Despite the fact that documents recording aspects of the daily life and religion of the Judean colony at Elephantine during the Persian period have long been known and available for analysis, no consensus has emerged about the number of gods worshipped in the local cult, to what degree the gods were Judahite-Israelite in origin, and especially how the gods were thought to relate to one another and to YHW. Were the gods conceptualized along the conventional model of a familial, hierarchically arranged pantheon as known from throughout the ancient Near East? This paper critically assesses the evidence for a pantheon at Elephantine by reflecting on the psychology of anthropomorphism and its implications for reconstructing ancient forms of polytheism, offers a new synthesis of the data regarding the structure and coherence of the pantheon as it was apparently known there, and finally considers the relevance of the situation at Elephantine for questions about the nature of Israelite-Judahite polytheism more generally.
From the early days of the discovery of the Elephantine papyri until now, one aspect that has provoked more interest and discussion than any other is the apparent evidence that polytheistic cult was accepted in the Judean community responsible for the archives. Scholars have long assumed that the Judean colony practiced a form of polytheism amenable to the culturally mixed Aramaean milieu in which they lived,[1] since in the extant documents Judeans speak of “the gods” as a collective and name several deities as objects of worship, sometimes in direct association with YHW.[2] Yet despite the fact that the relevant documents have long been known and available for analysis, no consensus has emerged about the number of gods worshipped in the cult, to what degree the gods were actually Judahite-Israelite in origin, and especially how the gods were thought to relate to one another and to YHW. Were the gods conceptualized along the model of a familial, hierarchically arranged pantheon as known from throughout the ancient Near East (ANE)? Were the several deities mentioned apart from YHW viable members of an operative pantheon?
The evidence for polytheistic cult comprises fragmentary and isolated references, the ambiguous character of which has sometimes encouraged scholars to interpret the data within a more monotheistic framework, consistent with the practical monolatry believed to have been already established in the Judean homeland as portrayed in the writings of the Hebrew Bible. Following a line of thought first set forth by Albright, in which emphasis is placed on the etymological interpretation of the divine names, one or more of the figures associated with Bethel or YHW have been explained as hypostases of the same, whether manifestations or divine attributes that have taken on a qualified separate existence.[3] Such views would imply that no effective pantheon existed at Elephantine, or at least that it had a fairly marginal position.
Yet as the evidence for pantheon in the Iron Age cults of Israel, Judah, and its neighbors continues to accumulate through archaeological investigation and the Hebrew Bible is frequently evaluated as a late ideological formation stemming mainly from the Persian and Hellenistic periods, this removes the impulse to minimize traces of polytheism at Elephantine and indeed calls for a reanalysis of the material independent of bibliocentric assumptions. The study of Elephantine history, culture, and religion has recently attracted a remarkable boost in scholarly interest and activity, parallel with new work preparing scholarly editions of Pap. Amherst 63, creating an environment ripe for an in-depth look at the gods worshipped in the cult, including their potential relationships to one another and cultural pedigree.[4]
The present study attempts to advance the discussion on Judean polytheism at Elephantine in three ways. First, I offer some reflections on the psychology of anthropomorphism and its implications for reconstructing ancient forms of polytheism. Second, I present a new synthesis of the data regarding the structure and coherence of the pantheon as it was apparently known there. Finally, I consider the relevance of the situation at Elephantine for questions about the nature of polytheistic cult that existed earlier in Iron Age Israel-Judah.
The Psychology of Anthropomorphism
Philosophers and scholars of many disciplines have long noted the general human tendency to anthropomorphize the nonhuman and in particular the supernatural beings of religion. In the last few decades it has been cognitive theorists of religion who have brought renewed interest and rigor to the investigation of the possible cognitive origins of this tendency. For example, Guthrie has argued that we have a cognitive bias to anthropomorphize as a mental heritage from our early evolutionary past (1980; 1993). In the words of Tremlin, “We automatically and involuntarily perceive the world as alive and Person-like, interpreting even the faintest cues in terms of human traits” (2006: 99). We are predisposed to interpret ambiguous phenomena in the environment anthropomorphically so as to facilitate understanding and enhance our ability to predict observed behavior.[5]
Building on previous cognitive and psychological research, Epley, Waytz, and Cacioppo (2007) have recently proposed a three-factor theory of anthropomorphism to account for variability in the tendency to anthropomorphize across individuals and cultures. The three psychological determinants are, “the accessibility and applicability of anthropocentric knowledge (elicited agent knowledge), the motivation to explain and understand the behavior of other agents (effectance motivation), and the desire for social contact and affiliation (sociality motivation)” (864). This description suggests that knowledge about humans or the self is likely to serve as the default basis for induction about nonhuman agents, absent the motivation, capacity, and knowledge to correct for anthropomorphism, and such knowledge is more readily available and applied when there is a motivation to reduce anxiety and uncertainty associated with one’s environment, enhance control over it, and establish social connections. As incentives for understanding and predicting the behavior of a non-human agent increase, so should anthropomorphism: “Agents perceived as threatening or able to influence one’s welfare, for instance, may be anthropomorphized more readily than nonthreatening or powerless agents. Agents one is likely to interact with in the future are likely to be anthropomorphized more readily than agents unlikely to be seen again” (872).
