic
en-Naṣbeh burning
Tell Qiri Iron IIB Str. VII silo storage censor cup cooking pot work related
Locus 1027
Tell Iron IIB House 64 platform dwelling 3 tripod censor shells 1 jug incense domestic
es-Saʾīdīyeh cups beads 2 juglets burning
4 lamps
Tell Iron IIB House 6 dwelling animal bowls votive domestic
es-Saʾīdīyeh fig. frag. kraters libation
kernos frag. cooking pots
storage jars
Turʿan Iron IIB Locus 12 grinding stone domestic, incense burner lamps cooking pots incense domestic
kitchen bowls burning
krater storage
jars
502 Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16
Table 3.9.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages Iron IIC
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Tel Batash Iron IIC Unit 914 platform in domestic anthrop. and chalices libation/ domestic
Loci niche zoom. vessel drink
910/915 frags. consumption
Tel Batash Iron IIC House 607 domestic miniature altar incense- domestic
offering
Tel Batash Iron IIC Room 778 domestic miniature uncertain ʿdomesticʾ
vessels
pot stand
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 844 (domestic) Bronze and collectibles votive domestic
Debris from fayance
2nd store fallen figurines
on street amulets
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 25 domestic, JPF mini lamp bowls votive domestic
pillared room model chair cooking pots
juglets
jar
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 808 domestic JPF juglet worship/ domestic
model chair votives
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 442 domestic 2 limestone incense domestic
altars offering
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 3622 domestic, Sphinx-figurine apotropaic domestic
courtyard
Tell Beit Iron IIC NW 32-12 olive-oil press industrial 3 JPF worship/ work
Mirsim 3 zoom. frags. votive related
Tell Beit Iron IIC NW 31-11 domestic 1 JPF frag lamp various worship/ domestic
Mirsim casemate 2 zoom. frag. domestic votive
(back) room lamp
Tell Beit Iron IIC NW 22-13 domestic 2 JPF mini lamp cooking pot worship/ domestic
Mirsim 1 zoom. frag. cosmetic jug votive
palette juglet
Beth-shean Iron IIC Loci 298/293 domestic tripod inc. bowls incense domestic
burn. cooking pots burning,
stand jars libation
zoom. frag. jug
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 387 courtyard of 3 zoom. fig. juglet votive/ domestic
shemesh house, frag. red juglet libation
food 1 zoom. spout. dipper juglets
preparation cooking pots
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 382 oven kitchen model chair dipper juglet votive domestic
shemesh zoom. spout “heavy pot” libation
decanters
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 377 JPF head mold juglets figurine domestic
shemesh horse fig. frag. bowls production
lmlk-jar votive
“crude” and
“heavy” pots
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 376 courtyard (?) 3 zoom. frags. shells bowls votive domestic
shemesh food lamp decanter
processing lmlk-jar
mortars
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 375 basalt tank industrial animal fig chalice cooking pot votive work
shemesh (mouse)? disk-base related
lamp
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 373 rectangular industrial 2 JPF heads lamp holemouth jar worship/ work
shemesh fireplace (+ 1 from stone votive related
adjacent locus) pounders
1 animal fig. pick
3 animal fig.
frag.
Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16 503
Table 3.9.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages Iron IIC
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 321 wine press industrial various zoom. votives/ work
shemesh vessels/ libations related
figurines
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 305 vats textile JPF juglets votive work
shemesh production cooking pots related
and jar
processing holemouth jar
mortar
pounder
loom weights
Beth- Iron IIC “Fred’s House” domestic incised bowl utilitarian dry offerings domestic
shemesh qdš pottery,
loom weights
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus G storage JPF head storage jars worship/ domestic
8005 fenestrated jugs votive,
back room stand juglets meals
2 limestone
altars
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus L 8005 living ? JPF torso lamp bowls worship/ domestic
Debris of 2nd platter bowl votive,
store juglets meals
jar
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus K 8002 food 3 JPF frags. lamps storage jars worship/ domestic
Debris of 2nd preparation/ horse and rider pithoi votive,
store consumption frag. jugs meals
juglets
cooking pots
kraters
decanter
pitcher
grinding
stones
mouth dipper
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus F living ? JPF torso amphoriskos worship/ domestic
8007 jugs votive
debris of 2nd bowls
store
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus F 7002 living ? JPF frag scarab jars worship/ domestic
debris of 2nd food mace head pithoi votive
store preparation/ bone disc bowls
consumption lamps kraters
cooking pots
jugs
juglets
grinding
stones
Tel Halif Iron IIC Area F6 grinding food 2 fenestrated libations/ domestic
installations processing stands dry offerings
Jerusalem Iron IIC Locus 967 domestic animal fig. frag. big goblet- juglets incense domestic
“house of the storage horse-and-rider like kraters bowls burning
bullae” (bureau?) frag. pot stand cooking pots libations (?)
4 altars decanters votive
store jars
holemouth
jars
Lachish Iron IIC lower house, stand astragali bowls libation/dry domestic
Room 3569 kraters offerings,
cooking pots casting lots/
juglets gambling
flask
storage jars
504 Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16
Table 3.9.╇ Comparative table of Israelite and Judean assemblages Iron IIC
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts Cult
Site Date Room Installations Function Cat. A Cat. B Other Activities Cult Type
Lachish Iron IIC lower house, altar, astragali bowls incense domestic
Room 3573 zoom. frag. cooking pot burning,
black juglets votive,
lamp casting lots/
jug gambling
store jare
holemouth jar
basalt bowl
Lachish Iron IIC lower house, 2 zoom. frag. bowl votive domestic
Room 3582 krater
cooking pots
black juglet
holemouth jar
storage jars
basalt bowl
Lachish Iron IIC lower house, oven kitchen zoom. fig. frag. bowl votive domestic
Room 3533 cooking pot
krater
jug
Lachish Iron IIC Level II house channel and wine storage male head 3 bowls votive/ domestic
basin 1 cooking pot ancestor cult or work
2 store jars related
Lachish Iron IIC Locus 2066 entrance area 2 male votive/ domestic
of house peg-figurines ancestor cult
Lachish Iron IIC G 14: 1008 oven kitchen JPF head imitated bowls worship/ domestic
cowry jugs votive
shell cooking pot
pilgrim flask
jars
storage jars
Lachish Iron IIC H 17: 1078 JPF head pot stand juglet worship/ domestic
lamp small. jug votive
cooking pot
bowl
storage jars
Tel Masos Iron IIC Room 609 military zoom. fig. bowl votive domestic
dwelling ? krater
jug
juglet
store jar
Tel Masos Iron IIC Room 708 military JPF base lamps bowl worship/ domestic
dwelling ? juglets votive
cooking pots
storage jar
Tel Masos Iron IIC Room 758 military model chair cup votive domestic
dwelling ?
Tel Masos Iron IIC Room 718 military zoom. fig. bowls votive domestic
dwelling ? zoom. spout flask libation
Tell Iron IIC Rooms hearth kitchen stand jars libations/dry domestic
en-Naṣbeh 616/622 2 JPF frags. bowl offerings
(616) cooking pot votive
anthropom.
frag.
v frag. (622)
Tell Iron IIC 393 male head votive domestic
en-Naṣbeh couch model
Tell Iron IIC 398 JPF head votive domestic
en-Naṣbeh couch model
Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16 505
Table 5.3.╇ Epigraphic personal names from Israel and its environment
Names of Names of Not In-
Thanksgiving Confession Names of Praise Equating Names Names of Birth Secular Names cluded Total
Names Instances Names Instances Names Instances Names Instances Names Instances Names Instances Names Names Instances
Ammon. 38 98 34 54 14 27 8 15 37 89 15 22 28 146 305
26.0% 32.1% 23.3% 17.7% 9.6% 8.9% 5.5% 4.9% 25.3% 29.2% 10.3% 7.2%
thank+confess: 49.3% 49.8%
All Prayer Names: 58.9% 58.7%
Moabite 16 18 10 12 3 3 6 8 17 19 3 3 3 55 63
29.1% 28.6% 18.2% 19.0% 5.5% 4.8% 10.9% 12.7% 30.8% 30.1 5.5% 4.8%
thank+confess: 47.3% 47.6%
All Prayer Names: 52.8% 52.4%
Aram. 77 92 113 129 24 26 29 36 83 103 48 57 101 374 443
20.6% 20.8% 30.2% 29.1% 6.4% 5.9% 7.8% 8.1% 22.2% 23.2% 12.8% 12.9%
thank+confess: 50.8% 49.9%
All Prayer Names: 57.2% 55.8%
Phoen. 50 83 112 228 20 28 30 52 86 162 21 28 58 319 581
15.7% 14.3% 35.1% 39.2% 6.3% 4.8% 9.4% 9.3% 26.9% 27.9% 6.6% 4.8%
thank+confess: 50.8% 53.5%
All Prayer Names: 56.9% 58.1%
Hebrew 164 993 119 434 48 135 47 234 192 875 105 251 114 675 2922
24.3% 34.0% 17.6% 14.9% 7.1% 4.6% 7.0% 8.0% 28.4% 29.9% 15.6% 8.6%
thank+confess: 41.9% 48.9%
All Prayer Names: 49.0% 53.5%
HAE 2/2 125 554 81 246 37 87 32 125 135 493 60 131 49 470 1636
26.6% 33.9% 17.2% 15% 7.9% 5.3% 6.8% 7.7% 28.7% 30.1% 12.8% 8.0%
thank+confess: 43.8% 48.9%
Max. 2.5 8.7 1.4 4.0 3.9 2.3 5.5 5.7 4.3 2.7 1.7 1.2
Deviation
thank+confess: 1.1 4.7
All Epi� 164 993 119 434 48 135 47 234 192 875 105 251 675 2922
graphic
24.3% 34% 17.6% 14.9% 7.1% 4.6% 7.0% 8.0% 28.4% 29.9% 15.6% 8.6%
Additional Tables: Tables 3.6–3.9, 5.1–5.16 507
HAE 2/2 125 554 81 246 37 87 32 125 135 493 60 131 49 470 1636
26.6% 33.9% 17.2% 15.0% 7.9% 5.3% 6.8% 7.7% 28.7% 30.1% 12.8% 8.0%
All Prayer Names: 51.7% 54.2%
All Epi� 164 993 119 434 48 135 47 234 192 875 105 251 675 2922
graphic
24.3% 34% 17.6% 14.9% 7.1% 4.6% 7.0% 8.0% 28.4% 29.9% 15.6% 8.6%
All Prayer Names: 49.0% 53.5%
HAE 2/2 125 554 81 246 37 87 32 125 135 493 60 131 49 470 1636
FHCB 8 9 5 10 3 3 1 1 9 10 4 6 21 30 39
BPHB 66 251 36 82 14 19 12 41 71 196 28 55 23 227 644
Seals 199 814 122 338 54 109 45 167 215 699 92 192 727 2319
27.4% 35.1% 16.8% 14.6% 7.4% 4.7% 6.2% 7.2% 29.6% 30.1% 12.6% 8.3%
Deviation -0.3 +5.9 +1.0 -1.3 +2.7 +0.4 -3.5 -3.9 +1.1 +1.0 -1.0 -1.5
All Epi� 164 993 119 434 48 135 47 234 192 875 105 251 675 2922
graphic
24.3% 34% 17.6% 14.9% 7.1% 4.6% 7.0% 8.0% 28.4% 29.9% 15.6% 8.6%
Israelite/ Undefined or
Astral Deities Judahite Philistine Ammonite Edomite Moabite Phoenician Aramaic Unclear Origin
Shamash/ WSS 1053 WSS 1025 WSS 782;
Man in 783; 784; 845;
Sun-Disc 849
Sin/Moon- WSS 80; 97; Eggler and WSS 767; WSS 1177
God of Haran GGG 304; 305b Keel 2006: 779; 793; 795;
D. ʿAlla 28; 816; 838; 848;
Amman 5 850; 856
Ishtar GGG GGG WSS 754 (?)
