The Jerusalem Papyrus: Complementary Notations

by Dr. Christopher Rollston, George Washington University
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Introduction

Here are the readings of the editio princeps: [‘]mt. hmlk. mn‘rth. nblym. yyn. Yršlmh.
Translation of the readings of the edition princeps: [Maidse]rvant of the King, from N‘rth, (two) jars of wine to Jerusalem.

As the papyrus continues to garner attention, it is perhaps useful to convey certain additional reflections, especially with the release of the editio princeps (i.e., I have now received a copy of it and so can augment some of my reflections). I have also had some time to spend with a very fine high resolution image of the inscription.

Moreover, I should like to emphasize that I would be pleased for this papyrus inscription to be ancient, but the fact remains that forgeries have been produced in steady numbers during the past century (and much earlier), in a number of languages, including Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Aramaic, and Phoenician (for a synopsis of much of this data, see my “Forging History: From Antiquity to the Modern Period,” in _Archaeologies of Text_, eds. Morag Kersel and Matthew Rutz [2014], available on www.academia.edu). Therefore, vigilance should be the modus operandi of the entire field, as the great Joseph Naveh of Hebrew University often reminded us (e.g., his BASOR 247 [1982] article “Some Recently Forged Inscriptions,” his JNES 27 [1968] article “Aramaic Dubiosa,” and his IEJ 48 [1998] article with Israel Eph’al on the Moussaieff Ostraca) and as the great Frank Moore Cross reminded us (with his Orientalia 37 [1968] article on the forged Phoenician Inscription from Brazil and his IEJ 53 [2003] article on the Jehoash Inscription). Of course, the recent Gospel of Jesus Wife Papyrus forgery should also be instructive for all in the field.

On a different note, it should also be emphasized that we have many Old Hebrew inscriptions from First Temple Period Jerusalem, some of them particularly famous and especially important, such as the Siloam Tunnel Inscription, the Royal Steward Inscription (with N. Avigad’s masterful decipherment), the Ophel Inscription (see the list and full texts of inscriptions from Jerusalem in the volume entitled _Hebrew Inscriptions_ edited by F.W. Dobbs-Allsopp, J.J.M. Roberts, C.L. Seow, and R.E. Whitaker [Yale, 2005]. Furthermore, we have Mesopotamian inscriptions, such as the famed Sennacherib Prism, with its reference to Jerusalem and its King Hezekiah (r. ca. 715-687) during the 701 BCE siege of Judah. In addition, the city of Jerusalem is mentioned in a nice Old Hebrew inscription in stone from Khirbit Beit Lei (as Adam Bean and Nathaniel Greene have emphasized) that dates to the late First Temple Period. In other words, from inscriptions we know a lot about and from Jerusalem.

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(1) Carbon dates normally, of course, have a plus and minus range. In the media discussions of the Jerusalem Papyrus, there have been many references to an assumed secure 7th century carbon date for the papyrus….but this is too narrow…as it is without a stated plus and minus range. Important, therefore, is the fact that in the editio princeps of this inscription, a larger range is given (footnote 3, page 248), with a calibrated 2-sigma date being (756- 679 BC [34%], and 671-430 BC [61.4%]). Of course, this is indeed fairly important because it shows that the C 14 date for the papyrus is certainly not necessarily a 7th century date. That doesn’t necessarily change things all that much, but it is important, for a number of (fairly obvious, I think) reasons. Furthermore, Israel Finkelstein, Eric Cline, Benjamin Porter, and Felix Höflmayer have all drawn my attention to the fact that the “Hallstatt Plateau” is arguably to be factored in here…namely, according to the “Hallstatt Plateau,” radiocarbon dates of ca. 2450 BP (Before Present = 1950) consistently calibrate to ca. 800-400 BC, regardless of the measurement precision. The editio princeps of the Jerusalem Papyrus gives 2460 BP +/- 71. In short, the plateau is operative. Thus, it is quite problematic to suggest that the carbon date for the Jerusalem Papyrus is, and can only be, 7th century BCE. The plus or minus must be admitted to be considerably wider for the carbon date, arguably a couple hundred years.

(2a). The Restoration. A striking thing is that the authors of the editio princeps restore an ‘alep to get the word ‘mt (construct form of ‘mh, that is, “maidservant”). The assumption is that it was an ‘alep that was at the end of the preceding line (a few traces of that line are visible, so there was a preceding line, but *no* traces of an ‘alep are present at the end of that preceding line). The authors of the editio princeps do consider other options (noted on p. 241 of the editio princeps), but they settle on [‘]mt, that is, (the construct form of) “maidservant.” However, I would wish to emphasize that restorations are notoriously difficult things. Thus, without an initial ‘alep actually present, the restoration cannot be considered at all certain. Thus, and this is very important, this inscription might not be about “the maidservant of the King” at all, as the word maidservant is based on a restoration.

(2b) The Restoration Continued. In addition to positing a different letter or two that would result in a different noun (i.e., not “maidservant,” but some other nominal), it would also be possible to posit a verbal form (including even the root mwt, “die,” “dead”….which could make this inscription really interesting… although various other possibilities could also be posited). Again, though, that’s the problem with restorations….they are very uncertain, unless we’re dealing with highly formulaic language (e.g., a legal contract). And even then it’s not always easy. In this case, we do not have a highly formulaic text, and we have very little context, so I consider any particular restoration (whether it be ‘mh or something else) to be only a possibility.

(3a) Orthography and Lexicography. There are a couple of potential problems with the orthography in the Jerusalem Papyrus, the first one particularly concerning. Namely, regarding the words of the Jerusalem Papyrus nblym (with yod as an internal mater lections) and yyn, that is, “jars of wine” or “two jars of wine” (if the term for jar is understood as a dual, which is the way that the authors of the editio princeps wish to understand it), it must be conceded that the orthography of the inscription is problematic. After all, within Semitic languages, this construction (this juxtaposition of two nouns or nominals) is called a “construct chain” (i.e., x of y). And in Semitic construct chains (including Hebrew, Phoenician, Aramaic, Akkadian, Ugaritic, Ethiopic, etc.), the noun in construct takes the “construct form.” Sometimes there is no discernible difference (at least in the writing system), but when a masculine plural or masculine dual noun is in the construct form, the plural ending îm and the dual ending ayim (see Jouon paragraph 92 g on this) are replaced by the vowel ê (and, most importantly for our purposes) without the mem. That is, the mem is eliminated. Gone. Note, along these lines, that the very same expression is used in the Hebrew Bible, that is, “vessels of wine.” BUT in Standard Biblical Hebrew it is written: nbly.yyn (1 Samuel 25:18; for additional examples of the plural construct form of nbl “jar” in the Bible, see Job 38:37; Lam 4:2). That is, as is standard in Ancient Hebrew, no mem is present in the Biblical form (the yod in the biblical form is a mater lectionis). This is the way it worked in Ancient Hebrew. In essence, therefore, there is a serious orthographic problem (i.e., mistake) in the Jerusalem Papyrus inscription, and a rather large one at that: the word nblym is in construct and so there should be no mem (note that Ezekiel 47:4 and Numbers 9:20 are arguably corrupt; I am grateful to Jason Bembry for mentioning these texts to me) and arguably are reflective of a deep structure that is different from the context in the Jerusalem Papyrus. Of course, someone might posit that in the inscription we have a “frozen form” of some sort, but this would be a very strained argument to make, since we have the very same expression in Standard Biblical Hebrew and the mem is lost…just as it is supposed to be (across the Semitic languages). Someone might propose that although this syntactically like it should be a construct chain, it is not. But that is a really hard argument to make as this construction is basically a textbook case for a construct chain (and that’s the way Biblical Hebrew has it as well). Also, I suppose that someone might attempt to propose some sort of strained argument to account for the mistake in the Jerusalem Papyrus’s orthography, but I’m disinclined to embrace special pleading all that readily, especially in an inscription on papyrus (and thus ostensibly a first-class scribe). We do have some mistakes in inscriptions at times, but this would be a big one for an ancient scribe to make, and one that would be hard to explain for a *native speaker of Ancient Hebrew and a first-tier scribe (for as Professor Joseph Naveh has noted, papyrus was the medium that the most highly educated and gifted of official scribes would use). Conversely, this is the sort of mistake that someone might make if they didn’t know Ancient Hebrew all that well (note that Modern Hebrew often avoids construct forms…with the use of “shel” being a common substition in Modern Hebrew for something that would have been a construct form in Ancient Hebrew). In short, I consider this to be a howler of an error.

(3b) Orthography and Lexicography. It could be contended that the proposed reading (of the editio princeps of the Jerusalem Papyrus) of the place-name N‘rth is problematic. Note that the form in the inscription (i.e., the spelling in the inscription) is the same as that in Joshua 16:7. At first blush, this might seem good. But this may not be the case, once we look more closely at the context of Joshua 16:7. In the Joshua reference, this place-name has a directive heh on it (note the verb yrd “to go down” is present in the Joshua text, so a directive heh, with its semantic range of “direction toward” makes perfect sense). Note also that the standard dictionary of Biblical Hebrew (HALOT), as well as BDB, presuppose that the lexical form of the word in Joshua is n‘rh (so at the very least, the authors of the editio princeps differ with HALOT and BDB [p. 655] on the lexical form of the place name). Thus, the form in Joshua is a result of the presence of the directive heh (thus, again, BDB page 655). Significantly, the form in the Jerusalem Papyrus is preceded by the preposition min (with assimilation of the nun) and so the directive heh would not normally be used in Ancient Hebrew (as the directive heh signifies “direction toward,” not “direction from” and this is something the Rabbis noted long ago, when they reasoned that the directive heh stood in place of a prefixed lamed “to”…so Waltke and O’Connor, paragraph 2.1b, et passim). In short, in Ancient Hebrew, this place-name is N‘rh, and when the directive heh is attached, the form we have (as demonstrated by Joshua 16:7) is N‘rth. Thus, the form that should arguably have been in the Jerusalem Papyrus Inscription is N‘rh, not N‘rth (the “double feminization” line of thought is pretty strained). However, there are exceptions, with a small number of cases with both the preposition min and the directive heh (e.g., Jer 27:16 and Josh 15:10).

(3c) Orthography and Lexicography. In this connection, I should like to mention that, as both Jason Bembry and Joel Baden have emphasized to me (personal communication) that it is certainly possible to understand n’rth as meaning “his young (female) attendant” (i.e., n’rh [nfs meaning “female attendant,” “female maidservant,” etc.] with the 3ms ms possessive suffix….of course, it could also be a 3fs possessive suffix, but in this context, 3ms is more likely). In any case, if one accepts this lexcial understanding (i.e., a common noun, rather than a place-name), then the meaning of the text is certainly different from the way that the authors of the editio princeps understand it, and this understanding (i.e., the common noun) has the elegance of being a fairly common word and with orthography that is standard Ancient Hebrew.

(4) There are also some problems with the script…perhaps in part related to the morphology of some letters, but especially in the realm of the ductus of some letters (the term ductus refers to the number of strokes that form a letter, the direction of those strokes and the order of those strokes). I’ve spent a fair amount of my life looking through a microscope or jeweler’s loop at Old Hebrew ink-inscriptions from excavations. And I have some ductus concerns (forgers can often get the morphology of a letter pretty accurately, but they struggle more with ductus….because palaeographers don’t discuss it very much. As for ductus of some forgeries, I discussed this sort of thing in detail in Maarav back in 2003, with regard to the Moussaieff Ostraca and Jehoash Inscription, etc.). I will be discussing this in the journal article that is currently in preparation and will be in print during the spring of 2017.

