Write That They May Read: Studies in Literacy and Textualization in the Ancient Near East and in the Hebrew Scriptures:Essays in Honour of Professor Alan R. Millard

By Pickwick Publications

Write That They May Read is a collection of essays written in honor of our mentor, friend, and fellow scholar, Professor Alan R. Millard. Respectful of his contribution to our understanding of writing and literacy in the ancient biblical world, all the essays deal with some aspect of this issue, ranging in scope from archeological artifacts that need to be "read," to early evidence of writing in Israel's world, to the significance of reading and writing in the Bible, including God's own literacy, to the production of books in the ancient world, and the significance of metaphorical branding of God's people with his name. The contributors are distributed among Professor Millard's peers and colleagues in a variety of institutions, his own students, and students of his students. They represent a variety of disciplines including biblical archeology, Egyptology, Assyriology, Hebrew and other Northwest Semitic texts, and the literature of the Bible, and reside in North America, Japan, the United Kingdom, Denmark, and Germany.

Write That They May Read contains contributions by:

Section 1: Artifacts and Minimalist Literacy

1. "See That You May Understand": Artifact Literacy--The Twin-cup Libation Vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa

Gerald Klingbeil, Research Professor of Old Testament and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Andrews University

Martin Klingbeil, Professor of Biblical Studies and Archaeology, and Associate Director, Institute of Archaeology Southern Adventist University

2. Ketiv-Qere: The Writing and Reading of EA 256 and Its Place in Reflecting the Realia of Power and Polity in the LBA-IA Golan and Peripheries

Timothy M. Crow, Senior Lecturer in History, University of Akron; Professional Fellow Old Testament, Ashland Theological Seminary

3. Another Inscribed Arrowhead in the British Museum

Terrence C. Mitchell†. Former Keeper of Western Asiatic Antiquities, The British Museum, London, England

4. Earliest Literary Allusions to Homer and the Pentateuch from Ischia in Italy and Jerusalem

Paul J. N. Lawrence, Translation Consultant, Summer Institute of Linguistics International

5. The Etymology of Hebrew lōg and the Identity of Shavsha the Scribe

Yoshiyuki Muchiki, Professor of Biblical Theology, Japan Bible Seminary, Tokyo

Section 2: Artifacts and Official Literacy

6. The Writing/Reading of the Stone Tablet Covenant in the Light of the Writing/Reading/Hearing of the Silver Tablet Treaty

Gordon Johnston, Professor of Old Testament, Dallas Theological Seminary

7. For Whose Eyes? The Divine Origins and Function of the Two Tablets of the Israelite Covenant

Daniel I. Block, Gunther H. Knoedler Professor Emeritus of Old Testament, Wheaton College

8. Write That They May Judge? Applying Written Law in Biblical Israel

Jonathan Burnside, Professor of Biblical Law, Law School, University of Bristol.

9. "And Samuel Wrote in the Book" (1 Samuel 10:25) and His Apology in First Samuel 1-15

Wolfgang Ertl, Dozent am Bibelseminar Bonn, Bornheim/Germany; Associate Professor of Old Testament, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary

10. "For the one who will read it aloud will be able to run with it" (Habakkuk 2:2c)

David Toshio Tsumura, Professor of Old Testament, Japan Bible Seminar

Section 3: The Rise of Literary Literacy

11. The History and Pre-History of the Hebrew Language in the West Semitic Literary Tradition

Richard E. Averbeck, Professor of Old Testament and Semitic Languages, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School

12. Divine Action in the Hebrew Bible: "Borrowing" from Ancient Near Eastern Cultures and "Inspiration"

C. John Collins, Professor of Old Testament, Covenant Theological Seminary

13. Encoding and Decoding Culture

Jens Bruun Kofoed, Professor of Old Testament, Fjellhaug International University College,

14. No Books, No Authors: Literary Production in a Hearing-Dominant Culture

John H. Walton, Professor of Old Testament, Wheaton College

15. The Discovery of the Book of the Law in 2 Kings 22:8-10 in the L

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pickwick Publications
• Release date: Jul 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781725252097

Book preview

Introduction

Daniel I. Block

In 2005 Alan R. Millard’s faculty colleagues and friends with connections to the University of Liverpool produced a deserved volume in his honor, Writing and Ancient Near Eastern Society.³ The volume publishes the papers presented at a public colloquium in Liverpool in April 2003, along with several additional invited papers by his friends. David Tsumura (a contributor to this volume) and I had the honor of contributing an essay to that worthy effort. In the opening line to the preface to that volume the editors write, Alan Ralph Millard epitomizes the rounded, ‘holistic’ scholar, bringing together expertise in Semitic languages, archaeology and biblical studies, and never allowing himself to become a narrow specialist. They conclude the preface on this laudatory note: As a scholar, teacher, colleague and friend he has always been careful, considered, objective, wide-ranging, generous—and an inspiration.⁴ The contributors to this volume as well as his friends and peers around the globe, agree with this assessment.

Driven by his boyhood interest in British archaeology and ancient coins, his firm Christian faith, and the inspiration of the Assyriologist, Donald J. Wiseman, Alan enrolled at Oxford University to study Semitics under Godfrey Rolles Driver. After completing his studies at Oxford Alan spent a year in the Middle East, exploring museums and in situ remains of ancient sites, he worked in the Western Asiatic Department at the British Museum in London, honing his research skills and preparing for what lay ahead. This assignment turned out to be extremely significant, for while he was at the Museum two large Old Babylonian tablets containing significant segments of the Atraḫasīs Epic came to light. Working in concert with W. G. Lambert, these two Assyriologists published what has become the standard edition of the Epic.⁵ After his work in the Museum, Alan moved to Cambridge, where he served for seven years as Librarian at Tyndale House. In 1970, he succeeded William Martin as the Rankin Lecturer in Hebrew and Ancient Semitic Languages, and as a reward for his stellar professional performance was named Rankin Professor of Hebrew and Ancient Semitic Languages and Honorary Senior Fellow (Ancient Near East), at the School of Archaeology, Classics and Egyptology in the University of Liverpool. During his Liverpool tenure he remained active in the archaeological enterprise, participating in excavations in Syria and Iraq and serving as epigraphist for the work conducted at Qadesh on the Orontes (Tell Nebi Mend) under the direction of Peter Parr. Alan retired from his post at the University of Liverpool in 2003, and shortly thereafter he and Margaret moved to Leamington Spa to be nearer his children.

Although Professor Millard is respected worldwide as a foremost Assyriologist, he has also distinguished himself as an epigraphist and student of writing and literacy in the ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern world.⁶ For decades many have looked to Alan as the Dean of Christian scholars, who not only are determined to read the Hebrew Bible within the cultural contexts in which these texts were produced and in the light of the first audiences to which they were addressed, but who also treat the Hebrew Bible along with the New Testament as their authority for life and practice.

