Abstract
The Aramaic inscriptions from Hellenistic Mount Gerizim have been the object of intense scholarly interest since their publication almost 20 years ago. Research has particularly focused on the ways that the inscriptions can inform our understanding of the emergence of a Samaritan group identity which was distinct from that of the Jews. This article seeks to contribute to these discussions by addressing 2 interrelated issues. Firstly, drawing on research by other scholars, it tentatively suggests that these inscriptions can be divided into two groups which represent different phases of production. Secondly, it explores the reasons for the apparent introduction of a sense of place in the later inscriptions, considering the broader political and administrative history of the district of Samaria in the 2nd century BCE.
1 Introduction
In the late 330s BCE, Alexander the Great conquered the southern Levant. This brought Samaria, a small region with a distinct ethno-religious identity, into the Hellenistic world. Samaria was subjected to over two centuries of political control and economic exploitation by the great Hellenistic empires of the south-eastern Mediterranean, the Seleucids and the Ptolemies. The local inhabitants, like the neighbouring Jews,1 faced challenges and opportunities presented by the spread of Greek culture and were compelled to consider the place of their traditions in an increasingly Hellenised world. Furthermore, while the population of Samaria largely consisted of monotheistic Yahwists, their belief system differed from the Jews in various respects, including a belief that the preeminent cult centre should be Mount Gerizim and not Jerusalem. As such, this community also had a complicated relationship with the Jews, particularly following the emergence of the Jewish-dominated Hasmonean Kingdom which conquered the region in the 120s BCE.
Few ancient literary sources provide information about the Yahwist community in Samaria, with the most substantial being Josephus’s unflattering account of their origins in Jewish Antiquities.2 Only a tiny body of sources prior to Josephus survive, all written by Jewish authors.3 While scholars were traditionally heavily reliant on these scattered and sometimes hostile passages, in recent decades new material and epigraphic evidence has made it possible to build alternative histories of this region and its inhabitants.
One of the most astonishing discoveries was unearthed by a team of archaeologists led by Yitzhak Magen, who excavated a site in Samaria at Jabal al-Tur, one of the three peaks of Mount Gerizim, from 1982–2006. They identified a Yahwist sacred precinct active from the 5th century BCE until its destruction in the mid–late 2nd century BCE.4 This site was surrounded by a city in the 3rd and 2nd centuries BCE, which was destroyed at approximately the same time as the sacred precinct. Evidence for a later Hasmonean military settlement at the site has also been discovered, as well as the Byzantine Church of Mary Theotokos built during the reign of the Emperor Zeno in the 5th century CE.5
Three hundred and eighty-six Hellenistic dedicatory inscriptions written in Hebrew and Aramaic were found during these excavations.6 It is reasonable to suppose, as did the editors of the editio princeps, that the number we have represents a small fraction of the total inscriptions. The stones of the lost inscriptions were presumably displaced, destroyed or re-used in subsequent occupations of the site, particularly during the construction and expansion of the Church of Mary Theotokos in 484 and 529 CE respectively.7
These inscriptions generated a flurry of interest after their publication, and have been the subject of several studies over the last 18 years. Much of this scholarship has focused on the relationship between the Samaritans and the Jews. In particular, discussion has centred on whether or not the inscriptions can be used to re-date the emergence of a Samaritan ethnic identity which was distinct from a Jewish ethnic identity. 8
This article aims to contribute to these discussions by exploring hitherto under-studied aspects of the inscriptions’ style, content, and context. Firstly, the inscriptions will be introduced with a discussion of their archaeological context, scripts, content and chronology. Secondly, it will be suggested, on the basis of an analysis of palaeography, content and style, that the inscriptions can be split into two chronological groups. Finally, the reason for the introduction of place-names in the later group will be considered with reference to the administrative history of the region.
2 The Inscriptions
2.1 Archaeological Context
Mount Gerizim is located in the modern West Bank near the Arab city of Nablus (Biblical Shechem, Roman Flavia Neapolis). It is the second highest mountain in the historic region of Samaria, rising 886 m above sea level. It has three peaks: Jabal al-Tur, Tell er-Ras and an unnamed hill to the west. Since at least the mid-5th century BCE, it has been considered the holiest site by the ethno-religious group known today as the Samaritans.
