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Assyrian Statecraft and the Prophets of Israel*

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  10 June 2011

John S. Holladay Jr.
Affiliation:
University College, Toronto 15, Ontario

Extract

The explosive emergence of the so-called “writing prophets” in the history of Israel is one of the great historical mysteries of Old Testament scholarship. The first, and in some ways one of the greatest of these figures, Amos of Tekoah, can hardly be dated much before 750 B.C., and the beginnings of the prophetic careers of Hosea ben Beeri, Isaiah of Jerusalem, and Micah of Moresheth all fall within the following decade and a half. From this time forward, with the single exception of the dark and bloody reign of Manasseh, there is a steady succession of prophetic literature, ending somewhere around the mid-fifth century B.C. Once initiated, this succession moves in what seems to the historian, operating with the full confidence of hindsight, to be an entirely logical and reasonably consistent fashion. Yet its origins are wholly obscure. Like Melchizedek, Amos seems to have been born without benefit of ancestors. (And it goes without saying that such an [apparently] “uncaused happening” in the historical sphere is as troubling to the modern historian as the thought of an ancestorless Jebusite king would be to the historian's colleague in the biology department.) But what sort of events would be deemed to constitute “sufficient historical causation” for the rise of the classical prophets of Israel?

Type
Research Article
Copyright
Copyright © President and Fellows of Harvard College 1970

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References

1 For both this point and important elements of the following analysis I am indebted to the observations of Wright, G. Ernest in The Lawsuit of God …, in Israel's Prophetic Heritage, Anderson, B. W. and Harrelson, W., eds. (New York, 1962), 63fGoogle Scholar.

2 Cf. Wright's analysis of the origins of the prophetic office (ibid.) and the brief notice in The Nations in Hebrew Prophecy, Encounter 26 (1965), 229.ff.

3 Cf. the survey of previous discussion in Westermann, Claus, Basic Forms of Prophetic Speech (Philadelphia, 1967), 13ff.Google Scholar, and the essay of James Ross, The Prophet as Yahweh's Messenger, in Israel's Prophetic Heritage, op. cit., 98ff.

4 Albright, W. F., From the Stone Age to Christianity 2 (New York, 1957), 303Google Scholar. Note also the use of ארק in Exodus 31:1; Isaiah 43:1; 45:3,4 (all exilic), and the parallel use of nabû(m) in similar contexts — i.e., the appointing to a divinely-ordained task — common in Akkadian royal inscriptions from the time of Sargon I on. Cf. W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwörterbuch (1959–), ad loc., and Seux, Marie Joseph, Épithètes Royales Akkadiennes et Sumériens (Paris, 1967), 175–79Google Scholar.

5 Cf. the citations in n. 2 and the discussion and references in Ross, op. cit., 102ff. Additionally, cf. notes 10 and 63.

6 Cf. Lindblom, Johannes, Die prophetische Orakelformel, in Die literarische Gattung der prophetischen Literatur, UUÅ (1924:1) (Uppsala), 97ffGoogle Scholar. More conveniently, if less detailed, cf. his Prophecy in Ancient Israel (Philadelphia, 1962), 103f. Westermann's position (op. cit., 98ff.) fails to take seriously enough the long usage of this formula as a literary cliché precisely in the Syro-Palestinian area. After something like a millennium and a half of constant use as an epistolary introductory formula (taking the usage in the fertile crescent as a whole into account) it is simply academic to say: “One can see that the oral procedure for sending a message still lives in these formulas centuries after the first technicalization of the message through writing was accomplished” (ibid., 104).

7 Cf. Jeremiah 23:25ff., 28:6ff. Compare Gevaryahu, H. M.'s analysis, The Speech of Rab-Shakeh to the People on the Wall of Jerusalem (Hebrew), in Studies in the Bible presented to M. H. Segal (Jerusalem, 1964), 96fGoogle Scholar. (I owe the reference to Childs, Brevard' citation, Isaiah and the Assyrian Crisis, SBT [2nd ser.], no. 3 [Naperville, Illinois, 1967], 79, n. 27Google Scholar.)

8 The “historical” reference in Hosea 12:5(4) is, of course, quite another matter.

9 E.g., 2 Samuel 10:1–5 (cf. ABL 1260 in L. Waterman, Royal Correspondence of the Assyrian Empire [henceforth Waterman's translations of ABL will be cited as RCA no. 000], Part II [Ann Arbor, 1930], 376f.), 1 Samuel 25:39ff., and 2 Kings 20.12ff. Further, cf. Ross, op. cit., 101ff., and Lindblom, Prophecy…, op. cit., 296f.