I believe this theoretical background is useful to keep in mind when considering the forms of polytheism we find common to the ANE. For here the tendency to anthropomorphize divine agents appears to have been relatively high and systematic (e.g., Smith 2001: 83-103; Hamori 2008: 129-49; Hundley 2013). Gods typically have human-like bodies, minds, and appetites; they eat, drink, marry, produce children, display emotions, engage in complex discourse, and sometimes even die. Most important for our purpose, they appear to have been routinely organized in families on analogy with human society. Chief male deities were bound to female partners together with whom they were responsible for divine progeny, the upshot being that gods were generationally differentiated and their identities tied to discrete familial roles. Individual pantheons embraced primary parental gods as well as secondary children gods both of which had important roles in myth and cult.
Smith has helpfully clarified that the model upon which such divine households were patterned is the royal patriarchal household (2001: 54-66; 155-57).[6] At the top of the pantheon is the chief male and his spouse, who are the primary authorities, below which on the next level is the children of the gods who constituted the divine council and ruled under the authority of the former. Further below in status are anonymous servant gods. Because the conceptual template for pantheon is the royal patriarchal household, a crucial area of focus is on the secondary god chosen to take the role of crown prince or successor to the chief male.[7] That is to say, not only was the pantheon hierarchically organized along generational lines, it tended to be socially structured to give priority to certain deities on each level of the hierarchy, male over female on all levels and chosen heir among secondary gods.
Was there a Judean Pantheon at Elephantine?
Collection Account
The single most important piece of evidence that a minimal pantheon of deities was venerated among Judeans at Elephantine is the well-known Collection Account (c. 400 BCE) that lists YHW, Anat-Bethel, and Ašim-Bethel as recipients of garrison donations:
kspʾ zy qm ywmʾ hw byd
ydnyh br gmryh byrḥ pmnḥtp
ksp kršn 31 šqlw 8
bgw lyhw k 12 š 6
lʾšmbytʾl kršn 7
lʿntbytʾl ksp kršn 12
“The silver which stood that day in the hand of Jedaniah son of Gemariah in the month of Phamenoth: silver, 31 karsh, 8 shekels. Herein: for YHW 12 karsh, 6 shekels; for Ašim-Bethel, 7 karsh; for Anat-Bethel, silver, 12 karsh” (TAD C3.15:123-28)
Aside from identifying the divine beneficiaries of the donations, the purpose of the collection is not stated in the text, though undoubtedly it was intended in some way for the temple of YHW at Elephantine.[8] Tallied together, YHW receives 126 shekels, Anat-Bethel 120 shekels, and Ašim-Bethel 70 shekels. From the easily identifiable theophoric backgrounds of Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel and the discrepancies in the amounts of silver collected for each, we have a prima facie case for assuming a hierarchical pantheon was accepted in the community. The name Anat-Bethel goes back to the female consort of Aramaean Bethel attested in Assyrian sources and Ašim-Bethel recalls the Aramaean deity Ashima alluded to in the Bible (2 Kgs 17:30).[9]
A number of scholars have argued that YHW was identified with Bethel at Elephantine, based on the use of Bethel as theophoric element in Judean personal names and the interchange of Bethel and YHW in the divine names Anat-Bethel and Anat-YHW.[10] Accepting this hypothesis, the most straightforward analysis of the compound names Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel is that they should be understood as construct chains (Anat of Bethel and Ašim of Bethel), marking divine affiliation with YHW(=Bethel). The phenomenon of marking attachment/subordination to a deity through a genitive construction is well attested in NWS (Thomas 2017).[11] On the basis of the names alone, therefore, it would appear that Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel were subordinate to YHW in the Elephantine pantheon.
The shape of the pantheon’s hierarchy can be further clarified from the quantities of silver dedicated to each deity in the Collection Account. As we would expect based on the centrality of YHW in the documents from Elephantine, YHW receives the most silver, 126 shekels, reflecting a position of seniority and authority. Next is Anat-Bethel, whose 120 shekels indicate her status was considered comparable to YHW yet subordinate. Finally, the 70 shekels reserved for Ašim-Bethel mark him as decisively lower in rank from both YHW and Anat-Bethel (fig. 1).
fig. 1 Pantheon Hierarchy
Assuming that Anat-Bethel is the spouse of YHW because of his identification with Bethel, the group appears to function as a hierarchically arranged triad, with Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel operating on distinct levels. Because YHW and Anat-Bethel are likely a spousal pair and Ašim-Bethel is implied to have an affiliation with YHW similar to Anat-Bethel by virtue of his name and yet stands at a much lower rank, we can further deduce that Ašim-Bethel fills the slot of a dependent child or adolescent, the group as a whole forming a household on the royal patriarchal model.[12] In fact, Ašim-Bethel is registered immediately after YHW and before Anat-Bethel, despite receiving almost half as much silver, which ordering may point to his role as the secondary male in the household or male heir.