The sacred precinct which housed the inscriptions sat on Jabal al-Tur. Excavations revealed two phases of construction, one in the 5th century BCE, the other in the 2nd century BCE.9 The Aramaic and Hebrew inscriptions were introduced during the 2nd century BCE phase of the site’s history.
According to Josephus, the Samaritan cult site at Gerizim was destroyed by John Hyrcanus I in 128 BCE. This picture is roughly borne out by the excavation reports, which suggest that the city and the sacred precinct were both destroyed by fire at around this time.10 That said, 455 coins of Alexander II Zabinas, who reigned 128–123 BCE, were found at the site, making his coins the third most common of any Seleucid king. The influx of coins at this late stage may have been a result of the hasty construction of defences which appears to have occurred at the time of the siege, and suggests a slightly later date for the temple’s final destruction than the one Josephus offers.11
The site has been identified as a Yahwist cult centre partly on the basis of the 300,000 animal bone fragments found there. These were largely from sheep and goats, though there were also some cattle and pigeons. The remains show signs of ritual slaughter, and the majority of the sacrificial animals were under 3 years old. This roughly reflects the distribution of bones we would expect from a community following the laws set out in Leviticus 1–6. The absence of human or animal imagery at the site also suggests that the inhabitants were avoiding the “graven images” forbidden by the Second Commandment (Exod 20:4–6, Deut 5:8–10). The clearest indication that the site was Yahwist, however, is the inscriptions themselves.
The inscriptions were all engraved on stone ashlars, only one of which was found in situ.12 The precise location of the rest is unknown. It is reasonable to suppose, however, that since the stones on which the inscriptions were written were all building stones, they were a part of the sacred precinct itself. Indeed, the one inscription that was found in situ, no. 223, was built into the monumental staircase on the eastern slope.13 Magen suggested on the basis of the stone type that they formed part of a hypothetical “inner wall,” similar to the inner wall of the Jerusalem temple, separating the external precinct from the temple. However, as the walls of a purported temple at Gerizim have not been securely identified, this is only speculation.14 In room L-15 of building T, located near the sacred precinct, a number of tools have been discovered that indicate the presence of a stonemason’s workshop: it may be that some of the inscribed stones were produced there.15
The stones generally have finely dressed margins and a more roughly dressed middle. In some cases, a finer dressing appears to have been added onto an original, rougher dressing, suggesting that in at least some cases the stone was not originally intended to be inscribed.16
2.2 Script
Scholars identified three scripts used in the Hellenistic Hebrew and Aramaic inscriptions, two of which are Aramaic—the ‘monumental’ script and the ‘cursive’ script—and one of which is Hebrew—the ‘Paleo-Hebrew’ script.17
Of our 386 inscriptions, 378 are written in Aramaic scripts, 7 are in the Paleo-Hebrew script and 1 is in a mixed Paleo-Hebrew and Aramaic script.18 Of those only in the Aramaic script, 63 are in the monumental script, 237 are in the cursive script and 78 are Aramaic but cannot be identified as monumental or cursive.19 The lettering is quite small, normally ranging between 2.0 and 8.0 cm in height.