10 In the royal Assyrian epistolary literature, for especially serious matters, the messenger of the king may either be a member of the king's bodyguard (mutîr pūti) or, exceptionally, one of the king's “personal companions” (manzaz pāni). Cf. Klauber, E., Assyrisches Beamtentum (Leipzig, 1910), 23ff., 100f., 105ff.Google Scholar, and RCA, Part IV, 22f. RS 17.137 likewise demonstrates that Tehitešub and Tilitešub, messengers of “the Sun,” were highly placed members of the court, since their seals are placed on an international pact witnessed by, among others, the Qardabbu official of “the Sun” and the chamberlain of the king of Ugarit. Cf. Nougayrol, J., Le Palais Royal d'Ugarit, IV, Mission de Ras Shamra IX (Paris, 1956), 107fGoogle Scholar. Further, cf. n. 63, below.

11 This phrase, characteristic of “friendly” correspondence, is lacking in threatening letters; e.g., ABL 403, “To the non-Babylonians,” below.

12 Although the letter involved seems to have been a captured document, the description of the reading of such a document in the presence of a group of courtiers in ND. 2603 is illustrative of the practice. Cf. H. W. F. Saggs, The Nimrud Letters, 1952– I, in Iraq 17 (1955), 32f.

13 The ubiquitous Northwest Semitic term for messenger, courier, ambassador, in this context, clearly is equivalent to theordinary Akkadian term mā šipri, “messenger.”

14 The messenger as alter-ego of the suzerain.

15 Fitzmyer, Joseph, The Aramaic Suzerainty Treaty from Sefire in the Museum of Beirut, CBQ 20 (1958), 450Google Scholar.

16 The הוהי דופ, or Divine Council, was the royal court of Heaven assembled in its deliberative function — a function vividly described in the vision of Micaiah ben Imlah in I Kings 22. Cf. the discussions cited in n. 5.

17 Op. cit., 98ff.

18 The separation of the םיאיבנ, under the rubric “salvation prophets,” from the “judgment prophets” (so, e.g., Würthwein, quoted with approval by Westermann, op. cit., 77, 80) must be regarded as one of the curious by-products of recent research. If the “judgment prophets” are not םיאיבנ, what are they? Certainly such a distinction seems to be unknown either to the editor of the “B” material in Jeremiah (cf. esp. chs. 28–29) or the writer of the Books of Kings (e.g., 2 Kings 17:13 [Isaiah 37:2]; 17:23; 19:2; 20:1 [Isaiah 38:1], 14 [Isaiah 39:3]; 21:10; 22:14ff.; 24:2).

19 Only so can one explain the adoption of the “Suzerainty Treaty” form as the model for Israel's covenant with Yahweh. Cf. Wright, G. E., Reflections concerning Old Testament Theology, Studia Biblica et Semitica (Th. C. Vriezen dedicata) (Wageningen, the Netherlands, 1966), 386Google Scholar.

20 For an introduction to the historical reconstruction developed here, see Albright, W. F., Samuel and the Beginnings of the Prophetic Movement (Cincinnati: the Hebrew Union College, the Goldenson Lecture for 1961)Google Scholar, and Wright, The Lawsuit of God …, op. cit., 63ff., and The Nations in Hebrew Prophecy, op. cit., 225ff.

21 Note the presence of heavenly troops in the holy-war traditions. Cf. particularly the remarkable tradition concerning the “commander of the army of Yahweh (הוהי־אבצ־רש) in Joshua 5:13ff., the participation of the stars in the conflict (Judges 5:20) with the forces of Sisera, the “sound of marching in the tops of the balsam trees” (2 Samuel 5:24), and the wonder-story concerning the heavenly army (commanded by Elisha?) in the Elisha cycle (2 Kings 6:11ff.).

22 E.g., EA, no. 244 “… Let the king know that ever since the archers returned (to Egypt?) Lab'ayu has carried on hostilities against me, and we are not able to pluck the wool, and we are not able to go outside the gate in the presence of Lab'ayu, since he learned that thou hast not given archers; and now his face is set to take Megiddo, but let the king protect his city …. Let the king give one hundred garrison troops to guard the city lest Lab'ayu seize it.” ANET 2, 485a.