Updated 2:30 eastern (Nov 2).

Sincerely,

Christopher Rollston

Here are some things to remember, as this Jerusalem Papyrus garners attention:

I. The fact that the papyrus itself has been carbon dated to the 7th century BCE certainly does not mean that the writing on the papyrus is ancient In fact, it really means nothing. After all, ancient papyrus is readily available for purchase online (check the web and see!), thus, no modern forger worth his or her salt would forge an inscription on modern papyrus. Rather, he or she would purchase some ancient papyrus online and then write a text on it. It happens fairly often (the Marzeah Papyrus is a good example of this, as is the Jesus Wife Papyrus). In short, for anyone to conclude that this (or any) inscription must be ancient because the papyrus is ancient is quite naïve (For similar statements about inks, see VII, below). Thus, Caveat Eruditus.

II. There are some palaeographic and orthographic anomalies and inconsistencies in this papyrus inscription that are concerning and may suggest that it is modern, not ancient. Thus, again, Caveat Eruditus.

III. Modern forgers often use sensational content….after all this *raises* the price and it *lowers* the critical thinking capacity of those who very much wish for something to be true (e.g., the Jesus Wife Papyrus, the James Ossuary, and Jehoash Inscription, Moussaieff Ostraca, etc.). The content of the Jerusalem Papyrus is certainly sensational…and it is ever so convenient that on this piece with so few words such sensational content was found.

IV. The Jerusalem Papyrus is from the antiquities market and it has been floating around on the market for a few years now. It was not found on an actual archaeological excavation. I saw some good images of it a few years ago in Jerusalem.

V. There are many modern inscriptional forgeries on the market, as I have argued in various publications, for some fifteen years now (most of these articles are available via www.academia.edu). The money that modern forgers and dealers can make on modern forgeries is astronomical, consistently in the five and six figure range. The motivation is strong. In this case, this papyrus was seized, but that does not mean that it could not have been produced in the modern period with the intent of marketing it.

VI. Forgeries are often reported to have “been found here, or there, at some specific location. This has been the case since long before the Shapira Forgeries of the mid to late 1800s. And it was the case with the Hebron Philistine Inscriptions, the Jehoash Inscription, the Ivory Pomegranate, the James Ossuary and so many others. In short, I’m sure that some story will surface about the purported “find spot” of this papyrus inscription. I would urge caution, though, as forgers and dealers have a strong vested interest in attempting to dupe.

VII. Regarding ink, it is also worth emphasizing, as I did long ago in my first Maarav articles on forgeries (2003, and 2004) that the chemical composition of inks has been the subject of study for some time (note, for example, that in the editio princeps of the Lachish Ostraca, published in 1938, there is reference to the chemical composition of the ink). Thus, forgers have the capacity to know that which they must replicate (in terms of chemical composition of the inks) for an ink to be the same, or virtually the same, in chemical composition to actual ancient inks. Furthermore, the core component of carbon-based inks is ancient carbonized remains….and such remains are readily available (e.g., on excavations and the antiquities market) in the form of burnt wood and so the capacity is present for faked inks to be produced in the modern period that yield an ancient C-14 date. Moreover, of course, a clever forger might simply purchase some ancient inscription on the antiquities market (e.g., one with mundane content and so not a high-value inscription) and then carefully scrape the ink from that inscription and then mix that (dry) ink with water and then use that ink in a ]modern-forgery with sensational content. Using such methods, a forged, modern inscription could pass all the lab tests. In short, this is a game of cat and mouse and modern forgers have substantial motivation for producing modern forgeries with ink that can “pass all the tests.” Again, caveat eruditus [NB: the material in this paragraph, that is, VII, was added on October 27, 2016, a day after my initial post].

VIII. In short, to those wishing to declare that the letters on this papyrus inscription are ancient, I would say: ‘Not so fast!’

IX. Ultimately, I believe that there is a fair chance that although the papyrus itself is ancient the ink letters are actually modern…that is, this inscription is something that I would classify as a possible modern forgery.

X. Recently, I signed a contract with Eerdmans Publishing for a volume (almost entirely completed at this time) entitled _Forging History in the Ancient World of the Bible & the Modern World of Biblical Studies_. The Jerusalem Papyrus inscription will be in that volume…

Dr. Christopher A. Rollston, George Washington University

A Woman’s Seal and a Man’s Seal from First Temple Jerusalem Excavations

By Dr. Christopher A. Rollston, George Washington University (rollston@gwu.edu)

Introduction:
The announcement of two Iron Age seals from Jerusalem is most welcome. These were found on scientific excavations that have been conducted in Jerusalem by Drs. Doron Ben-Ami, Yana Tchekhanovets, and Salome Doron. The photos of the seals that have been released are those of Clara Amit, courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority.

I. The Broader Context of the Jerusalem Seals

Seals were part and parcel of the economic and legal activities of the people of the ancient Near Eastern world, particularly the elites. Seals would be used in cases, for example, of the purchase or sale of something of substantial value (e.g., land, precious metals), or in the case of a marriage, or divorce, or adoption (etc.). Within Iron Age Israel, Judah, Moab, Ammon, Edom, Phoenicia, Philistia, and Syria, stamps seals were very commonly used. Many seals have been found on scientific excavations in these regions. Most of these seals are quite round and have about the same diameter as a small coin (although they are thicker than coins). Most were made of attractive, and sometimes rare, stones (incised with a sharp incising tool, made of metal). Most seals have holes drilled through them so that a string (“cord”) could be attached to them. Some were attached in antiquity to a ring, and on rare occasions (such as tomb contexts), the seal and ring are found together. Seals with words inscribed on them are called “Epigraphic Seals.” Seals without words inscribed on them are called “Anepigraphic Seals.” Seals with imagery (e.g., animals, people) on them are called “Iconic Seals.” Seals without imagery are called “Aniconic Seals.” Some seals have words and imagery, some just imagery, some just words. Seals are often divided into “lines.” Each line is referred to as a “register.”

There are some particularly nice references to seals and sealing practices in the Hebrew Bible. Among the most detailed descriptions is the one contained in the book of Jeremiah, a prophet of the late First Temple and early Exilic Periods. Within this biblical text (Jeremiah 32), the prophet is said to have purchased a field from a kinsman of his, in the tenth year of Judean King Zedekiah (ca. 587 BCE, just as Jerusalem was about to fall to King Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon). Jeremiah is said to have signed a deed of purchase, in the presence of witnesses. There were two copies of this deed (both probably written on papyrus), one the “open copy” and one the “sealed copy.” The open copy would normally be retained for rapid reference and would often have been kept by the purchaser (or a close associate). The sealed copy, however, would normally be archived, often in the house of a scribe, or in an archive of a palace or temple. The sealed copy was the binding legal copy and would only be opened if and when there was some reason to verify in a decisive legal fashion the fact or the nature of the agreement (e.g., purchase, or sale, or marriage, or adoption, or divorce, etc.). In any case, the sealed copy would be rolled up or folded up, and a string would be wrapped around it and then a small clump of wet clay would be attached carefully and precisely to the string, and then the parties to the agreement would press their seals into the clumps of wet clay (the result would be an impression of the seal in the clay, the impressed clumps of clay are referred to as “bullae,” sing: “bulla”). The seals would serve as proof of the event (e.g., purchase, sale, marriage, divorce, adoption). Note that seals are normally incised (i.e., made) in mirror image, so that when they are impressed into the clay, the resulting image is positive (i.e., in the correct orientation). Within the narrative of Jeremiah, the prophet Jeremiah gives both the sealed copy and the open copy to Baruch ben Neriah for safe keeping.

II. The Readings of the Two New Jerusalem Seals

The first seal reads (Register 1): L‘lyhnḥ; (Register 2): bt. g’l. Translation: (Register 1): Belonging to ‘Elyhnḥ; (Register 2): daughter of Go’el. As is customary for seals, this seal (and the other one) begin with the letter lamed, that is, the “Lamed of Ownership.” The first personal name on this seal (i.e., on the first register) consists of two morphemes: ‘ly and hnḥ. Note that it is also arguably possible that the yod (y) is to be associated with the second morpheme (as a marker of the imperfect tense), rather than the first. In any case, the first morpheme is from the root meaning “to be high” and is associated with a number of personal names and divine names (e.g., the personal name ‘Eli in Samuel and the divine name ‘Elyon, for example, in Deut 32:8-9, et passim). The second morpheme is arguably that of the root nwḥ, in the Hiphil stem. From this verbal root come various names, including the personal name Noah of Genesis (Gen 6, et passim) and Samson’s father (Manoah, Judg 13). At this time, I would suggest that an acceptable translation of this personal name on the seal is something such as “God Most High has brought rest.” The second register begins with the standard word for daughter, that is, bt. Although this is not the first seal of a woman to be found, such seals are always of substantial importance because they were, and thus are, quite rare. The second personal name (G’l) is the standard word for “Redeemer” (e.g, a kinsman redeemer). This root is well attested in the Hebrew Bible. For example, Boaz is referred to as a kinsman redeemer (e.g., Ruth 3:13, et passim), because he functioned as a kinsman redeemer for the land and family of Elimelech. In the case of this seal from Jerusalem, that same root word is used as the basis of a personal name. Of course, the putative linguistic symmetry of the two verbal roots for the personal names on this seal is quite nice, with the first personal name referring to “bringing rest” and the second root revolving around the semantic realm of “kinsman redeemer,” (cf. Ruth 1:9, with Naomi’s statement that she hopes her daughters-in-law could find “rest” (nwḥ) in the house of a different husband, after the death of Naomi’s two sons).

The second seal can be read (Register 1): LS‘ryhw. b (or LS‘dyhw b); (Register 2): n.Šbnyhw. Translation: (Register 1): Belonging to Sa‘aryahu (or Sa‘adyahu), so- (Register 2): -n of Shebnayahu (with the word for “son” beginning at the end of the first register and concluding at the beginning of the second register, as is fairly typical at times in seals). The more difficult aspect of this seal is the proper reading of the fourth letter of the first register. The apparent morphology of the head of that letter in the published photo is strongly suggestive of a dalet, rather than a resh (because of what appears to be a slight overlap over of the head). But the length of the stem of that letter is more suggestive of a resh. To be absolutely certain of the reading (i.e., of the morphology of this letter), therefore, I’d prefer to be able to look at this under a microscope myself. Perhaps I can do that soon, permissions permitting. In any case, for the sake of argument, I will discuss both potential morphemes (i.e., of the reading dalet and of the reading resh) for the personal name on the first register. For S‘r, the lexeme is arguably the one that has the basic meaning “to visit, inspect, conduct affairs,” or the lexeme “heavy gale, high wind, to drive away, to blow away.” I slightly prefer the former lexeme, if the reading resh is accepted. Conversely, for the reading S‘d, the lexeme is arguably the one meaning “support, strengthen.” The presence of the yahwistic theophoric is also to be noted, as this is a nice marker of a Judean personal name, something that makes sense in a Jerusalem context, of course. The personal name of the second register (Shebnyahu) is attested in the Hebrew Bible and in the epigraphic record. For example, within Isaiah and Kings (Is 36:3; 2 Kgs 18:18, etc.), there is reference to an official state scribe during the time of Hezekiah (r. ca. 715-687 BCE) as Shebna (a shortened form of the same name on the seal; for additional references to this personal name, see Neh 9:4; 10:5, 12:14, etc.). Epigraphic references include the Old Hebrew Arad Inscriptions (e.g., Arad 27, late 7th/early 6th centuries BCE) and arguably the Royal Steward Inscription of Jerusalem (late 8th century BCE). In terms of meaning, some have suggested that the tri-literal root of this personal name means something such as “to come near, close.” Perhaps.

