For the Hellenistic period it is difficult to know exactly which beliefs or practices characterized the Pharisees. Not all Pharisees agreed on all matters. There was presumably a core of accepted rituals and beliefs by which the group achieved a sense of self-identity, as there was a core of practices and ideas that most, if not all, Pharisees opposed. Two of the former are resurrection and the oral law. We have already mentioned the belief in resurrection of the dead, along with the concept of postmortem judgment that resulted in reward or punishment. The fully elaborated view of the oral law held that God had revealed more to Moses at Sinai than had been committed to writing in the Torah. Knowledge of the oral law, passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation, was necessary for proper interpretation and implementation of the written law. The Pharisees undoubtedly developed both pedagogical and judicial systems that centered on the law. The totality of their discussions and decisions could be incorporated in the term halakah, which encompassed a comprehensive way of life the Pharisees attempted both to exemplify and to promote. When they had the ear of the powerful, they exerted enormous influence. At other times, they had to content themselves with a more marginalized social status. It is unlikely, however, that they ever considered such marginalization as anything more than a passing phenomenon. In a sense they were correct, since there is a direct, but not unambiguous, line to be drawn from them to later rabbinic Judaism.
The Sadducees, whenever they developed as a distinctive movement, must be understood—and must have understood themselves—as preservers or carriers of a set of beliefs and practices associated with the biblical figure Zadok. During the reign of King David there were two high priests, presumably reflecting sectional differences of the divided peoples whom David had succeeded in uniting. As David lay near death, both Solomon and one of his brothers claimed the throne, each supported by a high priest. Zadok’s support for Solomon ensured that he and his family would have the sole privilege of providing Israel’s high priests from then on. In theory, if not in practice, that was the case for many hundreds of years. With the end of the monarchy at the time of the Babylonian conquest of Judah or in the early years of the return—in any case sometime during the sixth century BCE—the office of the high priest assumed even greater importance. Throughout the Persian and early Hellenistic periods the high priest was the leader of the Jews not only in the sphere of religious ritual, but in every aspect of life. He was, in short, his people’s representative to the ruling powers, responsible for such matters as the maintenance of peace and the collection of taxes. Only with the capture of Syria-Palestine by the Seleucids did this change. It may be then that a distinct self-identity developed among the descendants of Zadok and their supporters.
In ancient Israel, as elsewhere in the Mediterranean world, priestly concerns revolved around the temple (or temples), at which sacrifices and other forms of communal worship took place. Maintenance of such rites was often considered crucial for the preservation of a positive relationship between humanity and the divine. Because all life depended on such a relationship, the priests could view themselves as the central players in their people’s national drama. Some priests from the line of Zadok undoubtedly followed Onias IV when he founded his temple at Leontopolis in Egypt. He may have intended this not as a rival to the Jerusalem Temple, but rather as its Diaspora counterpart. As we have observed, Onias’s sons gave considerable support to Hasmonean rulers contemporary with themselves, in spite of the Hasmonean claim to the high priesthood, although other descendants of Zadok may not have been so understanding.
In any event, a priestly tradition that could maintain its sense of integrity in dealing with alien occupation forces could probably accommodate itself to internal changes. Moreover, the Sadducees’ experience in dealing with foreign leaders would be valuable in protecting valid Temple interests against further incursions from competing or even hostile domestic forces. So it appears that many, if not most, Sadducean priests accepted their diminished status. In much of the modern literature the Sadducees are characterized as wealthy accommodationists who would do almost anything to maintain their privileged position. This characterization is unfair, reflecting as much as anything else the anticlerical bias of many scholars. There existed in Israel, as elsewhere in the ancient world, a temple theology or ideology that could be as sincerely articulated and defended as any other.
Likewise, the Sadducees are often criticized for having a narrow view of the law. Because they considered only the five books of the Torah as authoritative, they refused to support beliefs or rituals that in their opinion were not found there. Thus, to take the best-known example, Sadducean interpreters found no biblical support for the doctrine of resurrection, and therefore they found no place for that doctrine in their belief system. They viewed many Pharisaic interpretations, based on the oral law, as unwarranted innovations, but that is not to say that the Sadducees lacked their own interpretative devices or, for that matter, their own halakah. The Sadducees may not have countenanced as much diversity of opinion and practice as did the Pharisees, but it is mistaken to assume that they were rigidly monolithic.
An even greater distaste for diversity probably characterized the third group of this triad, the Essenes. Josephus is virtually our only source for them. There is no generally agreed-upon etymology for the word Essene, nor are we sure what the underlying Semitic term was. More than the Pharisees and Sadducees, the Essenes developed what we might today call a sectarian consciousness. Even when they dwelled among the general populace, they lived a life apart. According to Josephus, some Essenes married and had dealings with their fellow Jews, while others did not marry and cut themselves off from the mainstream. Although they accepted new members, they did not actively seek them nor did they welcome just anyone. An elaborate system of probation and initiation preceded full acceptance into their fellowship, an acceptance that could be revoked for failure to follow the distinctive system of beliefs and practices they constructed.