23 Cf. Wright, The Lawsuit of God …, op. cit., 63.

24 For the vassal-status of the Davidic king, cf. de Vaux, R., Le roi d'Israël, vassal de Yahvé, in the Tisserant Festschrift, Studi e Testi 231 (Vatican City, 1964), 119–33Google Scholar. For a précis of the study, cf. McCarthy, D. J., Covenant in the Old Testament: the present state of inquiry, CBQ 27 (1965), 237fGoogle Scholar.

25 Cf. Wright, The Lawsuit of God …, op. cit., 63, n. 68.

26 As one might expect, the “address” has been stripped off in most contexts, being preserved mainly in narrative passages: e.g., I Kings 12:23f.; 2 Kings 20:5 (cf. Isaiah 38:5); Jeremiah 2:2 (LXX omits), 28:13 (reflexes of this formula passim); Amos 7:15–16.

27 This category would, of course, cover “kings-designate” (e.g., I Kings 11:29ff.). If I Samuel 3 is insisted upon, it remains that the “House of Eli” is the ruling house of Israel at this time.

28 Wright, The Lawsuit of God …, op. cit., 64, sees this movement from “court” to “popular” prophecy developing as a Northern Israelite theological reaction to the civil wars ensuing from the division of the kingdom and the events attendant upon the rise of the Omri dynasty. This almost certainly was a contributing factor to the acceptance of the new theology. Yet there is no compelling reason why this distress could not just as easily have been laid at the king's door. I.e., God is punishing the people because of the king's sin (cf. the account of David's census in 2 Samuel 24, esp. v. 17). This was, in fact, the Chronicler's general point of view (Wright, ibid., n. 69). That the people should be punished for their own sins would have been incomprehensible to a “true” monarchist. It remained for the new Assyrian techniques of world domination to provide a model by which God's righteous acts of judgment could be viewed in a new light.

29 While it seems to the present writer that this reconstruction is probable, it should freely be admitted that our present knowledge of the details of Assyrian history during the early years of the first millennium B.C. is extremely thin. Certain indications can, in fact, be cited in support of the argument that the innovations commonly associated with the Neo-Assyrian Empire (see below) had their roots in much earlier times. The question is, however, academic as far as the Israelite experience goes. Cf. n. 33.

30 ABL 310 furnishes a fascinating glimpse into some of the reasoning behind this policy. Sharruemuranni, in the course of a letter dealing with the acquisition of horses for the king, writes his master, Sargon, as follows: “… When the sheep did not come unto us, I sent the servants of the king my lord to the city of Kibatki. The people were terrified; (some) were put to the sword. When the city of Kibatki had been terrified, they continued to fear, (so that) they may be expected to send (tribute)” (RCA no. 310, rev. ll. 3–14). Further, cf. the carefully reasoned arguments of Saggs, H. W. F., Assyrian Warfare in the Sargonid Period, in Iraq 25 (1963), 145–54CrossRefGoogle Scholar, to the effect that such “atrocities” were part of a carefully planned propaganda campaign of “high military value, and did not spring from some sadistic element peculiar to the Assyrian character” (p. 154).

31 The impact of this policy upon Judah-Israel is readily apparent in the Book of Amos. Exile, or the threat of exile, hangs heavy over not only Israel (4:1ff.; 5:5, 27; 6:7; 7:11, 17; 9:4, 9) but over the surrounding nations as well (cf. esp. 1:5, but the emphasis upon exile throughout the oracles against the foreign nations [vv. 6, 9, 15] can hardly be disassociated from the same general Zeitgeist).

33 Cf. Weidner, E. F., Der Staatsvertrag Assurniraris VI mit Mati'ilu von Bit-Agusi, AFO 8 (1932–33), 2729Google Scholar.