III. Script, Language, and Date

The script of both of these seals is the standard Old Hebrew script. The script of both seals is nicely done, certainly the work of a trained seal maker (for an important reference in Second Temple Jewish Literature to a seal-maker, see especially Ben Sira 38:27). I have seen some suggestions by some scholars that the script of the ‘Elyhnḥ Seal might be Ammonite. This is definitely not the case. The script of both of these seals is Old Hebrew. Note in particular the stance of the bet (on both seals), reflective of the standard recumbent stance of the Old Hebrew, rather than Ammonite. Regarding the date, I would contend that a date in the late 8th century or early 7th century BCE is the best palaeographic date. Regarding language, it can be said that the language of both of these seals is Old Hebrew, and, of course, the presence of the (Judean) Yahwistic theophoric on the Ben Shebnyahu Seal argues for this as well. Finally, I should also like to emphasize that the reason it was quite rare for women to have seals was not because, as some have apparently suggested, because of the “generally inferior economic status of women.” Rather, I would contend that it was because ancient Near Eastern societies (including that of the Iron Age Levant) were patriarchal. For this reason, men were normally responsible for most of the agreements that would require the sealing of documents. There were certainly some exceptions, as reflected in the lofty narratives about Job’s daughters (Job 42), the daughters of Zelophehad (Num 27), and the Noble Wife (Prov 31). But the biblical and epigraphic evidence converge to suggest that men were the normal brokers of agreements requiring sealed documents.

In sum, these two seals are Old Hebrew. They are both well done, the work of a well-trained seal maker. The palaeographic date that I would assign to them is that of the chronological horizon that spans from the late 8th century to the early 7th century BCE. The Yahwistic theophorics are predictable, but still important. The fact that one of these seals is that of a woman demonstrates that she was a very prominent woman indeed, someone who must have engaged in business and legal activities that necessitated her owning a seal. This is most impressive and certainly the most important component of these new finds.
Christopher A. Rollston, George Washington University (rollston@gwu.edu)

THE JAMES (YA’AKOV) OSSUARY

The broadcast in its original airing may be viewed .

The Ninth Century ‘Moabite Pedestal Inscription’ from King Mesha’s Ataruz: Preliminary Synopsis of an Excavated Epigraphic Text and its Biblical Connections

Christopher A. Rollston
National Endowment for the Humanities Research Scholar
Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, Jerusalem
e-mail: Christopher.Rollston@gmail.com
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Introduction

The site of Khirbet Ataruz is located in modern Jordan, on the ridge of Jebel Hamida, with Wadi Zarqa Ma‘in to the north and Wadi Wala to the south. Khirbet Ataruz is located some fourteen kilometers to the northwest of Dhiban. The site has been known for some time (e.g., Glueck 1939; Schottroff 1966; Timm 1980; Niemann 1985), but Chang-Ho Ji is the first to conduct full scale excavations at the site (Ji 2012). During the process of these ongoing excavations, Ji discovered a pedestal (arguably of an incense altar) with an inscription on it (cf. the inscribed incense altar from Mudeyineh, Dion and Daviau 2000). Significantly, the archaeological context for this inscription from Ataruz was an Iron Age II Temple, with a striking assemblage of cultic objects (Ji 2012; cf. also Finkelstein and Lipschits 2010; Finkelstein and Lipschits 2011).

Shortly after the initial discovery, Chang-Ho Ji requested that I analyze and publish the inscription and I accepted this gracious invitation. Moreover, because of the complex nature of this inscribed pedestal, particularly, the presence of several sets of hieratic numerals, I have since brought Stefan Wimmer and P.Kyle McCarter in to assist with the publication. The editio princeps will be completed during 2014, co-authored by the three of us, with formal publication probably appearing during late 2014 or early 2015 (e.g., ADAJ and also something such as Levant, ZDPV, BASOR, or Maarav). This preliminary synopsis, however, is something I have written, based primarily on the document that I previously submitted to the Department of Antiquities of Jordan when I agreed to publish it. I wish to express again my gratitude to the Department of Antiquities of Jordan and to Excavator Chang-Ho Ji for permission to publish it.

Prologue to the Discussion of the Ataruz Moabite Pedestal Inscription: The Mesha Stele and the Bible

The Moabite site of Atarot (Ataruz) is prominently mentioned in the Mesha Stele, along with several additional sites (Dearman 1989). Namely, after four lines of introductory material (including reference to King Mesha’s dedication in Qarḥoh of a high place for Kemosh, the national God of Moab; cf. 1 Kgs 11:7), King Mesha, son of King Kemoshyat, states that because Kemosh was angry with his land (Moab), he (Kemosh) gave the land of Moab into the hand of King Omri of Israel (r. 876-869). Mesha then continues, noting that Omri’s son (bn) succeeded him (Omri) and wished to continue to maintain hegemony over Moab, but Mesha rebelled. Several sites are selected for particular emphasis in this section of the Mesha Stele, notably Madaba, Atarot, Nebo, and Yahaṣ. Regarding the land of Madaba, Mesha states that “Omri had taken possession of all [the land] of Madaba, and he dwelt in it during his days and half of the days of his son, (around) forty years. But Kemosh returned it in my days.” Regarding the land of Atarot, Mesha states that “Now the people of Gad had dwelt in the region of Atarot for a long time, as the king of Israel had built Atarot for them [cf. Num 32]. But I fought against the city and I took it and I killed all the people of the city, (as) it was for Kemosh and for Moab. And I brought back from there the altar hearth…and I [drag]ged it before Kemosh in Qiryat. And I settled the Sharonites and the Maḥarites in it.” At that point, the narrative continues with Mesha’s conquest of Nebo, including its “seven thousand [Israelite] warriors, as well as male sojourners (grn), women, female sojourners, and young maidens.” All of these Mesha, “devoted to ‘Aštar of Kemosh.” Moreover, Mesha took from Nebo “the vessels of Yahweh and dragged them before Kemosh.” Regarding Yahaṣ, Mesha states that “Now the King of Israel had built Yahaṣ and he dwelt in it while he was fighting against me. But Kemosh drove him out from before me”(Rollston 2015). Much of the remainder of the Mesha Stele is devoted to the public works of King Mesha of Moab, coming on the heels of his military successes against the Northern Kingdom of Israel.

It should be remembered that the language of the Mesha Stele is Moabite, with the consistent use of the nun throughout this inscription to mark the masculine plural, thus, distinguishing the Moabite language from the Old Hebrew language (and also from Phoenician, etc.). Furthermore, the phonology of the Mesha Stele distinguishes it from the Aramaic language and from the Deir Alla Dialect (Garr 1985; Huehnergard 1989). That is, the Mesha Stele is written in the Moabite language and this is not something that can be disputed on linguistic grounds (pace Segert 1961).

Within the Hebrew Bible, there is a similar account of Omride hegemony over Moab and Mesha’s subsequent rebellion, with reference to (an annual) tribute from Moab to Israel of 100,000 lambs and the wool of 100,000 rams (2 Kgs 3:4-27). The Israelite account in Kings and the Moabite account in the Mesha Stele are different in some respects, though. (1) For example, the Israelite account states that Mesha rebelled after the death of King Ahab of Israel (r. 869-850 BCE), namely, during the reign of Ahab’s son, King Jehoram of Israel (r. 849-842 BCE), the brief reign of King Ahaziah of Israel (r. 850-849 BCE) not part of the equation. The Moabite account, however, suggests that this rebellion occurred after Omri’s death and, thus, during the time of Omri’s son (Ahab). (2) Furthermore, the Israelite account in Kings states that King Jehoram of Israel was successful in crushing the rebellion of Mesha (but with the human sacrifice of his [Mesha’s] son and the ensuing wrath of Yahweh or Kemosh precipitating an Israelite military withdrawal). However, the Moabite account in the Mesha Stele declares that Mesha was very successful in the rebellion against Israel and won major victories against Israel, regaining lost Moabite territory, and even gaining new territory. (1) The first difference (i.e., son of Omri in the Mesha Stele over against son of Ahab in Kings) is not necessarily much of a tension because the term “son” could be used in a broader sense to refer to a son or grandson of Omri (cf. also Rollston 2010, 52-55). Nevertheless, it is also possible that there is a real tension and that the Israelite account or the Moabite account got it wrong. (2) The second difference (the Israelite account claiming victory over Moab and the Moabite account claiming victory over Israel) could be understood as a demonstration of the fact that in the ancient Near East kings preferred to proclaim victories, regardless of the precise facts and actual outcomes. Note, for example, that both Ramesses II and the Muwatalli II claimed victory against the other in the Battle of Kadesh in 1274 BCE. Conversely, it could be that the Moabite account and the Israelite account are of different military episodes or different victories in the longer conflict. It should also be mentioned here that the events described in the Israelite account would be dated to ca. 849 BCE (i.e., the time when Jehoram was on the throne of Israel and Jehoshaphat was on the throne of Judah).

Finally, it should also be emphasized that the repeated campaigns of King Shalmaneser III (r. 859-825 BCE) of Assyria into the Levant during the middle of the 9th century (cf. Kurukh Monolith, Black Obelisk) arguably provided the Moabites with some relief from Israelite hegemony, probably contributing to some of Mesha’s military successes and public works. Of course, the Aramaic (Tel Dan; Biran and Naveh 1995) and Hebrew (2 Kings 8-9; cf. 1 Kgs 19:17) narratives about the deaths of King Jehoram of Israel and King Ahaziah of Judah around 842 BCE (and thus the usurpations of King Jehu of Israel and Hazael of Damascus) are also part of the broader tableau as well.

The Tell Ataruz Moabite Pedestal Inscription

The inscribed pedestal contains seven lines of text incised into the stone (of the pedestal). Four lines of the inscription are written along the vertical axis and three lines are written along the horizontal axis. This inscription was not written by one hand. The inscription is abraded in some places. Based on the morphology, stance, and ductus of the script, I date the writing comfortably to the 9th century BCE. It would be most difficult to date the script of this pedestal to the 8th century. After conveying my palaeographic date of this inscribed pedestal to Ji, he indicated to me that he dated the temple and its associated finds to the 9th century as well. Also of substantial import, Finkelstein and Lipschits also have indicated that the architecture of this component of this site dates to the 9th century (2010; 2011), and they have indicated to me (personal conversation) that the pottery and objects can be dated to this chronological horizon as well.

It should be emphasized that during the 9th century BCE, the script used to write inscriptions in the Moabite language was the Old Hebrew script, arguably a fact related to the hegemony of Northern Kingdom of Israel during the Omride period (Naveh 1987, 65; Rollston 2010, 54). Of course, this hegemony is something that King Mesha of Moab discusses in his stele. Nevertheless, the Moabite script developed further during succeeding chronological horizons into an independent national script, that is, the distinctive Moabite national script, something demonstrated very nicely by the script of the Mudeyineh Incense Altar Inscription (Dion and Daviau 2000; Rollston 2010, 62-63).

The Khirbet Ataruz Moabite Pedestal Inscription is written in the Moabite language. The linguistic markers in the Ataruz inscription correspond with those of the Mesha Stele. Most prominently and importantly, the masculine plural marker used in the Ataruz inscription is the nun, rather than the mem of Phoenician and Hebrew (and congeners). The fact that this inscription is written in the Moabite language is not surprising, based on the location of this site and the historical details about this site that are contained in the Mesha Stele (namely, Mesha of Moab conquered this territory, establishing Moabite hegemony). Of substantial importance in this inscription is the presence of some rather impressive hieratic numerals, some of which are particularly high in numeric value (in the thousands). Word dividers do occur in this inscription, as expected, but not with absolute consistency (this too is quite customary).