The title of this volume draws on a formulaic refrain that punctuates the discourse of Deuteronomy: Read that they may hear, that they may learn, that they may fear, that they may obey, that they may live (e.g., Deut 17:18; 31:11–12). Meanwhile, in the back of our minds we also hear Paul’s series of rhetorical questions in Rom 10:14–15. Write that they may read, responds to the question, How shall they read, unless someone write? In this volume each essayist examines some significant aspect of writing and reading within their respective areas of expertise.

Scholars debate the extent of literacy in the ancient Near East in general and ancient Israel in particular. Because literary texts did not circulate widely there was little need in Iron Age Israel for widespread literacy, especially if by the term we mean the ability both to compose and to read literary compositions. However, with the invention of a twenty-two-letter alphabet by northwestern Semites, rudimentary facility with reading and writing became possible for many.

A minimalist literacy assumes individuals’ ability to read names (as in documents stamped with seals), records of economic transactions, and transcribed blessings and curses. At the same time, we observe in Israel and the surrounding world an official literacy that was of a different order. From the beginnings of the United Monarchy under David (2 Sam 8:17; cf. 1 Chr 18:16), scribes were significant figures in royal courts, recording achievements of monarchs (e.g., 1 Kgs 11:41; etc.), and undoubtedly preparing royal correspondence. Second Samuel 11 presupposes a modicum of literacy for David, who wrote a letter, and Joab, his general, who received it. However, these royal scribes apparently did not have a monopoly on official correspondence. In Israel and elsewhere we learn of prophets who also kept records of courtly affairs (1 Chr 29:27, etc.), and whose prophetic pronouncements were recorded (Jer 36; Hab 2:2).

The production of more complex literary texts represented a third stage in the development of literacy. According to Deut 31:9–13, Moses transcribed the addresses he had delivered on the Plains of Moab and called for the reading of this document at the Festival of Sukkoth every seven years. Second Kings 22 records the discovery of a scroll in the temple, which Huldah the prophet read to King Josiah, who immediately accepted it as authoritative. The documents we call the books of the Hebrew Bible attest to a sophisticated level of literacy in ancient Israel by at least a few.

Many of the essays in this volume touch on literacy in the ancient Near East generally. While they focus on the evidence for and expression of literacy in ancient Israel, they seek to interpret biblical texts against the backdrop of writing and literacy in the broader world. Some contributions are comprehensive in scope and synthetic in nature, but most involve exploration of particular kinds of texts, which in this context we may refer to as literary fragments. Indeed, the chapters have been organized according to the levels of literacy identified above.

Although issues of textualization and literacy hold this volume together, the essays themselves seek to fulfil several different aims. We usually associate the hermeneutical enterprise with texts. However, if the proper understanding of texts requires sound principles of interpretation, the same applies to artifacts that lack textual inscriptions. Archaeologists have discovered several inscribed artifacts at Khirbet Qeiyafa. With the twin-cup libation vessels recently unearthed there as their examples, Gerald and Martin Klingbeil explore how uninscribed objects may inform our understanding of cultic practices. As is the case with texts, these objects call us to move from seeing to understanding. Aided by an inscribed clay tablet (EA 256), in a related vein, Timothy Crow discusses the relative values of written texts and material texts in understanding the transition from LBA to the Iron Age in the Golan Yarmuk region of the Levant.

Involving the most rudimentary level of literacy, the late T. C. Mitchell discusses a previously unpublished inscribed arrowhead in the British Museum’s collection of literary artifacts. Dated to the mid-eleventh century BC, this commemorative Phoenician artifact adds to our limited collection of alphabetic texts from the second millennium and presupposes minimalist literacy by the owner and/or those to whom he might have shown it.

Intertextuality is an important subtheme of writing and literacy. Biblical scholars usually think of intertextuality as an inner-biblical issue. This is how Eaton treats it in her later intertextual analysis of Josh 24:2–13 and Ps 81:7–14[ET 6–13] (Chap 18). She explores the significance of the contexts in which recitals of Israel’s sacred history are embedded for the respective portrayal of that history. Using the relationship between an eighth-century BC cup bearing the inscription, Nestor’s Cup, and Homer’s description of Nestor’s chalice in Iliad 11.632–37 as a foil, Lawrence considers the relationship between the Ketef Hinnom Amulets I and II (IAA 1980–1496; IAA 1980–1495) and several biblical texts to which they appear to allude. The characterization of God as one who [keeps] the covenant and steadfast-love towards those who love [him] [and] those who keep [his commandments] in the first amulet links this seventh to sixth century inscription to quotations preserved in Deut 7:9; Neh 1:5; and Dan 9:4. The inscription of the Priestly blessing in the latter echoes the Priestly Blessing in Num 6:24–25. Lawrence concludes that, just as the inscription on the Ischian cup presupposes the Homeric text, the amulets allude to texts or theological expressions that were known when the amulets were created.

Muchiki’s lexical work on the unit of measurement known in Leviticus as lōg (לֹג) and the name Shavsha (‎שַׁוְשָׁא) in 1 Chr 18:16 illustrates the challenge of communicating in one language what is at home in another. Muchiki demonstrates that while the latter is a personal name, both expressions originate in Egypt. He concludes that the presence of an Egyptian scribe in David’s court reflects the influence Egyptian skills in writing had on Israel’s royal court from the tenth century. He also suggests that Egyptian involvement in David’s administration supports the view that the composition of literary texts was common in Israel from the early first millennium BC.

As noted above, in Section 2 the attention shifts to the importance of texts in official documents. The first and second essays in this section employ extra-biblical sources to assist in the interpretation of official biblical texts. Since Mendenhall, many scholars have recognized that the structural features of Israelite covenant texts in the Pentateuch were closer to late second millennium BC Hittite treaty texts than later Neo-Assyrian exemplars of this genre. However, the geographic and cultural distance between the two societies challenges the assumptions of influence from the Hittites in the Pentateuch. After demonstrating that versions of the Hittite-Egyptian Silver Tablet Treaty between Hattusili III and Ramesses II (ca. 1259 BC) were engraved on the walls of temples in Karnak and Thebes for the sake of public reading, Johnston proposes that the public display of this text provided a means by which scribal activities of Hittite and Egyptian culture might have influenced the literary production of the Hebrew covenant.

Against the background of the ancient Hittite and Neo-Assyrian convention of depositing treaty documents in the presence of the parties’ respective deities, Block investigates the significance of Israel’s storage of the tablets of the Decalogue inside the ark of the covenant in the Holy of Holies. While the contents of the tablets were readily memorized and could easily have been recited in covenant renewal contexts, apparently the stone tablets themselves were never used in public. Given the narrative setting for the creation of the tablets, deposited before YHWH these two tablets symbolized YHWH’s role as guarantor of Israel’s fidelity to him and his own irrevocable commitment to his people.