33 It is not impossible, as was suggested in n.29, that we are here dealing with a characteristically Assyrian practice of somewhat greater antiquity. Note already the (partial?) blinding of 14,400 prisoners by Shalmaneser I (1274–1245 B.C.), the mass deportation of the Babylonians to Assyria by Tukulti-Ninurta I shortly after 1235 B.C., and the (claimed) deportation of 28,800 Hittites by the same ruler (most recently, see Munn-Rankin, J. M. in The Cambridge Ancient HistoryRev., vol. II, ch. xxv [fasc. 49] [Cambridge, 1967], 10, 15f., 20Google Scholar. The dates given are those of Munn-Rankin). However this may be, such practices are clearly new in the Syro-Palestinian corridor, which, up to this time, has been dominated by Egyptian and Hittite patterns of rule. For the tenth through the early ninth centuries note, inter alia, the characteristic Assyrian name for Syria-Palestine (kurḪatti, “Hittite-land”) and the Egyptianizing courts of David and Solomon (cf. esp. R. de Vaux, Titres et fonctionnaires égyptiens à la cour de David et de Salomon, RB 48 [1939], 403–05). Israel's international relations during this period have to do principally with Egypt, Tyre, and Damascus. Certainly there is nothing in the inscriptions of Shalmanezer III (859–825 B.C.) to suggest that he is imposing unusual treaty-obligations upon his rebellious “Syro-Hittite” vassals, which included Jehu mār Ḫu-um-ri-i, “son of Omri.” In fact, it may be suggested that it is just this strong and continued resistance to Shalmanezer III's attempts to establish his suzerainty over this area, with its long traditions of city-state and small kingdom independence, which led to modifications of the traditional modus operandi.

34 Treaty of Mursilis with Duppi-Tessub of Amurru (l. 20**), cf. ANET 2, 205.

35 Weidner, op. cit., 29 (ll. 16–17, 19).

36 Fitzmyer, J., The Aramaic Inscriptions of Sefire I and II, JAOS 81 (1961), 178222Google Scholar; The Aramaic Suzerainty Treaty from Sefire in the Museum of Beirut, CBQ 20 (1958), 444–76.

37 The Aramaic Inscriptions …, op. cit., 179ff. (I-A, ll. 1–4. Cf. also ll. 24ff., 30ff., 35ff.; I-B, ll. 1–6, 21, etc.). Compare the equally comprehensive introductory formula of the treaty between Ashurnirari V of Assyria and this same Matiʼʽel of Arpad (754 B.C.): “… Mat[i'lu ‥ ‥ seine Söhne], seine Töchter, [seine] G[rossen, die Leute seines Landes], soveil ‥ ‥ [gap] sein [and], soveil ‥ ‥” (cf. Weidner, op. cit., 17ff. The restorations are certain, cf. ll. 6ff.) Cf. also the introduction to the somewhat later (672 B.C.) treaty of Esarhaddon “… with Ramataia, city ruler (EN.URU) of Urakazabanu, with his sons, his grandsons, with all the Urakazabaneans young and old, as many as there may be …” (Wiseman, D. J., The Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon [London, 1958], 29–30, col. i, ll. 3–5)Google Scholar.

38 Obv., I:16–20 (trans, by Lambert, W. G. in Delbert R. Hillers, Treatycurses and the Old Testament Prophets, Biblica et Orientalia, n. 16 [Rome, 1964], 34Google Scholar.) Cf. esp. Amos 7:11, 17. From the context, it is clear that the references to the possible exile of the “Human Men” and their families in the Late Bronze Age Hittite treaty K. Bo. I,1 (and duplicates — cf. ANET 2, 205f.) refer only to those two “Hurrian Men” (governors?) taking the oath with Mattiwaza, who went up to Ḫattiland with “only three chariots, two ‘men of Ḫarri’ and two men-at-arms ‥ ‥” This text, therefore, does not constitute a parallel to the Matiʼʽel treaties, nor does it constitute an exception to the pattern of Late Bronze Age treaties outlined above.

39 Biblica 43 (1962), 172–96.

40 References ibid, 186.

41 Götze, A., Madduwattaš MVAG XXXI, 1 (Leipzig, 1928)Google Scholar.

42 KUB XXIII, no. 72. Cf. Gurney, O. R., Mita of Pahhuwa in The Annals of Archaeology and Anthropology (Liverpool), XXVIII (1948), 32ffGoogle Scholar.

43 Cf. references in Harvey, op. cit. (note 39), 180f.

44 Cf. Wright, The Lawsuit of God …, op. cit., 64. In this connection cf. also Wright's analysis of the non-rîb (in terms of his definition) character of Nathan's indictment of David: “The prophet stands in relation to the king, instead of to the whole people: the Mosaic covenant is not in view” (ibid., 62, n. 66). In the light of Harvey's analysis, it seems clear that we are not here dealing with two different concepts (a “true” vs. a “false” rîb category), but with one legal procedure which has undergone an historically conditioned shift in the ultimately responsible party/parties of the covenant (treaty) arrangement. To use a currently fashionable term, we are witnessing the “democratization” of responsibility for the fulfilment of treaty-obligations.