The structure of the initial line of the inscription is a hieratic numeral, followed by /mn/ and then an additional lexeme. A similar structure is present in line three and arguably (a truncated version) in line two as well. There are a finite number of possibilities for the semantic domains of the words that are present, but the brevity of the inscription does complicate the matter. In any case, the structure is numeric + mn + lexeme. Because this inscription was found in a temple context, I believe that it is reasonable to propose that the numeric refers to the amount of a commodity offered. The word /mn/ is arguably the prepositional morpheme “from” (I am less inclined to think that it is a reference to a “mina,” that is, a unit of measure). The prepositional /mn/ does not occur in all cases (it is clearly present in lines one and three). The lexeme following /mn/ can be understood to refer to the source of the offering. It is plausible to understand the source (i.e., the lexeme after the word “from”) as a person, a category of persons, a place (and there is some semantic bleeding and overlap with regard to these enumerated categories). In any case, the first line seems paradigmatic in this respect. The hieratic numeral is followed by “from” (mn) and after the word divider the consonants present are /‘brn/, with nun the masculine plural marker in Moabite. The lexeme after /mn/ in the first line could refer, for example, to a category of people “those across” (e.g., a wadi, or some geographic feature or territory), or a people group (e.g., “Hebrews”), or something such as an eponymous ancestor of a clan. Lexical and textual support can be found for all of these (e.g., Deut 32:49; Num 27:12 for the mountainous district in northwestern Moab and associated with Nebo; a Gadite chief mentioned in 1 Chr 5:13; and the common gentilic “Hebrews” attested in the Pentateuch, Deuteronomistic Literature, and the Prophets). As for the second line, there is a hieratic numeral and then the consonants /grn/, with nun arguably as the masculine plural marker (although /grn/ “threshing floor” must also be considered). It should be mentioned that /prn/ is also a possible reading (palaeographically), which could, of course, refer to a category of offering, “bull” or the like. I should note that reading a dalet here (instead of a resh) is not really plausible. The absence of the /mn/ “from” in such a terse text as this does not necessitate the supposition that the structure of this line is entirely different from the first line and third line, but that possibility must be considered. The fact that /grn/ (“sojourners”) occurs in the Mesha Stele is of some importance, of course. Also of import, line two is rather long and arguably contains the lexemes gdl (reading a /p/ for the first letter rather than a /g/ is palaeographically possible; note that I am disinclined to read the second letter as a possible /r/ because of the shortness of the stem) and šlm (with the various lexical possibilities for this sequence of letters, including those with the semantic domain of “pay,” and those with the semantic domain of “peace offering,” etc.). As for the third line, the preposition “from” recurs. The fourth line is difficult, but reasonably legible in the best of the photographs at our disposal. The final three lines of the inscription (or, one could argue, the first three lines of the inscription) are different in terms of formula, and perhaps most interesting mathematically. More precisely, in lines five and six, the formula is: hieratic numerals + /sh/ and /L/, arguably a shortened form of the word for sheqel. The seventh line contains /kl/ and then after this a hieratic numeral as well.

At this juncture, we now have access to additional (and better) photographic images of this important inscription and we will begin working in earnest on this text in the coming months. Kyle McCarter and I have most (probably all, I suppose) of the lexical and syntactic options on the table (not all of which are included here, of course) and Stefan Wimmer has reasonable and cogent readings for the hieratic numerals (and he is also a fine scholar of Northwest Semitic in his own right). Because this inscription hails from the period very shortly after Mesha’s conquest of the site (remember that the inscription is written in the Moabite language, a fairly diagnostic indicator of those controlling the site at the time of the production of the inscription, I believe), the inscription provides useful and important data for attempts to reconstruct the nexus of power in the second half of the 9th century. In addition, this inscription lends credence to the claims Mesha makes in his stele (e.g., his conquering of Atarot, etc.), something that may suggest that the materials in Kings about the victory of Jehoram over Moab were either legendary or short-lived, or about a slightly different chronological horizon. The reflections detailed here will not necessarily be those embraced in the final publication, but they do convey the interpretive contours that have been part of my preliminary reflections and will probably be formative for the final publication.

Basic Bibliography

Biran, Avraham and Naveh, Joseph.
1995 “The Tel Dan Inscription: A New Fragment.” IEJ 45:1-18.

Dearman, Andrew, ed.
1989 Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab. Atlanta: Scholars Press.

Dion, Paul E. and Daviau, P.M. Michèle
2000 “An Inscribed Incense Altar of Iron Age II at Ḫirbet el-Mudēyine (Jordan).” ZDPV 116: 1-13.

Finkelstein, Israel and Lipschits, Oded.
2010 “Omride Architecture in Moab: Jahaz and Ataroth.” ZDPV 126: 29-42.

Finkelstein, Israel and Lipschits, Oded.
2011 “The Genesis of Moab: A Proposal.” Levant 43: 139-152.

Garr, Randall.

1985 Dialect Geography of Syria-Palestine, 1000-586 B.C.E. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania.

Huehnergard, John.

1989 Remarks on the Classification of the Northwest Semitic Languages. Pages 282-93 in The Balaam Text from Deir ‘‘Alla Re-evaluated. Proceedings of the International 84 Symposium held at Leiden 21–24 August 1989. Ed. J. Hoftijzer and G. van der Kooij; Leiden: Brill.

Ji, Chang-Ho
2012 “The Early Iron Age II Temple at Khirbet Atarus and Its Architecture and Selected Cult Objects.” Pp. 203-221 and Plates 44-49 in Temple Building and Temple Cult: Architecture and Cultic Paraphernalia of Temples in the Levant (2m-1. Mill. BCE), ed. Jens Kamlah. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

Naveh, Joseph.
1987 Early History of the Alphabet: An Introduction to West Semitic Epigraphy and Palaeography. 2nd ed. Jerusalem: Magnes.

Niemann, Hermann Michael
1985 “Ein Statuettentorso von der Ḫirbert Aṭārūs.” ZDPV 101: 169-177.

Rollston, Christopher A.
2010 Writing and Literacy in the World of Ancient Israel: Epigraphic
Evidence from the Iron Age. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature.

Rollston, Christopher A.
2015 Northwest Semitic Royal Inscriptions: Writings from the Ancient
World. ed., Theodore Lewis. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature.

Schottroff, Willy.
1965 “Horonaim, Nimrim, Luhith und der Westrand des „Landes Ataroth“:
Ein Beitrag zur historischen Topographie des Landes Moab.” ZDPV 81: 163-208.

Segert, Stanislav
1961 “Die Sprache Der Moabitischen Königsinschrift.” Archiv Orientální:
29: 197-267.

Timm, Stefan
“Die territoriale Ausdehnung des Staates Isael zur Zeit der Omriden.” ZDPV 96: 20-40.

Wimmer, Stefan
2008 Palästinisches Hieratisch die Zahl- und Sonderzeichen in der althebräischen Schrift. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

LABORATORY TESTING OF ANCIENT INSCRIPTIONS:
METHODOLOGICAL REFLECTIONS

Christopher A. Rollston
Visiting Professor of Northwest Semitic Languages and Literatures
George Washington University
Washington, D.C.

INRODUCTION

One of the most auspicious developments in “forgery detection” during recent years has been the development and usage of laboratory methods to attempt to determine deauthenticity. Most welcome, therefore, is the recent report (e.g., the article by Stephanie Pappas on the Huffington Post) which discusses the laboratory tests on the Gospel of Judas. It seems to me that this is very useful and I think that these results bode well for that particular document (especially because National Geographic’s “Standards and Practices” people are among the very best, and they clearly maintained strict protocols with regard to the laboratory analyses of the Gospel of Judas). Moreover, it has also been reported that the “Jesus Wife Papyrus” has been sent off for laboratory tests. I applaud this as well (I should hasten to add, as discussed below, that it would be particularly useful if the actual lab reports, rather than just the results, would be published as well. For example, it would be very useful to see the graphs generated by the spectroscopy).

I would also wish to emphasize at this time, though, that laboratory reports also require an interpreter. Those of us in the humanities sometimes seem to forget this (at least in practice). Here are a few scenarios, most of which are now attested in the laboratory analysis of actual epigraphic objects from the antiquities market (see section II below). Scenario 1: an epigraphic object is sent for analysis and the laboratory finds modern contaminants under the patina. At that point, the hard scientist has to make a decision. She or he could suggest that the piece is a modern forgery. This is entirely rational and I think quite convincing in most cases. However, it would be possible for him or her to propose that the modern contaminants under the patina could be the result of storage and handling practices (and thus they might suggest that the piece is actually ancient). In other words, the hard scientist must make a decision about the best way to understand the laboratory results. Scenario 2: Or again, let us say that someone has a potsherd from the antiquities market with an ink inscription on it and they send it off to a laboratory for thermoluminescence testing. The results for the thermoluminescence test would probably suggest that the pottery was indeed fired in antiquity. The hard scientist might conclude that this inscription is indeed ancient, based on the results of the thermoluminescence testing. However, this could be wrong. After all, a savvy forger would surely use an ancient potsherd and then forge an inscription on it, in a script and language that corresponds very nicely with the region and time period from which the potsherd came. That is, just because the potsherd is ancient doesn’t mean that the inscription is ancient. Scenario 3: Similarly, someone might send a piece of papyrus off for Accelerator Mass Spectrometry testing (an advanced form of carbon dating) in order to determine if the writing on it is ancient. The AMS test might very well indicate that the papyrus is ancient. However, it would not be prudent for a hard scientist automatically to conclude that the text was authentic, as ancient papyrus is something that can be purchased on the antiquities market and a modern forger worth his or her salt would be wise enough to use that as the medium. Scenario 4: Someone might propose that analyzing the ink should be considered decisive. This is difficult, as finding enough carbon in ink is very difficult (i.e., even for an AMS test, which requires less Carbon 14). But someone might suggest that spectroscopic analysis of the ink could be used, so as to determine the chemical composition of the ink. I believe that this could be useful, at least at times. But I would also hasten to add that enough is known now about the production of ink in antiquity (and the chemical makeup of many inks) that a savvy forger could also find some ancient carbonized remains (e.g., a piece of carbonized timber found on an excavation) and use that as the basis for the production of ink that appears ancient indeed, employing also data known about the rest of the chemicals often found in actual ancient inks (e.g., the right amount of iron, etc.).

For these sorts of reasons, I believe that caution should be the modus operandi. Of course, it is often suggested that forgers are not really that gifted, that savvy, and it is also suggested at times that no one who actually had such knowledge and talent would ever produce modern forgeries (i.e., someone that smart would not do it because of ethical reservations about such activities). Actually, I am convinced that the best modern forgers have formidable intellects and abilities and I think that the recent past demonstrates this rather convincingly, as some modern forgers have fooled some very gifted scholars. Moreover, I find it to be sweet that someone would assume that no one capable of producing really good modern forgeries would do so, but I am not convinced that brains and ethics necessarily always go hand in hand. Thus, I continue to be convinced that the future will see epigraphic forgeries that are absolutely undetectable. Indeed, I have already seen some inscriptions (and analyzed them microscopically) that are virtually perfect, from the script and language to the medium and the patina. I suspect that this will only increase in the coming years.

In addition, I must also admit that I think the field of epigraphy should be very careful about determining the credentials for the laboratory and the hard scientists. Not all labs are equal and not all hard scientists are equal. And there is always an interpretive component. Furthermore, I think that it should go without saying that those with a vested interest in the results should have no part in the sending of pieces to laboratories.