286; 287; 288b; 288a
288c
Other WSS 112; 173; WSS 861; WSS 791
Goddesses 226; GGG 323 921; 950; 976
Symbols of Astral Deities
Table 5.16.╇ Deities, protective deities and mixed creatures on Iron Age stamp seals
Protective Israelite/ Undefined or
Spirits Judahite Philistine Ammonite Edomite Moabite Phoenician Aramaic Unclear Origin
Seated Deity, Male WSS Eggler and Keel WSS 1057 WSS 736
1067 (?) 2006: Amman 88
(Nabu)
Seated Deity, Eggler and Keel WSS 754 WSS 1102 (?)
Female 2006: Amman 5 (Ishtar); 782
(Gula)
Standing WSS 173 WSS 749 WSS 814 WSS 1098
Deity, Male (Adad)
Winged Anthropo- WSS 173; 185; WSS 973; Eggler WSS 1020; WSS 715; 729 WSS 844 WSS 1087; 1092;
Morphic, Male GGG 211a,b,c; and Keel 2006: 1030 (?); 730 1114; 1119; 1134;
212 a, b; 213 Safut 4 1147; 1149; 1154;
1155
Winged Anthropo- WSS 112; 173 Eggler and Keel WSS 712 WSS 791
morphic, Female 2006: Salt 4
Anthropomorphic WSS 115; 198 Eggler and Keel WSS 741 WSS 763
Figure without (laḫmu) 2006: Amman 5 (lahmu),
Wings, Male (il bīti) 802; 845 (il bīti)
Anthropomorphic WSS 226 WSS 861; 921;
Figure without (950)
Wings, Female
Falcon-Headed WSS 320; Eggler and Keel (WSS 728, 735
Figure GGG 213 2006: Mazar 23 Horus/
Re-Harachte)
Infant Horus WSS 4; 126; WSS 712
316; GGG
241a, b, c.
Horus Falcon WSS 108; 243; Eggler and Keel WSS 733; 740; WSS 1143
(dominant motif 267 2006: Umm 743
only) Qeis 3
Bes GGG Eggler and Keel WSS 769; 786;
226a, b, c; 2006: Amman 62 829 (?)
227; 228
Winged Uraeus WSS 11; 29, Eggler and Keel WSS 796 WSS 1091; 1124
46; 104; 127; 2006: Amman
194; 206; 284; 70,
349; 370; 381; Eggler and Keel
385; 475; 689 2006: ‘Umeiri 50
GGG 259b
Sphinx WSS 369; WSS 940; 965 WSS 1049 WSS 1012; WSS 713; 740; WSS 1077; 1095;
(1124 = GGG Eggler and Keel 1017; 1019; 745 1124; 1129; 1132;
246); 249 2006: Umm 1030; 1038 1163; 1184
Qeis 2
Winged Griffin WSS 44; 85; WSS WSS 893; 901; WSS 1055; WSS 1023 WSS 747 WSS 780; 819 WSS 1123; 1128;
116; 135; 143; 1067 959 1056 1137; 1146; 1147;
160; 168; 182; Eggler and Keel 1151; 1172; 1174;
190; 193; 325; 2006: Amman 1190; 1192
345; 711; 54; Mazar 24
GGG
250a; 251; 254
a, b
Lamassu WSS 173 WSS 925
Table 5.16.╇ Deities, protective deities and mixed creatures on Iron Age stamp seals
Protective Israelite/ Undefined or
Spirits Judahite Philistine Ammonite Edomite Moabite Phoenician Aramaic Unclear Origin
Other Mixed WSS 844; 973 WSS 759 WSS 1113
Creatures Eggler and Keel (winged bull); (winged horse);
2006: Amman 4 783 (bull men 1159 (winged
(winged bull) supporting god lion)
Eggler and Keel in sun-disc)
2006: ʿUmērī 55
(human/
bovine)
Eggler and Keel
2006: ʿUmeiri 77
(winged bull)
Contest Scene GGG 284a, b WSS 938 WSS 763; 776; WSS 1097
777; 802
Appendix A
518
Tel Batash Iron IIC Room 778 domestic miniature uncertain (domestic)
vessels
pot stand
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 844 (domestic) bronze and collectibles votive domestic
debris from 2nd fayance fig.
store fallen on amulets
street
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 25 domestic, JPF mini lamp bowls votive domestic
pillared model chair cooking pots
room juglets
jar
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 808 domestic JPF juglet worship/ domestic
model chair votives
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 442 domestic 2 limestone incense offering domestic
altars
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Beersheba Iron IIC Locus 3622 domestic, Sphinx-figurine apotropaic domestic
courtyard
Bethel Iron IIB Locus 315 ? 3 zoomorph. chalice bowls votive? most likely
fig. frags. pendants store jar domestic
Tell Beit Iron IIC NW 32-12 olive-oil press industrial 3 JPF worship/ work related
Mirsim 3 zoomorph. votive
frags.
Tell Beit Iron IIC NW 31-11 domestic 1 JPF frag. lamp various domestic worship/ domestic
Mirsim Casemate (back) 2 zoomorph. votive
room frag.
lamp
Tell Beit Iron IIC NW 22-13 domestic 2 JPF mini lamp cooking pot worship/ domestic
Mirsim 1 zoomorph. cosmetic jug votive
frag. palette juglet
Beth-shean Iron IA Locus 1342 storage/ fem. fig. frag. fayence obj. jars worship/votive work related
industrial 2 kernoi pyxides bowls libation
jugs
Beth-shean Iron IIA Locus 1564 basin? domestic fem. fig. and ivory object flask libation, domestic
2 zoomorph. votive
frags. music
2 stands
Beth-shean Iron IIA Loci 1557 storage 2 fem. fig. frags. jar worship/ work related
62 1 zoomorph. juglets votive
63
Beth-shean Iron Loci 298/293 domestic tripod incense bowls incense burning, domestic
Israelite and Judean Assemblages in Alphabetical Order
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 387 courtyard 3 zoomorph. juglet votive/ domestic
shemesh of house, fig. frag. red juglet libation
food 1 zoomorph. dipper juglets
preparation spout cooking pots
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 382 oven kitchen model chair dipper juglet votive domestic
shemesh zoomorph. “heavy pot” libation
spout decanters
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 377 JPF head mold juglets figurine domestic
shemesh horse fig. frag. bowls production
lmlk-jar votive
“crude” and
“heavy” pots
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 376 court- 3 zoomorph. shells bowls votive domestic
shemesh yard(?) frags. lamp decanter
food lmlk-jar
processing mortars
Beth- Iron IIC Locus 375 basalt tank industrial animal fig chalice cooking pot votive work related
Appendix A
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus G 8005 storage JPF head fenestrated storage jars worship/ domestic
back room (pot-)stand jugs votive,
2 limestone juglets meals
blocks
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
522
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus L 8005 living? JPF torso lamp bowls worship/ domestic
debris of 2nd platter bowl votive,
store juglets meals
jar
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus K 8002 food 3 JPF frags. lamps storage jars worship/votive, domestic
debris of 2nd prepara- horse-and- pithoi meals
store tion/ rider frag. jugs
consump- juglets
tion cooking pots
kraters
decanter
pitcher
grinding stones
mouth dipper
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus F 8007 living? JPF torso amphoriskos worship/ domestic
debris of 2nd jugs votive
store bowls
Appendix A
Tel Halif Iron IIC Locus F 7002 living? JPF frag scarab jars worship/ domestic
debris of 2nd food mace-head pithoi votive
store prepara- bone disc bowls
tion/ lamps kraters
consump- cooking pots
tion jugs
juglets
grinding stones
Tel Halif Iron IIC Area F6 grinding food 2 fenestrated libations/ domestic
installations processing stands dry offerings
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Hazor Iron IB Stratum XI, platform sanctuary 3283: ivory handle cooking pot libation village shrine
Room 3283 and benches stand storage jar food offering/
adjacent standing stone foundation basalt bowls and consumption
structures offering in jug pestles
(Loci 3307 and 3307: 3307:
3275), free- 2 stands bowl
standing (?) 3275: store jar
2 stands 3275:
bowl
tripod bowl
cooking pot
krater
store jar
Hazor Iron IIB Room 239a guardroom 1 zoomorph. Cypro- 12 bowls, libation work related
Tower of gate vessel frag. Phoenician 2 jugs drinking, military?
(spout) juglets a basalt bowl meals?
2 lamps
2 cup & saucer
Hazor Iron IIB House food zoomorph. jugs libation domestic
48/63/47a/35a prepara- spout cooking pot
tion/ bowl
consump-
tion
Hazor Iron IIB House food ivory handle bowls
48/63/47a/35a prepara- cooking pots
tion/ juglets
Israelite and Judean Assemblages in Alphabetical Order
consump- krater
tion
Hazor Iron IIB House 13-16, 44 stand jug offering/ domestic
(back room) mask store jar divination?
523
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
524
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Jerusalem Iron IIC Locus 967 domestic animal fig. frag. big goblet-like juglets incense burning domestic
“house of the storage horse-and- kraters bowls libations (?)
bullae” (bureau?) rider frag. pot stand juglets votive
4 altars bowls
cooking pots
decanters
store jars
hole-mouth jars
Kinneret Iron IIB Building 683, storage? fem. fig. torso bowl domestic
Tripartite barracks krater and/or work
building juglet related
storage jar
Kinneret Iron IIB Room 221 oven? dwelling animal fig. frag. cooking pots votive domestic
bowls
Kinneret Iron IIB Room 328 dwelling rattle jugs uncertain
goblet juglets
storage jars
Appendix A
Lachish IA Room 49, platform cultic altar clay basin bowls offerings neighbor-
IIA–IIB isolated benches 4 stands chalices jugs meals hood/village
oven lamps juglets shrine
cooking pots
storage jars
Lachish Iron IIC lower house stand astragali bowls libation/dry domestic
Room 3569 kraters offerings,
cooking pots casting lots/
juglets gambling
flask
storage jars
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Lachish Iron IIC lower house altar, astragali bowls incense burning, domestic
Room 3573 zoomorph. cooking pot votive,
frag. black juglets casting lots/
lamp gambling
jug
store jare
hole-mouth jar
basalt bowl
Lachish Iron IIC lower house 2 zoomorph. bowl votive domestic
Room 3582 frag. krater
cooking pots
black juglet
hole-mouth jar
storage jars
basalt bowl
Lachish Iron IIC lower house oven kitchen zoomorph. fig. bowl votive domestic
Room 3533 frag. cooking pot
krater
jug
Lachish Iron IIC Level IIHouse channel and wine male head 3 bowls votive/ancestor domestic or
basin storage 1 cooking pot cult work related
2 store jars
Lachish Iron IIC Locus 2066 entrance 2 male votive/ancestor domestic
are of peg-figurines cult
house
Lachish Iron IIC G 14: 1008 oven kitchen JPF head imitation bowls worship/votive domestic
Israelite and Judean Assemblages in Alphabetical Order
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Lachish Iron IIC H 17: 1078 JPF head pot stand juglet worship/ votive domestic
lamp small jug
cooking pot
bowl
storage jars
Lachish Persian Building 10 altar lamp bowl offerings domestic
(Loci 10-16) flask
here: 11 jug
hole-mouth jar
Stone rubber
Tell Mazar IA IIA Mound A benches storage (Room 101) chalices (Room 101) libation and domestic
isolated? (Rooms 100, stand storage jars food/drink
Room 100; 101; 102 only) flasks consumption
102 jugs
krater
cooking pots
Tel Masos Iron I House 314 ovens kitchen/ pot stand bowls food/drink
Appendix A
spout
Tell Mazar Iron IB Mound A storage fenestrated chalices storage jars libations and/or domestic
Room 101 stand cooking pots dry offerings
kraters
flasks
jugs
527
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
528
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Megiddo Iron IB Courtyard house storage stand chalices storage jars libations domestic
00/K/10, zoomorph. cooking pots
Locus 98/K/77 vessel bowls
jugs
juglets
flasks
lids
Megiddo Iron IB Courtyard house oven, tabun kitchen zoomorph. storage jars libations domestic
00/K/10, vessels cooking pots votive
Locus 00/K/87 zoomorph. figs. bowls
and 89/K/70 jugs
juglets
flasks
Megiddo Iron IB Area AA storage mini shrine chalice pyxis worship/ domestic
Locus 2159 double pyxis bowls libations
Courtyard house jug
jars
spouted amph.