2.3 Content
The editors of the editio princeps suggest that the Aramaic inscriptions follow two main formulae:
It is not clear what the offering referred to in the inscriptions is. Some have speculated that as the Semitic root
The inscriptions may be seen as a part of the wider tradition of Semitic religious epigraphy. In particular, the request for ‘good remembrance before God’ in formula (b) appears in a number of Semitic inscriptions and graffiti. At Sinai, for instance, numerous graffiti have been found with short prayers following the formula
It was recently noted by Kartveit that two aspects of the content of the inscriptions, however, are quite unusual in Semitic epigraphy.27 The first is the phrase “In this place” in formula (b), which is not attested at all.28 This may be instead inspired by corresponding phrases in Greek epigraphy, including
3 Chronology
Since the inscriptions were not found in situ they cannot be dated on the basis of stratigraphy. Palaeographic analysis has suggested that they date from the early to mid-2nd century BCE.30
Scholars have attempted to use the coin finds at Gerizim, as enumerated in Magen’s 2008 excavation report, and more recently the subsequent report of coins at the site to date the inscriptions more precisely. According to Magen, Persian and Ptolemaic-era coins are relatively small in number, while Seleucid coins are abundantly attested at the site. Within the Seleucid era, the coins of Antiochus III are more common than those of any other king. On this basis, the authors of the editio princeps concluded that Gerizim was most active during the reign of Antiochus III (223–187 BCE) which, therefore, is likely to be the period from which most of our inscriptions date. This dating has been used in most subsequent studies of the inscriptions.31
This case is weak. Despite the higher number of coins reported during this period, there is no reason to believe that the reign of Antiochus III represents a time of exceptionally high activity at Gerizim. It is true, admittedly, that his coins appear in significantly higher numbers than other Seleucid kings. The next most common coins were minted by Antiochus IV (who reigned 175–164 BC) with 2,069, and then Alexander II Zabinas (who reigned 128–123 BCE) with 455. The reign of Antiochus III, however, was unusually long: the large number of coins from his reign presumably reflects this. Indeed, just crudely dividing the number of coins of each king by his reign suggests that Antiochus III’s reign was not the most active. While there are 90.6 coins for each year of Antiochus IIIs reign, there are 188.1 coins for each year of Antiochus IV’s. Even if we discount the years of Antiochus IIIs reign before the Battle of Paneion in 200 BCE, before which Syria was probably part of the Ptolemaic Empire and Antiochus III’s coins were less likely to reach Gerizim, we are left with 251.38 coins per year, which is still a smaller variance from the mean than a simple count of coin numbers would suggest. It is also possible that Antiochus III’s military activity in the region during the Fourth and Fifth Syrian Wars (219–217 BCE and 202–195 BCE respectively) was partly responsible for the influx of his coins.
It is also important to note that Seleucid coinage was not the only currency being used at Gerizim during this period. Coins of Akko-Ptolemais appear in large numbers at the site after Antiochus III’s reign, with 641 from 164–132 BCE and 576 from 132–110 BCE. If these numbers are added to the numbers of Seleucid coins from this period, coin numbers appear much more stable over time.
The numismatic evidence does not securely confirm that Antiochus III’s reign was the period of greatest activity at Gerizim, therefore, nor that the inscriptions largely date from that period. The palaeographic dating of the inscriptions, which places them in the early to mid–2nd century BCE, remains the most reliable available methodology. While it is by no means a flawless approach, it has the advantage of allowing us to compare the style of the Gerizim inscriptions with more securely dated texts, and may be used to posit an approximate date for the inscriptions (though we must allow a significant margin of error for phenomena such as aging craftspeople).
4 Phases of Production
4.1 Script and Spelling
The possibility that the Hellenistic inscriptions from Gerizim were produced in two phases has been briefly considered by scholars in the past. The question merits further examination. The editors pointed out that all of the wholly preserved Aramaic inscriptions in formula (a) are in the monumental script, and all of those wholly preserved inscriptions in formula (b) are in the cursive script. They also argue that the spelling in formula (a) appears to be somewhat more conservative: the spelling of the word
Dušek also notes that the palaeography of the inscriptions in the monumental script seems to be somewhat more conservative than that of the cursive script. In particular, he observes that the monumental script does not have baselines in the letters mem, nun, samech and pe.33 He ultimately argues, however, that this is likely due to a combination of the natural conservatism of the script and ageing craftsmen.34 Dušek also argues that the use of dalet and zayin does not necessarily reflect an earlier or later spelling, presenting evidence from a range of Edomite and Nabataean Aramaic inscriptions from between the 3rd and 1st centuries BCE and ultimately suggesting that “writing of zayin or of dalet seems to depend upon the scribe or the engraver.”35
Dušek’s scepticism is reasonable in light of the available evidence. To demonstrate whether or not the editors are correct, it will be helpful to break down whether or not there are more differences between the cursive and the monumental script.
4.2 Personal Names and Place Names
The editio princeps identifies 144 named people in the Gerizim inscriptions. These have 70 different names, with some repeated. The editors claim that 55 of these are Hebrew, with a distribution of names which roughly reflects contemporary Jewish documents and ossuaries.36 They also found 13 Greek names, 4 Arab names, 1 Palmyrene name, 1 Persian name and 2 names of uncertain origin.37 Only one obvious mistake needs correcting: as Kartveit pointed out, the name Zabdi in no. 20, identified as Arab, actually appears in the Hebrew Bible and was popular in Palmyra. Given the context, we may consider it to be a (admittedly quite unusual) Hebrew name (Josh 7:1; 1 Chr 27:27).38 There are, therefore, 56 Hebrew names and 3 Arab names.