The remainder of this blog post focuses on protocols for laboratory testing as well as a discussion of some laboratory tests which have been performed on epigraphic objects during recent years, including some of the problems with some of these tests. Most of the discussion that follows first appeared in print in an article of mine published a decade ago in the journal Maarav (2003) [footnote 1]. In any case, the focus will be on (1) useful protocols for laboratory testing, (2) followed by concrete discussion of lab testing, based on published lab reports (and some of the problems with these). The hope of all this is that the field can continue to become more and more conscious of the need for the employment of strict protocols for laboratory testing and the importance of understanding the interpretive component that is part of laboratory analysis.

I. PROPOSED PROTOCOLS FOR LABORATORY TESTING

Owners, agents of owners, buyers, agents of buyers, dealers of antiquity, and epigraphists are often interested in having laboratory tests performed on non-provenanced epigraphic objects. In addition, these groups are often required to assess the results and significance of laboratory tests. For methodological reasons, I would argue that certain protocols should be adhered to so that the laboratory tests can actually function as valuable tools.

(1) First, laboratories must be demonstrably legitimate institutions, with the capability of performing the appropriate laboratory tests, and with credentialed individuals performing the tests. Because most epigraphists are not au courante with regard to the best scientific laboratories, there is the potential for substandard laboratories to “authenticate” objects without sufficient scientific bases, and for epigraphists to “accept” such results as authoritative. Furthermore, laboratories that have “authenticated” forged objects (e.g., because of incompetence or collusion) are not to be considered the most reliable and authoritative for future tests [footnote 2].

(2) Second, it is prudent for multiple laboratories, performing the same basic tests, on the same objects, to be used; moreover, it is also imperative that said labs do not communicate together regarding the objects. It is preferable for at least two labs to be used, but cases of conflicting results will necessitate the use of additional labs [footnote 3].

(3) It is of fundamental importance that the laboratory tests be double blind. That is, those requesting the test should not know the names of the laboratories or scientists performing the laboratory tests, and the laboratories should not know the names of the owners, potential buyers, dealers, or (ideally) even the name(s) of the epigraphist(s) studying the epigraphs. Laboratory tests that are not double blind are of minimal value, or perhaps of no value at all, because violation of this protocol ultimately compromises the process, either in theory, or in fact [footnote 4].

(4) Generally, no information about the epigraphic object’s potential or probable antiquity (and thus authenticity) should be given. The reason for this is simply that the scientist performing the laboratory tests, if he or she knows the expected or desired results of the test, can factor in various data in particular ways in order to achieve the expected or desired result [footnote 5].

(5) The full report of all tests should be made available in complete form in the formal publication of the inscription. Laboratory tests that violate these protocols, rigorous though the lab tests may appear, are to be considered of modest value, or of no value at all [footnote 6].

(6) With high profile epigraphs or corpora of epigraphs, when it is readily apparent that there are problems with the laboratory tests performed previously, museums, departments of antiquity, and universities will sometimes need to intervene and appoint disinterested specialists to analyze said epigraphs or corpora. Of course, in circumstances such as this it will not be possible for the tests to be double-blind. Nonetheless, it is expected that a full publication of these lab results will be satisfactory [footnote 7].

II.CASE STUDIES OF SELECTED TYPES OF LABORATORY TESTS

Laboratory tests can be of substantial usefulness in “deauthenticating” epigraphic objects [footnote 8]. Because laboratory tests have been widely used in recent years, and because “laboratory authentication” is often considered definitive, the usefulness of laboratory tests, especially the necessary protocols for laboratory tests and the necessary caveats regarding their decisiveness, merits discussion. For the sake of clarity, various specific laboratory analyses will be discussed; however, it should be noted that this discussion is not exhaustive, but rather illustrative. Finally, although I have attempted to make this discussion accessible, it is inevitable that some specialized vocabulary will be used [footnote 9].

A. PATINAS ON MEDIA AND RADIOCARBON DATING OF ORGANIC MATERIALS

The “Moussaieff Ostraca” have been subjected to certain laboratory tests [footnote 10]. The McCrone affirmed that the soil on the ostraca was Middle Eastern and that the chemical composition of the ink was very similar to that of some of the Dead Sea Scrolls. This data is, of course, of limited usefulness, as carbon based ink is not difficult to produce, and the presence of Middle Eastern soil on an object ultimately proves absolutely nothing about the antiquity of an object [footnote 11].

Mikrofokus Oy Lab focused its analysis on a white patina covering the surface of the ostraca. Using a SEM-EDS (i.e., a scanning electron microscope equipped with an EDS), the McCrone lab had determined that there was a micrometeorite or pyrophoric igniter powder (e.g., from a cigarette lighter) contaminating a sample. Moreover, Mikrofokus Oy affirmed the presence of “spherical particles found which seem to be inside the lower layer of the white material” (i.e., under the patina). The lab then noted that the particles were composed of silicon, and that they were identical in form, size, and chemical composition to those commonly found among flyash particles in industrial environments. Mikrofokus Oy suggested that these were indeed modern contaminants, but ultimately proposed that such particles need not mean that the ostraca were forgeries, even though they were found under the patina. Variable handling and storage practices were assumed to be the cause of this anomaly. Moreover, because producing such a patina today would require a special environment, access to calcite crystals of the right size, specialized knowledge, and a long time, (e.g., “years”), the lab concluded that the patina on the ostraca was a natural precipitation product, and that “what is under the white material must then be genuine.” Note that the Mikrofokus Oy lab, however, was able to duplicate the patina on the ostraca quite closely, using sodium silicate, calcium carbonate, and water.

Obviously, Mikrofokus Oy’s interpretation is a possible interpretation of the data generated by their SEM-EDS test, but it is my opinion that this test does not actually generate much confidence. That is, a number of their interpretations of these test results are potentially troubling. For example, the modern contaminants under the patina could justifiably be understood as being there because the patina was produced during the modern period. Indeed, this is perfectly plausible. Also, the Mikrofokus Oy laboratory assumes that the patina is probably not modern because few people have the appropriate chemicals and the ability to produce such a patina. However, within their own report, Mikrofokus Oy stated that they were able to produce a similar patina, within a very short period. The position of Mikrofokus Oy seems to be that if the patina is not easy to reproduce, then it is safe to assume that it was not done in this case on these ostraca. This is not, however, a necessary conclusion, and I would argue that it is not even necessarily a logical conclusion. In short, it is my opinion that although these tests do not necessarily demonstrate that the Moussaieff Ostraca must be disqualified (i.e., considered forgeries), neither is it possible to state in any way that these tests are non-problematic, and authenticate the ostraca.

The Geological Survey of Israel performed SEM-EDS analyses on the patina of the “Ya‘akov Ossuary” [footnote 12] The results showed that the patina is composed mainly of CaC03 (93%) and contains Si – 5.0%; A1 – 0.7%; Fe – 0.3%; P – 0.4%; and Mg – 0.2%. The report notes that there are no modern elements (such as modern pigments), and the patina adheres firmly to the stone. Again, this is valuable information, but it is imperative that one not conclude or assume, on the basis of this evidence, that this entire inscription is ancient. Rather, this test simply demonstrates that this object need not be disqualified on the basis of the chemical composition of the patina. It certainly does not authenticate the patina. Indeed, the report implicitly concedes this point with the words: “no evidence that might detract from the authenticity of the patina and the inscription was found.” This is an important and honest assessment; however, it must be noted that the absence of certain anomalies in the chemical composition of a patina is not the same as a demonstration of the antiquity of a patina [footnote 13].

The Geological Survey of Israel’s official report for the Jehoash Inscription is much more detailed than the one published (initially) for the ossuary, but this official report is replete with some problems, alas [footnote 14]. For example, (1) the report assumes that if the patina on the medium (in this case, stone) essentially “matches” that which is in the grooves of the inscription, the inscription must be ancient. This is problematic, as it is possible to argue that a modern forger had carefully chosen a stone, cleaned it with non-treated water (e.g., water from a pure spring), incised it, and then the stone was buried and a patina “cultivated,” either passively (just letting it develop naturally with the compounds in the soil and rainfall) or actively (i.e., “watering” the soil at times, and adding some “safe” compounds, such as lime, iron, etc.) that might assist in the development of the patina. The result would be a patina on the surface of the rock that reflected a chemical composition that was similar to that of the inscribed area. Of course, Goren has now demonstrated conclusively that the precise patina described by the Geological Survey of Israel could be produced quite readily in a lab [footnote 15]. (2) The Geological Survey of Israel put enormous credence in the fact that within the patina were organic materials that could be dated (on the basis of 14C) to antiquity. Again, this is an interpretation, but because ancient organic materials are readily available on the market (as well as to those associated with excavations), this cannot be considered the interpretation. A clever forger is certainly capable of attempting to dupe a lab technician by augmenting a fabricated patina with some organic material. Moreover, with regard to the Jehoash Inscription in particular, this is now the most convincing interpretation [footnote 16].

During the past fifty years, of course, Carbon 14 tests have indeed been very helpful in assessing the antiquity of organic material at times. For example, Carbon 14 tests (AMS) were performed on various Dead Sea Scrolls, and the results were decisive, demonstrating the antiquity of the scrolls and providing a control on palaeographic analysis [footnote 17]. Moreover, several decades ago, Carbon 14 tests were performed on the “Hebron Documents” and the tests yielded a modern date, a date that has stood, pace Mendenhall [footnote 18]. Nevertheless, several caveats must be kept in mind even with Carbon 14. (1) Variable handling and storage conditions can have an impact on laboratory tests such as Carbon 14. (2) A Carbon 14 test of organic material (e.g., leather, papyrus) does not necessarily demonstrate the antiquity of the inscription, as pieces of ancient leather and papyrus are sometimes found without visible writing, and can be readily used by a modern forger as the “medium” (i.e., material) for a forgery.

B. THERMOLUMINESCENCE TESTING

Thermoluminescence testing is a potentially important means of determining the age of an object that has suffered in some sort of a conflagration. In essence, very high temperatures reset the thermoluminescence “clock.” Hence, fired ceramics (and “burned” bullae) can be subjected to a thermoluminescence test, and an approximate date of firing can be determined. Thermoluminescence testing on non-provenanced objects, however, is generally not nearly as precise as radiocarbon dating, because there are numerous (quite imprecise) variables to calculate. For example, the chemical content of the soil in which an object has been deposited, the proximity of rocks, and even the types of rocks, all impact the thermoluminescence signal. Therefore, non-provenanced objects, and even provenanced objects not accompanied by samples of the soil surrounding the objects, yield only very approximate dates, with a plus or minus of centuries.

Thermoluminescence texts were recently performed on Hebrew bullae that had ostensibly been fired in some sort of conflagration. Namely, during January 1997, a thermoluminescence test on a bulla was performed by Doreen Stoneham at the Research Laboratory for Archaeology and the History of Art in Oxford. The report is important for a number of reasons. For example, it states that the sample was obtained in “powdered form on 8 January 1997” by Doreen Stoneham, and that it was “presumed” to have been taken from a “small fragment of terracotta.” Stoneham concludes that “using standard methods and techniques it is estimated that the material of the sample was “last fired between 1100 and 1800 years ago” and that this is consistent with the “suggested period of manufacture of the object concerned.” The report concludes by noting that the “result is given in good faith; however the laboratory takes no responsibility for financial loss incurred through an erroneous report being given,” that is, with a certain amount of customary legalese [footnote 19]. Obviously, this thermoluminescence test suggests that the “powder” analyzed was ancient [footnote 20].