In his essay on interpreting Israel’s legal documents embedded in the Pentateuchal narratives, Burnside joins other recent interpreters in exposing the fallacies of prevailing legislative or semantic readings of the commands and arguing for an alternative narrative approach. He concludes, Although biblical law is, for us, exclusively presented in written form, it bears the marks of its interaction with an oral-based culture. It is these interiorized narratives, dominant images and social stereotypes that determine its meaning and shape its judgements.

As a prophet and the divinely appointed kingmaker, Samuel’s written texts seem to represent official documents. Against the background of writing and literacy in the ancient Levant, Ertl argues that could Samuel not only have written the rights and duties of the kingship (‎מִשְׁפַּט הַמְּלֻכָה, 1 Sam 10:25) on a scroll and deposited the document before the God, but also that he could have composed 1 Sam 1–15 and parts of 16–19 as well. Exploring a different genre of biblical text, with his analysis of Hab 2:2, Tsumura clarifies the role of writing in Habakkuk’s prophetic service.

Ertl’s essay has already introduced the notion of the third level of literacy, the production of larger and more complex literary documents (Section 3). Averbeck sets the stage for the discussions that follow by considering the differences between cuneiform and alphabetic writing systems. He concludes that not only were the language and literature of the Hebrew Bible linked to their broader West Semitic linguistic and literary context, but their origins may date to the Late Bronze and Early Iron Ages.

Although discussions of the origin of Israelite laws often focus on their relationship with ancient Near Eastern law codes and assume some sort of borrowing, the essays by Collins and Kofoed highlight the importance of reading the biblical laws in the light of the narratives in which they are embedded. This yields a more nuanced and distinctive view of their functions and sets the stage for a more theological understanding of their origins and their roles in shaping society.

Even though (or perhaps because) the books that make up the Hebrew Bible provide little information on their genesis, scholars have been preoccupied with questions of date and authorship. Walton observes that while elements within the compositions of the prophetic books (for example) may derive from the prophets themselves, the process whereby they became books is obscure. Accordingly, he appeals to interpreters to find the purposes of biblical compositions in analyses that focus on their genre, literary structure, rhetorical strategy, and discourse features. Only when we understand the Bible as literature will we understand its truth claims or its theology.

The following two essays explore two widely divergent issues related to the book of Deuteronomy as an authoritative written composition. Hoffmeier examines the significance of the moment in the life of Josiah when his workers discovered the Torah scroll (which many understand to contain some of what became the book of Deuteronomy) in the Temple in the light of accounts of the discoveries of treasured ancient documents in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Based on these analogues he suggests that 1 Kgs 22 portrays Deuteronomy as an ancient work, rather than a new composition written to energize Josiah’s religious reforms. Deuel’s primary concern is not the origin of the book of Deuteronomy, but rather its function as an authoritative document written to shape Israelite society according to the divinely revealed norms of YHWH’s covenant with his people.

Continuing the interpretation of ancient literary texts within the context of the ancient Near Eastern literary and theological world, Lucas finds in the Mesopotamian Uruk Prophecy a helpful foil for considering messianic texts in the Hebrew Bible. He demonstrates that while the latter share some features with portrayals of the savior king in the former, the development of a robust messianic hope in Israel was grounded in the Davidic covenant and confidence in the God who gave it to his people. He concludes with a review of the realization of this messianic hope in the New Testament.

As already noted, Eaton’s essay on Joshua 24 and Psalm 81 explores how two different texts shape common traditions for their own distinctive purposes.

Section 4 contains two essays that involve the metaphorical use of reading and interpreting. Against the backdrop of inscribed seals, Imes investigates the significance of bearing the name of YHWH (Exod 20:7; Deut 5:11). She argues that by sealing Israel with his name YHWH claimed them as his covenant people. Wells abstracts the textual metaphor even more; by reading a person’s eyes one gains access to their disposition. The metaphorical and/or metonymical usage of the eye in Deuteronomy has significant implications for interpreting similar usage in the rest of Israel’s legal material.

The final section consists of two reflective pieces. In a review essay, Hess offers a helpful window into the current state of scholarship, which is heavily influenced by postmodernism. He exposes the bias of many who have rejected some of his and Alan Millard’s conclusions regarding the levels of literacy in ancient Israel. Many honorary volumes of this nature include a detailed bibliography of the honoree. Yamauchi, a long-time friend and professional colleague of the honoree, concludes this collection with a special bibliographic tribute, classifying his published works by topical and thematic categories, and reflecting on the significance of Millard’s wide-ranging scholarship in our understanding of the ancient Near Eastern cultural world, Assyriology, and biblical studies.

3

. Piotr Bienkowski, Christopher Mee, and Elizabeth Slater, eds., Writing and the Ancient Near Eastern Society: Papers in Honour of Alan R. Millard, LHBOTS

425

(London: T. & T. Clark,

2005

).

4

. Writing in Ancient Near Eastern Society,

7

–

8

.

5

. Atra-Ḫasīs: The Babylonian Story of the Flood (Oxford: Oxford University Press,

1969

; reprinted Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns,

1999

; with W. G. Lambert), and The Eponyms of the Assyrian Empire

910

–

612

B.C., SAA 11 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns,

1994

).

6

. In addition to many technical essays on writing and literacy in the ancient world, see for example, Reading and Writing in the Time of Jesus (New York: NYU Press,

2000

).

Section 1

Artifacts and Minimalist Literacy

1

See That You May Understand

Artifact Literacy and the Twin-Cup Libation Vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa

¹

Gerald A. Klingbeil and Martin G. Klingbeil

Abstract

Every time we look at an ancient artifact, especially one associated with the cult or cultic practices, we instinctively embark on the mental path from the object to texts (biblical and extra-biblical) and images (textual and iconographic), searching for associations that are evoked by the artifact. In this study, we will take the discovery of two rare twin-cup libation vessels at Khirbet Qeiyafa in 2009 and 2011 as our point of departure as we test artifact literacy. How does an artifact inform our knowledge of specific cult practices? How can the interpreter move from seeing to understanding? In this case, the artifact guides the way via texts and images to meaning.

Introduction: Excavating Meaning

The moment an object comes to light in any archaeological excavation, several cognitive processes—beyond the general excitement of volunteers and staff—begin in the excavator’s mind. This is especially the case when the site and/or object are in some way relatable to the biblical text² and the excavator has an interest in such connections.³ Of course, there is an immediate need to identify and process the object in terms of its find category (e.g., pottery, metal/stone object, inscription, artwork, bone, etc.), its digital recording (creating GIS-driven datasets and images),⁴ and interdisciplinary treatment (anthropology, architecture, geology, paleobotany, metallurgy, computer science, statistics, etc.).⁵

However, beyond that taxonomic and descriptive process, which is informed by current archaeological methodologies, the question of meaning arises almost instantaneously when we begin to read the object thus requiring what could be termed artifact literacy. In this case artifact literacy refers to the ability to interpret the artifact beyond the archaeological interpretation on the basis of texts (biblical and extra-biblical) and images (literary and iconographic). The reading of an artifact is thus subject to hermeneutic principles as much as is the decoding of the meaning of a biblical text or an image, which will concern us in more detail below.⁶ It is an interactive process that uses the artifact as the point of departure while meaning is excavated through comparative material with the objective to move from seeing to understanding—not just the object, but also its usage at the site, its integration into the wider material culture of ancient Israel, and the underlying worldview of the society that produced the artifact. This in turn may provide additional clues concerning the ethnicity of the inhabitants of the site under question and a further understanding of Israel in biblical times.