Similar triadic pantheon structures are known from elsewhere in the ANE.[13] For example, Achaemenid kings worshiped Ahura Mazda, Anahita, and Mithra (Kuhrt 2007: 474-75), the combination of which probably corresponds to divine familial groupings in Mesopotamia (cf. Granerød 2013; Petrosyan 2002: 129). The cult of Sin at Harran featured Sin, his consort Ningal, and their son Nusku (Green 1992: 27, 33-34; Theuer 2000: 374). This latter group, with the Aramaean moon god Sahar replacing the name Sin, is invoked in tomb inscriptions from Neirab dating to the 7th century BCE (KAI 225; 226). Some triadic configurations from the Hellenistic-Roman period include Maren, Marten, and Bar-Maren “Our Lord, Our Lady, and the son of our Lord” from Hatra (KAI 251; 256), Hadad, Atargatis, and Apollo at Heirapolis, and Jupiter, Venus, and Mercury at Heliopolis.[14] More immediately relevant to the situation at Elephantine is the Taymanite triad of the 4th century BCE, which consists of Ṣalm, Šengalʾ, and Ašimaʾ. Ṣalm is the chief male deity of the region, possibly an El-like moon-god (cf. Maraqten 1996; Novák 2001: 448-51; Hausleiter 2012; Niehr 2014: 382-87),[15] while Šengalʾ is most likely his spouse because her name derives from Akkadian fša ekalli and means “queen” (Millard 1972). As the third member of this group, Ašimaʾ, symbolized by Venus, would have been their lower rank son.
Letter from Yedoniah to Bagohi
Another clue preserving evidence of a pantheon at Elephantine is the report in the letter (c. 410 BCE) from Yedoniah to Bagohi, Persian governor of Judah, that when the first temple was destroyed multiple ʿmwdyʾ “pillars” were demolished: wʿmwdyʾ zy ʾbnʾ zy hww tmh tbrw “and the pillars of stone which were there they smashed” (TAD A4.7:9). Some scholars have suggested that these pillars were sacred standing stones (cf. Athas 2005: 315; Becking 2005: 46-47; 2011: 413-14), in which case the plural number would necessarily imply the existence of a small pantheon.
While the interpretation of ʿmwdyʾ as cultic stones has not found general acceptance among scholars studying Elephantine religion, who tend to see the pillars as an architectural feature of the temple (cf. Rohrmoser 2014: 157-58; Granerød 2016: 109-112; Cornell 2016: 303-305), nonetheless I believe it to be correct based on several considerations. First, in the context of Yedoniah’s description of the razing of the temple the “pillars” are closely identified with the temple itself, being the first item mentioned after reporting that the Egyptians destroyed the ʾgwr, “they entered that temple and destroyed it to the ground, and the pillars of stone that were there they smashed.”
Second, the “pillars” in the temple are rhetorically marked as distinct from the subsequent listing of architectural items and cult paraphernalia by the use of the conjunction ʾp “also.” Through this separation, the emphasis is placed on the destruction of the temple and its “pillars,” whereas the subsequent list functions as a more detailed addendum that adds insult to injury.
Third, the verb tbr that describes the destruction of the “pillars” is cognate with Hebrew šbr “to break, smash in pieces,” which is closely associated with the destruction of cult icons in the HB, whether statues or standing stones (Knipping 2004: 373). Excluding references to the destruction of the asherah, out of 30 passages in the HB that describe violent action directed against cult icons, the verb šbr is used 14 times, and out of 13 passages that describe specifically the destruction of standing stones the verb šbr is used 9 times.
Fourth, the noun mṣbh corresponds semantically with ʿmwd “pillar,” i.e. something stationed or standing, and the use of ʿmwd in the sense of mṣbh may be reflected in the HB: “the king stood by the pillar and made a covenant before YHWH” (2 Kgs 23:3; see also 2 Kgs 11:14).
Lastly, a number of texts from Elephantine demonstrate that YHW was believed to reside in his temple at Elephantine, implying that the deity had a material icon of some kind by which he was made visible and present (Kraeling 1953: 85; Niehr 2003: 194; Becking 2005: 38-39; Rohrmoser 2014: 186-98). For example, YHW is said to škn yb brtʾ “dwell [in] Elephantine the fortress” (B3.12:2). As an immigrant community living on the fringes of the Persian Empire with relatively little resources compared to a temple maintained by a state bureaucracy, the use of simple standing stones would seem ideal as a form of cult statuary, at least provisionally.[16] Because standing stones enacted the presence of deity and therefore would have been a focus of cult, we would expect for them to receive some sort of mention in the letter to Bagohi, even if the genre of the text is pragmatic and non-theological. Cornell’s recent suggestion (2016: 301-302) that Yedoniah intentionally omitted reference to cult statuary because a letter to the Persian governor was an inappropriate venue for articulating communal lament or theologizing is unpersuasive. ANE peoples were clearly capable of admitting to cult despoliation in the genre of lament, and we have little reason to think they could not do so in more secular genres as well. Reports of cult despoliation in the HB occur in historiographical narratives that are relatively factual and materialistic in orientation (e.g. 2 Kgs 14:13-14; 25:13-17).
Other Evidence of Pantheon
The above texts provide tantalizing clues regarding the existence of an organized pantheon in the cult at Judean Elephantine. The pantheon was apparently a small household structured on the royal patriarchal model appropriate to the high anthropomorphism endemic to the broader ANE. In order to flesh out this reconstruction I will now turn to the remaining references to deities other than YHW likely worshiped in the community, which consist of isolated, one-off, or fragmentary invocations. This includes mentions of Anat-YHW, Ašim-Bethel, and Ḥarim-Bethel, sometimes shortened to Anat, Ašim, and Ḥarim.
Anat
Anat occurs only once in a personal name, the name ʿnty, which Silverman analyzes as “Anat + hypocoristic y” (1985: 166-67). The absence of a significant presence for Anat in the Elephantine onomasticon is consistent with the general tendency in Levantine cultures to invoke mainly male deities in personal names (Albertz 2012: 363).