Hebrew names appear in every group of inscriptions, even though their distribution is not quite even. The priestly name Pinḥas, for instance, appears more frequently in the priestly Paleo-Hebrew inscriptions (as we might expect). The most striking discrepancy, however, appears in the inscriptions with Greek names: all 13 are in the cursive script, and not a single one appears in the monumental script.39 If the cursive script represents a later phase of production, this suggests that the range of dedicators expanded over time, possibly even including diaspora Samaritans.40
Of the remaining foreign names there is a more even distribution between the two scripts. Since the point of interest here is the dedicators themselves, some might be removed from consideration. The Arabic name Qimi (no. 3) is in the monumental script, but the name is only used to refer to the father of the dedicator, who has the Hebrew name Ḥaggai. Similarly, the Persian name Bagohi in a monumental script inscription (no. 27), and the Arab name Maliku (no. 46) in a cursive script inscription, refer to the father of an unnamed dedicator. Another monumental script inscription (no. 20) has a name classed as of uncertain origin,
It is also interesting to note the distribution of place names in the inscriptions. Of the ten inscriptions with place names, only one (no. 3) is in the monumental script, with all the rest in the cursive script.41 This adds to the impression that there is a clear divide between the two groups.
4.3 Style
The lettering in some of the inscriptions was painted red, and all such inscriptions are in the cursive script or a mix between cursive and Paleo-Hebrew.42 The sample is small, but we might cautiously speculate that this, too, was absent from the monumental inscriptions.
The most obvious purpose of painting letters red in inscriptions is to draw closer attention to the words. In Hellenistic Greek epigraphy, painted lettering was generally reserved for particularly prominent public inscriptions.43 While the use of red in inscriptions may be related to the quality of the stone carved, this does not appear to be the case in the Gerizim inscriptions, as there are no obvious differences between the stone quality in the painted and non-painted inscriptions. Other reasons that inscriptions may be painted red, such as to clarify obscure text or to make spelling corrections, also do not appear to make sense for the relevant inscriptions, which are as clear and accurately transcribed as the other Gerizim inscriptions.
It might be significant that this coincided with the introduction of the phrase “in this place,” which may be designed to emphasise the prominent position of the inscriptions in the context of the temple or the city as a whole. This could reflect a growing desire to make one’s inscription stand out as the walls of the sacred precinct were increasingly populated with inscriptions. It is also possible that if, as seems likely, the production of the inscriptions was supervised, the temple authorities allowed or even organised these changes to halt the dilution of the prestige associated with having one’s name on the temple.
5 Political Contexts and a Samaritan Sense of Place
5.1 Previous Approaches
We may, then, posit on the basis of script, content, and style that the Aramaic inscriptions from Hellenistic Gerizim were produced in two groups. Based on paleography (and possibly spelling) one appears to have been inscribed towards the beginning of the likely period of production (in the early 2nd century BCE), and the other towards the end of the period (mid-2nd century BCE).
Among the differences between the two groups is the introduction of a strong sense of place in the latter group through the expanded use of place-names and the introduction of the phrase “in this place.” How should we interpret this emphasis on geographical place?
Scholarship to date has argued that the spatial content in the inscriptions reflects a heightened sense of ethnic identity during this period and, in particular, a desire to send a provocative message to the Jews about the Samaritan community’s faith in the primacy of its cult site. In a 2012 study, Becking draws on Hutchinson and Smith’s influential Ethnicity, which argues that an ethnic group shares (among other things) a “link with a homeland” and a “sense of solidarity among at least some of its members,” to suggest that the “element of space” in the Gerizim inscriptions should be seen as an expression of an independent Samaritan ethnic identity.44 Since Becking did not treat the inscriptions as consisting of two groups originating from different periods of the sanctuary’s history, he did not date this development specifically to the mid-2nd century.