While much has been written about ethnoarchaeology within the context of processual archaeology, from the perspective of biblical studies, the archaeological endeavor still needs to be concerned with the question of Israel and/or versus the nations, even if this notion appears overly simplistic and parochial.⁷ This is particularly true for the realm of cultic activity that implicitly creates a group identity, a notion of insiders and outsiders, those who participate in a ritual and those who do not or who are barred from doing so. Hopefully, the times when archaeologists identified an artifact as cultic for lack of any other identification are in the past,⁸ and archaeologists have established criteria for the recognition of cultic contexts and objects.⁹ Nevertheless, cult or the archaeology of religion still remains at the top of the interest list for archaeologists, as it reaches to the deepest levels of ancient worldviews, and, incidentally, also creates a link to biblical studies. The artifacts or cultic paraphernalia thus point to the associated ritual and the underlying religious system and worldview, which in terms of biblical studies, can open a wide window into the world of the Hebrew Bible.¹⁰

Moving from Generalities to Specifics

During the 2009 and 2011 seasons at Khirbet Qeiyafa, a site overlooking the Elah Valley in the Shephelah, which has provided substantial material evidence for the chronology of the tenth century BCE and the expansion of the Judean kingdom under a central administration,¹¹ excavators found the fragmented remains of two similarly shaped libation vessels. Both were found in cultic contexts (Figs. 1.1 and 1.2).¹² The first libation vessel was found during the 2009 excavation season in Area C in a private cultic room (Room G in Building C3), and the second in 2011 in Area D in a public cultic area (Room A of Building D100).¹³ The cultic context of the artifacts was clearly discernible with a number of cultic installations and paraphernalia near the objects. The fragmented libation vessel from Area C was found close to a limestone basin (upside down and broken). Furthermore, there was a north-facing bench, two standing stones (מַצֵּבוֹת), a sink-hole connecting to a drainage system, an offering table, a rectangular and rounded installation, and a basalt altar (also broken).¹⁴ Further finds in this room included a Judean conoid seal with a lion attacking an animal,¹⁵ as well as a scarab depicting Amun with two falcon-headed deities.¹⁶ The libation vessel from Area D was unearthed in a similar context as part of a public cultic area described as the gate-piazza sanctuary by the excavators, based on its proximity to the western gate of Khirbet Qeiyafa (Fig. 1.3). Cultic paraphernalia included a bench, a standing stone (מַצֵּבָה),¹⁷ and a deposit of three iron blades, which were interpreted by the excavators as weapons, possibly the earliest attestations of a Judahite curved sword.¹⁸ Weapons in cultic context can also be found in the narratives of the Hebrew Bible (cf. 1 Sam 21:8–9).

Figure

1.1

: Drawing of Room G, Building C

3

, Area C, with cultic installations (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel (

2018

), Fig.

14.4

).

Figure

1.2

: Drawing of Room A, Building D100, Area D with cultic installations and objects (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

14.10

).

Figure

1.3

: Plan of Area D with the piazza and Building D

100

(Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

2.37

).

Figure

1.4

: Close-up of the libation vessel as found in Room G, Building C

3

, Area C (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

14.6

).

Figure

1.5

: Close-up of the libation vessel as found in Room A, Building D

100

, Area D (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

14.11

).

Both twin-cup libation vessels were broken in pieces (Figs. 1.4 and 1.5) similarly to various other cultic paraphernalia in their vicinity, which suggests that they were deliberately smashed when the site was destroyed. The vessel from Area C was restorable (Fig. 1.6) except for the necks and rims of the two cups, but their basic functional design was identical: two rounded cups that joined with each other and set on a high base with each one having an opening at the top and an internal connection between the two cups (Fig. 1.7). The vessel was associated with liquids (water, milk, wine, oil, or blood) and the internal connection would have allowed for a mixing of the liquid(s).¹⁹ It soon became apparent that the two twin-cup libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa were part of a very small group of comparable objects, all stemming from cultic contexts dated to the Iron Age (Fig. 1.8), namely from Tel Qiri in the Jezreel Valley (sanctuary of Stratum VIII; eleventh century BCE), Khirbat al-Mudayna in the Jordanian hill country (sanctuary near the city gate; eighth century BCE), and Tell Deir ʿAlla in the Jordan Valley (cultic context; eighth century BCE). The restricted geographic inland distribution of the objects disassociates these vessels from Canaanite and Philistine material culture.²⁰

Figure

1.6

: The libation vessel of Room G, Building C

3

, Area C, after restoration (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

14.7

).

Figure

1

.

7

: a. Libation vessel from Area C, Basket C

8826

; b. Libation vessel from Area D, Basket D

4239

(Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.1

).

Figure

1.8

: a. Iron Age libation vessel from Tel Qiri; b. Iron Age libation vessel from Khirbat al-Mudayna in Jordan; c. Iron Age libation vessel from Tell Deir ‘Alla (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.7

).

The excavations at Khirbet Qeiyafa yielded three sanctuaries with a large amount of cultic paraphernalia dated to the Iron Age IIA. Two gate plaza sanctuaries, i.e., cultic rooms adjacent to the open spaces close to the western and southern gates, and a cultic room in Area C in a house (Building C3) that was abutting the casemate wall. The combined accumulation of architectural features and installations (benches, platforms, offering tables, standing stones, sink-holes, basins, etc.), as well as the large amount of cultic paraphernalia (basalt altar, limestone basin, a gigantic cup-and-saucer type vessel, the two twin-cup vessels, chalices, a large pilgrim flask, portable shrines, etc.), clearly marked the rooms as cultic spaces, comparable with sanctuaries at other sites such as Tel Qiri, Megiddo, and Lachish.²¹

Furthermore, some of the cultic objects from Khirbet Qeiyafa have reshaped our understanding of cultic architecture in ancient Israel. The three shrine models, and among them especially the limestone portable shrine model with its recessed doorframes and triglyphs, have clarified details in the construction of the Solomonic temple as described in the Hebrew Bible.²² The state of preservation for the cultic paraphernalia at Khirbet Qeiyafa points to deliberate destruction when the Iron Age IIA phase came to an end, since a number of objects were broken, turned over, and their fragments scattered across the floors.²³ Other remarkable characteristics of the three sanctuaries at Khirbet Qeiyafa include (1) a certain hierarchy of locations with Building C10, the cultic room adjacent to the southern gate piazza, exhibiting a higher concentration of cultic installations and paraphernalia; (2) an absence of cult images, which, in line with other Israelite/Judean sites (e.g., Tel Qiri, Megiddo, and Lachish), and in contrast with Canaanite, Philistine, Moabite, and Edomite sites, could cautiously be connected to a practice of an early aniconic cult during the early Iron Age;²⁴ and (3) a preference for libation rituals, which is attested by the presence of basins and drainage systems in two of the three cultic rooms (Buildings C3 and C10), and a number of cultic vessels, of which the two twin-cup libation vessels discussed here, provide ample evidence,²⁵ creating a link to contemporary cult practices mentioned in the Hebrew Bible that include נְסָכִים, i.e., libation rituals (1 Sam 7:6).