Appendix A
pilgrim flask
lentoid flasks
bottle
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, oven, pit, basin kitchen: fem. fig. head 3 chalices pilgrim flasks worship/ domestic
Locus 1727 storage, lamp jugs votive
food pro- pilgrim flasks
cessing and pyxis
consump- bowls
tion cooking pots
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, storage, stand goblet bowl libation and/or domestic
Locus 1729 food lamp pyxis dry offerings?
processing pilgrim flasks
jugs
juglet
strainer cups
baking tray
jars
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, storage bronze calf chalices amphoriskos votive/ domestic
Locus 1732 amulet goblet jugs libation
zoomorph. lamps juglets
vessel flask
kernos cooking pots
bowl
jars
basalt bowl
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, tree unbuilt zoomorph. strainer jar libation and/or domestic
Locus 1737 area or spout juglet dry offerings
courtyard jugs
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, oven kitchen or stand bowl libation and/or domestic
Locus 1731 storage flask dry offerings
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, oven kitchen or stand chalices basalt bowl libation and/or domestic
Locus 1735 storage amphoriskos dry offerings s
jugs
juglet
pilgrim flasks
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food kernos painted pyxis Jugs libation and/or domestic
Locus 1736 processing/ painted jugs lentoid flasks dry offerings
storage kraters
bowls
spouted
amphoriskos
Israelite and Judean Assemblages in Alphabetical Order
strainer jug
baking tray
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food stand (bowl of) goblets strainer jug libation and/or domestic
Locus 1740 processing/ cymbals strainer cup dry offerings
consump- jugs music
tion bowls
529
flasks
cooking pots
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
530
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food stand (base) chalice strainer jug libation and/or domestic
Locus 1744 processing/ painted jug pilgrim flask dry offerings
consump- funnel
tion/ bowl
storage cooking pots
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food fem. fig. frag. lentoid flask worship/votive domestic
Locus 1780 processing/ krater
storage cooking pot
jug
jars
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food/drink bone anim. fig. 3 fayence bowl votive domestic
Locus 1741 consump- frag. amulets basalt bowl
tion? pyxis jugs
lamp painted jug
goblet lentoid flask
Megiddo Iron IB Area CC, food stand 2 seals cooking pots libation and/or domestic
Appendix A
Tell Iron IIC 616 hearth kitchen stand jars libation/dry domestic
en-Naṣbeh 2 fem. fig. frag. bowl offerings
cooking pots votives
Tell Iron IIB 430 incense burner incense burning domestic
en-Naṣbeh
Tell Iron IIC 293 male head votive domestic
model couch
531
en-Naṣbeh
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
532
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Tell Iron IIC 298 JPF head votive domestic
en-Naṣbeh model couch
Tell Qiri IA Str. VIIIB–C benches cultic stand+bowl chalices bowls libation neighborhood
building, platform libation vessel miniature cooking pots animal offerings/ shrine
integrated stone basin vessel krater meals
amulet jug
cooking jar
pithos
Tell Qiri IA IIB Str. VII silo storage censor-cup cooking pot work-related
Locus 1027
Ḥirbet Iron I Cluster S benches domestic stands? libation? domestic
Raddana platforms decorated
ovens krater
Tel Reḥov Iron Area E mudbrick plat- open air stand chalices bowls animal slaughter open-air vil-
IIA–B open-air form, maṣṣebôt, cult place fem. fig. frag. cooking pots libations lage sanctuary
structure ovens jugs votives
jars
Appendix A
Ḥorvat Iron IIA Locus 16 fortress/ zoomorph. chalice bowls libation work related
Rosh Zayit Str. IIa storage vessel Cypro- juglets
facility Phoenician
ware
Ḥorvat Iron IIA Locus 47 fortress kernos Cypro- libation work related
Rosh Zayit tower tower Phoenician
ware
Tell Iron IIB House 64 platform dwelling 3 tripod shells 1 jug incense burning domestic
es-Saʾīdīyeh censor-cups beads 2 juglets
4 lamps
Tell Iron IIB House 6 dwelling animal fig. frag. bowls votive domestic
es-Saʾīdīyeh kernos frag. kraters libation
cooking pots
storage jars
Building/ Room Artifacts Artifacts
Site Date Room Installations function Category A Category B Other Cult activities Cult type
Shiloh Iron I Room 335, stand frags. bowls libations and dry domestic
debris 623 frags. of cooking pots offerings
zoomorph. pilgrim flask
appliques jug
pithoi
storage jar
Taanach IA IIA Room SW 2-7 basin kitchen stand astragali 26 storage jars libation and dry domestic or
and/or censor-cup 3 pyxides 2 amphorae offerings, censing, work-related
storage 10 jugs casting lots
11 juglets
1 krater
63 bowls
3 cooking pots
Turʿan Iron IIB Locus 12 grinding stone domestic, incense burner lamps cooking pots incense burning domestic
kitchen bowls
krater storage
jars
Tell el- Iron I northeast room basin kitchen none none remains of butch- none none
Wawiyat ovens ered cow
Israelite and Judean Assemblages in Alphabetical Order
533
Appendix B1
Names of Thanksgiving
Note to the readerâ•›: Epigraphic Hebrew personal names are presented below in order of meaning based on the
6 name groups presented in this book: (1) names of thanksgiving, (2) names of confession, (3) praise names,
(4) equating names, (5) birth names, and (6) secular names. An alphabetical list of the same names appears in
the index of personal names. Each name is presented in Late Hebrew script, in (a possible) transcription and
translation, with its references, with its provenance, and with the number of times it is attested. (Refer to the list
of abbreviations in the front matter for identification of reference acronyms.) The total number of appearances
for all personal names derived from the same root appears in bold.
Biblical names parallel to the epigraphic names or references to related biblical texts are provided in the last
two columns. The first number in the row refers to identical names; numbers in parentheses refer to biblical
names with minor differences (primarily differences with regard to plene writing or the spelling of theophoric
elements). Biblical variants with major differences are noted in the last column together with their number of
appearances. At the bottom of the column, the total number of biblical names appears in plain typeface next to
the bold total of epigraphic names from the same root. Thus, comparison of the epigraphic and biblical material
has been simplified. Note, however, that biblical names derived from roots that are not attested epigraphically
are not included in this list.
This list of Hebrew names is amplified with epigraphic names from the surrounding Levantine cultures
(Edomite, Moabite, Ammonite, Aramean, and Phoenician) that are derived either from the same root or from
different roots with the same or similar meaning in order to aid cross-cultural comparisons.
534
Names of Thanksgiving 535
פקדיהו Pĕqadyāhû Yhwh has care- HAE 17.35; BPHB 328 1 — (Ps 8:5)
fully paid atten-
tion [to me]
פקדיה Pĕqadyāh Yhwh has BPHB 328 1 —
carefully paid
attention
2 17
538 Appendix B1
Aramaic נצראל Naṣarʾil El has protected WSS 866 (SAJ 179.1 Moab.); 3
Aramaic נצרי Naṣrî [DN] has protected WSS 756 1
Names of Confession
554
Names of Confession 555
Names of Praise
571
572 Appendix B3
Equating Names
576
Equating Names 577
4.1.3.╇ Equating the divine uncle (on one’s father’s side) with another god
Names of Birth
582
Names of Birth 583
5.5.2.╇Deliverance
Secular Names
602
Secular Names 603
6.2.2.╇Occupation
6.2.3.╇Origin
6.3.2.╇Plants
Fig. 2.1.╇ Faust and Bunimovitz 2003: 23 Fig. 3.5.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Y. Aharoni
(reproduced by permission of Israel 1973: pls. 22–26, 84
Exploration Society) Fig. 3.6.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Y. Aharoni
Fig. 2.2.╇ Campbell 2002: 277; fig. 251 1973: pls. 71.1–6; 70.16–21; plan: pl. 94)
(reproduced by permission of American Fig. 3.7.╇ Compiled and redrawn by Schmitt after
Schools of Oriental Research) Y. Aharoni 1973: pls. 28.2, 6; 45.4; plan: pl.
Fig. 2.3.╇ Herr and Clark 2001: 40–41 (reproduced 84
by permission of Larry Herr) Fig. 3.8.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Y. Aharoni
Fig. 2.4.╇ King and Stager 2001: 29; fig. 3.15 1973: pls. 52.1–2; 27.6; 28.5; 75.5; plan: pl. 83
(reproduced by permission of Lawrence Fig. 3.9.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Kletter and
Stager) Herzog 2003: fig. on pp. 40–41 (reproduced
Fig. 2.5.╇ Netzer 1992: 196–97; fig. 6 (reproduced by permission of Raz Kletter)
by permission of Israel Exploration Society Fig. 3.10.╇ Compiled and redrawn by Schmitt after
Fig. 2.6.╇ Netzer 1992: 196–97; fig. 7 (reproduced Albright 1943: pl. 6; SN 2031, 2032, 2396,
by permission of Israel Exploration Society) 2404, 2574, 2848
Fig. 2.7.╇ Stager 1985: 19; fig. 9 (reproduced by Fig. 3.11.╇ Compiled and redrawn by Schmitt after
author: permission of BASOR) Albright 1943: pl. 6; SN 2313, 2316, 2319,
LXXIC (fig. Fig. 2.8.╇ King and Stager 2001: 18; fig. 3.10 2408, 2539, 2699
3.1) is not a (reproduced by permission of Lawrence Fig. 3.12.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Albright
roman nu- Stager and the Semitic Museum, Harvard 1943: pl. 6; SN 1552–55; 1817; 1524; 1563;
meral. What University) 1570
should it be? Fig. 2.9.╇ Geva 1989: appendix: fig. 2 for chap. 6 Fig. 3.13.╇ Compiled and redrawn by Schmitt after
and should (reproduced by permission of BAR/ James 1966: figs. 112.1–2; 31.28; 41.32
40: 276 be Archaeopress) Fig. 3.14.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after James 1966:
40.276 or 40; Fig. 2.10. Riklin 1997: 8–9; fig. 2 (reproduced by figs. 34.1–4; 34.8–14