More important is the mention of Anat-YHW along with another god in the oath of Menahem:
mw[mʾh zy] mnḥm br s̆lm br
hw[ … ] ymʾ lms̆lm br ntn
bḥ[17] [ … ]ʾ bmsgdʾ wbʿntyhw
“Oath of Menahem son of Shallum son of Ho[ … ] that he swore/will swear to Meshullam son of Nathan by Ḥ[arim?] the [god] in the altar precinct and by Anat-YHW” (TAD B7.3:1-3)
The oath is potentially significant for understanding the shape of Judean polytheism at Elephantine. First of all, it shows that Anat-YHW was worshipped as a distinct deity invoked in the practical matters of juridical concerns.[18] The structure of the name parallels that of Anat-Bethel in the Collection Account, confirming that YHW was linked to a female figure designated Anat. Furthermore, Anat-YHW is associated with another god in the lacuna, which holds out the possibility that a relationship was shared between them and is the subtext for why they are invoked here together.
Unfortunately, the text is worn away at the beginning of line 3 for a space of 7-8 letters and the letter after the bet is only partially preserved, resulting in disagreement among scholars over the identity of the deity in the lacuna, or even whether a deity is invoked at all. However, several clues suggest that the space originally held a divine name. First, the expression that occurs after the lacuna conveys locational information, bmsgdʾ “in the altar precinct.” As is commonly accepted, the word msgd is likely derived from the root SGD “to bow down,” referring to a “place of worship” and by extension the forecourt of a sanctuary or area near an altar (Porten 1968: 155-56; Kellermann and Kellermann 1991: 445; Granerød 2016: 108, 249-50; cf. Rohrmoser 2014: 147-48). Porten already noted that during the Ptolemaic period in Egypt oaths were commonly taken in the forecourt or at the gate of the temple, and it seems likely that something similar would have been the case in earlier periods as well. We have extensive comparative data from the eastern Mediterranean that link oaths to sanctuary settings (van der Toorn 1995: 2051; Sandowicz 2012: 93-94; Sommerstein and Torrance 2014: 132-138; Hurowitz 2015: 389-418). In this context, the msgd is unlikely to designate a divine object invoked in tandem with Anat-YHW.[19] Because bmsgd specifies the location, the waw attached to Anat-YHW shows that bmsgd must have been preceded by a divine name attached to the first bet. In line with NWS inscriptions more generally, the waw attached to a divine name has a coordinating function, joining deities together into meaningful sequences or lists. The discourse context thus requires a deity in the lacuna.
Second, the oath report in TAD B2.2:4 exhibits language comparable to the oath of Menahem indicating a divine name should fall before the geographic localization: ymʾt ly byhw ʾlhʾ byb byrtʾ “You swore to me by YHW the god in Elephantine the fortress.” The phrase “in Elephantine the fortress” follows immediately upon the description of swearing “by YHW the god,” and so we should expect a locational modifier to follow a divine invocation in our oath as well. The basic formula underlying the oaths can be summarized: ymʾ + b + DN + b + GN “to swear by DN in GN,” with the option of adding additional deities by means of a conjunction. Although the reference to Anat-YHW after the localizing information may appear awkwardly joined to the oath as if it were an afterthought, the phraseology in which an invocation of two separate deities is broken up by a locational modifier is reminiscent of the syntax of the blessings to YHWH and his asherah in Hebrew inscriptions: “I bless you to YHWH of Teman/Samaria and to his asherah.”
Third, the aleph visible after the lacuna fits well with a reconstruction of ʾlhʾ “the god,” which functioned as a kind of divine determinative in the Elephantine papyri, placed immediately after a divine name (Granerød 2016: 250).
Assuming that a deity was named in the lacuna, its identity is not immediately clear from the ḥet and hinges on how one interprets the significance of the msgdʾ. As we saw above, the word likely refers to an area of worship connected to a sanctuary. Interestingly, no information on the location of the msgd or the particular sanctuary to which it was attached is offered. Rather, it is defined simply as “the msgd,” determined with an article, as if the location were self-evident to the community for which the document was composed. In view of the document’s multiple Judean connections, the msgd likely refers to the altar precinct of the Judean temple at Elephantine. Menahem son of Shallum is certainly Judean (cf. TAD B2.10:18; B3.13:13-14; C3.13:46), thus we would expect him to swear by deities relevant to his community, who would have been most immediately accessible in the temple of YHW. In addition, Anat-YHW is invoked parallel to the first deity; because she is clearly Judean but has a secondary status in the context of the oath, it would seem that her appearance here is a function of being closely related to the main oath god, whose Judean affiliation is therefore implicit.
Among deities known to have been worshiped by Judeans at Elephantine, only one name begins with the letter ḥet, that is, Ḥarim. He is elsewhere invoked in the context of an oath under the long form Ḥarim-Bethel, also designated “the god” (TAD B7.2:7-8), hence the appearance of the deity here is plausible, though tentative. The abbreviated form of the name without Bethel also occurs in personal names. We will discuss the profile of Ḥarim later, but for now what is important is that he is apparently associated with Anat-YHW in the context of the Judean temple at Elephantine. Anat-YHW is connected to Ḥarim in a single cult setting, implying that a pantheon-type relationship was shared between them.
One final text relevant to the figure of Anat at Elephantine is Pap. Amherst 63, which mentions the divine name once in col. viii 8-10:
šʾgʾ r2šʾ | sʾgʾ |
sʾw2t | ʾ2ʾl mr
yʾb2r3kʾkʾ | sʾgʾ |
sʾg2ʾd | lʾ | ʿnnt |
wʾmʾmʾ | ʾl | nbw
šʾqʾ l | ḥʾr2ʾmʾtʾ |
“Multiply, Rash, multiply
incense for the Lord.