After having introduced the specific reference point of this article (i.e., the two twin libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa), we return to the question of the hermeneutics of archaeology. While the architectural and artifact remains described above certainly meet the archaeological criteria for cultic activity outlined above, and have been interpreted by the excavators as such, not just on a functional but also worldview level, the question arises, what kind of history—of the site and of the culture that produced it—can be written on the basis of what has been found? Dever has made a call for a historiography based primarily on archaeological data, claiming the superiority of the archaeological data over the textual data of the Hebrew Bible.²⁶ At the same time, he suggests that artifacts need to be read like a text, following a similar set of hermeneutic tools, but not with a text and especially not with the Hebrew Bible, which he regards as historicized fiction.²⁷ Intriguingly, Dever eventually returns in his argumentation to the biblical text by inviting a new dialogue with it, which, from Dever’s perspective and also the perspective of the present authors, implies a return of biblical studies to the questions of history and historicity. These have often been neglected (or at least sidelined) in the field.²⁸

It appears that recent archaeological finds, like the ones from Khirbet Qeiyafa discussed here, facilitated by the exponential growth of archaeological methodologies and optimization of data collection in the field, have created substantial bridges between the text of the Hebrew Bible and the archaeological record so that a strong case can be made for reading artifacts with the help of the Hebrew Bible (and other ANE texts or images), provided we follow sound hermeneutical principles in each discipline.²⁹

Reading the Artifact

Beyond the hermeneutics of archaeology, ritual studies and ANE iconography contribute significantly to our understanding of the function of the twin-cup libation vessels. The reading of the two libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa, including the appropriate discussion of their specific archaeological contexts, their cultic function and meaning within the context of the religious practices of the site, and, by extension, of the community that produced and used the cultic artifacts are significant elements of artifact literacy.³⁰ Consequently, texts (biblical and extra-biblical) and images constitute the main sources for the purpose of this chapter that inform our reading of the artifact. Although rituals are either prescribed/described (text) or depicted (image) in ancient sources, both text and images only provide a static snapshot of a dynamic reality that is also represented in an even more condensed form by the archaeological artifact, in this case the two twin-cup libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa. Thus, the artifact is positioned at a crossroad between text and image, being referred to in both and needing to be read through the lenses of both. The inherent and complex relationships of text and image and their importance for the understanding of (cultic) artifacts has been highlighted by a number of articles from a recent Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale honoring Pierre Auffret.³¹ These essays suggested a fresh and independent reading of both image and text, without presupposing an a priori dependence of the image on the text, that would open the door to a new conversation between the two media types.³² Bonka Nedeltscheva has highlighted the importance of considering the archaeological object in light of text and image in a study of Mesopotamian clay envelopes from the third millennium BCE. These envelopes bring together the object (the cuneiform tablet inside), text (written on the envelope, often with a copy of the text inside), and image (the seal impression on the envelope, which sometimes includes a further inscription). She correctly observes:

When dealing with texts and images, the question always arises: what came first? The image, the text, or the object? When going back to the early beginnings of Mesopotamian art and writing systems, the interrelations between text, image, and object seem significant for a better understanding and reading of the message.³³

As already mentioned above, the ritual associated with the two archaeological artifacts is a dynamic construct. While not necessarily the ritual per se, action lies at the heart of ritual. Ritual action is a publicly or (to a lesser degree) privately enacted symbol³⁴ and relates consistently with other important elements of ritual, such as objects, participants, space, and time. In the context of this study we take the object as the point of departure, from which the other elements of ritual need to be reconstructed. The levels of interaction depend on the particular ritual as well as the larger cultural and historical context. Ritual action requires time, ritual time, to pass. Minutes, hours, days, or weeks need to pass for the ritual to develop and become effective. Ritual action needs to develop in space and involves movement. A ritual can transform common space into sacred space. This ritual (or sacred) space can affect architecture,³⁵ but can also be mobile and relative³⁶ or may exist only conceptually (i.e., in the minds of the ritual participants). Participants of a ritual can be either static or dynamic in their interaction; they can move around, stand still, drop out of sight, take a dominant position, and are generally affected by the outcome of the ritual (e.g., a priest during the ordination ritual, or a leper following the prescribed purification ritual, etc.). All the above observations pertaining to ritual per se and biblical ritual specifically are primarily based on texts, which are generally a snapshot of action, written either in a prescriptive or descriptive mode.

Likewise, pictorial depictions of ancient reality are also only a snapshot or, perhaps using an even more appropriate metaphor, represent a carefully arranged still life that requires the reader to decipher and interact with a reality far removed from our twenty-first century, often western, worldview, and reality. However, in terms of quantities, ANE images by far exceed ANE textual sources so that iconographic depictions of ritual activity contribute significantly to our understanding of ritual, also taking into consideration the important visual aspect of a performed ritual.³⁷ There is a continuous interplay between image and ritual, and frequently the image serves as a pars pro toto, re-enacting the full ritual in a condensed and often reduced form through iconographic elements. These forms then activate their performative power in the mind of the observer.³⁸ It is important to recognize that ANE images do not primarily illustrate the historical reality, or in this case, ritual activity, but rather condense the dynamic character of the ritual to a static snapshot. Despite the snapshot (or still life) quality of iconographic depiction, it refers to the dynamic to and thus becomes active and effective in the image.³⁹ A careful reading of the two twin-cup libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa must consider these complex relationships between the static and dynamic in ritual texts and iconographic images.

Reading the Twin-Cup Libation Vessels through Texts

Libation rituals represent an important element of the ritual repertoire of ANE cultures and religions. The twin-cup libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa force the interpreter to consider libation rituals carefully, since they involved the use of different types of liquids.⁴⁰ The use of liquids in ritual per se is manifold and multi-faceted. Here are some possible uses: liquids are used to wash, bathe, purify, rinse, clean, swab, dip, soak, scrub, scour, anoint, smear, rub or daub ritual participants, objects or locations—typically in public settings. These fluids can include water, milk, oil-based liquids, blood, alcoholic beverages, herbal infusions, perfumes or mixtures thereof. Anointing rites are a specialized form of libation. These rites seem to mark key participants in the ritual who are about to experience a change in status or are singled out for a specific purpose.⁴¹ Purification rituals represent another class of rituals involving fluids. People, animals, places, and objects can be cleansed in order to enter (for the first time) or re-enter the limits marking the boundaries of a group or society. Fluids and libations are also included in offerings to the deity. Calendar-based rituals can prescribe certain purification or cleansing rites involving liquids for a particular group or subgroup of society. Baptismal practices—another ritual involving liquids—have been closely linked to rites-of-passage, highlighting the change of status of the participants.⁴² Like all other religious ritual manifestations, libation rituals require a context, and anybody seeking to appropriately interpret these rituals communicated through texts and images will need to pay close attention to the context. In texts this context includes specific narratives, occasions that require a specific ritual response, calendar-based religious events, and a knowledge (or at least an inkling) of the original audience of the text. Interpreting iconographic images and archaeological artifacts similarly requires careful attention to surrounding context.