In his 2014 discussion of the inscriptions, Kartveit, drawing on the work of social anthropologist Frederik Barth, argued that the definition of ethnicity used by Becking should be “accompanied by relational aspects: an ethnos receives identity also through identification of its friends and enemies.” Kartveit argued that the Gerizim inscriptions, together with the Samaritan inscriptions from Delos, provide evidence that “the [Samaritan] community had an identity centering on Mount Gerizim.” Furthermore, he suggested that the emphasis on Gerizim, expressed in the Gerizim inscriptions with the phrase “in this place,” shows how “Samaritan self-consciousness took shape by distancing itself from the Jewish position [regarding the primacy of the Jerusalem temple].”45
The case that the Samaritans were stressing the importance of Gerizim to differentiate themselves from the Jews is quite weak. It is based, ultimately, on the assumption that there was a long-standing rivalry and hostility between the Jerusalem-oriented Yahweh cult and the Gerizim-oriented Yahweh cult in the late 2nd century BCE. This assumption, however, appears to be based on the subsequent hostility between the communities, most vitriolically expressed in Josephus’s writings (see above). Schwartz has pointed out, however, that there is in fact strikingly little evidence for hostility in any contemporary evidence.46 He further argued that some of the evidence can, in fact, be interpreted in the opposite way. Eusebius quotes a certain Eupolemus, believed by some to be the same Eupolemus who was an ambassador of Judas Maccabee,47 as saying that the Samaritans assisted in the construction of the First Temple of Jerusalem.48 2 Maccabees 6:1–3, indeed, places the Hellenisation of the Jerusalem and the Gerizim temple side-by-side, suggesting that the act was blasphemous in both places (while the desecration of the Gerizim temple is blamed in the passage on those “inhabiting” (
We are left, then, with the observation that a feature of ethnicity is a concept of a shared homeland, and the conclusion that the sense of place in the Gerizim inscriptions (as expressed by the phrase “in this place” and introduction of place names) is, therefore, an expression of ethnic identity. This does not, however, actually explain much. The pertinent question is: if we accept Hutchinson and Smith’s theory of ethnicity, why was it the “shared homeland” aspect of ethnicity that was expressed in the Gerizim inscription and not other the aspects (“myths of a common ancestry,” “shared historical memories,” etc.50 )? Given the argument (made above) that this sense of place was only introduced in a later phase of production, we might also wonder if there were any factors which might have prompted an increased sense of territorial consciousness during this period.
5.3 Administrative and Territorial History of Hellenistic Samaria
It is certainly true that ethnic rivalries often take on a spatial dimension and focus on competing claims about the boundaries of “homelands.” Scholars have developed helpful models which have defined and refined the idea of a “homeland” into a useful sociological and historical category. In 1992, the American cultural and historical geographer Richard L. Nostrand proposed that a “homeland” had three necessary features: “a people, a place, and [a feeling of] identity with [the] place.” To put it another way, a homeland is a place with which a people emotionally identify. In a series of subsequent essays co-written with ethnic geographer Lawrence E. Estraville, “homeland” was instead defined by five factors: “a people, place, bonding with place, control of, and time.” In this formulation, a homeland is a place with which a people had bonded because they have had some control over it (as owners, or farmers, or citizens) for a significant period of time.51 While this is open to various objections, it seems a good general definition for the purposes of this article.
The intuition that one’s homeland is “at the centre” of the world and even the cosmos recurs across multiple human communities. The French traditionalist philosopher René Guénon argued in 1926 that the idea of ‘centrality’ has a virtually universal symbolic importance as the point of departure and return for all journeys (spiritual, intellectual, or physical): “est à la fois le principe et la fin de toutes choses.”52 Hence, as the geographer Yi-Fu Tuan argued, the idea of a territorial centre is often tied up with a notion of a “temporal origin.”53 Tuan also observed that a great many historical and modern cultures have the impression not only that their territory is in the centre of the world, but also that it is physically elevated above other countries (he cites Mongol nomads, Rabbinic Judaism, Islam, and 19th century Britain).54 In short, the idea that one’s homeland is central, ancient, and elevated is shared by a range of human populations. When placed in this broader human context, the Jewish claims that Jerusalem is “in the middle of the nations, with countries all around it,” and that Mount Zion is the “highest mountain” and the point from which the Torah will spread out and to which people will congregate (Micah 4:1–2), are clearly unexceptional. We might expect, therefore, that when a group identifies a threat to the (ideological, economic, cultural, religious) integrity of its homeland, it might perceive this also as a threat to its own identity.