When the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered and read in the late 1940s and early 1950s, a consensus arose that the Qumran settlement responsible for these scrolls was an Essene community. Although the doctrines and rites outlined in the scrolls did not agree in every detail with Josephus (nor do the scrolls always agree with each other), the Essene hypothesis was attractive. Despite challenges to this consensus in recent years, the Essene hypothesis still retains its value as a reasonable interpretative tool.
The Qumran community seems to have been founded sometime in the Maccabean or Hasmonean period. Because the community styles itself the “sons of Zadok,” its founders felt some connection or kinship with the priestly group out of which the Sadducees also arose. These “sons of Zadok” were unwilling or unable to make their peace with the authorities in Jerusalem and therefore effected a physical separation into the remote area just west of the Dead Sea. From there they waged a prolonged and often impassioned campaign against those in power in Jerusalem, whom they regarded as unworthy of such offices and influence. Although they rarely named names, preferring instead code terms like “Wicked Priest” and “Teacher of Righteousness,” much of their hatred was clearly directed at the Hasmonean dynasty and its supporters. In fact, the Qumran community implacably opposed not only foreign countries, but also all Jews outside their group. They identified themselves as the “sons of light,” destined by God to be victorious in apocalyptic battle against the “sons of darkness.” They considered that even the angelic hosts were entering the battle on their side. Human beings had to make a choice between light and darkness, and that choice led directly to eternal reward or its opposite.
The community at Qumran was tightly structured, dedicated to the study and interpretation of Mosaic law, and stood poised to take over the now debased organization of the Temple when the Messiah (or Messiahs) should appear to lead them. Their criticisms of the Temple were not aimed at the authentic Temple of the past or future, but only at the present structure and its unclean priesthoo
d. According to their literature, they believed that Jerusalem worship was further invalidated because it relied on a faulty calendar and a false calculation for the observance of festivals and holidays. Josephus does not mention this calendrical dispute, but its existence would have been crucially important for two groups, both of which claimed to be the true Israel.
Because they designated themselves as the “sons of Zadok” and had unmistakable ties with priestly concerns and practices, it has been proposed that the Qumran community’s members were Sadducees. But the Qumran group’s belief in resurrection stands in stark contrast with everything known of Sadducean beliefs on this subject. The founders of the Qumran community may, however, have been closer to Sadducean belief and practice than later generations of their followers. It may also be that Sadducean tenets in these matters become normative only in the later period that we know from Josephus and other sources. In any case, Josephus did not intend to present an exhaustive listing and discussion of all the sectarian groups that he knew.
Jews and Samaritans, Jews and Non-Jews
In the Samaritans we encounter a group that had similarities with—but also more significant differences from—the triad discussed above. Like the Sadducees, the Samaritans accepted as authoritative only (a form of) the Torah, or five books of Moses. They shared with both the Sadducees and the Essenes of Qumran a conviction that there was only one temple at which communal worship should be centralized. Unlike the Sadducees, but again in common with the Essenes, the Samaritans did not consider the Jerusalem Temple as valid. And perhaps of greatest significance, their claim to be the true Israel, aimed primarily against the Jerusalem leadership, parallels the self-identity of the Qumran community.
But the differences are striking. The Essenes’ hatred for Jerusalem and its Temple was limited to the present. As in the past, in the messianic future Jerusalem would be the site for the true priesthood and the authentic sacrificial worship of Israel. For the Samaritans, on the other hand, the Jerusalem Temple was not and never could be that sacred place ordained by God for his worship. Instead, the territory of Samaria, with its capital at Shechem and its temple on Mount Gerizim, was the intended focus for priest, cult, and worship. The Samaritans traced their lineage back to the same twelve tribes as the Judeans or Jews. While the Davidic monarchy and Jerusalem as the city of David were crucial for Judean self-understanding, the Samaritans could point to other ancient traditions associating Shechem and other Samaritan sites with centralized and sacrificial worship of God. In effect, supporters of the Samaritan claim to be the true Israel were drawing from the same traditional sources as the Judeans, but with vastly different interpretations and consequences.
From the Judean or Jewish perspective, two things were clear: God had chosen Jerusalem to be the site of his Temple, and, despite their claims, the inhabitants of Samaria were a culturally and religiously mixed people, not the homogeneous monotheistic community they claimed. A Judean text, 2 Kings 17.24–44, provided crucial support for this position.
These differences in interpretation had practical consequences. When exiled Judeans or Jews returned from Babylon to rebuild their city, they brusquely rejected offers of help from the Samaritans, whose words of friendship they regarded with utmost suspicion. Nehemiah viewed with horror intermarriage between the son of a priestly family from Jerusalem and the daughter of a leading Samaritan family (Neh. 13.28–29). As the book of Nehemiah and subsequent history make abundantly clear, not everyone shared Nehemiah’s distaste for such unions. Around the time of Alexander the Great’s conquest of Syria-Palestine, another marriage between these leading families was forged. This time the governor of Samaria, who bore the apparently common name Sanballat, chose to ensure his son-in-law’s happiness by constructing a temple, on the model of Jerusalem’s, atop the sacred Mount Gerizim. Archaeological, historical, and epigraphical evidence confirms at least the general contours of this story. This temple had not been standing for long when the Samaritans, for reasons unknown to us, rebelled against Alexander the Great’s representative in that area. Although Alexander’s reprisals were swift and severe, the temple was apparently spared destruction.