276? permission of Israel Antiquities Authority) Fig 3.15.╇ After B. Mazar et al. 1961: figs. 5.11;
Fig. 3.1.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Marquet- 6.3–4; 7.1, 4, 8; 8.2, 7, 9; pl. 11 (reproduced
Krause 1949: pls. 97; LXXIC; 40: 276 by permission of Israel Exploration Society)
Fig. 3.2.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Levy and Fig. 3.16.╇ Compiled after Chambon 1984: 118;
Edelstein 1972: pl. 19; figs. 13, 10, 16, 19; 14, plan 2; pls. 66.2; 58.24; 60.12, 19
1, 5; 15, 1–6; 16, 12 Fig. 3.17.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Chambon
Fig. 3.3.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Levy and 1984: pls. 11; 63.2.4; 65.3; 66.2; 67.16; 68.5;
Edelstein 1972: pl. 19, figs. 13, 3; 14, 11; 16, 7 69.11; 73.9; 74.7; 48.10; 51.15; 56.15; 57.37;
Fig. 3.4a.╇ Compiled after A. Mazar and Panitz- 58.3.78.4
Cohen 2001: 4–5; pl. 56, 1–2; A. Mazar 1997: Fig. 3.18.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Chambon
plan of Areas D and E, Str. II (reproduced by 1984: pls. 12; 64.6
permission of Amihai Mazar) Fig. 3.19.╇ Ccompiled by Schmitt after Chambon
Fig. 3.4b.╇ A. Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: 1984: 134; pls. 18; 54.12; 53.9; 57.32
fig. 13 (reproduced by permission of
Amihai Mazar)
610
Illustration Sources: Acknowledgments 611
Fig. 3.20.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Chambon Fig. 3.36.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Kletter
1984: 110; pls. 67.11; 70.1–3; 74.30; 77.910, 2004: fig. 28.36, 3–4.; Ussishkin 2004:
16, 19 664 (reproduced by permission of David
Fig. 3.21.╇ Reproduced by permission of Paul Ussishkin)
Jacobs, Mississippi State University Fig. 3.37.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Kletter
Fig. 3.22.╇ Reproduced by permission of Paul 2004: 2058, fig. 28.36:2; Zimhoni 2004:
Jacobs, Mississippi State University fig. 26.52:9–15 (reproduced by permission
Fig. 3.23.╇ Reproduced by permission of Paul of David Ussishkin)
Jacobs, Mississippi State University Fig. 3.38a. After Ussishkin 2004: fig. 9.32
Fig. 3.24.╇ After Zevit 2001: fig. 3.42 (reproduced (reproduced by permission of David
by permission of Ziony Zevit) Ussishkin)
Fig. 3.25.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Yadin 1958: Fig. 3.38b. After Zimhoni 2004: 1860–63,
pls. 65, 6–12; 151 (reproduced by permission figs. 26.37:9–12, 26.38 (reproduced by
of Israel Exploration Society) permission of David Ussishkin)
Fig. 3.26.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Yadin 1958: Fig. 3.39.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Zimhoni
pls. 57, 22, 6; 60, 10; 56, 9; Yadin 1960: 2004: fig. 26.39:6–17; Ussishkin 2004:
pl. 202 (reproduced by permission of Israel 478–79; Kletter 2004: fig. 28.40:4; Sass 2004:
Exploration Society) 2033, fig. 28.21:1 (reproduced by permission
of David Ussishkin)
Fig. 3.27.╇ After Yadin 1961: pl. 177 (reproduced
by permission of Israel Exploration Society) Fig. 3.40.╇ After Ussishkin 2004: 471; Zimhoni
2004: fig. 26.35: 1–4; Kletter 2004:
Fig. 3.28.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Gal and
fig. 28.39:3 (reproduced by permission of
Alexandre 2000: pl. 4, fig. 3.70 (reproduced
David Ussishkin)
by permission of Israel Antiquities
Authority) Fig. 3.41.╇ Compiled and redrawn by Schmitt after
Tufnell 1953: pls. 31.6; 79–104; 114
Fig. 3.29.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Gal
and Alexandre 2000: pl. 5, figs. 3.81, Fig. 3.42.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Tufnell
90–92 (reproduced by permission of Israel 1953: pls. 31.10; 79–104; 115
Antiquities Authority) Fig. 3.43.╇ After Y. Aharoni 1975: fig. 6
Fig. 3.30.╇ After Shiloh 1986: figs. 5–7; fig. Fig. 3.44.╇ After Y. Aharoni 1975: pls. 3.1 and 60
20: pl. 22.2; Ariel and de Groot 1996: Fig. 3.45.╇ Fritz and Kempinski 1983: plan 14
339 (reproduced by permission of Israel (reproduced by permission of Harrassowitz)
Exploration Society) Fig. 3.46.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Fritz and
Fig. 3.31.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Fritz 1990a: Kempinski 1983: 41–42; pl. 38A; 150–52
plan 16; pls. 102.2; 89.23; 90.9; 91.9–10; (reproduced by permission of Harrassowitz)
92.8; 93.13 (reproduced by permission of Fig. 3.47.╇ Compiled after Fritz and Kempinski
Harrassowitz) 1983: pls. 106 A–D; 171.7–8 (reproduced by
Fig. 3.32.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Fritz 1990a: permission of Harrassowitz)
plan 10, pls. 102.9; 69.19; 71.1; 73.7; 73.8 Fig. 3.48.╇ After Fritz and Kempinski 1983:
(reproduced by permission of Harrassowitz) pls. 149; 170.1 (reproduced by permission
Fig. 3.33.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Fritz of Harrassowitz)
1990a: plan 11, pls. 74.1–4; 75.7; 76.2, 8, Fig. 3.49.╇ After Fritz and Kempinski 1983: plan
22–23; 79.12 (reproduced by permission of 22, pls. 111.3; 163.3; 164.2; 165.22; 166.1;
Harrassowitz) 166.14 (reproduced by permission of
Fig. 3.34.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Fritz 1990a: Harrassowitz)
plan 10, pl. 102.4–5; 69.2; 70.19 (reproduced Fig. 3.50.╇ After Fritz and Kempinski 1983: plan
by permission of Harrassowitz) 22, pls. 111.5; 163.14; 165.6–9, 20–21; 166.1,
Fig. 3.35.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Nissinen 3, 15, 16 (reproduced by permission of
and Münger 2009: figs. 3–4 (reproduced by Harrassowitz)
permission of Martti Nissinen and Stefan Fig. 3.51.╇ After Fritz and Kempinski 1983: plan
Münger) 22; pls. 172.13; 164.11 (reproduced by
permission of Harrassowitz)
612 Illustration Sources: Acknowledgments
Fig. 3.52.╇ Compiled and redrawn after Fritz and Fig. 3.71.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004:
Kempinski 1983: plan 23; pls. 111.2 and 4; appendix D (reproduced by permission of
163.12; 166.3 (reproduced by permission of The Oriental Institute, Chicago)
Harrassowitz) Fig. 3.72.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004:
Fig. 3.53.╇ After Herzog et al. 1988: 69–70, appendix D (reproduced by permission of
figs. 5.5; 7.5, 15–17 (reproduced by The Oriental Institute, Chicago)
permission of Zeʾev Herzog) Fig. 3.73.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Finkelstein
Fig. 3.54.╇ After Loud 1948: fig. 100 et al. 2000a: figs. 11.43–51; 2000b: fig. 12.38:5
Fig. 3.55.╇ After Loud 1948: fig. 101 (reproduced by permission of Israel
Fig. 3.56.╇ Zevit 2000: fig. 3.55 (reproduced by Finkelstein)
permission of Ziony Zevit) Fig. 3.74.╇ After McCown 1947: fig. 50
Fig. 3.57.╇ After Ussishkin 1989: fig. 4 (reproduced Fig. 3.75.╇ Ben-Tor, Portugali, and Avissar 1981:
by permission of Israel Exploration Society) figs. 9–10 (reproduced by permission of
Fig. 3.58.╇ After Ussishkin 1989: fig. 5 (reproduced Amnon Ben-Tor)
by permission of Israel Exploration Society) Fig. 3.76.╇ Compiled after Ben-Tor and Portugali
Fig. 3.59.╇ Compiled after Schumacher 1908: 1987: figs. 15–17 (reproduced by permission
121–22; pls. 37–39 of Amnon Ben-Tor)
Fig. 3.60.╇ Finkelstein, Ussishkin, and Halpern Fig. 3.77.╇ After Ben-Tor and Portugali 1987: plan
2006: fig. 33.5 (reproduced by permission of 29 and figs. 15.3 and 6; 16.3, 5–7, 9; 17.3–5;
Israel Finkelstein) 18.4–6; 17.8; 18.3 (reproduced by permission
of Amon Ben Tor)
Fig. 3.61.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004:
appendix D (reproduced by permission of Fig. 3.78.╇ Ben-Tor and Portugali 1987: plan
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) 27 (reproduced by permission of Amnon
Ben-Tor)
Fig. 3.62.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004:
appendix D (reproduced by permission of Fig. 3.79.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Pritchard
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) 1985: figs. 5 and 177
Fig. 3.63.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: Fig. 3.80.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Pritchard
appendix D (reproduced by permission of 1985: figs. 7.8, 178
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) Fig. 3.81.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Finkelstein
Fig. 3.64.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: 1993: 27, figs. 6.52–54 (reproduced by
appendix D (reproduced by permission of permission of Israel Finkelstein)
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) Fig. 3.82.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Rast 1978:
Fig. 3.65.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: figs. 30–69; 97a
appendix D (reproduced by permission of Fig. 3.83.╇ Compiled after P. M. Fischer 1995: figs.
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) 5, 7.1–4 (reproduced by permission of Peter
Fig. 3.66.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: Fischer)
appendix D (reproduced by permission of Fig. 3.84.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Lenzen,
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) Gordon, and McQuitty 1985: 154–55; fig. 2;
Fig. 3.67.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: pl. 22.2
appendix D (reproduced by permission of Fig. 3.85.╇ Compiled by Schmitt using Daviau
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) et al. 2003: Tell Jawa Artefact Database,
Fig. 3.68.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: vols. 1–2 (reproduced by permission of P. M.
appendix D (reproduced by permission of M. Daviau)
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) Fig. 3.86.╇ Compiled by Schmitt using Daviau
Fig. 3.69.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: et al. 2003: Tell Jawa Artefact Database,
appendix D (reproduced by permission of vols. 1–2 (reproduced by permission of P. M.