With these theoretical considerations in mind, I believe that we can begin to piece together a new potential explanation for the introduction of geographical content in the later Gerizim inscriptions by considering the administrative history of the region. Under the Persians, the region was a part of the enormous Trans-Euphrates satrapry. The status of the region during the Hellenistic period is somewhat obscure, though several scholars have made valiant efforts at reconstruction. Under the Ptolemies, Samaria appears to have been a part of the large (K
The Maccabean Revolt was a major turning point in the territorial history of Samaria. The new Hasmonean state was expansionist. A moment of particular significance from 145 BCE is recorded in 1 Macc 11:34, in which the Seleucids transfer territory from Samaria to Judea: “
The forfeiture of a few portions of Samaria was probably not a great material loss for the Seleucid empire: as discussed above, Samaria was not an especially wealthy or productive region. To the people living in Samaria, however, the loss of three districts represented an unprecedented affront to their territorial integrity. The Samaritans certainly had, to revisit the definition of homeland introduced above, a historic connection to these territories (which they had held for several centuries), and as such the loss of land was a threat to their ethnic, as well as territorial, integrity. This seems to be the relevant context for the geographical and place-centred content of the later Gerizim inscriptions. With the territorial integrity of Samaria compromised for the first time, the Samaritan consciousness of their own homeland became particularly urgent: so much so that it found physical presence in the inscriptions at Gerizim. If, as seems likely given their consistency, the temple authorities were involved in regulating the inscriptions, it is even possible that the introduction of place-names and the phrase “in this place” is an organised statement of resistance.
6 Conclusions
This article has aimed to contribute to scholarly debates surrounding space and ethnicity in the Hellenistic Hebrew and Aramaic inscriptions from Mount Gerizim.
Firstly, the article argued that the Gerizim inscriptions were produced in two groups, one earlier and one later, which can be differentiated by their script, style, content. It was suggested that the first group was likely to have been produced in the early 2nd century BCE, and that the second group was produced in the mid-2nd century BCE. It was also noted that the second group appeared to feature a greater emphasis on space, as demonstrated through the phrase “in this place” and the mention of geographical place-names.
Secondly, after exploring some other scholarly treatments of the spatial dimension of the Samaritan inscriptions and considering the concepts of “homeland” and “ethnicity,” it was suggested that the sense of space which appears in the later group of inscriptions may be a consequence of territorial losses which were imposed following the Maccabean Revolt.
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Nostrand, Richard. The Hispano Homeland. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1992.
Nostrand, Richard, and Lawrence Estraville. Homelands: A Geography of Culture and Place Across America. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002.
Pummer, Reinhard. Early Christian Authors on Samaritans and Samaritanism: Texts, Translations, and Commentary. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002.
Pummer, Reinhard. “Was There an Altar or a Temple in the Sacred Precinct on Mt. Gerizim?” JSJ 47.1 (2016): 1–21.
Savignac, Raphaël. “Le sanctuaire d’allat a iram.” Revue Biblique 42 (1933): 405–422.
Schwartz, Seth. “John Hyrcanus I’s Destruction of the Gerizim Temple and Judaean- Samaritan Relations.” Jewish History 7 (1993): 9–25.
Southwood, Katherine. Ethnicity and the Mixed Marriage Crisis in Ezra 9–10: An Anthropological Approach. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012.
Tuan, Yi-Fu. Topophilia. New York: Columbia University Press, 1974.
Williams, Raymond. Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society. New York: Oxford University Press, 1983
There are live debates about whether it is more appropriate to refer to the Yahwist inhabitants of Judea as ‘Jews’ or ‘Judeans’ (see e.g., Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness 104–105; Mason, Jews, Judaeans, Judaizing, Judaism; Boyarin “Gab es in der griechisch-römischen Epoche ein ‘Judentum’?”), and parallel debates regarding the terms ‘Samaritans’ and ‘Samarians’ (see e.g., Pummer, Early Christian Authors, 1–2; Karveit, Origin of the Samaritans, 5–10). Since resolving this issue is beyond the scope of this article, for the sake of legibility I have adopted the terms ‘Jews’ and ‘Samaritans’, which remains the most common practice in scholarly publications at the time of writing.
Josephus, Ant. 9.278–79, 288–91, 11.302, 306–12. Josephus appears to have been heavily influenced by 2 Kgs 17.