And he will multiply your blessings.
Bow to Anat,
Swear by Nabu,
Kiss the Damsel.”[20]
The group responsible for the papyrus is generally thought to possess cultural affinity with the Aramaean community of Upper Egypt, as many of the same deities or divine epithets show up in both contexts (e.g., Vleeming and Wesselius 1990: 7; Porten 2003: 463-64; van der Toorn 2018: 7-8). The passage at hand is part of a set of ritual instructions for festive celebration at a temple, and the gods mentioned therein seem to comprise the major divinities of the Aramaean pantheon of Rash, i.e., the homeland of the papyrus’ community. They are “the Lord,” here clearly an epithet of Bethel, Anat, Nabu, and ḥʾr2ʾmʾtʾ, which I translate “Damsel” and take as an epithet of Nanay in her role as the partner of Nabu. As noted by van der Toorn, the listing of deities implies a coupling between Bethel and Anat on the one hand, and Nabu and ḥʾr2ʾmʾtʾ-Nanay on the other (2018: 128).
At the very least, the passage confirms that Anat was recognized as a full-fledged deity among Aramaeans living in Egypt, a goddess connected to the household of Bethel.[21] Interestingly, Bethel, Anat, and Nabu have been grouped together here in a pantheon-like configuration, comparable to the triad of YHW, Anat-Bethel, and Ašim-Bethel at Elephantine. This finding lends further support for the correspondence between Bethel and YHW we have already discussed, as well as pointing to a possible typological correspondence between Nabu and Ašim-Bethel. As we noted earlier, Nabu’s status throughout the ANE world of the first millennium BCE was that of a son to the pantheon head.
Ašim-Bethel/Ašim
Of the several deities here examined, Ašim is best documented in personal names. Silverman lists five instances of Ašim used as a theophoric: ʾšmzbd “Ašim has given” ʾšmkdry “Ašim [protect] the heir!”; ʾšmn “Ašim + -n suffix”; ʾšmrm “Ašim is exalted”; ʾšmšzb “Ašim has saved” (1985: 135). The predicative elements in the names are consistently in the masculine singular, which indicates that Ašim was perceived as a male figure.[22] A masculine identification is further supported by the parallel between ʾšmkdry and the popular Akkadian name Nabû-kudurri-uṣur “Nabu, protect the heir!” (PNAE 2:841-42).
The name ʾšm is generally explained as an Aramaean form of the noun šm “name” with a prosthetic aleph and can be connected to the Aramaean god ʾšymʾ associated with Hamath in the Bible (2 Kgs 17:30) and attested in the caravan community of Tayma.[23] The concept of “name” was widely employed in the Canaanite world as an epithet for deities who functioned as a representative or intermediary for another deity (cf. Huffmon 1999: 610-612; Seow 1999: 322-325). The warrior god “Name of El” is attested at Ugarit (KTU 1.22 I 6-7) as well as 8th century Kuntillet ‘Ajrud (KA 4.2). “Name” also appears as a theophoric in Canaanite personal names (Avigad and Sass 1997: 486; Hess 2007b: 126; Albertz 2012: 289, n. 105). Astarte is called “Name of Baal” at Ugarit and later at Phoenician Sidon (KTU 1.16 VI 56; KAI 14:18). In the Bible the angel of YHWH who guides and protects the Israelites on the journey to the Promised Land is said to have YHWH’s “name” in him (Ex 23:21).
The presence of Ašim in personal names strengthens the impression he was worshipped as a distinct divine entity at Elephantine. Not only is Ašim used as a proper name in itself, but Ašim-Bethel is differentiated from YHW(=Bethel) in the Collection Account, showing that the fundamental identifying element was Ašim. Accordingly, the compound Ašim-Bethel is best explained as a construct chain, signifying the god’s affiliation and subordination to YHW-Bethel.
Outside the material from Elephantine, the most significant text for elucidating the character of Ašim-Bethel is Pap. Amherst 63, which preserves a hymn to the deity in col. xvi 13-17:
ḫyl | ʾ2t3wr ʾl | ḫylʾk |
ʾp2? ʾšʾbytldḫyl | ʾ2t3wryʾl | ḫylʾk |
ḥʾmt | kʾ kʾ⸢t⸣nʾnʾn |
qštʾk | bʾšʾmyndʾ2t3mrt3d/ṭr/ʾ2ḫʾ |
n2kt | ʾšbytldbʾyʾbyʾk |
ḥzyt d2y | ṭ2b | p2ṭyšk |
ʾ2ḫylʾ | lʾʿylm | trm |
ḥzyt d2y ṭ2b | kʾdny |
kʾdny | bʾmš | gʾbk | yq2ʾr2bʾ |
rš ynsy msʾnyk |
bk | yḫrʾ | ʿʾry |
yʾm/h?šk | yd | l2mr|
r2ʾpt | ʿlk/q/gnk/q/gʾn |
mnpqʾ | mn2drg w2r2šʾwʾ2ʾn bš | d3lḥzyt
The power of the bull of El is your power.
Indeed, Eshem-Bethel, the power of the bull of El is your power.
Your venom is like the sea-serpents.
Your bow in heaven, O lord, you draw.