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) M. Daviau)
Fig. 3.70.╇ Compiled after Harrison 2004: Fig. 3.87.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Yassine
appendix D (reproduced by permission of 1984: figs. 1–4
The Oriental Institute, Chicago) Fig. 3.88.╇ After Yassine 1988: 84–89, fig. 6
Illustration Sources: Acknowledgments 613
Fig. 3.89.╇ Compiled and redrawn by Schmitt after Fig. 5.5.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 297a
Potts, Colledge, and Edwards 1985: 203–4; (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
fig. 11; pls. 41–42 Fig. 5.6.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 297b
Fig. 3.90.╇ Herr 2006: fig. 1 (reproduced by (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
permission of Larry Herr) Fig. 5.7.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 301a
Fig. 3.91.╇ Herr 2006: fig.3 (reproduced by (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
permission of Larry Herr) Fig. 5.8.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 301b
Fig. 3.92.╇ Drawing by Schmitt (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
Fig. 3.93.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Dothan Fig. 5.9.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 289
1971: figs. 86–87 (reproduced by permission (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
of Israel Antiquities Authority) Fig. 5.10.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 286
Fig. 3.94.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Dothan (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
and Porath 1993: plan 12; figs. 42.1.4.5.9 Fig. 5.11.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 287
(reproduced by permission of Israel (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
Antiquities Authority) Fig. 5.12.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 288b
Fig. 3.95.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Dothan and (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
Ben-Shlomo 2005: plan 2:10, figs. 3.69.4; Fig. 5.13.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 288c
3.71.5; 3.72.4; 3.75; 3.76 (reproduced by (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
permission of Israel Antiquities Authority)
Fig. 5.14.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 331ac
Fig. 3.96.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Dothan and (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
Ben-Shlomo 2005: plan 2.12; figs. 3.88:7–9,
Fig. 5.15.╇ After Welten 1969: 40 Z II B2
17; 3.89.4, 10 (reproduced by permission of
Israel Antiquities Authority) Fig. 5.16.╇ After Welten 1969: 40 S II A1
Fig. 3.97.╇ After Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: Fig. 5.17.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 293a
plan 2.7 (reproduced by permission of Israel (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
Antiquities Authority) Fig. 5.18.╇ Drawing by Schmitt
Fig. 3.98.╇ Redrawn and compiled by Schmitt after Fig. 5.19.╇ Sass 1993: 85
Dothan and Freedman 1967 Fig. 5.20.╇ After Cross 1999: 43
Fig. 3.99.╇ Compiled after Stone and Zimansky Fig. 5.21.╇ After Welten 1969: 36
1999: 43, figs. 43 and 86.5 (reproduced by Fig. 5.22.╇ After Welten 1969: 36
permission of Elizabeth C. Stone)
Fig. 5.23.╇ After Welten 1969: 36
Fig. 3.100.╇ Compiled after Stone and Zimansky
Fig. 5.24.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 282c
1999: 47–49, figs. 52, 86.1 (reproduced by
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
permission of Elizabeth C. Stone)
Fig. 5.25.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 315b
Fig. 3.101.╇ Compiled after Stone and Zimansky
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
1999: 50, figs. 55 and 86.4 (reproduced by
permission of Elizabeth C. Stone) Fig. 5.26.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 316
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
Fig. 3.102.╇ Mazzoni in Cecchini and Mazzoni
1998: 171, figs. 5, 22–23; p. 208, fig. 4 Fig. 5.27.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 315a
(reproduced by permission of Serena Maria (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
Cecchini) Fig. 5.28.╇ Sass 1993: 96
Fig. 5.1.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 305b Fig. 5.29.╇ Sass 1993: 95
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 5.30.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 290
Fig. 5.2.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 312a (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 5.31.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 331b
Fig. 5.3.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 317c (reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 5.32.╇ Sass 1993: 144
Fig. 5.4.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 312b Fig. 5.33.╇ Hübner 1993: 11
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 5.34.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 211c
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel)
614 Illustration Sources: Acknowledgments
Fig. 5.35.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 213 Fig. 7.3.╇ After McCown 1947: 82–83, fig. 19.1
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 7.4.╇ After McCown 1947: 102, fig. 11
Fig. 5.36.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 241bc Fig. 7.5.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Crowfoot,
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Kenyon, and Sukenik 1942: 21–22, fig. 10;
Fig. 5.37.╇ Sass 1993: 99 Crowfoot, Crowfoot, and Kenyon 1957:
Fig. 5.38.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 226b 135–36, 197–98
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 7.6.╇ After Tufnell 1953: 239–40, fig. 28
Fig. 5.39.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 247b Fig. 7.7.╇ After Mackenzie 1912–13: pl. 5
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 7.8.╇ After Mackenzie 1912–13: pl. 10
Fig. 5.40.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 274d Fig. 7.9.╇ After Mackenzie 1912–13: pl. 10
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 7.10.╇ After Tufnell 1953: 179–87
Fig. 5.41.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 249 Fig. 7.11.╇ Compiled by Schmitt after Holland
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) 1977: figs. 7–9
Fig. 5.42.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 246 Fig. 7.12.╇ Compiled after E. Mazar and B. Mazar
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) 1989: 50–53, plan 20, pls. 25–29 (reproduced
Fig. 5.43.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 250a by permission of E. Mazar)
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 7.13a. After Crowfoot, Kenyon, and Sukenik
Fig. 5.44.╇ Keel and Uehlinger, GGG 250b 1942: fig. 11
(reproduced by permission of Othmar Keel) Fig. 7.13b. Compiled by Schmitt after Crowfoot,
Fig. 5.45.╇ Sass 1993: 226 Crowfoot, and Kenyon 1957: fig. B,
Fig. 7.1.╇ After Macalister 1912: 1.325–31, figs. 13–33
pls. 56.17, 84–85 Fig. 7.14.╇ Illustration by Schmitt
Fig. 7.2.╇ After Guy and Engberg 1938: 17–119,
fig. 143 and pls. 68.9–20; 69.1–4; 164–68
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Index of Authors
662
Index of Authors 663
Burch, T. K.â•… 33, 34 Dothan, T.â•… 68–69, 195, 199, 201, 203, 205,
227, 232, 238, 239
Callaway, J. A.â•… 74, 164–65 Douglas, M.â•… 388, 394–95, 403, 418, 420,
Campbell, E. F.â•… 28, 32, 223 422–25, 427, 491
Capet, E.â•… 209–10 Duhm, B.â•… 1, 474
Cartledge, T. M.â•… 409 Durham, J. I.â•… 393
Cecchini, S. M.â•… 216–18 Durkheim, E.â•… 388
Chambon, A.â•… 94–95, 97, 233
Childs, B. S.â•… 2, 393, 399, 402, 421 Ebertz, M.â•… 50
Cholidis, N.â•… 68 Edelstein, G.â•… 76–77
Clark, D. R.â•… 28–29, 190, 192 Edwards, P. C.â•… 170, 187
Coats, G. W.â•… 393 Eggler, J.â•… 258, 369, 379–81, 385
Cogan, M.â•… 239, 369 Eichrodt, W.â•… 2, 474
Cohen, R.â•… 67, 69–71, 73, 78, 235 Eissfeldt, O.â•… 2
Colledge, S. M.â•… 170, 187 Ellens, D. L.â•… 422–23
Collon, D.â•… 69, 375, 382, 384 Elliger, K.â•… 61, 418, 424–25
Conrad, J.â•… 4 Engberg, R. M.â•… 439–40
Cook, S. A.â•… 62 Engle, J. R.â•… 62–63
Cooley, R. E.â•… 164, 165 Eshel, I.â•… 73, 462–63, 466, 468
Cornelius, I.â•… 63, 66
Crawford, T. G.â•… 410 Fales, F. M.â•… 258
Cross, F. M.â•… 11, 352, 357, 365, 374 Farber, W.â•… 269, 389–90, 392
Crowfoot, G. M.â•… 380–81, 383, 444, 447, 466, Faust, A.â•… 22, 26, 28, 32–33, 39–43, 476
468 Fichtner, J.â•… 246, 336
Crowfoot, J. W.â•… 380–81, 383, 444, 447, 466, Finkelstein, I.â•… 88, 108, 134, 141, 155, 157, 169
468 Fischer, A. A.â•… 429