Throughout the remainder of the fourth century, the third century, and most of the second century, the Samaritans maintained their central cult on Mount Gerizim. They escaped the wrath of Antiochus IV, although it is difficult to determine the exact nature of the compromise they reached with him. The effects of hellenization among the Samaritans are also difficult to gauge, but as in Jerusalem there must have been many who did not view all Greek influence as incompatible with the distinctive features of their beliefs and practices. In any case, the Samaritans were not the target of Hasmonean expansion until the time of John Hyrcanus. Early in his reign, in 128 BCE, he destroyed the temple on Mount Gerizim, ransacking Shechem in the process. Two decades later he returned to effect the complete destruction of that city and of the city of Samaria.
Given the centuries of hostility between Jews and Samaritans, it is surprising to learn of the basic compatibility between the beliefs and practices of these two feuding groups. The Samaritan Pentateuch and the form of the Torah accepted in Jerusalem had hundreds of minor differences between them. But apart from the former’s insistence that God had chosen Shechem as the place for his worship, there are few theologically crucial contradictions in these competing texts. Even after the destruction of its temple, the Samaritan priesthood retained much of its power and prestige. To this day, a small group sustains the distinctive core of Samaritan teaching: we, not they, are the true heirs of Moses.
One other group needs mentioning: non-Jews, especially Greek and Roman non-Jews. Even a cursory discussion of the relationship between Jews and non-Jews in antiquity is a daunting task. We have discussed relations between the Jewish state and the Ptolemies, the Seleucids, neighboring Syro-Palestinian peoples, the Romans, the Spartans, and others. We have seen that some Jews eagerly embraced Hellenism and with equal alacrity abandoned all distinctive aspects of Judaism, while others felt that only by intractable opposition to even the slightest hint of insidious Hellenism could they preserve their Jewish way of life. Between these two extremes, individual Jews made their way through daily rounds of trade and commerce, heated discourse, friendly transactions, habit, and ritual, with most people forming their opinions about others on the basis of personal contact, hearsay, and preconceptions.
Yet even in antiquity, when the degree of literacy and the technology of mass communication were undeveloped in comparison with today, there were influential voices, whose words—preserved for us in written form—carried weight. Throughout the Hellenistic period the Jews were the subject or object of observation and analysis by interested writers. Sometimes these observations were firsthand; on other occasions, they were based on a less than clear understanding of sources that may themselves have been obscure. Were Greco-Roman writers favorably disposed or antagonistic toward Jews and Judaism as they understood them? The answer depends in part on chronology. By and large, observations dating from earlier in the Hellenistic period are more favorable than those composed later. Particularly influential in this regard were the Maccabean revolt and its aftermath. However we assess the factors that motivated Antiochus IV, it is difficult to deny that his Judean policy was important to him and that his lack of success there was a severe embarrassment. We must assume that he mobilized not only military armies, but masses of propagandists in his efforts to discredit, if not completely destroy, Judaism. His scribes would have been given free rein to incorporate every anti-Jewish remark they had ever read or heard and additionally to create new stories that would denigrate the distinctive beliefs and practices of the Jews. To this period may date the origins or more likely the popularity of tales concerning ritual homicide and ass worship among Jews. This contrasts with earlier praise of the Jews as a nation of philosophers who shunned the crudities of belief and expression that marred so many other peoples.
Sources of information, especia
lly when not firsthand, were another determining factor in the tone of statements about Jews. From the very beginnings of Ptolemaic rule, even before Jews had been welcomed into Egypt and allowed for the most part to compete on an equal footing for the wealth that flowed into and out of Alexandria, there were all sorts of occasions for friction on social, cultural, economic, and religious levels, and such animosities were severe and frequent enough to find their way into writings that originated in Egypt. Because Egypt was held in high esteem by many in the Greco-Roman cultural elite, these views were widely circulated and provided a filter through which even eyewitnesses viewed Jews and Judaism. Nonetheless, we ought not to underestimate the talents, energy, and curiosity of individual writers in the Greco-Roman world. Even when they used secondhand or second-rate material, such writers frequently give evidence of an enviable ability to perceive and even to appreciate.
Given these factors, another question often arises: Were there many non-Jews who became Jews, and if so, did this result from an active proselytizing by Jews? The available evidence allows for more than one interpretation. Clearly most if not all Jewish literature from the Hellenistic period was aimed at Jewish audiences. On the other hand, even in such literature there is evidence that its authors were not unaware that non-Jews might also be reading it. Individual examples of conversion are not absent. More numerous are statements in praise of one or more of Judaism’s distinctive features. Although such positive statements would not necessarily or even regularly lead to conversion on the part of author or audience, they could create a context for such action. Most likely those interested in Judaism would have seen it as an addition to rather than as a substitute for whatever religion, philosophy, or combination of both they were then practicing.
The Oxford History of the Biblical World Page 59