You bite, Eshem-Bethel, your enemies.
You see that your hammer is good.
You raise it with force against Elam.
You see that my scimitar is good.
My scimitar will be near to your fortress.
Should your enemies raise their head,
Should attackers be angry at you,
Should they stretch out the hand against my lord,
It is powerless against…
I am coming out of Darga and Rash in a fire you have not seen.[24]
Ašim-Bethel is described here as a powerful warrior against foreign enemies, an active profile that diverges from the authoritative and transcendent Bethel depicted elsewhere on the papyrus. Particular emphasis is placed on his weapons, which include the bow, hammer, and scimitar. The depiction of his warrior force in terms of the “bull of El” is further evocative of a subordinate and intermediary agency. Aside from this passage, Ašim-Bethel occurs in the papyrus only once more, so we have little reason to suppose the name was a variant title of Bethel; he is rather an independent deity with a distinct mythological profile.[25]
The specific attestations of Ašim-Bethel in the papyrus also point toward an identification with Nabu. Ašim-Bethel and Nabu appear to be invoked parallel to one another in col. xvi 1, and the hymn to Ašim-Bethel described above occurs in the larger context of a string of Nabu and Nanay-oriented material in columns 16-17 (xvi 1-2, 4, 6, 9-12, 12-13, 17-19; xvii 7-16). Nabu is similarly celebrated as protective “guard” (mʾṭʾr) of a city in Rash in xvi 4.
Ḥarim/Ḥarim-Bethel
The god Ḥarim goes unmentioned in the Collection Account, but several lines of evidence suggest he was accepted as a full-fledged deity within the Judean community. Two names feature the theophoric Ḥarim: ḥrmn “Ḥarim + -n suffix”; ḥrmntn “Ḥarim has given” (Silverman 1985: 148). The name ḥrmntn in particular implies that Ḥarim is male and serves as a major deity with control over human reproduction, comparable to bytʾlntn and yhwntn (so Granerød 2016: 250). There are additional examples of Ḥarim used as a theophoric in Egyptian Aramaic personal names, which provide further material from which to clarify his profile (Silverman 1985: 148).
Apart from personal names and the oath of Menahem discussed earlier, the god Ḥarim/Ḥarim-Bethel occurs in the oath of Malkiya (TAD B7.2:7-8):
ʾnh mlkyh ʾqrʾ lk ʿl ḥrmbytʾl
ʾlhʾ byn [m]qmn 4
“I, Malkiya, declare for you to Ḥarim-Bethel
the god among four representatives…”[26]
The oath makes clear that Ḥarim-Bethel was perceived as a god. He is designated ʾlhʾ “the god,” the same as YHW and other deities in the Elephantine papyri (Granerød 2016: 250). Ḥarim is apparently invoked as the divine mechanism by which punishment would be imposed on Malkiya for having sworn falsely.[27] As with Ašim-Bethel and Anat-Bethel, Ḥarim-Bethel is cited both in full and abbreviated forms at Elephantine, which suggests that the name should be analyzed as a construct chain, signifying not only his differentiation from YHW-Bethel but his close affiliation and subordination to the pantheon head.
Based almost exclusively on an analysis of the element ḥrm in Ḥarim-Bethel, a number of scholars have speculated that the term refers not to a deity but to a sacred space or cultic object (e.g., van der Toorn 1986; Rohrmoser 2014: 149; Cornell 2016: 16-19). But this approach to interpreting ḥrm is problematic, since it disregards a variety of data that the word functions as a divine name in Aramaean-Egyptian culture no different from Ašim or Anat. The Semitic root ḤRM indicates someone or something especially holy and consecrated, so in this context the name likely denotes the deity’s consecrated status.
Further clues as to the nature of Ḥarim-Bethel can be gathered from Pap. Amherst 63, who appears in the section on the sacred marriage between Nanay and presumably Nabu (xvii 14):
yšʾk | ybʾk | ʿl r2bydʾ | ḥrbytld
ʿl rr3qmn | ʾl | bšmwhy |
Ḥarim-Bethel will make you lay down on the bedspread,
my god on embroidered sheets in his heavens.[28]
Following van der Toorn, I understand ʾl in the second line as the simple appellative “my god” rather than the proper name El. The two lines are therefore a classic case of Semitic parallelism, having only one god in view.[29] As there is no indication from the literary context that the dramatis personae of the marriage have suddenly changed, it seems reasonable to infer that Ḥarim-Bethel is another name for the divinity who in the preceding liturgy is portrayed entering the bridal chamber for the purpose of making love to Nanay, also called “darling” (l. 8), “chosen lad” (l. 10), and “our lord” (l. 12). The sexualized action of Ḥarim-Bethel causing Nanay to lie down in l. 14 represents a natural climax to the movement, foreplay, and promise of fulfillment that dominates ll. 7-13.
The consequence of this reading is that Ḥarim-Bethel must be equivalent to Nabu, who is otherwise the standard partner to Nanay. The appearance of Ḥarim-Bethel in Pap. Amherst 63 only in the context of sacred marriage may also bear on the name’s origin and meaning. Van der Toorn has connected the ḥrm element to the status of h̬arimtu in Mesopotamian culture, noting that h̬armu is used as an epithet of Dumuzi in the sense of lover or consort (2016b: 677). As we mentioned earlier, van der Toorn has also found a possible reference to Nanay as ḥrmt in col. viii 10 of the papyrus (2018: 128). This background suggests that the application of the descriptor ḥrm to a deity in the context of sacred marriage may be no accident. Of further relevance Assante has argued that in Mesopotamia h̬armu/h̬arimtu terminology was related to the status of singlehood in contrast to the traditional assumption that it denoted prostitution or sex outside of marriage (1998). Therefore, as applied to Nabu and Nanay, ḥrm may have something to do with their status as individuals who are unattached or a stage of purity prior to marriage. In the sacred marriage liturgy Ḥarim-Bethel is described as an ʿlmʾ bḥrʾ “chosen lad” (xvii 10), which implies a young man of marriageable age.