Crüsemann, F.â•… 325, 395 Fischer, I.â•… 397–98
Cryer, F. H.â•… 388, 429, 469, 470 Fischer, P. M.â•… 176–77
Curtis, J.â•… 218 Fohrer, G.â•… 48, 60–61, 387, 477
Fortes, M.â•… 430
Dahm, U.â•… 399–400 Fowler, M. D.â•… 170, 172, 245, 251, 253, 257,
Daviau, P. M. M.â•… 7, 14–15, 57, 58–59, 69, 270, 286, 300, 311, 324, 340, 348, 355,
71–74, 176, 178–79, 182, 186, 227, 232–33, 357–58
474 Franken, H. J.â•… 462–63, 468
Dessel, J. P.â•… 102, 172 Frankfort, H.â•… 422
Deutsch, R.â•… 248–49, 258, 260, 263–64, 267, Frazer, J. G.â•… 410, 423, 435
289, 291–92, 315, 317–18, 364 Freedman, D. N.â•… 68, 203, 204
Dever, W. G.â•… 10, 12–13, 15, 32–34, 49, 53–54, Friedl, C.â•… 395, 397
95, 99, 172, 220, 222–24, 238, 269, 297, Fritz, V.â•… 112–14, 125–30, 220, 232, 235
368, 386, 468, 474, 477 Fustel de Coulanges, N. D.â•… 429
Dietrich, M.â•… 456
Dijk, J. J. vanâ•… 391 Galling, K.â•… 62, 393
Dion, P.-E.â•… 69, 71, 176, 186, 232 Gal, Z.â•… 108, 172
Di Vito, R. A.â•… 350–51 Gerstenberger, E. S.â•… 2, 6, 53, 57, 335, 394,
Dohmen, C.â•… 421 397, 399, 414–16, 418, 421–22, 424–25,
Doll, P.â•… 338 435, 474, 477, 482
Donner, H.â•… 269, 320, 369 Geva, S.â•… 36–37, 39, 57–58, 106
Dornemann, R.â•… 65, 67, 176 Gibson, J. C. L.â•… 258
Dothan, M.â•… 68, 193, 195, 197, 199, 203–5, 238 Gilbert-Peretz, D.â•… 68, 210
664 Index of Authors
Gitin, S.â•… 48, 70, 193, 195, 205–6, 223, 238–39, Hug, V.â•… 258, 289
241 Humbert, J.-B.â•… 69, 211
Givon, S.â•… 225 Hurowitz, V. A.â•… 237
Gjerstad, E.â•… 66, 69
Glock, A. E.â•… 169–70 Jacobsen, T.â•… 2
Gogel, S. L.â•… 349 Jacobs, P.â•… 101–2
Golka, F. W.â•… 336 Jahnow, H.â•… 399, 434–35
Gordon, R. L.â•… 177 James, F. W.â•… 87–88, 90–91, 388
Gottwald, N. K.â•… 22, 25, 33, 37, 42–43, 476 Jamieson, A. S.â•… 207–8
Grabbe, L. L.â•… 420 Janowski, B.â•… 267, 302, 311, 416, 429, 469
Grant, E.â•… 92–93 Jeffers, A.â•… 388, 429, 469–70
Green, A.â•… 218, 383 Jeremias, J.â•… 16, 54
Greenberg, M.â•… 49 Jirku, A.â•… 435
Gressmann, H.â•… 393 Joüon, P.â•… 349
Gröndahl, F.â•… 246, 251, 365
Groot, A. deâ•… 111 Karageorghis, V.â•… 66–68
Gross, W.â•… 402 Keel, O.â•… 63, 65–66, 68–69, 71, 73, 233, 237,
Grünschloß, A.â•… 52 258, 291, 367, 368–71, 374, 377–86, 392,
Grünwaldt, K.â•… 395, 399, 401 421, 469
Gubel, E.â•… 209–10, 376, 380 Kelm, G. L.â•… 77
Gunkel, H.â•… 393, 395, 397 Kelso, J. L.â•… 85
Guy, P. L. O.â•… 439, 440 Kempinski, A.â•… 125–30, 135, 137, 139, 209,
220
Hachlili, R.â•… 66, 68, 203, 437, 457, 461 Kenyon, K. M.â•… 66, 444, 447, 462, 466, 468
Halpern, B.â•… 141, 157 Kertzer, D. I.â•… 22–24, 43, 475
Harrison, T. P.â•… 141–42, 144–48, 151–53, 155 Khalifeh, I. A.â•… 211
Hartenstein, F.â•… 16, 54 Killebrew, A.â•… 437, 457, 461
Hartley, J. F.â•… 423 Kim, T.-K.â•… 336, 338
Heide, M.â•… 249 King, P. J.â•… 22, 31, 34, 43–44, 220, 269, 296,
Helck, W.â•… 63 303, 395, 470
Heltzer, M.â•… 248–49, 258, 263, 289, 317–18, Kletter, R.â•… 59, 62, 64–66, 68, 73, 80, 84–85,
364 92, 116–17, 120, 157, 195, 226, 232, 236,
Hempel, J.â•… 1, 474 383, 481
Herr, L. G.â•… 28–29, 136, 170, 190, 192, 220, König, R.â•… 21
233 Kottsieper, I.â•… 195, 326, 337, 354
Herrmann, S.â•… 71, 381, 383, 392 Kraus, H. J.â•… 456
Hertzberg, H. W.â•… 437 Krebernik, M.â•… 269, 389
Herzog, Z.â•… 69, 71, 84, 132–33, 137, 140, 236, Kreuzer, S.â•… 329
383 Kronholm, T.â•… 395
Hestrin, R.â•… 62 Kühn, D.â•… 429, 460–61
Hoffmann, H.-D.â•… 245 Kühne, H.â•… 218
Holladay, J. A.â•… 11–13, 15, 22, 26, 28, 32–33, Kutsch, E.â•… 434
36–37, 49–50, 55, 58, 82, 136–37, 141, 173,
220–21, 223, 228–30, 240, 468, 474, 477 Lambert, W. G.â•… 276
Holland, T. A.â•… 62, 65–67, 462–63 Lamon, R. S.â•… 136, 140
Holm-Nielsen, E.â•… 169 Lamprichs, R.â•… 183–84
Horkheimer, M.â•… 21 Lance, H. D.â•… 99
Hubert, H.â•… 388 Lanczkowski, G.â•… 3, 53, 477
Hübner, U.â•… 63, 258, 274, 376, 379, 384 Lang, B.â•… 53, 57, 336
Index of Authors 665
Lapp, P. W.â•… 169–70 Miller, P. D.â•… 6, 15, 49, 53, 269, 474, 477
Laslett, P.â•… 22–24, 38, 475 Misgav, H.â•… 407–9
LeBlanc, S.â•… 32–33 Mitchell, C. W.â•… 410
Lehmann-Jericke, K.â•… 209 Mol, H.â•… 56
Lemaire, A.â•… 248–49, 258, 260, 263–64, 267, Moorey, P. R. S.â•… 64–66, 68, 226, 468
275, 288, 291, 306, 315, 318, 358 Moortgat, A.â•… 375
Lemche, N. P.â•… 25 Morgan, L. H.â•… 388
Lenzen, C.â•… 177 Moscati, S.â•… 67, 461
Lernau, H.â•… 463 Mowinckel, S.â•… 410, 435
Leuenberger, M.â•… 16–17, 49, 52, 54, 410–12, Münger, S.â•… 112, 115, 155
477 Muraoka, T.â•… 349
Lévi-Strauss, C.â•… 420, 423, 425
Levy, S.â•… 76–77, 461 Nakhai, B. Alpertâ•… 13–15, 57, 166, 172, 223,
Lewis, T. J.â•… 60–61, 429–30, 433, 456, 458, 469, 474
493 Naroll, R.â•… 32–33
Lipiński, E.â•… 63 Nave-Herz, R.â•… 21, 43, 54, 336, 351, 475, 485
Loretz, O.â•… 61, 430, 432, 435, 456, 457, 470–71 Naveh, J.â•… 195, 239, 249, 285, 420
Loud, G.â•… 134–35, 141–42, 144–48, 151–53 Negbi, O.â•… 14, 58, 134, 137, 140–41, 477
Nelson, R. D.â•… 292
Macalister, R. A. S.â•… 70, 99, 226, 439 Netting, R. McC.â•… 23
MacKay, D.â•… 206 Netzer, E.â•… 31–33
Mackenzie, D.â•… 92, 439, 448–49 Niehr, H.â•… 52, 354, 379, 430, 477, 493
Magen, Y.â•… 406–9 Niemeier, W. A.â•… 209
Mähner, S.â•… 353 Nishiyama, S.â•… 208
Manor, D. W.â•… 93 Nissinen, M.â•… 112, 115
Mansour, S.â•… 176 Noth, M.â•… 245–46, 250–53, 255, 257, 264,
Maraqten, M.â•… 258, 275, 283, 289, 306, 308 267–68, 270, 274, 276–77, 283, 286, 290,
Marquet-Krause, J.â•… 74–75 295, 300–301, 303–4, 307, 312, 315, 320,
Marsman, H. J.â•… 395, 397–98 322, 327–28, 332, 341, 349–50, 352–53,
Matsushima, E.â•… 51 363, 393, 402–3, 421, 424–25, 482, 483
Mauss, M.â•… 388 Nunn, A.â•… 207, 215
May, H. G.â•… 62, 69, 138–42, 285, 413
Mazar, A.â•… 67–70, 77–78, 133, 165, 170, 197, O’Connor, M. P.â•… 349
220, 230, 232, 235 Olyan, S. M.â•… 7–8, 16, 45, 49, 54, 57, 371, 424,
Mazar, B.â•… 93–94, 463, 466 429–30, 434–36, 458, 470, 474, 477, 482
Mazar, E.â•… 463, 466 Ornan, T.â•… 376, 379
Mazzoni, S.â•… 209, 215–18 Orthmann, W.â•… 291
McCown, C. C.â•… 157, 440, 444 Otto, A.â•… 207–8, 415–16, 419
McGeough, K. M.â•… 458
McKay, J. W.â•… 369 Pakkala, J.â•… 112, 155
McLaughlin, J. L.â•… 458 Parayre, D.â•… 368, 373, 376
McNicoll, A. W.â•… 187 Parker, B.â•… 370
McQuitty, A. M.â•… 177 Pedersen, J.â•… 410
Meyers, C.â•… 9–11, 16, 23–25, 33–34, 37, 53, 57, Perdue, L. G.â•… 22, 25
64, 225–26, 247, 269, 277, 294, 297, 395, Person Jr., R. F.â•… 292
474–76 Petrie, W. M. F.â•… 62, 370
Michel, D.â•… 349 Pettinato, G.â•… 274
Milgrom, J.â•… 403, 418, 420–25 Pilz, E.â•… 62
Millard, A. R.â•… 276 Podella, T.â•… 373, 429–31, 434–35, 469–70
666 Index of Authors
Porada, E.â•… 375, 384 Sass, B.â•… 117, 120, 248, 258, 266, 267, 271–72,
Porath, Y.â•… 195, 203 276, 279, 282, 284–85, 293, 307, 327, 369,
Porten, B.â•… 396–97 374–76, 379, 381–82, 384, 406
Porter, J. R.â•… 22, 26 Saʿad, Z. al-â•… 183–84
Portugali, Y.â•… 70, 159, 161–64 Scharbert, J.â•… 22, 395
Potts, T. E.â•… 170, 187 Schloen, J. D.â•… 25–26, 32–33, 38–39, 41–42,
Prag, K.â•… 73, 462–63, 468 294, 476
Pressler, C.â•… 398 Schlund, C.â•… 399–400
Press, M. D.â•… 68, 193, 436 Schmidt, B. B.â•… 429–30, 435–56, 458, 469
Preuss, H. D.â•… 2, 336, 437 Schmitt, R.â•… 7, 10, 17, 52, 57, 61, 63–69, 99,
Pritchard, J. B.â•… 58, 62, 67, 165, 167–69, 209, 112, 122, 134, 167, 169–70, 179, 182,
211, 221 193, 195, 197, 203–5, 226, 229, 231, 274,
Propp, W. H. C.â•… 393 367–68, 370, 373–74, 376, 378, 383, 386,
Prosic, T.â•… 399 388, 410–11, 415–18, 422, 427, 429–30,
436, 470, 479, 493
Rad, G. vonâ•… 2, 47, 265, 388, 421, 425, 429, Schroer, S.â•… 63, 65–66, 460–61
474, 477 Schultheis, F.â•… 50
Rast, W. E.â•… 170 Schumacher, G.â•… 137–39, 141, 370
Rechenmacher, H.â•… 245, 251, 255, 268, 304, Schwemer, D.â•… 388
349 Schwiderski, D.â•… 258
Reichert, L.â•… 74 Segal, J. B.â•… 49
Reich, R.â•… 220 Seger, J. D.â•… 100–102
Rendtorff, R.â•… 354 Sellin, E.â•… 1, 169–70, 474, 482
Renz, J.â•… 12, 66, 239, 248–49, 251–52, 254, Seybold, K.â•… 60–61, 456
264, 266–68, 270–72, 276, 280, 282, 284, Shalem, D.â•… 172, 340, 377
288–89, 292, 294, 302, 306–7, 311–12, Shiloh, Y.â•… 13, 22, 28, 33, 108, 111–12, 135,
318, 321, 323, 326, 329, 344, 353, 365, 396, 168–69, 249, 271, 383
412–13, 460, 463, 466 Shipton, G. M.â•… 136, 140
Riklin, S.â•… 39 Smend, R.â•… 47, 477
Ringgren, H.â•… 47, 477 Smith, M. S.â•… 65
Ritner, R. K.â•… 7, 64, 388, 392, 394 Smith, R. H.â•… 186
Rittig, D.â•… 384 Smith, W. R.â•… 388, 410, 423–24, 429, 432, 435
Robinson, G.â•… 401 Spencer, H.â•… 429
Röllig, W.â•… 12, 66, 239, 248–49, 251–52, 254, Spieckermann, H.â•… 369–70
258, 264, 266–72, 276, 280, 282, 284, Spronk, K.â•… 429–30, 432, 435, 456, 458, 469,
288–89, 292, 294, 302, 306–7, 311–12, 318, 493
320–21, 323, 326, 329, 344, 353, 365, 396, Stade, B.â•… 1, 474
412–13, 460, 463, 466 Stager, L. E.â•… 22, 28–29, 31–37, 42–44, 220,