Another important consideration regarding libation rituals specifically and rituals in general involves the question whether a particular ritual belongs to the realm of public (or official) religious expressions or is an expression of personal piety or family religion.⁴³ Considering the archaeological find context of the twin libation cups from Khirbet Qeiyafa, we should assume its use in public (or official) ritual, even though the small size of the site would suggest a clan or local context within the confines of the town.

A full discussion of the נֶסֶךְ, libation offering, in the Hebrew Bible is beyond the scope of this study. Intriguingly—and surprisingly—there are few specialized studies.⁴⁴ The verbal root נָסַךְ is used in most Semitic languages to connote bringing, pouring, throwing, and, by extension, at times serves as a technical term for offering. Pouring drink offerings or libations on a pillar was a well-known practice in the patriarchal period (Gen 35:14 uses the root נָסַךְ, while Gen 28:18 uses the verbal form of יָצַק—a good reminder of the fact that the semantic domain of libations and drink offerings uses a wide spectrum of terminology). These libations on spontaneously erected stone pillars underline the mobile nature of patriarchal worship and reflect their nomadic (or sojourner) status.⁴⁵ In both instances Gen 28:18 and 35:14 commemorate a recent or past encounter with the deity.

We find many references to the נָסַךְ-pouring action in prescriptive texts detailing offering lists and procedures for Israel’s festival calendar.⁴⁶ In most instances the libations were ancillary offerings linked to other major offering types.⁴⁷ The remaining references outside the Pentateuch include the description of the cult reform of King Ahaz following his visit to Damascus and the encounter with Tiglath-pileser III (2 Kgs 16). It seems that libations represented an important part of the new cult practices installed in Jerusalem’s temple, in line with common cult practices in Mesopotamia. Observing Mesopotamian cultic practice in Damascus, King Ahaz parsed this intuitively and decided to copy the conqueror’s practice.

The biblical data on libation offerings suggests a continuum with two extremes. While some references describe the practice uncritically (e.g., its use in the Jacob narratives) or include it as part of the prescribed cult practices associated with the Pentateuch, later prophetic references (including prophetic texts such as Jer 7:18; 19:13; 32:29; Ezek 20:28; etc.) link the practice to idolatrous cultic activities. The key factor differentiating these two opposing extremes is location: libation offerings associated with the sanctuary (in the tabernacle and, later, the temple) are generally sanctioned, while libations disconnected from the sanctuary often represent an idolatrous act.

The use of libations in household contexts has been amply documented in the archaeological record. A Hebrew inscription on a pottery wine decanter of unknown provenance that is a typological match for three vessels from Khirbet el-Qôm, Arad, and the Ophel in Jerusalem (dated to the eighth/seventh centuries BCE) reads למתניהו יין נסך רבעת, belonging to Mattanyahu, wine of libation, a quarter.⁴⁸ It represents an intriguing example linking cohesively the literary data with material culture data—and it helps us practice ritual literacy, connecting A (the biblical texts) to B (an extrabiblical text using the same terminology) and C (the archaeological record that suggests the presence of cult practices involving libations).⁴⁹

The act of pouring fluids often occurs in quasi-cultic contexts—even outside regular נֶסֶךְ offerings. When David desired a drink from the well in Bethlehem and three of his warriors risked lives and limbs to break through the enemy’s lines to give David the desire of his heart, the king suddenly recognized his foolishness and instead of drinking the precious water, he poured it out before YHWH (2 Sam 23:15–17). The preposition le marks the divine recipient of the poured liquid and echoes sacrificial language (cf. Lev 1:2, 9, 13, 14; etc.).

We find another intriguing reference to pouring water before YHWH in 1 Sam 7:6. Prior to military engagement with the Philistines, Samuel had assembled the Israelite tribes at Mizpah. He then moved to pour out water before (this time expressed by the preposition לִפְנֵי) YHWH. The pouring rite is linked to fasting and confession and clearly carries religious connotations. We get the probable rationale for this: prior to this decisive battle Israel needed to commit themselves completely to God. Pouring out water, fasting, and confessing were public ways to express this personal and collective commitment.⁵⁰

Summarizing the biblical data involving libations and pouring action, there is little detailed prescription. Often the accounts associate libation offering with another primary offering or sacrifice, thus functioning as an envelope or introduction/conclusion. Furthermore, beyond the limited information regarding the נסך we can note a wide semantic domain of terms that indicate pouring action. These pouring rites appear repeatedly in narrative texts where they are not always associated with the centralized sanctuary (be it tabernacle or the later temple), even though texts describing the pre-monarchic or early monarchic periods contain more references to libations not associated with the sanctuary. On the significance of these libations, the texts do not always offer explicit rationales. They seem to suggest remembrance, commitment, offering a restricted or valuable gift, or providing the appropriate context for a larger gift/offering/sacrifice. The surprising application of libation terminology to solids (such as scraped-off plaster or ashes in Lev 14:41 and 1 Kgs 13:3–5), as well as the metaphorical use of the vocabulary, may suggest that libation activity sometimes metamorphosed into crystallized metaphors, i.e., it was not the fluids that made the libation but the activity associated with the pouring activity (even if only done symbolically).

Reading the Twin-Cup Libation Vessels through ANE Images

As reflected in archaeological research or iconographic depictions, the material culture of the ANE associated many different object types with libations. Archaeologists identify these objects as libations utensils because of find context, form or (though rarely) the remains of liquids. In the following we will introduce comparative material that offers tangible context for interpreting the two twin-cup libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa.

During the 1933 excavation of Tell Beit Mirsim by W. F. Albright, excavators found a flat libation tray with a primary and secondary lion’s head on it, which later researchers dated to early IA II due to the particular artistic elements (Fig. 1.9).⁵¹

More recently, Jonathan Greer has suggested that a bowl discovered at Tel Dan in 1986 should be considered an example of a biblical מזרק vessel (sprinkling bowl [NIV], firepan [NKJV] or ceremonial crater [HALOT]; see Exod 27:3; 38:3; Num 4:14; 7:13–85; etc.) used to present drink offerings (Fig. 1.10).⁵² While the Tel Dan bowl is significantly different in shape from the Khirbet Qeiyafa libation vessels, its association with liquids and a shared cultic context makes this an important comparative vessel.