The identification of Ḥarim-Bethel with Nabu raises a further possibility that Ḥarim is a variant title for Ašim-Bethel, who we saw earlier is also a Nabu figure. Long ago Porten observed that Elephantine-Syene filiations such as Nabushillem b. Bethelroi and Eshemram b. Nabunadin demonstrate the close association of Bethel, Ašim, and Nabu (1969: 120), to which we could add Ḥarim as well, because of the filiation Ḥeremnatan b. Bethelnatan (TAD B6.4:9). An identification of Ḥarim-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel would help explain why Ḥarim is so seldom attested as a theophoric in personal names but is nevertheless recognized as a major deity at Elephantine. In addition, it would resolve the problem why Ḥarim-Bethel is absent from the Collection Account but is linked to Anat-YHW and the temple of Elephantine in the oath of Menahem.
Finally, it is probably not coincidental that Nabu in Pap. Amherst 63 (col. viii 8-10:), Ḥarim-Bethel in two texts from Elephantine (TAD B7.2; 7.3), and the ʾšmt(< ʾšm) of Samaria in Amos 8:14 are all specifically linked to oath taking.[30] The implication is that the son of the pantheon head had a special role as a guarantor of oaths.
Conclusion: from Elephantine to Iron Age Israel-Judah
In order to apprehend and reconstruct ancient forms of polytheism, it is essential to recognize that the plurality that defined particular groupings of deities in pantheons was not generally haphazard, as the poly- element would sometimes lead moderns to suppose, but was characterized by a degree of order, relationship, and conceptual coherence, the many being not so far apart from the one. This order and coherence was achieved by among other things envisioning the gods as belonging to a familial structure, in particular the royal patriarchal family.
I believe that the above evidence from Elephantine is sufficiently strong to conclude that a familial pantheon was known and worshiped among Judeans who lived there. The pantheon included at a minimum YHW as king-father, Anat-Bethel/YHW as queen-mother, and Ašim-Bethel as their son. All would have been an object of cult in the Judean temple and presumably myths that celebrated the divine family would have been familiar to worshippers, though unfortunately they have not been preserved.[31] That YHW is the only deity mentioned in many public documents from the Elephantine archives does not necessarily militate against the assumption of a local Judean pantheon, but rather underscores the degree to which Judean religion was patriarchal in orientation and that YHW was the most important deity in public cult recognized by Judeans (Kottsieper 2013: 303; Thomas 2016: 120-21).
This finding naturally raises the question of the cultural and religious background to the Elephantine pantheon. Does the fact that a Judean colony on the southern border of Egypt worshipped a familial pantheon in their cult have implications for the form of polytheism practiced in the homeland? In other words, to what degree does the polytheism of Elephantine reflect continuity with earlier or even contemporary Judean cult?
We have already mentioned that the names Anat-Bethel/YHW and Ašim-Bethel are of an Aramaean non-Judean character, so this clearly demonstrates a measure of discontinuity and development in the cult. Such convergence with Aramaean divine nomenclature is likely to have occurred outside the Judean homeland, the culturally mixed environment of Egypt providing a viable setting.[32] Yet as god concepts accepted by the Elephantine Judean community, Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel are very unlikely to have been adopted wholesale into the cult simply as a matter of cultural assimilation. Pantheon structures are not like building blocks such that you can create one any time you want regardless of prior religious practice or ideology. Rather, they presuppose and express deeply rooted anthropomorphic conceptions about the nature of divinity and the cosmos. Because pantheons reflect systematic anthropomorphism, they inevitably come in packages, the understanding of an individual deity being inextricably tied to the conception of the whole. The conceptualization of YHW as the head of a royal household, i.e. a generationally differentiated pantheon structure, is thus almost certainly primitive and reflective of the status quo ante in Judah.
As van der Toorn memorably remarked, the documents from Elephantine reveal a “Jewish minority group that is otherwise keen to preserve its native religious culture” (1992: 83). Kratz has identified the religious culture at Elephantine as a “standard manifestation [of Judaism] not only in the Israelite-Samarian region but also in Judah itself,” whereas the biblical Judaism that developed in Jerusalem during the Persian and Hellenistic periods was the exception to the norm (2015: 143). We also have increasing evidence that goddess worship and therefore pantheon theology was native to Judean Elephantine’s parent culture.[33]
The implication, therefore, is that Anat-Bethel/YHW and Ašim-Bethel as worshipped at Elephantine were not totally new constructions developed spontaneously for the cultural situation of upper Egypt but in fact find their roots in earlier Judahite tradition. While the names themselves may be new, the god concepts “Wife of pantheon head” and “Son of pantheon head” appear native to Judean religion and integral to the conceptualization of YHW at Elephantine. The most plausible explanation for the combination of Judean YHW with Aramaean Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel into a single local pantheon is that the latter names were adopted by the colony in the course of its acculturation to the Aramaean milieu of Egypt but at the same time this adoption of divine nomenclature was not viewed by the community as a significant departure from earlier Judahite tradition or that the god concepts standing behind the names had altered in any essential sense.[34] The phenomenon of cultures translating deities to new cultural contexts is well known. At sites of strong intercultural contact divine names were often interchanged or updated in order to create links between different cultures (Smith 2010). Based on this practice, it seems reasonable to suppose that Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel are simply locally acceptable ways of referring to the consort and child of the pantheon head, which were probably known by other names in Judah.