45 Ibid., 41ff. Cf.esp.44ff.

46 For the principal corpus, cf. Knudtzon, J. A., et al. , Die El-Amarna-Tafeln, VAB, vol. II (Leipzig, 1907–1915Google Scholar), and Schroeder, O., Die Tontafeln von El-Amarna (Leipzig, 1915)Google Scholar. For further bibliography, cf. W. F. Albright, The Amarna Letters from Palestine, Cambridge Ancient HistoryRev., vol. II, ch. xx (Cambridge, 1966) (fasc. 51).

47 EA nos. 59, 100.

48 EA nos. 139, 140 (from Ilirabiḫ and the city Gubla [Byblos] to the king).

49 Cf. n. 54 below.

50 The Harper corpus, comprising 1471 documents, is most readily accessible in Waterman, Leroy's Royal Correspondence of the Assyrian Empire, vols. I-IV (Ann Arbor, 1930–1936)Google Scholar.

51 ABL 403 as translated in Oppenheim, A. Leo, Letters from Mesopotamia (Chicago, 1967), 116Google Scholar. Cf. also B. Meissner, Afo 10, 242ff., and, for the historical situation, Oppenheim in JAOS 61, 266. The rhetorical effect of proverbial material, frequently encountered in epistolary literature of the ancient Near East, is sufficient reason for its use. Without going further into the problem at present, it may be suggested that similar elements of “wisdom” traditions in the prophetic literature — given the suasive and proclamatory character of that literature — are only what we would expect. By no means do they call for a systematic attempt to trace all roots of Israelite law and ethical concern back to some supposed Sitz im Leben in proto-Hebrew tribal or family wisdom traditions. Cf. the remarks of Scott, R. B. Y. in Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, The Anchor Bible (New York, 1965), xxviifGoogle Scholar.

52 Cf. RCA no. 282, ll. 15ff.

53 This by no means implies that the “royal messenger” and the “royal herald,” as the terms are employed in this essay, are different individuals. This is determined by the nature of the communication. In delivering his first speech (2 Kings 18:19ff.) to the king's representatives, the Rabshakeh is acting in one capacity. The people on the wall are “accidental” eavesdroppers with respect to the reading of the royal message. But with the opening provided by the overwrought delegation, the Rabshakeh turns and makes proclamation of the suzerain's message to the men on the wall (vv. 28ff. using precisely a Hebrew translation of the “amāt šarri” edict-formula (see below).

54 This formula, despite the indications of Pfeiffer, R. H., Assyrian Epistolatory Formulae, JAOS 43 (1923), 26ff.Google Scholar, is almost invariable in letters of the king to his subjects (letters 273 [?], 543, 914, 926, and 1121 seem to be the only exceptions in the Harper corpus). Here Lindblom's instincts (Die Literarische Gattung …, op. cit., 102ff.) as to the diversity of roots – principally letter-openings and proclamation formulae – displayed in the formulae introductory to prophetic oracles is clearly to be preferred to Westermann's all-encompassing rubric: “messenger-formula” (op. cit., 109f. [the curious statement with regard to the Cyrus-edict should furnish historians of modern tradition-shifts with an interesting illustration of the perils of compounding an inaccurate citation by inaccurate translation]). That amāt šarri is an especially authoritative, compelling mode of address (equivalent to “edict of the king”) is shown: (a) by the fact that it appears as an introductory formula only in the king's letters. RCA no. 308, an overbearing message from a royal princess presumably aping the royal style, is the only exception. Even the crown prince utilizes the standard introductory formulae: “ana šarri beli-ia arduha PN (etc)” (cf. RCA 196–199 [Sennacherib to Sargon], 1001 [Ashurbanipal to Esarhaddon], or “duppu PN”, “tablet of PN” [RCA no. 430]). (b) By the fact that, when the king addresses his letters to presumed equals (i.e., the kings of Elam), he invariably uses the introduction normally reserved for more personal or familial communication: “Duppu PN” (e.g., RCA no 1151: “Tablet of Ashurbanipal the king, king of Assyria, to Indabigash, king of Elam, his brother …”). Compare RCA nos. 214 (to a brother), 219 (to the writer's father), 896 (to the writer's mother), 1385 (“to the king, my brother …”). Cf. the insolent letter of Urzana, king of Mu⊡a⊡ir, to the palace overseer (RCA no. 409), where the introductory formula (“Tuppu PN”) and the independent stance of the writer are wholly in accord with each other – and in clear variance to the expected deportment of a petty king with respect to a “great king.”