Figure

1.9

: Top view of Late Bronze Age or early Iron Age II libation tray from Tell Beit Mirsim (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.3

).

Figure

1.10

: Iron Age IIB bowl for liquid offerings found at Tel Dan, possibly to be associated with the biblical מזרק described in Exod

27:3

and elsewhere (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.4

).

Figure

1.11

: Examples of Middle Bronze Age cult stands from Tell Kamid el-Loz, Lebanon (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.5

).

Figure

1.12

: a. Bronze Age libation bowl containing seven tumblers from Megiddo; b. Bronze Age libation bowl containing seven tumblers from the coastal town of Nahariya (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.6

).

Libation stands are a staple of the material culture of the ANE. Martin Metzger has discussed a significant quantity of these stands from Tell Kamid el-Loz, Lebanon, found in a Middle Bronze Age (MBA) context (Fig. 1.11).⁵³ These stands ranged in height from 11 to 18 cm (some of them were partially broken), which is rather low when compared to other cultic artifacts associated with libations. The ANE pictorial evidence often emphasizes the deity (sitting or standing) as s/he receives libation from an offerer or priest who pours the liquid into the stand. In some instances, the priest or priestess is accompanied by a servant carrying a bucket that was probably used to refill the libation vessel.

Two unique libation bowls, each containing seven tumblers that were part of the ceramic bowl, were discovered in Bronze Age contexts in Megiddo and at a בָּמָה (or high place) outside a rectangular temple in the coastal city of Nahariya (Fig. 1.12).⁵⁴ The two libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa do not include seven attached tumblers but their two interconnected rounded cups on a high base may suggest communal ritual activity involving two (or more) parties. Since similar twin-cup libation vessels dated to the Iron Age have been found at Tel Qiri in northern Israel and at Khirbat al-Mudayna and Tell Deir ‘Alla in Jordan (see Fig. 1.8 above), it is reasonable to suggest a particular artifact typology that was used during the IA (and perhaps also during the LBA in Syria-Palestine). A three-cup votive vessel from Tel Burna that was recently found in a LBA cultic context (Fig. 1.13) may be an early example of this artifact type, even though the Khirbet Qeiyafa twin-cup libation vessels were distinct since they had holes interconnecting the cups while the Tel Burna vessel cups were not interconnected.⁵⁵

Figure

1.13

: Late Bronze Age three-cup votive vessel from Tel Burna (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.8

).

Figure

1.14

: Iconographic depictions of communal consumption of beer by two people drinking from the same jar through metal straws (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.9

).

The communal aspect of ritual libations and shared consumption of alcoholic beverages before the deity are also well documented in Mesopotamian sources. Bieniada’s study of Habur ware, dated to the second millennium BCE, includes a helpful discussion of the iconography of communal consumption of beer through metal straws by two people drinking from the same jar (Fig. 1.14).⁵⁶ Based on the iconographic data from this period and region, we may postulate a fourfold typology of libations: (1) a libation is poured from a spouted jug or juglet into a goblet held by the god; (2) a libation is poured from a spouted jar into a goblet that is not held by the deity; (3) a libation is poured as above, but additionally a large jar resting on a floor or on a pot-stand with a straw (or straws) protruding from it can be seen; and (4) a seated god holds a straw protruding from a jar and receives a libation in this way. Alcoholic beverages were the libations of choice, most often wine, rather than more mundane beer, because it was costlier and thus more appropriate as an offering for the gods which required the best. It is possible that the twin-cup libation vessels at Khirbet Qeiyafa were used similarly, as two parties shared the same beverage offered to the deity. It may even have involved some type of covenant ritual, similar to that of Jacob and Laban described in Gen 31:43–55, even though the admittedly brief biblical text does not explicitly mention libations. Shared elements of eating together from an offering or sacrifice were often part and parcel of covenant rituals and may have also included shared libations.⁵⁷

Daviau has highlighted the close link between libations and communal meals in her discussion of the LBA Orthostat Temple from Hazor. Daviau’s work also offers a helpful methodological advance. Instead of moving straight from the description of the finds to their significance, she argues for an intermediary step, i.e., a statistical analysis of the possible functions (e.g., utensils used for food preparation, consumption, libation, lighting, storage, votive gifts, etc.), which should then lead to practices and, possibly, undergirding beliefs.⁵⁸

Another potential class of comparative vessels that may help us attain literacy regarding the function of the twin-cup libation vessels from Khirbet Qeiyafa are ring-kernoi. These horizontally oriented hollow rings with miniature vessels attached to their top came originally from the Aegean and may illustrate an aspect of Mycenaean ritual practice. Ring-kernoi could (but did not have to) include a spout and fluid in the miniature cups could flow freely through holes in their base on the hollow ring. The example illustrated here comes from tomb 23 at Maroni, Cyprus (Fig. 1.15).⁵⁹ Since ring-kernoi are often found in funerary contexts scholars have hypothesized that they were probably used in funerary rituals. Ring-kernoi have been found in Syria-Palestine as well, often in Philistine settlements, underlining the potential Aegean origin of the vessels.⁶⁰

Figure

1.15

: Ring-kernos from Tomb

23

at Maroni, Cyprus (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.11

).

Other known Philistine libations vessels use zoomorphic styles, particularly bull or bovine shapes (Fig. 1.16). These vessel types have been discovered at Tell Batash, Beersheba, Tell Beit Mirsim, Beth Shemesh, Lachish, and Gezer.⁶¹ The link between the hollow libation vessel in the shape of an animal and the ritual activities associated with these vessels is, unfortunately, not entirely clear.

Figure

1.16

: Examples of zoomorphic Philistine libation vessels (Garfinkel, Ganor, and Hasel [

2018

], Fig.

15.12

).

This brief review of comparative material involving libation vessels from the cultures surrounding ancient Israel has made it very clear that libations were a significant part of ancient ritual, both in established cultic space (such as temples or sanctuaries) as well as in the home or private cultic space. Libation trays and vessels, together with cult stands, kernoi, kraters, jugs, juglets, and bowls, appear repeatedly in cultic contexts and speak to the importance of libations. The multiplicity of utensils and vessel-types suggests deep familiarity of people (both religious specialists as well as the general populace) with libations. Familiarity is the mother of literacy. What we know we usually can also describe and understand—even if only intuitively. While some libations may have been associated with washings or purification, others clearly point to offerings and appear together with additional offering types such as sacrifices or incense offerings. We have focused more on specific comparative data from the material culture of the ANE and paid less attention to the vast body of iconographic data depicting libations and the manipulation of liquids in ritual contexts.

However, the key question is what do all these data points mean for understanding biblical libations? How do they help us develop artifact literacy, considering the power of ritual to preserve traditions and powerfully communicate key concepts and ideas about the deity (or theology), while at the same time also being a formidable agent of innovation?⁶² We offer some suggestions in the final section of this study.