Römheld, K. F. D.â•… 274 269, 395
Rost, L.â•… 460 Stamm, J. J.â•… 251–52, 265, 267, 294, 312, 316,
Rothenberg, B.â•… 72, 235 350, 352–53, 483
Rouillard, H.â•… 432 Steiner, M.â•… 186, 232, 462–63, 468
Routledge, B.â•… 176 Stern, E.â•… 71, 112, 140, 207, 220, 371
Rowe, A.â•… 87 Stol, M.â•… 269, 280, 389, 391
Rowley, H. H.â•… 1, 474 Stolz, F.â•… 4, 6, 15–16, 53, 278, 474, 477, 482
Rudolph, W.â•… 47, 307 Stone, E. C.â•… 212, 214–15, 424
Sukenik, E. L.â•… 66, 444, 466, 468
Sader, H.â•… 258 Sundermeier, T.â•… 51–52, 387, 414, 423,
Saller, R.â•… 38 426–27, 430, 477
Index of Authors 667
Sznycer, M. M.â•… 258 Weippert, H.â•… 11, 63, 93, 136, 140, 164, 220,
223, 225, 229, 466, 474
Tambiah, S. J.â•… 410 Weippert, M.â•… 3, 8, 11, 15
Theuer, G.â•… 378 Wellhausen, J.â•… 1, 393, 399
Thiel, J. F.â•… 430 Wenning, R.â•… 63, 65, 68, 429–30, 437–39,
Thiselton, A. C.â•… 410 447–49, 453–60
Thomsen, M.-L.â•… 388 Westbrook, R.â•… 395
Tigay, J. H.â•… 245, 339–40, 348, 363 Westermann, C.â•… 2, 325–36, 410
Timm, S.â•… 258, 376, 384 Wilk, R.â•… 23
Tita, H.â•… 271, 409 Willett, E. A. R.â•… 9–10, 14, 16, 57, 82, 98, 128,
Toorn, K. van derâ•… 5–7, 14–16, 22, 25, 34, 173, 224, 294, 392, 474
42–44, 53, 57, 60–62, 65, 225, 269–70, Williamson, H. G. M.â•… 26
280, 297, 350, 387, 389, 393, 395, 398, 419, Wimmer, D. H.â•… 189
423, 429–30, 432–33, 437, 455, 457, 474, Winter, U.â•… 57, 62–63
476–77, 493 Wisthoff, B. L.â•… 172
Tropper, J.â•… 60, 251, 429, 432, 469–70 Wöhrle, J.â•… 395
Tsfania, L.â•… 407–9 Wolff, H. W.â•… 395
Tsukimoto, A.â•… 455 Wright, G. E.â•… 92–93, 99, 370, 418, 459
Tubb, J. N.â•… 165, 167
Tufnell, O.â•… 73, 122, 382, 440, 447–49, 459, Yadin, Y.â•… 28, 73, 103–6, 380, 460
469 Yardeni, A.â•… 249, 275, 396–97
Turner, V. W.â•… 434 Yassine, K.â•… 176, 184, 186
Tylor, E. B.â•… 388, 410, 429 Yisrael, Y.â•… 67, 69–71, 73–74, 235
Yon, M.â•… 258
Uehlinger, C.â•… 63, 65–66, 68, 237, 367–71, Yorburg, B.â•… 42
374–76, 378–82, 384, 386, 392, 469
Ussishkin, D.â•… 116–17, 120, 134 35, 137–41, Zadok, R.â•… 249, 251, 267, 271, 280, 288–89,
155, 157, 468 304, 318, 320, 323, 332, 352–53, 365
Zangenberg, J.â•… 112, 155, 457
Vaux, R. deâ•… 94 Zenger, E.â•… 429–30, 439
Veijola, T.â•… 399 Zertal, A.â•… 235
Vieweger, D.â•… 112 Zevit, Z.â•… 13–15, 50–51, 53, 68, 70, 75, 94,
Vorländer, H.â•… 2–5, 7, 49, 53, 474, 477 103–4, 124–25, 135–37, 139, 170, 220,
Vrijhof, P.â•… 50 222–23, 232, 236, 466, 468, 474
Ziffer, I.â•… 68, 73, 195, 232
Wach, J.â•… 51–53 Zimansky, P. E.â•… 212, 214–15
Wada, H.â•… 208 Zimhoni, O.â•… 116–17, 120
Wagner, A.â•… 52, 410, 477 Zimmerli, W.â•… 281, 391
Wakita, S.â•… 208 Zwickel, W.â•… 18, 49, 57, 69–71, 74, 94, 104,
Waltke, B. K.â•… 349 133, 135–36, 140, 164–65, 170, 176,
Wampler, J.â•… 157 184–85, 204–5, 220–21, 223, 232, 235–37,
Watzinger, C.â•… 139 456, 466
Weimar, P.â•… 393 Zwingenberger, U.â•… 173, 224
Index of Ancient Personal Names
668
Index of Ancient Personal Names 669
679
680 Index of Textual Sources
New Testament
Extrabiblical Sources
Ai (et-Tell)â•… 13, 34–36, 74–76, 164, 173, 222, Deir ʿAllaâ•… 354
229, 242, 496, 518 Deir el-Mirâ•…39
ʿAin Daraâ•… 212–15 Dūr-katlimmuâ•…see Tall Šēḥ Ḥamad
Ain Shemsâ•… 448, 453
Ajia Iriniâ•… 66 Ebal (Mount Ebal/el-Burnāṭ)â•… 13, 235
Akkoâ•…370 ʿEin Gev (Ḥirbet el-ʿĀšīq)â•… 93–94, 500, 521
Ammanâ•…67n Ekron (Tel Miqne/Ḥirbet el-Muqannaʿ)â•… 48,
Aphekâ•…193 71, 112, 193, 195, 201, 203–7, 223, 228–30,
Aradâ•… 11, 13, 69–71n, 220–22, 232, 234, 238, 240–42, 244, 480
236–37, 240–41, 243–44, 254, 266–68, 289, En-gediâ•…412
301, 403, 413, 481, 490 ʿEn Ḥazevaâ•… 67, 69–71n, 73–74, 235, 244
Arbēlaâ•… see Irbid Esdūdâ•…see Ashdod
Arslan Tašâ•… 269, 383 et-Tellâ•… see Ai
Ashdod (Esdūd)â•… 65, 67–69n, 193, 195–207,
226, 228–30, 232, 242 Gezer (Tell Ğazarī)â•… 69–71, 77, 99, 193, 373,
Ashkelonâ•…201 439, 441
Azorâ•…436 Gilgalâ•…416
Beersheba (Bīr es-sebaʿ)â•… 9, 12–14, 28, 32, Haranâ•… 368, 370, 376, 515
57n, 68, 70–71, 80–86, 93, 157, 175, Ḥatarikkaâ•…see Tell Afis
224–25n, 233n, 383, 479, 502, 518–19 Hazrakâ•…see Tell Afis
Beirutâ•…209 Hazor (Tell el Qedaḥ)â•… 4, 11–13, 28, 32,
Beit Aryeh (Ḥirbet Hudash)â•…39–40 36–37, 39n, 41n, 57–58, 67, 73, 102–7,
Beit Lei (Ḥirbet Beit Layy)â•… 13, 413 173, 175, 222, 226, 230, 232–33, 243, 380,
Bethel (Bētīn)â•… 13, 84–85, 237, 245, 265, 322, 383, 417, 460n, 471, 496, 500, 523
483, 519 Hebronâ•… 92, 432, 461
Bethlehemâ•…457 Ḥirbet Beit Layyâ•… see Beit Leiâ•…413
Bethsaidaâ•… 232–33, 241, 243 Ḥirbet el-ʿĀšīqâ•…see ʿEin Gev
Beth-shean (Tell el-Ḥiṣn)â•… 69, 87–91, 133, Ḥirbet el-Mudēyineâ•… 69, 71, 186, 192–93,
173–75, 370, 436, 496, 499–500, 502, 519 227–29, 232–33, 243
Beth-shemesh (Ḥirbet er-Rumēle)â•… 69, 92–93, Ḥirbet el-Muqannaʿâ•…see Ekron
175, 377, 437, 439, 446–48, 450–52, 454, Ḥirbet el-Mušāšâ•…see Tel Masos
502–3, 520–21 Ḥirbet el-Qômâ•… 12, 249, 260
Bētīnâ•…see Bethel Ḥirbet er-Rumēleâ•… see Beth-shemesh
Bīr es-sebaʿâ•…see Beersheba Ḥirbet Hudashâ•…see Beit Aryeh
Bull Site (Daḥret eṭ-Ṭawīle)â•… 13, 44, 222, Ḥirbet Jamaʿinâ•… 39
234–35, 237, 244 Ḥirbet Jarishâ•… 39
Ḥirbet Khatuniyehâ•… 218–19
Daḥret eṭ-Ṭawīleâ•…see Bull Site Ḥirbet Maltaâ•… 39
Danâ•… 11, 13, 58, 69–70n, 221–22, 232–33, Ḥirbet Meshashâ•… 34, 36
237–38, 240–41, 243–44
689
690 Index of Sites and Place-Names
Tel Reḥov (Tell eṣ-Ṣarem)â•… 165, 170, 174, 222, Tell Ğuḥfīyaâ•…see Tell Juhfiyya
232, 243, 481, 499, 532 Tell Halafâ•… 208
Tel Wawit (Tell el-Wawiyat)â•… 13, 172, 222 Tell Ḥuwēlifaâ•…see Tel Halif
Tell Abu al-Kharaz (Tell Abūâ•‚Ḥaraz)â•…176–77, Tell Irbidâ•…see Irbid
192 Tell Jawa (Tell Ğāwa)â•… 7, 14–15, 58, 176,
Tell Abūâ•‚Ḥarazâ•…see Tell Abu al-Kharaz 178–83, 192, 226–27, 474
Tell Afis (Ḥatarikka/Hazrak)â•… 209, 215–18 Tell Judeidehâ•… 193
Tell Ahmarâ•… 208 Tell Juhfiyya (Tell Ğuḥfīya)â•…182–84
Tell Balatâhâ•…see Shechem Tell Kabriâ•…see Kabri
Tell Baziâ•… 207–8, 219 Tell Kazel (Simyra/Ṣumura)â•… 207, 209–11,
Tell Beershebaâ•…see Beersheba 219, 227
Tell Beit Mirsimâ•… 11–13, 28, 32, 34–35, 38, 71, Tell Keisanâ•… 207, 209, 211, 224
85–89, 93, 126, 175, 502, 519 Tell Makmišâ•…see Tell Michal
Tell ed-Duwērâ•…see Lachish Tell Mastumaâ•… 208, 224
Tell el-Baṭāšīâ•…see Tel Batash Tell Mazar (Tell el-Mazār)â•… 4, 11, 173–74, 176,
Tell el-Farʿah North (Tirzah)â•… 9, 11, 13–14, 32, 184–87, 225, 258, 497, 526–27
35–36, 38, 57n, 94–99, 222, 224n, 232–33, Tell Michal (Tell Makmiš)â•… 73, 132–34, 174,
243, 499–500, 521 230, 232, 243, 481, 499, 531
Tell el-Farʿah Southâ•… 380 Tell Mišrife (Qatna)â•… 460–61n
Tell el-Ḥammahâ•… 106–8, 174, 499 Tell Qasileâ•… 67–70, 72–73, 133, 193, 197, 207,
Tell el-Ḥiṣnâ•… see Beth-shean 230–31, 233, 240, 243
Tell el-Mazārâ•…see Tell Mazar Tell Qedesâ•…see Tel Kedesh
Tell el-Mutesellimâ•…see Megiddo Tell Qiriâ•… 4, 8, 11, 13, 70, 73, 159–64, 173–74,
Tell el-ʿOrēmeâ•… see Kinneret 228–29, 242, 498, 501, 532
Tell el-Qassīsâ•…see Tel Qashish Tell Ṣāfūṭâ•…189
Tell el Qedaḥâ•…see Hazor Tell Taʿanekâ•…see Taanach
Tell el-Wawiyatâ•…see Tel Wawit Timnahâ•… see Tel Batash
Tell en-Naṣbehâ•… 12–13, 32, 35–36, 38, 67n, 68, Timnah Valleyâ•… 234, 237
70, 73n, 93, 157–59, 440, 443–45, 454, 501, Tirzahâ•… see Tell el-Farʿah North
504, 531–32 Troyâ•…69
Tell es-Safiâ•… 193 Turʿanâ•… 172, 501, 533
Tell es-Saʾīdīyehâ•… 13, 32, 58, 165–69, 225, 501,
532 Vered Jerichoâ•…see Jericho
Tell eṣ-Ṣaremâ•…see Tel Reḥov
Tell ʿĒtūnâ•… 13, 436, 468 Wādī Fīdānâ•… 461
Tell Ğāwaâ•…see Tell Jawa
Tell Ğazarīâ•…see Gezer Yavnehâ•… 68, 73, 195, 232
Tell Ğemmeâ•… 370
Index of Subjects
Adad (see also Hadad)â•… 289, 317, 332, 358, 354, 356, 358–60, 367, 380, 456, 508–10,
509–10, 516, 543, 558, 562, 565, 567, 572, 512, 535–42, 547, 552, 555–69, 572–73,
575, 578, 580, 587–88, 593, 596 576, 579–82, 584, 586, 590, 593–97, 600,
Aliensâ•… 321–22, 395, 421, 475, 492, 607 606
Altarsâ•… 70–72, 135, 175, 207–8, 227–32, 235– Bamāh (see also Cult places)â•… 123–24, 232–33,
38, 240, 242–44, 478, 480–81, 499–504, 236
518, 524–26, 530–31 Beit ʾābâ•… 24–25, 33, 39–40, 43, 475–76
â•… candelabriumâ•… 69, 71, 232 Birthâ•… 246–48, 269–73, 277–86, 293, 297,
â•… hornedâ•… 135–37, 174, 206, 220, 223, 499, 482–84
501, 530 â•… namesâ•… 252–57, 345–46, 582–601
Amuletsâ•… 71–72, 446–48, 471, 478–79, 491, â•… naming feastâ•… 247–48, 286–91
493, 497–98, 502, 518, 529–30, 532 â•…oraclesâ•…273–75
Anatâ•… 321, 323, 340, 346, 365–66, 508, 512, â•…ritualsâ•…388–93, 489–90
514, 565, 569, 588 â•…weaningâ•…293–94, 392–93
Ancestorsâ•… 61, 225–26, 405, 432–33, 457, 459, Blessingâ•… 56, 252, 289–90, 339, 346, 387, 391,
470–72, 493, 504, 525 398–99, 406, 410–13, 421–22, 490–91,
â•… cult (see also Dead)â•… 5, 61, 207–8, 350, 596–97