Ralf Kotalla of the Ralf Kotalla “Laboratory” (the quotation marks are part of the official document’s report) performed a thermoluminescence test on an Iron Age bulla as well. Kotalla’s report states that the bulla was “2700 years old +/- 20% of the overall age,” and even notes that it originated in the “Orient.” In addition, Kotalla notes that the “assumed age on the basis of stylistic characteristics [is] appr. 2700 years” [footnote 21]. These thermoluminescence test results are especially interesting, because Kotalla was told the precise date of this bulla (i.e., based on the script it dates to ca. 700 BCE). For this reason, he was able to factor in numerous variables and produce a date that corresponded perfectly with the desired result. Stoneham’s test yielded an honest result, but Kotalla’s reflects severe bias. Note that I am not necessarily questioning the antiquity of these bullae. Indeed, for “fired” bullae, a thermoluminescence test is potentially helpful [footnote 22].

C. RADIOGRAPHIC ANALYSES

Spectrographic analyses can be very useful as well, for example, in determining the composition of a metal. Two inscribed arrowheads were analyzed at Conservation Laboratory of the Freer Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. several years ago. Based on the script, the arrowheads appeared to derive from the Late Bronze Age. The precise results of the spectrographic analyses were as follows: Arrowhead 1: CU 78.925%; ZN – ; PB 7.166%; FE 1.878%; SN 11.940%; and AS 0.091%. Arrowhead 2: CU 73.731%; ZN 0.035%; PB 5.055%; FE 0.981%; SN 20.198%; and AS – ; The absence of zinc in the first arrowhead and the minimal amount in the second arrowhead is important, since copper alloyed with zinc (brass) is rarely found in ancient artifacts. However, McCarter has astutely noted that the “antiquity of the arrowhead is no guarantee of the antiquity of the inscription,” and he states further that “there is now reason to believe that forged arrowheads have begun to appear on the antiquities market” [footnote 23]. The Freer also subjected these arrowheads to microscopic examination as well, and this revealed that the corrosion on the surface of the blades is also present in the incised grooves of their inscriptions. It has been argued that this “mitigates strongly against the possibility that either inscription is modern” [footnote 24]. I concur that this information is helpful, and I am not questioning the antiquity of the inscriptions on these arrowheads. Nonetheless, I would note that creating a corrosion on the surface of a metal object (either before or after cleaning the object) is not difficult for the right person, with access to the right chemicals [footnote 25].

Ultimately, because some forgers are quite savvy about laboratory tests (and because lab scientists have sometimes failed to consider the skills of forgers and their associates), such tests are often helpful, but cannot normally be considered decisive in determining authenticity. Obviously, laboratory tests can disqualify an inscription, but this is not the same as authentication.

D. ANCIENT TOOLS

At this juncture, I should also like to note another type of problematic data that is used to argue for the antiquity of an inscription, namely, that of the tools employed to produce it. For example, regarding the Ya‘akov Ossuary, it was noted that there were “no signs of the use of a modern tool or instrument found” [footnote 26]. Again, this is useful information, but it could never be considered decisive. A shrewd forger could certainly have used an ancient tool, ancient worked metal, or modern bronze or iron consisting of the same composition as ancient tools, so as to have produced the entire inscription, or a portion thereof. Methodologically, it is simply not sage to assume that a modern forger would not take such precautions. Indeed, I would argue that a good modern forger would definitely take such precautions, for modest precautions yield large dividends.

In sum, the use of laboratory tests for inscriptions from the market is auspicious, but the labs conducting the tests must be vetted, protocols for the testing must be put in place in every case, and the results of the laboratory tests must be fully published so that they can be scrutinized as well. In short, there is much to be hopeful about, but methodological doubt must be maintained as well.

[footnote 1]. Rollston, “Non-Provenanced Epigraphs I: Pillaged Antiquities, Northwest Semitic Forgeries, and Protocols for Laboratory Tests.” MAARAV 10 (2003): 135-193.

[footnote 2]. P. Kyle McCarter, Jr. has suggested (personal communication) that it could be very useful to submit three epigraphs to the labs: the epigraph of interest, another that is definitely a fake, and a third that is definitely ancient. That is, he is suggesting the use of “control groups,” as it were.

[footnote 3]. Note, for example, that excavators routinely send samples of organic materials to multiple (often two) labs. The point is that using multiple labs can function as a “control” of sorts.

[footnote 4]. The point here is that recently owners, dealers, or agents thereof, have been taking objects to the lab of their choice, verbalizing expected results, and paying for the tests. This is hardly the ideal.

[footnote 5]. With regard to this issue, note the problems with the thermoluminescence tests discussed earlier.

[footnote 6]. Note that the initial report on the Ya‘akov Ossuary published by the Geological Survey of Israel did not contain much of the raw data or summaries that are to be expected of a SEM-EDS analysis. See A. Rosenfeld and S. Ilani, “SEM-EDS Analyses of Patina,” 29.

[footnote 7]. In my opinion, the IAA should be applauded for doing precisely this during 2003 (for the Ya‘akov Ossuary and the Jehoash Inscription).

[footnote 8] The (2003) report from the commission convened by the IAA to do laboratory analyses of the Ya‘akov Ossuary and the Jehoash Inscription demonstrates this point. Needless to say, I am not convinced by those who have criticized the conclusions of the IAA committee. Indeed, some of the attempted “rebuttals of the report,” read like apologias. In any case, for a brief, but cautious and sound discussion of laboratory testing, see also N. S. Fox, In the Service of the King, 30-31.

[footnote 9]. For a cursory review of the methods discussed here, see W. Ashmore and R. J. Sharer, Discovering our Past: A Brief Introduction to Archaeology, 3rd ed (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2000), esp. 159-168. For analysis using a scanning electron microscope, see also my discussion: C.A. Rollston, “Laboratory Analysis of the Moussaeff Ostraca using the Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) with an Energy Dispersive X-Ray Microanalyzer (EDS),” 8.

[footnote 10]. For a summary of the lab reports, see C.A. Rollston, “Laboratory Analysis of the Moussaïeff Ostraca using the Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) with an Energy Dispersive X-Ray Microanalyzer (EDS),” 8-9.

[footnote 11]. Regarding the composition of the ink of ancient inscriptions, see A. Lewis, “Report on the Lachish Letters with Remarks upon the Use of Iron Inks in Antiquity,” in The Lachish Letters, ed. H. Torczyner (Tur-Sinai), 138-193. Of course, carbon (of various sorts) is often found on excavations. The production of carbon ink that appears ancient (e.g., on a 14C test) should not be problematic in the modern period.

[footnote 12]. A Rosenfeld and S. Ilani, “SEM-EDS Analyses of Patina Samples,” BARev 28 (Nov/Dec 2002): 29.

[footnote 13]. Note that there are various other problems with this report as well. For example, the report states that the gray patina found on the surface of the ossuary was “found also within some of the letters, although the inscription was cleaned and the patina is therefore absent from several letters.” However, there is no statement of precisely which letters had this patina and which lacked it (an important issue for various reasons, but especially because of the suggestion that the second half of the inscription was from a later hand). Of course, forgers can use the issue of “cleaning” to their advantage, in various ways.

[footnote 14]. S. Ilani, A. Rosenfeld, and M. Dvorachek, “A Stone Tablet with an Ancient Hebrew Inscription Attributed to Yehoash, King of Judea: Archaeometry and Epigraphy,” GSI Current Research 13 (2003): 109-13.

[footnote 15]. Y. Goren, “An Alternative Interpretation of the Stone Tablet.”

[footnote 16]. Goren proposed this in his article “An Alternative Interpretation of the Stone Tablet,” 7. E. Boaretto’s final report for the IAA also states that the carbon material in the patina of the Jehoash Inscription does not indicate authenticity.

[footnote 17]. See G. Doudna, “Dating the Scrolls on the Basis of Radiocarbon Analysis,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years, ed. P.W. Flint and J. C. VanderKam (Leiden: Brill, 1998), vol. 1: 430-471.

[footnote 18]. G.E. Mendenhall, “Philistine Documents,” 99.

[footnote 19]. This report is printed in the editio princeps of various non-provenanced inscriptions, namely: R. Deutsch, Messages from the Past: Hebrew Bullae from the Time of Isaiah through the Destruction of the First Temple: Shlomo Moussaieff Collection and an Up to Date Corpus (Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center Publications, 1997), 169. Recently, R. Deutsch also edited a Festschrift in honor of S. Moussaieff, a collector of antiquities, and published a number of additional bullae. See Shlomo: Studies in Epigraphy, Iconography, History, and Archaeology in Honor of Shlomo Moussaieff (Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center Publications, 2003).

[footnote 20]. The date yielded by this test are very broad, and considerably later than might have been expected for an Iron Age bulla. Among the reasons for this are (1) the large number of variables that must be calculated, but cannot be done with precision without data regarding the context in which it was ostensibly found; (2) the theoretical possibility that it suffered a conflagration centuries after its date of manufacture; (3) the theoretical possibility that it has been exposed to some sort of irradiation.

[footnote 21]. For the report, see R. Deutsch, Messages from the Past, 168.

[footnote 22]. I should like to propose that epigraphists and laboratories should anticipate that some forgers may attempt to carve bullae (in relief) from ceramics fired in antiquity, and then to patinate the “epigraph.” Of course, it should be noted that for ostraca, thermoluminescence tests are useless (i.e., a test performed on a fired potsherd) as a forger will find ample sherds in the Middle East upon which to pen his or her logia.

[footnote 23]. P. K. McCarter, Jr., “Two Bronze Arrowheads with Archaic Alphabetic Inscriptions,” in Eretz-Israel 26: Frank Moore Cross Volume, ed. B.A. Levine, et al., (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1999), 126-127.

[footnote 24]. P. K. McCarter, Jr., “Two Bronze Arrowheads,” 127.

[footnote 25]. That is, a forger could take a “blank” ancient bronze arrowhead, prepare the surface, forge an inscription, and then create a corrosion (or some type of patina). David A. Scott, senior scientist at the Getty Conservation Institute, has stated (personal communication) that in this case, “the patina under the inscription would be different than the patina over the rest of the surface.” That is, Scott argues that it would be detectable. However, he affirms that the arrowhead “would have to be cut” (and then it should be possible “to tell by metallography that the inscription was added and not original to the object).” If the arrowhead was not cut, Scott suggests that “it should still be possible” to make determinations regarding the differences in the patinas (and thus the antiquity of the inscription itself), but he stated that one would then “have trouble describing the process easily.” For more data about these subjects, see “D.A. Scott, Copper and Bronze in Art: Corrosion, Colorants, Conservation (Getty Conservation Institute, 2002). Ultimately, the point is that even a corrosion should not automatically be assumed to be indicative of antiquity. Certain types of corrosions can be created; therefore, sophisticated laboratory tests (sometimes destructive) are needed to determine the depth and nature of the corrosion in order to assess the antiquity of the inscription.

[footnote 26]. A. Rosenfeld and S. Ilani, “SEM-EDS Analyses of Patina Samples,” BARev 28 (Nov/Dec 2002): 29.

This article is a slightly revised (June 2012) version of a post published here in August 2010, at the time of the initial press release. Fortunately, the most recent press reports (June 2012) are more circumspect and cautious than those of two years ago. Furthermore, please allow me to emphasize here that these excavations are useful and impressive, with some significant archaeological material culture having been excavated. Nevertheless, the conclusion must still be that there is no good evidence to suggest that these bones are probably those of John the Baptist.