A number of the earlier works discussing the Samaritans, including Sir 50:25–26, Jub 30 and T. Levi, are commenting on the events of Genesis 34, which describes the destruction of Shechem, a major city in Samaria. One particularly hostile Jewish source dealing with the Samaritans is the so-called Prayer of Joseph found at Qumran. For a more detailed discussion, see Karveit, Origin of the Samaritans, 109–202.
It is unclear if this sacred precinct included an actual temple building, despite the suggestions of the excavators in Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume II. For further discussion, see Pummer, “Was There an Altar?”.
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I; Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume II.
Several dozen Greek inscriptions have also been found at Gerizim, a handful of which are from the same period, but most of these have not yet been published and so cannot be discussed in any detail at present: see Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 13; Magen, The Samaritans, 231–40; and, for some Byzantine inscriptions in Greek, Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 247. Several Medieval Hebrew inscriptions (nos 392–5) were also found at the site. Three additional Aramaic inscriptions were discovered outside the sacred precinct, each containing only one word of uncertain meaning: nos. 347–8 were found on rollers, no. 373 on a heavily damaged irregular stone block.
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 16.
Major studies include (but are not limited-to) Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions; Gudme, Before the God in this Place; Kartveit, “Samaritan Self-Consciousness”; Gudme, “Permanent and Passing Words.”
Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume II, 143.
Josephus, Ant. 13.254–57, J.W. 1:62; Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 12–13.
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 3: “the inhabitants were unable to erect defensive walls around the city in time when John Hyrcanus I besieged it, and therefore build a massive array of walls and obstacles in the city’s streets and alleys, turning every house into a fortified position.” For coins of Alexander Zabinas, see Magen, Bijovsky, and Tzionit, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume 3, 151–53.
No. 223, built into the monumental staircase on the eastern slope.
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 14.
Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume II, 228.
Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume II, 68–73.
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 14.
The editio princeps originally referred to these three scripts as the “lapidary,” “paleo-Jewish,” and Neo-Hebrew scripts respectively. The names used here, which are clearer and more in line with standard epigraphic scholarship, are from Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions, 5.
Nos. 382–488 are in the Paleo-Hebrew script, no. 389. is mixed. The remainder are all Aramaic, though a few show signs of Paleo-Hebrew influence on the letter-forms (e.g. no. 153).
Those in the monumental script are: nos. 1–5, 17–21, 24, 26–33, 56, 65–75, 78, 100–103, 138, 172, 199–201, 208, 209, 220–25, 242–53 and 270. Those in unidentified Aramaic script are: nos. 115, 174, 177, 178, 202, 205–207, 239, 254–59, 307–25, 332, 333, 335, 336, 338–43, 345, 346, 349–72, 374–81. The remainder are in the cursive script.
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 16.
Gudme, Before the God in this Place, 72–73.
The earliest was Naveh and Magen, “Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions of the Second- Century BCE at Mount Gerizim,” 13*. For counter-arguments see Gudme, Before the God in this Place, 85–89.
Naveh, “Graffiti and Dedications”; Kartveit, “Samaritan Self-Consciousness,” 458–65.
Healey, “May He be Remembered”; Gudme, “Out of Sight, Out of Mind?,” 6–7. The phrase appears in the Hebrew Bible Ps 8:5, Gen 8:1, Gen 30:22, 1 Sam 1:19. To not be remembered by YHWH in Ps 88:6, conversely, is to be like the dead.
A wide range of examples are assembled in the Gudme, Before God in this Place, 101–132. For Nabataean inscriptions see: Savignac, “Le Sanctuaire d’Allat,” nos. 3,5 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 21, and 22. For Palmyrene inscriptions see: Hillers and Cussini, Palmyrene Aramaic Texts, nos. 0017, 0060, 0207, 0319, 0320, 0333, 0339, 0346, 0347, 0408, 0448, 0449, 0451, 0454, 1081, 1085, 1086, 1087, 1089, 1120, 1432, 1433, 1435, 1451, 1455, 1499, 1500, 1501, 1546, 1558, 1564, 1565, 1569, 1592, 1625, 1666, 1670, 1677, 1680, 1681, 1687, 1692, 1694, 1695, 1706, 1712, 1717, 1719, 1721, 1722, 1723, 1726, 1731, 1732, 1734, 1741, 1743, 1744, 1745, 1917, 1918, 1919, 2632, 2730, 2731, 2734, 2752, 2758, 2773, 2810, 2814 and 2831.