429–30, 456 Burial practices (see also Graves)â•… 436–55,
â•… figurinesâ•… 61, 65, 72, 117, 205, 219, 226, 471–73
462, 469 â•… giftsâ•… 12, 456, 471, 493
Angelsâ•… 65, 394, 419
Anthropologyâ•… 17–18, 388, 410, 429–30 Canaanite rites/religionâ•… 47–48, 369, 377, 387,
Apotropaic 421–22, 429
â•… figurineâ•… 84, 208, 384, 454, 479, 502, 519 Centralizationâ•… 18, 223, 400, 402, 490
â•… functionsâ•… 211, 382–83, 385–86, 456 Chaosâ•… 420, 431
â•…magicâ•…71–72 Cherubimâ•… 84, 86, 383–85, 479, 488
â•… rites/ritualsâ•… 46, 281, 292, 323, 387, 391–94, Circumcisionâ•… 247, 286–93, 387, 392–95, 400,
398, 417–20, 477, 479, 489 426–28, 484, 489, 492, 593, 598
Asherahâ•… 4, 10, 12, 55, 62–64, 243, 364, 371, Clanâ•… 5–6, 24–26, 43–45, 53, 136, 457, 476
379 Covenantâ•… 56, 394, 411, 460
Ashtarteâ•… 62, 210, 269–70, 278, 285, 312, 314, â•… Book ofâ•… 401–2, 411
343, 345–46, 353, 363–64, 366, 371, 406, Creationâ•… 3, 251, 277–80, 330, 333–35,
511–12, 514, 538–39, 547, 550, 556, 558, 337–38, 346–47, 391, 422, 484–86, 587–90
560–61, 564, 566, 568–69, 577, 582, 589, Cult placesâ•… 220–44
592–93 â•…domesticâ•…224–28
Astralizationâ•… 63, 321, 368, 371, 373, 378 â•… local high placesâ•… 230–33, 243, 457
Astral symbols/deitiesâ•… 321, 369–79, 515 â•… work-related cult placesâ•… 71, 112, 174–75,
Atonementâ•… 265, 393, 408, 483 203–5, 228–29, 242, 480, 532–33
Cursesâ•… 387, 397–98, 410–13, 490–91
Baalâ•… 63, 210, 238, 245, 254, 263–66, 274, 282,
290, 296, 300–301, 314–27, 342–49, 352, Davidâ•… 25, 61, 247n, 263, 328, 396, 435, 457
692
Index of Subjects 693
Integration/Reintegrationâ•… 247, 287, 292, 360, Model furnitureâ•… 68–69, 175, 221
392, 415 Monolatryâ•… 362, 488
Intercessionâ•… 3, 299, 389, 416 Monotheismâ•… 342–43, 388, 427
Isisâ•… 289, 323, 340, 343–44, 365–66, 448, 508, Mosesâ•… 393–94, 397
513–14, 557, 565, 569, 596 Motâ•… 280, 290, 323, 342, 346–48, 362, 487,
508, 510, 568, 584, 589, 597
Jeroboamâ•… 265, 290 Mourningâ•…433–36
Justiceâ•… 303–4, 311–12, 332, 361, 367, 544–45,
555 Necromancyâ•… 61, 106, 226, 459, 462, 469–71,
494
Kernoiâ•… 69–70, 72, 172–74, 206–7, 496–501, Necropolisâ•… 431, 439, 493
519, 529–32 New Moonâ•… 365, 377, 401, 457, 472, 512, 569
Kingshipâ•… 47, 245, 262, 264, 307, 323, 330, â•… interluniumâ•… 455, 457, 473
373, 405, 483
Offerings (see also Sacrifices)â•… 72, 402–4, 479,
Levitesâ•… 266, 319, 399–400, 403 483
Libation (see also Offerings)â•… 70, 72, 174–75, â•… burntâ•… 125, 499, 501, 530–31
404, 479, 481 â•… drink/foodâ•… 71, 173–75, 206, 225, 227, 230,
Lineageâ•… 40–45, 224, 434, 471–73, 480 239, 242–44, 392, 415, 479
lmlk-stampsâ•… 92, 372–74, 502, 515, 520 â•… dryâ•… 71–72, 173–74, 479, 481, 496–501,
503–4
Magicâ•… 48–49, 64, 226, 387–88, 410, 417, 427, â•… incenseâ•… 243–44, 175–77, 227, 239, 242–44
479
Manticâ•… 61, 75, 226, 274–75, 389 Pantheonâ•…486–87
Marriageâ•… 395–99, 419, 426, 489 Passoverâ•… 6, 8–9, 387, 395, 399–400, 419,
â•…intermarriageâ•…397–98 427–28, 489–90, 492
â•…levirateâ•…26, 397–98 Peaceâ•… 68, 336, 402, 426, 458
â•…monogamyâ•…395–97, 489 Piety
â•…polygamyâ•…396–97 â•… familialâ•… 53, 246, 256, 300, 331–36, 338,
â•…polygynyâ•…395–97, 489 412, 436, 460
Masksâ•… 61, 105–6, 226, 417, 471, 500, 523 â•… personalâ•… 3–5, 54, 245, 248, 336–39,
Maṣṣebāhâ•… 61, 101, 123–24, 170, 174, 190, 230, 367–86
233, 235, 240, 243–44, 460–61, 532 Pilgrim/Pilgrimageâ•… 8, 13, 325, 400, 485, 490
Maṣṣotâ•… 325, 387, 399–403 Polytheismâ•… 339, 342–48, 362–63, 487–88
Miniature altarsâ•… 70–72, 502, 518 Prayersâ•… 271–72, 255–57, 583–85
Mixed creaturesâ•… 382–86 â•… confessionâ•… 252–55, 259, 309–25, 332–35,
â•… Besâ•… 6, 10, 276, 279, 322–23, 340, 342, 344, 554–70
346, 381–82, 392, 440, 489, 508, 516, 568, â•… lamentationâ•… 270, 299–315, 331–34,
589 337–38, 413–15, 434–35, 489
â•… Griffinâ•… 373, 383, 516 â•… praiseâ•… 255, 325–30, 485, 571–75
â•… Horusâ•… 264, 323, 343–44, 352, 381, 448, â•… thanksgivingâ•… 252–57, 259, 282, 298–309,
508, 511, 513, 516, 565, 568, 570, 578, 595 355, 404, 413–15, 484, 534–53
â•…Lamassuâ•…383–84, 516 Pregnancyâ•… 10, 64, 252, 270, 273, 275–81,
â•…scorpion-manâ•…384, 517 285–86, 297, 389–90, 484, 489, 586–87
â•… sphinxâ•… 82, 84, 86, 379, 382–85, 488, 502, â•… pregnant women (figurine)â•… 95, 211
516, 519 Priestsâ•… 5, 18, 49–51, 233–40, 243–44, 273,
â•… sun-disc (winged)â•… 316, 368, 370, 372–74, 297, 322, 389, 400–401, 417–18, 480–82,
378, 384–86, 488, 515 491, 567
â•… Uraeusâ•… 382–83, 385, 488, 516 Propertyâ•… 271, 290, 397, 426, 437
Index of Subjects 695
Prophetsâ•… 5, 18, 47–52, 273, 281, 358, 415–17, â•… of a deityâ•… 259, 310, 321–22, 325, 333, 335,
470 364, 366–67, 406, 565–67
Protective Spiritsâ•… 380–81 Shamashâ•… 65, 316, 332, 340–45, 358, 361, 376,
Purity/Impurityâ•… 265, 328, 418, 420, 425 378, 508, 511, 513, 515, 539, 547, 556, 559,
â•… period of impurityâ•… 247, 286, 292, 391–92 561, 566, 568–69, 576, 580–81, 589–90,
â•… purification ritesâ•… 203, 417–18, 482, 489, 597
491 Shavuotâ•…325
Shrinesâ•… 220–24, 239–41, 480–81
Queen of Heavenâ•… 12, 49, 349, 364, 369–70, â•… domestic/houseâ•… 101, 227–28, 242, 277,
403–4, 490 479, 496, 527
Qosâ•… 273, 340, 342, 345–46, 508, 511, 549, â•… local and villageâ•… 123–25, 173–74, 207,
580, 584 230–33, 243–44, 496, 499, 523–24, 531
â•… miniatureâ•… 54n, 67–68, 72, 95, 173–74, 207,
Reform/Reformersâ•… 51, 55, 274, 319, 398, 403, 243–44, 478, 497, 499, 501, 521, 528, 531
428, 490 â•… neighborhoodâ•… 75–76, 229–30, 242, 477,
â•… Josianicâ•… 3, 18, 61, 237, 274, 348 496, 498, 518, 532
Religion â•… palaceâ•… 135–40, 234, 244, 499, 501, 531
â•… internal religious pluralismâ•… 3, 46, 52–56, Sin (god)â•… 280, 343, 358, 375–77, 488, 511,
223, 368–69, 386, 477, 481, 492 515, 543, 549, 556–57, 559, 562, 579–80,
â•…localâ•…44, 53 582, 590, 593–95
â•… officialâ•… 4–5, 54–55, 262–69, 351, 369, 409, Sinaiâ•… 245, 262, 265–68, 330, 483
417–18 Slavesâ•… 23–24, 208, 229, 395–96, 413, 475
â•…popularâ•…49–51 Socializationâ•… 21, 44–45, 475–76
â•…primary/secondaryâ•…51–52 Sociologyâ•… 17–18, 21, 24
Rĕpāʾîmâ•… 432, 470 Sojourners
Reproductionâ•… 21, 44–46, 475–76 â•… of a deityâ•… 259, 310, 321–22, 325, 567–68
Reshephâ•… 347, 362, 513, 566, 569, 593 â•… of the temple/tentâ•… 266, 567
Spirits of the deadâ•… 433, 435, 461, 470, 494
Sabbathâ•… 18, 387, 401–2, 416, 427–28, 460, Standsâ•… 59, 68–69, 72, 173–75, 242–44,
489–90, 492 496–504, 518–33
Sabbatical yearâ•… 401–2 Sukkot (see also Harvest feasts)â•… 325
Sacrificesâ•… 18, 265–66, 272–73, 297, 339, 400, Syncretismâ•… 47–48, 369, 371, 477
454, 456–59, 483, 584–85
â•… animalâ•… 66, 165, 272, 389, 408 Taboosâ•… 420–26, 459, 489, 491–92
â•… bloodâ•… 4, 6, 482 Templeâ•… 13, 47–48, 67–73, 103, 203–4,
â•…humanâ•…403 220–24, 230–44, 460, 480–81, 487–88, 513
Sanctuariesâ•… 4–7, 44, 60–61, 133, 220–24, â•… Dan (Tel)â•… 237–38, 481
240–41, 265–66, 286, 389, 403–4, 409, â•… Jerusalemâ•… 4, 63, 237, 267–69, 334, 400–401
480–81, 490, 496, 499, 523, 531 â•…modelsâ•…see Shrines, miniature
â•… gateâ•… 230–33, 243, 415, 532 â•…Samariaâ•…406–9
â•… regionalâ•… 234–37, 244, 271, 273 â•… Second Templeâ•… 400, 427–28, 490–93
â•… supraregional and stateâ•… 237–39, 244 Tĕrāpîmâ•… 60–61, 470–71
Saulâ•… 272n, 328, 416, 437, 457, 470, 494 Theophanyâ•… 254, 266–68, 548
Sealsâ•… 71–72, 248–50, 260–62, 367–86, 498, Throne/Enthronementâ•… 68, 193, 209, 264–65,
507, 515–17, 530 301, 379, 405
Šĕʾōlâ•… 431–32, 454 â•… of cherubsâ•… 316, 383
Seraphimâ•… 368, 382, 385–86, 488 Tombsâ•…see Graves
Servantsâ•… 23–24, 34, 38, 229, 242, 309, 480
696 Index of Subjects
Tripod cups (perforated)â•… 70, 72, 165–66, â•… practicesâ•… 174–75, 219, 227, 240–41, 479,
174–77, 180, 219, 241, 243–44, 478, 496, 481
500–502, 519, 521, 523, 532 Vowsâ•… 46, 252, 266, 271–73, 294, 297, 389,
403–10, 483–84, 489–90, 583–85
Vassal statesâ•… 264, 369, 378
Vesselsâ•… 58–59, 172–75, 207–8, 221–22, Wisdomâ•… 1–2, 48, 276, 336–38, 396, 432, 486
227–40, 242–44, 438, 440, 453–54, 463–64, â•…Proverbsâ•…336–39
469, 496, 527 Womenâ•… 8–11, 270–73, 277, 388–93, 479, 488
â•… anthropomorphicâ•… 68, 72, 453, 462 â•… baʾălat ʾōbâ•…470–71
â•… composite libationâ•… 70, 72, 453–54, 498, 532 â•… female ritual specialistsâ•… 416–17, 491
â•… miniatureâ•… 73, 75, 226, 502, 518, 532 â•… midwivesâ•… 247, 281–83, 297, 333–34,
â•… zoomorphicâ•… 68, 72, 226, 446, 453, 478, 390–92, 591
497, 499–503, 518, 520–21, 523, 528–29, â•…wailingâ•…434–36, 472
531–32
Votive Yhwhâ•… 262–69, 356–58
â•… figurinesâ•… 72, 175, 193, 219, 221, 226, 228,
230–32, 234, 242–44, 415, 462, 466 Zionâ•… 50, 245, 262, 264–65, 330, 386, 483
â•… inscriptionsâ•… 405–9, 466, 481
â•… objectsâ•… 64–66, 68, 72–75, 175, 219, 221,
228, 232, 235–37, 239–44, 469, 481