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I. Summary of the Salient Details of the ‘Sveti Ivan’ Excavation and the Claims regarding the Reliquary

A portion of a small island known as ‘Sveti Ivan’ (a Bulgarian term that means “Saint John”) has been the site of excavations for a number of years. This island is located in the Black Sea, about a kilometer from the Bulgarian town of Sozopol, one of the oldest on Bulgaria’s southern coast. Kazimir Popkonstantinov is the director of the excavations on Sveti Ivan. Aerial images reveal that there are (at least) two prominent sets of monumental archaeological remains on the island. These have been affirmed to be the remains of: (1) a church of ca. the 6th century CE; (2) and a monastery (and church) of ca. the 13th and 14th centuries CE.

Under the ruins of the 6th century church are the remains of an older basilica, and these older remains have been dated to ca. the 5th century CE. It was in the ruins of this older basilica that a reliquary was found. (1) The reliquary’s measurements are ca. 20.5 cm. x 12.5. cm. x. 14.5 cm. The reliquary is reported to have been made of alabaster. Within this reliquary were found bone fragments (six human bones and three animals bones), and the human bones included portions of a skull, a hand, a tooth, a rib, and an arm bone. (2) Near the reliquary was a small sandstone box measuring ca. 4 cm. x 6 cm. On this small sandstone box is a Greek inscription that reportedly says “May God save you, servant Thomas. To Saint John, June 24.”

Popkonstantinov had stated (in 2010) that the inscription is the “key” to the interpretation of the finds. That is, based on this inscription, he has stated that the remains found in the alabaster reliquary may very well be those of John the Baptist, a figure of the Greek New Testament.

II. Summary of the Salient Features of the Greek New Testament’s Statements regarding John the Baptist

Although New Testament scholarship has cogently argued for more than a century that the New Testament documents are not historical in all of their details, it has been argued convincingly that certain things can be known about John the Baptist with a high degree of historical certainty. Namely, (1) He was a Jewish Apocalypticist of the 1st century CE; (2) He was connected in some fashion with a movement surrounding Jesus of Nazareth; (3) John the Baptist was imprisoned in the Galilee by Herod Antipas (note: Herod was the Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea from ca. 4 BCE to ca. 39 CE). (4) John was martyred by Herod Antipas, arguably some time between 26 CE and 30 CE. (5) John had followers (referred to in Greek as mathetai) and these followers buried John the Baptist after he was killed, arguably (according to the Marcan tradition), in a tomb (for these details, see Mark 6:14-29; Matt 14:1-12; Luke 9:7-9; for the birth narratives of John the Baptist, see Luke 1; for his apocalyptic message, see Mark 1:2-8; Matt 3:1-12; Luke 3:1-20). (6) Josephus has some material about John, but this material does not alter the details about John the Baptist that I have noted here.

III. A Critique of Popkonstantinov’s (2010) Arguments, and any similar arguments made now in 2012

1. John the Baptist was buried in a tomb in Palestine, arguably in the Galilee (where he died). (2) John the Baptist died during the early 1st century CE. Therefore, without some compelling evidence for the moving of the body (or portions thereof) of John the Baptist (centuries later!) from the place of burial in Palestine, it is not cogent or prudent to propose that the remains found on a small island in the Black Sea, in the archaeological ruins of a basilica of the 5th century CE, are those of a Palestinian Jews named John the Baptist who lived, died, and was buried in the 1st century CE, in Palestine.

3. To be sure, Popkonstantinov has argued (2010) that the inscription on the sandstone box near the reliquary is the “key” to his interpretation. However, this is not particularly convincing. After all, the inscription certainly does *not* state that “these are the remains of John the Baptist.” 4. The date of June 24th is one of the feast days for John the Baptist (e.g., within Orthodox Christianity), but this cannot be construed as evidence that the bones themselves are actually those of John (indeed, the date of the founding of this church would argue against this, as the church was founded centuries after the death and burial of John the Baptist). 5. Furthermore, the inscription is not on the reliquary (where the bones were found), but rather, they are on a sandstone box that was found *near* the reliquary. One might propose that the bones are those of a certain man named “Thomas,” but even this is not necessarily the case, for a number of reasons (not the least of which is the fact that the reliquary and sandstone box need not have belonged to the same person or been deposited at precisely the same time in the basilica).

6. Mostly, the inscription strikes me as a plea of a pious believer from the island of Sveti Ivan to a famed patron saint, namely, a plea to John the Baptist. That’s it. That’s the way I would interpret the totality of the evidence.

7. Note that Popkonstantinov had stated (2010) that he knew of no DNA database for the relatives of John the Baptist. This is correct…there is certainly *not* such a database of DNA data for the relatives of John the Baptist. 8. Of course, carbon tests have recently been done on three of the human bone fragments, and these are ostensibly helpful in establishing the basic chronological horizon for the interred remains (assuming they have not been handled so much that carbon dating will be very difficult or almost impossible), but even these sort of data can do no more than suggest that these bones came from the same basic chronological horizon as John the Baptist. That’s a far cry from demonstrating that these are the actual bones of John the Baptist.

Ultimately, I would contend that for someone to suggest that these bones could be those of John the Baptist, a figure of 1st century CE Palestine, is tenuous in the extreme. In this connection I should note that Popkonstantinov (knowing that his understanding of the evidence is strained to the breaking point) was quoted as saying (in 2010): “Here, I believe, the science stops. Since we cannot prove the attribution of any of the relics with scientific methods, we have to be tolerant of those who want to believe that they are” (Popkonstantinov). I would gently suggest, though, that archaeological and literary analyses are about evidence, not about authority, faith, or piety. Thus, with all due respect, it is necessary to state that Popkonstantinov’s conclusions do not follow from the evidence.

IV. For the Sake of Argument, Here are the Sort of Data that would be Needed for Popkonstantinov’s Case.

1. A reliable ancient tradition, preferably from the late(r) 1st century or very early 2nd century CE, stating that the bones of John the Baptist had been moved to an island in the Black Sea; 2. An inscription on the burial box that stated something like “The bones of John the Baptist” (i.e., name and title…something such as “John” would not be sufficient); 3. A palaeographic date for the inscription itself that was late 1st century or very early 2nd century (after all, arguably no one in later centuries would be able to locate precisely the burial site of John the Baptist in Palestine and it may be that even in the late 1st century no one would have been able to have done so!). (4) Carbon 14 dating of the bones that yielded a 1st century CE date. We now have a carbon date which is helpful, but without the other data just outlined above (numbers 1-3), the carbon dates cannot be considered particularly useful in identifying the remains, even if they do come from the same basic chronological horizon. 5. Thus, in light of the general dearth of necessary data, it is necessary to conclude that these bones are not those of John the Baptist himself.

Sincerely,

Christopher Rollston

There has been some substantial discussion about the four-line inscription, its readings and its renderings. The purpose of this post is to delineate the history of published proposals, summarizing salient points. Most of my posts on this find have been posted on the Official Blog of the American Schools of Oriental Research. For this reason, and because of subsequent discussion, I am now posting this summation here.

On February 28, 2012, James Tabor’s reading and translation of the four-line inscription was released. Namely, he and Simcha Jacobovici read it as follows: “DIOS IAIO UPSŌ AGB.” They translated their readings as “Divine Jehovah Lift up! Lift up!” They believe “Talpiyot Tomb B” to be a Christian tomb (in fact, they state that it is arguably the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea himself, although there is no ancient epigraphic evidence to suggest this) and they suggest that this four-line inscription is to be understood as reflective of an early Christian confession of a belief in the resurrection (and they have also argued that some of the ornamentation on a different ossuary from the same tomb is distinctively Christian, something that has been widely criticized as well). Also rather striking (and quite difficult to sustain), Tabor and Jacobovici have argued that the graphemes AGB (line 4) should be understood as the Greek transliteration of an H-stem verbal root gbh, although they had also mentioned (and dismissed) a suggestion of Richard Bauckham that it be considered a Semitic personal name transliterated into Greek graphemes, namely, “Agabus” (Tabor and Jacobovici 2012, 90-94; Tabor 2012, 18, no 42).

On February 28, 2012, around 1:00 p.m., a statement of mine was posted on the blog of the American Schools of Oriental Research in which I discussed various aspects of Talpiyot Tombs A and B (Rollston 2012a). Among other things, I stated that: “Regarding the reading of line two, I wish to emphasize that I do not consider the reading “Yahweh” (i.e., the Greek form of it) to be convincing at all. Simply put, this reading is wrong. To be sure, the tetragrammaton is attested in ancient Greek (with various spellings) and Iaio can be considered a viable Greek spelling of the tetragrammaton. However, the problem is that the first grapheme of line two is not an iota (and, at the very least, this grapheme would be necessary for reading the tetragrammaton in this line). Of course, Tabor and Jacobovici believe that the first grapheme of this line is an iota, and they are obviously assuming that this grapheme consists of a distinct and deeply incised top horizontal, a bottom horizontal, and a long vertical connector. There is, however, a palaeographic problem with this reading. Here is the reason: for the Greek script(s) of the Late Second Temple period, the morphology of iota is quite consistently a vertical stroke (sometimes with modest curvature), but without distinct top or bottom horizontals. This is the case for Greek texts on soft media (e.g., papyri) and on hard media (e.g., stone). The panoramic Greek script charts of the great Princeton palaeographer Bruce Metzger are reflective of this (e.g., Metzger 1981, 23, figure 2). For further demonstration of this aspect of the morphology of this grapheme, readers might also wish to consult photos of the Greek textual material from this chronological horizon on soft media (e.g., the Greek papyri from the Bar Kokhba Cave of Letters; See Lewis 1989, passim ) and on hard media (e.g., Jerusalem Ossuary inscriptions; see CIIP 1. #64, 65, #98, #134, #189, 199, etc.). I would suggest that the convergence of the cumulative evidence demonstrates in a cogent manner that the first grapheme is simply not an iota. In reality, this grapheme is most readily understood as a tau (i.e., a top horizontal and a vertical) or (alternatively) a zeta. However, it is certainly not an iota. Of course, since there is no iota here, there is no tetragrammaton” (Rollston 2012a).

I did not provide all of my readings at that time, nor did I go into further detail about the palaeography, as my statement on February 28 was certainly not intended to be an editio princeps of that inscription. However, I did state in that initial article that I was “most comfortable with reading the last two graphemes of line one and the first two graphemes of line two as ‘osta,” that is, ‘bones,” a word that certainly does occur in a number of ossuary inscriptions and burial texts. Further, if one were to wish to read hupsō, I would then be inclined to understand this inscription to be stating that the bones of the deceased are not to be removed, that is, ‘lifted up’ from the ossuary” (Rollston 2012a).