Kartveit, “Samaritan Self-Consciousness.”
The closest parallels identified by Kartveit were “
Appearing in nos. 3, 7, 8, 11, 12, 14, 15, 17, 36, 39 and 76. See Kartveit, “Samaritan Self-Consciousness,” 465–66.
First in Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 13–4. A far more detailed case is made in Dušek (2012) 5–59, wherein the palaeography of the Gerizim inscriptions is compared to a wide range of Aramaic inscriptions from the 5th to the 2nd centuries BCE.
Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume II, 170–1; Dušek, “Administration of Samaria,” 81; Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions, 59; Magen, Bijovsky, and Tzionit, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume III, 91–95.
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 41.
Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions, 36.
Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions, 59.
Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions, 40–43.
Popular names are well represented: Yehonatan (6 times), Yehosef/Yosef (6 times), Ḥanina/Ḥonyah (4 times), Shim‘on (4 times), Yishmae‘l (3 times), Yehoḥanan (2 times). See Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 25–27; Ilan, “Names of the Hasmoneans.”
Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations Volume I, 25–27.
Kartveit, The Origin of the Samaritans, 212.
These (and the Greek names they contain) are: nos. 9 (Antipatros), 10 (Alexander), 11 (Apellemos), 13 (Pallames), 38 (Dostas), 50 (Antipatros), 54 (Mathias), 55 (Ploutas), 62 (Tryphon), 63 (Apellas), 83 (Pl[outas?]), 148 (Jason), 156 (Lykias), 157 (Ploutas), 296 (Antipatros).
We know of an extensive Samaritan disapora. The Samaritan community in Delos is attested by epigraphic evidence; see Kartveit, “Samaritan Self-Consciousness.” Another significant Samaritan diaspora existed in Egypt. Josephus, Ant. 13.74–79 describes a dispute between Jews and Samaritans in Alexandria during the reign of Ptolemy VI Philomet0r (180–145 BCE).
These (and the place names they contain) are: nos. 3 (Kfar), 7 (Yoqeme’am), 8 (‘Avarta), 11 (Ṭura Ṭaba), 12 (Shechem), 14 (Samaria), 15 (Samaria), 36 (Shechem), 39 (Shechem), 76 (Mabartha).
Nos. 161, 233, 291, 389.
McLean, An Introduction to Greek Epigraphy, 13.
Becking, “Is There a Samaritan Identity”; cf. Hutchinson and Smith, Ethnicity, 6. A sense of homeland is considered an important feature of an ethnic group in most mainstream academic definitions: see Castree et al., A Dictionary of Human Geography; Hiebert, “Ethnicity.”
Kartveit, “Samaritan Self-Consciousness”; cf. Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries.
Schwartz, “John Hyrcanus I’s Destruction,” 12–13.
Holladay, Fragments from Hellenistic Jewish Authors, Volume 1, 99 nn. 5 and 6.
Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelica 9.33.1.
Even before the 2nd century BCE, ethnic tensions between Jews and Samaritans are difficult to identify in our sources. Texts before the Persian period do not speak in terms of ‘Judeans’ and ‘Samarians’, and Kartveit is probably correct in his suggestion that “the search for the origin of the Samaritans cannot profitably move very far behind the construction of the [Samaritan] temple” during the Achaemenid period (Kartveit, The Origin of the Samaritans, 212.). A handful of controversial passages from the Persian period (such as 2 Kgs 17, Zech 11:14, and Jos 24) may potentially be indicative of a breakdown of ethnic ties between the two regions. It is not until the Hellenistic period, however, that we encounter unambiguous expressions of anti-Samaritan feeling, such as the 4Q Narrative and Poetic Composition and Sirach 50:25–26. The vitriol expressed in these earlier Hellenistic texts, however, does not appear to be reflected in Hasmonean-era sources.
Hutchinson and Smith, Ethnicity, 6.
Nostrand, The Hispano Homeland, 214; Nostrand and Estraville, Homelands, xvii–xxi.
Guénon, “L’idée du Centre.”
Tuan, Topophilia, 126.
Tuan, Topophilia, 38–40, 149–50.
For
Abel, Les livres des Macabées, 55; Avi-Yonah, The Holy Land, 48; Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions, 70.
Appelbaum, Shimon, and Safrai, “The Towers of Samaria”; Dar, Landscape and Pattern, 120–22.