Towards Artifact Literacy: A Proposal

Social studies research often uses a mixture of quantitative and qualitative research. Our quest to map out the parameters of artifact literacy will also need to use both data sets. Quantitatively, the varied nature of libation vessels and their ubiquity in the archaeology of the cult speak to the importance of libations in the ancient world. Quantity does say something about importance—though it is by no means the only measure.

The repeated use of fluids in ritual texts of the Hebrew Bible (including libations, anointing rites, purification rites using liquids, etc.) points to the ubiquity of libations in Israel’s religious system. While the exact meaning of each individual act is not always explained, the general concept of giving (to the deity) and sharing (with the community) offers a helpful point of departure as we engage artifacts from the material culture. Giving and sharing are also clearly recognizable activities visible in the many snapshots (or still-lifes) contained in the iconographic record.

The archaeological contexts (Iron Age IIA) of the twin-cup libation vessels found at Khirbet Qeiyafa are significant and may help us understand their unique shape and their usage as well. The biblical texts describe the transitional pre-monarchic period as a time when everyone did what was right in his own eyes (Judg 17:6; 21:25), a phenomenon that did not abruptly end with the arrival of the monarchy. There seem to have been local sanctuaries with local cult personnel (Judg 8:27; 17–18), where religious convocations were celebrated locally (1 Sam 16:1–13), and household or town shrines and altars (Judg 6:25–32; 8:22–27; 9:27; 17; etc.).

This multiplicity of cult places can also be seen in the archaeological record. As noted by Zevit, this suggests that religion was practiced differently in home, village, sanctuary, urban temple, and extra-urban sanctuary.⁶³ Politically, significant changes marked the transitional period of Iron Age I–II. Although Egypt was powerful and present in Palestine during the Late Bronze Age, it was clearly pulling back and other regional powers were less interested in the region. As Jan Platvoet has noted, times of political and cultural changes often result in ritual innovation.⁶⁴ Since the two connected cups sitting on a shared high base were found in two different locations associated with cultic activity at Khirbet Qeiyafa, these unique vessels may represent a particular local rite or ritual activity that emphasized covenant and kinship relations. It seems that two individuals shared fluids or poured fluids into the vessel that was mixed together and then poured over the standing stone or the rounded installation on the floor as part of an offering. Shared ritual activities create stronger communities with clearer identities.

Libations provided a short form pointing to a larger offering, a type of abbreviation that triggered more complex rituals and often involved sacrifices and blood manipulation rites. Some have suggested that one element of a ritual (for example, the construction of an altar and calling on the name of YHWH) may represent a much more complex ritual construct that is not always described completely.⁶⁵ The unique shape of the Khirbet Qeiyafa libation vessels, together with the other similarly shaped libation vessels from Tel Qiri, Khirbat al-Mudayna, and Tell Deir ʿAlla, as well as the earlier Late Bronze Age votive vessel from Tel Burna, may suggest that the envelope function of a libation was not only oriented vertically, i.e., toward the deity, but may have also emphasized the horizontal function of ritual and religion. In a world where community, kinship, bloodlines, and clan coherence represented key values, religion was not the private experience of an individual, but involved and affected a larger community.

Artifact literacy is a call to multi-disciplinary research because it requires the ability to look over the proverbial fence and learn from other disciplines. Multi-disciplinary (or cross-disciplinary) research is in vogue today, but this line is not a fashion statement. Rather, it recognizes that data, all available data, are required to make valid and reasonable statements about a past whose artifacts tell us stories through the texts (biblical and extra-biblical) and images (textual and iconographic) we use to read them. This requires attention to detail, the ability to listen (or look carefully), and the capacity to integrate different data sets—without a bias-based exclusion of any particular data set—hopefully resulting in decipherment and understanding of an object that is able to anchor the present in the past.

1

. We are delighted to contribute this chapter on artifact literacy in a volume honoring Alan Millard, a man whose scholarship we have both highly appreciated and admired. While we never had the privilege of sitting in a class taught by Professor Millard, his scholarship and serious commitment to Scripture have deeply impacted us. His focus on writing and Israel’s literary heritage uses a similar broad methodology that links data points from the material culture, ancient texts, as well as ancient images.

2

. The debate on Biblical Archaeology has occupied academia for many years. William Dever spearheaded processual (and indirectly post-processual) archaeology with his call for moving away from Biblical to Syro-Palestinian Archaeology (easily demonstrated in the process resulting in the renaming of Biblical Archaeologist to Near Eastern Archaeology in

1998

—against the majority vote of ASOR members), which had succeeded by the late

1980

s. However, a short time later he decried the decline of the discipline and the disappearance of academic programs in Biblical Archaeology throughout the United States. Recently, together with a number of other archaeologists, Dever called for a new Biblical Archaeology, not as a (biblical) text-driven enterprise but as a dialogue between Syro-Palestinian Archaeology (or politically more correct: Archaeology of the Southern Levant) and Biblical Studies. See Dever, Does ‘Biblical Archaeology’ Have a Future?

349

–

60

; Dever, Beyond the Texts,

19

–

24

.

3

. While post-processual archaeology tries to establish the relationship between artifact and the worldview of the culture that produced it, the world-view of the excavator has been scrutinized more recently as large-scale archaeological excavation projects in Israel and Jordan are successfully maintained by relatively small faith-based academic institutions whose worldview includes a respect for the biblical record. See Younker, Integrating Faith, the Bible, and Archaeology,

43

–

52

. Overall, the volume, which has been co-edited by the honorand of the present Festschrift, provides a more positive perspective on the relationship between biblical text and archaeology. See also Benjamin, Stones and Stories.

4

. See Levy, "The New Pragmatism,

3

–

42

.

5

. See Amihai Mazar, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible BCE,

26

–

27

.

6

. It suffices to say that for now in his magnum opus, Dever laments the neglect and stresses the importance of archaeological hermeneutics. See Dever, Beyond the Texts,

28

–

32

.

7

. See the sociological challenge to traditional notions of ethnicity in archaeology and biblical studies by Nestor in which he provides a cognitive rational for the concept of groupness. Cf. Nestor, Cognitive Perspectives on Israelite Identity,

237

–

40

. With regard to the aversion to (biblical) texts from the proponents of processual or New Archaeology, he concludes: . . . a retreat into quantitative methodologies and the rhetoric of logical empiricism as espoused by advocates of the New Archaeology succeeds only in producing a mechanistic, subject-less conception of causality resting upon a theory of individuals caught in a play of structural determinants beyond their control (p.

238

). Cf. also Benjamin, Stones and Stories,

208

–

13

.

8

. Laneri comments on the reflex-like cultic categorization of artifacts: "Thus, whenever archaeologists are confronted with archaeological records (i.e., artefacts, features, architecture) that cannot be clearly assigned to a specific domain or ‘have no functional value’, they usually claim that they were part of an inexplicable religious or ritual