On March 8th, 2012, Richard Bauckham (who had been working with James Tabor and Simcha Jacobovici) responded with an article on the blog of the American Schools of Oriental Research. Bauckham stated that he believed “the inscription is actually very clear.” He also went on to indicate that he accepted all of Tabor’s readings (i.e., the Greek graphemes Tabor believes are present), but he translated the inscription as follows: “Belonging to Zeus IAIO. I, Hagab, exalt (him/you).” In addition, he states that “It is the only ossuary inscription to mention God in any way, let alone to use the divine name.” He also states that “as far as I know, our inscription is the only extant example of an identification of Yahweh with Zeus in a Palestinian Jewish context after the Maccabean period” (Bauckham 2012). Bauckham also quoted my statement that the first grapheme of line two is definitely not an iota and then said of himself that although he “is not an epigrapher” (these are his words, not mine), he would “venture to say that he [Rollston] is being far too dogmatic.” He then went on to refer to a few examples of iota and said they had “very distinct top and bottom horizontals.” However, it is significant that he goes on to use the term “serifs” (i.e., “apices”) for these strokes. Indeed, (in the examples he cites from CIIP) they are serifs, that is, lightly incised strokes, not full-blown deeply incised strokes. That is, they are not something that an epigrapher would normally consider to be good parallels for the full blown, deeply incised stroke that is at the top of the grapheme in question (i.e., the first grapheme of line two of the Talpiyot inscription). There was another problem as well, however, and Bauckham sensed it: “It does need to be explained why, in our inscription, only this letter is adorned with apices” (i.e., serifs). He’s certainly correct in deducing a serious problem with his view. Namely, the only grapheme in this four-line inscription from Talpiyot with serifs (i.e., what he understands to be serifs) is his and Tabor’s iota at the beginning of line two! After all, in the Greek epigraphic corpus from this period and horizon, when serifs are present, they are normally present on multiple graphemes (see the images I posted on the ASOR web site, Rollston 2012b). Here is Bauckham’s way of accounting for it: “The most likely reason seems to be that it is the first letter of the divine Name, which the writer wished to mark out as special.” He then goes on to state that “It is his equivalent of the various other ways of distinguishing the divine Name when it was written in Hebrew or Greek biblical manuscripts or elsewhere (such as the common practice among Qumran scribes of writing the Name in paleo-Hebrew chaacters” (Bauckham 2012).

On March 15, 2012, in response to a number of requests, I wrote an article with my readings and some proposed translations (Rollston 2012b), as well as a detailed discussion of palaeographic matters Bauckham had posted about, especially the iota (and thus the tetrgrammaton) in line two of the Talpiyot inscription. Here is the essence of my epigraphic reply: “(1) I would note, however, that these inscriptions [the very ones to which Bauckham had referred] have serifs on multiple graphemes and just one, as the Talpiyot inscription allegedly does. (2) Furthermore, I would note that on most inscriptions with serifs, the serifs are not nearly as deeply incised as is (for example) the top horizontal of the Talpiyot grapheme Tabor and Bauckham consider to be an iota with a serifs. That is, the top horizontal of that grapheme does not have the appearance of a serif, but rather a full blown, deeply incised stroke. Bauckham senses the first problem and states that “it does need to be explained why, in our inscription, only this letter is adorned with apices [i.e., serifs].” He then states that “the most likely reason seems to be that it is the first letter of the divine Name, which the writer wished to mark out as special.” He goes on to suggest that this is similar to the way the divine name is treated in some Hebrew and Greek biblical manuscripts. He refers in particular to Qumran practice (Bauckham 2012). However, I would note that the practice at Qumran is quite dissimilar. At Qumran, Emanuel Tov states that “divine names were written in a special way in many Hebrew Qumran texts” and then he provides the following synopsis: (A) All four graphemes of the tetragrammaton are written in Paleo-Hebrew characters in texts which are written in the square script; (B) Four dots in texts written in the square script; (C) A dicolon (:), followed by a space, placed before the Tetragrammaton (written in the square script); (D) the use of a different color of ink, in the case of 11Q22 (Tov 2004, 219-220, et passim; see also Tov 2001). In other words, there are no cases of the initial grapheme formed in a distinct way, but the remaining graphemes of the Tetragrammaton written in the standard (i.e., non-paleo-Hebrew) script. It is worth noting in this connection that Larry Hurtado has done a great deal of work on the Nomina Sacra in early Christian Greek manuscripts, but even in these manuscripts, there is nothing that parallels the sort of thing that Bauckham is proposing here (Hurtado 2006, 95-134; see also Metzger 1981, 36-37).

In addition to discussing these epigraphic factors, I provided all of my readings then (Rollston 2012b, i.e., March 15), using some of the photographs National Geographic provided me with in May 2011 and those published on the web (NB: I had served as the Epigraphic Consultant for National Geographic on this find for several months). Namely, I reiterated my reading of tau for the first grapheme of line two. Here are my words and I would draw the reader’s attention again to the images in my article, which are posted on ASOR’s Official Blog (Rollston 2012b): “I would ask the reader to look carefully at the image labeled Talpiyot 1, the second line, the first grapheme. At the bottom of the vertical of this grapheme is a pit in the stone (right next to the left oblique stroke of the alpha). I would ask the reader also to look at a different photograph, with a different light angle, namely, the image labeled Talpiyot 2. It is clear from this image that there is no horizontal stroke on the left side. Rather, there is a downward scratch (in fact, it may be that the person inscribing this ossuary made this mark when he was forming the upper part of the head of the upsilon, although it could have happened at almost any time). In any case, the point is that the “marks” Tabor and Bauckham considered the bottom horizontal of an iota are just pitting and scratches. Frankly, this sort of thing is very common in the field of epigraphy. The end result, of course, is that a recognition of the pitting and scratching yields a perfect tau. I should also make an additional notation regarding this line, namely, the grapheme Tabor and Bauckham consider to be the second iota. I draw the reader’s attention again to the image labeled Talpiyot 1, the second line and the third grapheme. It is a very clear epsilon, not an iota.”

Then I said: “Astute readers will have noticed, at this juncture, that the word osta “bones” can now be read (the last two graphemes of line one and the first two graphemes of line two). The normal spelling of this word in the plural is ostea, although the spelling osta is also well attested in the Greek corpus. In this case we have, I believe, either a dialectical variant in the pronunciation of this word (causing it to be spelled ostae, rather than ostea), an actual orthographic variant, or a simple orthographic error (all three of these things occurs in the corpus of ancient funerary inscriptions). In any case, reading “bones” in a funerary context is quite compelling. Moreover, the final grapheme of line two is an omicron and the first grapheme of the following line (line three) is an upsilon. This is, I believe, simply the negative, a lexeme that occurs rather frequently in tomb contexts when there are references to bones and ossuaries.”

I should mention in this connection that within that article of March 15, I discussed in some detail the sorts of statements that we find in Jewish burial contexts from the Late Second Temple and Early Post-Biblical chronological period. Of course, suffice it to say that words such as “bones” and “ossuary” are well attested.

I went on to note that in terms of readings, I would posit the following: DE OSTAE OU PSŌ AGB . Understanding the verbal to be psaō, I stated that “I would posit that it is reasonable to render this inscription: “Here are bones. I touch (them) not. Agabus. “ As such “Agabus” could be the name of the deceased, and thus this could be translated “Here are bones. I touch them not, O Agabus.” Conversely, it could also be that the first person singular is used here of the man who asserts that he does not touch bones. Thus, this could then be translated quite nicely as “Here are bones: I, Agabus, touch (them) not.” That is, purity issues or general taboos about contact with bones could be in play, as Talmudicist Steven Fine has suggested to me privately. I should mention also in this connection (as I did in one of my comments on the ASOR blog for this article, namely, one made March 15, 5:41 p.m.) that it is important to remember that (although some ossuaries were inscribed in the tomb, before or after disarticulated remains were placed in the ossuary) ossuaries could also be inscribed (A) at a workshop at the time of manufacture, (B) or after the time of manufacture but prior to the placement of the ossuary in the tomb, (c) or after the placement in the tomb but prior to the placement of bones in the ossuary. Thus, one could readily envision the inscription being placed on this ossuary (at some point) prior to the deposition of the bones, and this could be the semantic framework for the inscription, that is, prior to the deposition of the bones, the stone mason wrote: “I do not touch the bones.” Obviously, we cannot answer this with certitude, but it is a plausible option as a Sitz im Leben for this inscription. In any case, I also suggested (in Rollston 2012b) that the intransitive meaning is also viable. Thus, something such as “Here are (my) bones. I, Agabus, crumble not away.”

At that time, and now still, I also consider it possible to read the verb upsoō here (as I mentioned also in Rollston 2012a). In this case, it would read something along these lines: “Here are the bones. I lift not (the bones/ossuary), O Agabus,” or “Here are the bones. I, Agabus, lift (the bones/ossuary) not. I should note in this connection that I consider the proposal suggested by Bauckham (but rejected by Tabor), namely, the presence of the personal name “Agabus” (in line four of the Talpiyot inscription) to be satisfying (Tabor 2012, 16, no 42). In any case, the point is that the content of this inscription falls within the traditional sorts of statements that occur in Late Second Temple and Early Post-Biblical tomb contexts….it’s all about bones.

After reading my post, Robert Hull, a colleague of mine, suggested to me that rather than reading a form of ōde at the beginning of this inscription (as I did), he would prefer to read di, that is, a standard shortened form of the preposition dia. I suggested to him that the second grapheme of this inscription was abraded enough that I believed an iota to be a plausible reading for line one, grapheme two, that is, the short form of the preposition was something I considered viable. At my suggestion, he posted his proposal on ASOR’s blog as a comment to my article. Using his understanding of di, the rest of my readings, and one of my proposed possible renderings of the verb psaō, Hull proposed the following: “On account of [the] bones, I, Agabus, do not touch.” At that juncture, Bauckham, using my proposal of an intransitive meaning for psaō and all of my readings (but with Hull’s suggestion of di for dia), suggested (in the comment section of my March 15 ASOR blog post) the following: “Because of (these) bones, I, Hagab, am not crumbling away (disappearing).” He stated further in that comment that “this actuall makes good sense in terms of a Jewish understanding of resurrection, which depended on the bones as the continuity between the body in the present life and the body in resurrection. The rest of the body decays, but the bones survive to be resurrected.” Nnote that Bauckham has emphasized multiple times in his comments on Rollston 2012b [that is, on the ASOR blog], that he believes issues of purity and impurity simply do not play a part in this inscription, while I continue to believe that issues of purity-impurity, or general taboos, could be operative, as Talmudic scholar Steven Fine has suggested.

Obviously, I am pleased with, and comfortable with, these suggested translations of my readings and understandings of the inscription. And, of course, I’m certainly comfortable with Hull’s understanding of a short form of di in line one. To be sure, though, I would not be surprised to find entha somewhere on this ossuary (which would then be joined with my initial reading of de at the beginning of line one, thus forming the very commonly attested beginning of funerary inscriptions, namely, enthade “here”). After all, on ossuaries, words, or portions thereof, sometimes begin on one part of an ossuary and then continue on a different part of the ossuary.

In short, in terms of readings for this very brief inscription (just fourteen graphemes!), I continue to contend for the following reading: DE OSTAE OU PSŌ AGB, while also considering viable: DI OSTAE OU PSŌ. In terms of the verb, it could be understood (as I suggested on March 15, Rollston 2012b) as psaō, with either the transitive or intransitive meanings I mentioned then (i.e., “I touch not,” or “I crumble not away”/”I disappear not”). Conversely, because we do see the shortened form of the negative attested epigraphically in Greek (i.e., o for ou; perhaps also compare the phenomenon of crasis in Greek), it is also viable to suggest (as I did in Rollston 2012a, that is, February 28) that the verb preceded by the negative is indeed upsoō (i.e., “lift,” “raise up,” “exalt”), especially since a number of ossuary inscriptions refer to the movement or non-movement of ossuaries or bones (see Rollston 2012b for these references). Of course, in the latter case something such as this is tenable: “Because of the bones, I lift not (the ossuary), O Agabus,” or “Because of the bones, I Agagus, lift not (the ossuary),” with the ossuary being understood, as it is the thing being written upon. Of course, something such as “Here are the bones, I lift not (the ossuary/bones), O Agabus,” or “Here are the bones, I Agabus lift (the ossuary/bones) not” are also plausible. In sum, I consider this inscription to be about bones, and it is also clear that the tetragrammaton is simply not used in this inscription.

Christopher Rollston

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Bibliography

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