55 RCA no. 282.

56 Saggs, H. W. F., The Nimrud Letters, 1952—Part I, Iraq 17 (1955), 23ffGoogle Scholar.

57 In addition to the obviously proclamatory letters to population groups, other pertinent letters from the Harper corpus would include nos. 101, 194, 208, 516, 544, 571, 608, 615, 645, 685, 846, 890, 965, 1043, 1044, 1046, 1050, 1063, 1114.

58 In at least a few cases, and quite possibly in a great number, something more than simple oral tradition or loyal disciples seems to be involved. I hope to deal with this aspect of the problem in some detail in a forthcoming study: “Prophetic Sēper as Prophetic Act.”

59 Isaiah and the Assyrian Crisis, op. cit., 86.

60 For the first Nimrud Letter see the citation in n. 56 (a convenient extract is given in Childs, op. cit., 80ff.). Cf. also RCA no. 685 (rev.): “Unto the fortress of Mushezib, of which the king my lord has written, we went thither together with Belsharusur, the bodyguard. I summoned the bodyguard official of the city. He took his stand (and) Belsharusur drew near (and) conferred with him. We have caused Mushezib to go forth unto the king our lord ‥ ‥” Even the dual object of the address – to the king and to the common people – is attested. Cf. RCA no. 174, ll. 5–18: “In regard to the news of the land of Nagiu, of which the king spoke, saying, ‘Send word,’ a messenger has spoken to [m]Kibakashshe and to[m]Dasukku as follows, ‘The king has given the land of Ellipa to me and the land of Shungibutu to [m]Marduksharusur. It is established. Your cities are taken away. [If you want to make war, make war! Or let it be! I have nothing to do with it' (in the sense that ‘It makes no difference to me’).] After this manner he spoke before the people of the land.” (Bracketed lines 14–17 translated with G. Meier, Lexikalische Bemerkungen, Orientalia (n.s.) 8, 305. Cf. also A. L. Oppenheim, JAOS 64, 191.)

61 E.g., Jeremiah 38:4, Hosea 9:8, Amos 7:10ff., Micah 2:6.

62 This bit of “autobiography” is missing in LXX. Cf., however, the essentially identical command given to Isaiah (6:9), Ezekiel (3:4–11), and Amos (7:15–16).

63 We should parenthetically note here that the designation “my servants” designates the bearer of the title as a high-ranking officer of a royal court, as the frequently-found seals “PN, servant of the king” testify. Cf. the observations in n.10 above.

64 Cf. Bright, John, A History of Israel (Philadelphia, 1959), 238ffGoogle Scholar.

65 Two colleagues, R. B. Y. Scott of Princeton University and A. K. Grayson of the University of Toronto, have read this study in various drafts and have offered many valuable criticisms. The final draft but one was also generously read and criticized by G. Ernest Wright. Any mistakes or failings in the present article are, of course, the writer's responsibility.

Additional Note: The bibliography relative to the study of prophetic speech forms and the rôle of the prophet has expanded considerably in the interval between the initial submission of this study and the present. Two contributions in particular may be singled out for brief comment. James Limburg's The Root ביר and the Prophetic Lawsuit Speeches (JBL 88 [1969], 291ff.) underscores the point made in Sections A and B of the present study with a fresh and, to me, wholly convincing study of the key legal terminology involved in the rîb-Gattung. I find, however, that I simply cannot agree with the major conclusions reached by Klaus Baltzar in his stimulating Considerations Regarding the Office and Calling of the Prophet (HTR 61 [1968], 567ff.). Specifically, it seems to me that the source of a very serious misunderstanding arises from his downgrading of the rôle of the messenger: “[It is] … clear also that one should not go down too far in the hierarchy of offices. To point to the office of messenger hardly explains the claims which men like Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel made with respect to the rank of their office” (570). With the office of messenger thus eliminated, it becomes necessary to cast around for another appointive office on which the rôle of the prophet was modelled. Suffice it to say that no royal messenger was that lacking in authority (cf. the discussion of this point above and the additional references cited by Limburg, op. cit., 304, n. 41). Even in terms of relative ranking in the Egyptian court, the King's Messenger (ìpwty-nśw) was a very high-ranking official indeed, as his titulary and the description of his duties indicate. Cf. the forthcoming study which Professor D. B. Redford and I hope to have ready in the relatively near future.

Toronto, Ontario

8 January 1970