——————-
[1] On the cultural setting in Upper Egypt, see Botta 2014: 366-77; van der Toorn 2016a; Becking 2017b. As is well known, the Judeans of Elephantine regularly referred to themselves as “Aramaean.” Van der Toorn has persuasively argued that the Judeans viewed themselves as Aramaean in the sense that they were Syrian in origin.
[2] E.g., Sachau 1911: XXV; Cowley 1923: xviii-xix; Vincent 1937; Kraeling 1953: 84-91; Porten 1968: 173-79; van der Toorn 1992.
[3] Cf. Albright 1942: 168-74; Milik 1967: 56-64; McCarter 1987: 138-43; Olyan 1987: 170; Silverman 1969: 708-709; 1985: 223-31; Winter 1983: 500-508; Sommer 2009: 78; Pfeiffer 2011: 965; Grabbe 2013: 127-28; Kratz 2015: 142; van der Toorn 2016b.
[4] On Pap. Amherst 63, see Holm 2017; van der Toorn 2018; also Steiner and Nims 2017.
[5] For discussion and criticism of anthropomorphism in religion, see Benavides 1995; 2016; Saler 2009; Westh 2014.
[6] Building upon insights derived from Handy 1994 and Schloen 1995: 399. See also Krebernik 2017: 46-56.
[7] Cf. the conflict over dynastic succession in the Baal Cycle (Smith and Pitard 2009: 17), or the role of Nabu, crown prince and son of Marduk, in late Neo-Assyrian state cult (Annus 2002: 55-61; Parpola 2007: 330-31). On the roles of the mortal crown prince, cf. Kuhrt 1995: 522-23; Radner 2010: 27; Beckman 1986; Beal 1995: 546.
[8] For discussion, see Rohrmoser 2014: 195-98; Granerød 2016: 69-73; Cornell 2016: 304-305.
[9] For background on Bethel, Anat-Bethel, and Ašim/Ašim-Bethel, see van der Toorn 1992: 83-86; Maier 1992; Cogan 1999b; Röllig 1999; Koenen 2003: 81-92; Niehr 2003: 191–195; 2014: 153, 169-70; Porten 2003; 2014; Merlo 2009.
[10] E.g., Vincent 591; Kraeling 1953: 88; Grelot 352; van der Toorn 1992: 94; Rohrmoser 2014: 128-29; Granerød 2016: 255-56.
[11] On my reading the Bethel element is not appositional to Anat or Ašim (cf. van der Toorn 2016b), and neither does Bethel refer to a betylstanding stone (cf. Rohrmoser 2014: 129-34). On the history of the term betyland its relation to Semitic bethel, see Gaifman 2008: 42-57; van der Toorn 2018: 28.
[12] For the interpretation of the triad as a family, see Grelot 1972: 365; Dupont-Sommer 1978: 765; Müller 1980: 129; Röllig 1999: 174; Becking 2003: 218-219; 2011: 41; Knauf 2002: 184-85; Berlejung 2012: 205-207; Kottsieper 2013: 303; Römer 2015: 230-31. It is worth noting that all three deities are associated with one and the same temple, which is elsewhere identified as the “house of YHW” (A3.3:1).
[13] In earlier religio-historical study the identification of divine triads was often taken to extremes, e.g. Nielsen 1922. My criteria for identifying a triad is that a group of deities are structured along familial lines and have a central place in the local pantheon, which is not to suggest they were the only deities worshipped by a particular community.
[14] Underlying Bar-Maren, Apollo, and Mercury may be local Nabu-like figures, see Drijvers 1980: 47-73, 101 n. 77.
[15] Ṣalm appears often as a theophoric element in personal names, which are otherwise focused on El (Winnett and Reed 1970: 93-107). Ṣalm is also closely linked to bull and astral symbolism.
[16] Hundley notes that as a divine symbol “the standing stone was more suited to the open air atmosphere or to a rural shrine. It is relatively immobile and aniconic and thus more impervious to the elements and to theft than its anthropomorphic counterpart…. By contrast, the anthropomorphic statue was more suited to the closed and intimate confines of the temple, modeled on or at least analogous to the care of the king in his palace, requiring more cultic personnel and a far greater expenditure” (2013: 358). It is also possible that in the second temple at Elephantine standing stones were replaced with statues made of precious material. Some scholars have argued that the Collection Account was intended for the construction or refurbishment of cult images (cf. Knauf 2002: 185; Rohrmoser 2014: 197; Cornell 2016: 304-305).
[17] The letter is only partially preserved.Cowley read a yod and restored YHW (1923: 148), whereas Sachau (1911: 118) saw part of a ḥet, followed by Lagrange (1912: 135), Porten (1968: 317) and Yardeni (1989: 146-47), the latter working directly on the papyrus, who restored Ḥerem. By contrast, Grelot found the beginning of a reš, taking the missing portion to be part of the patronymic of Meshullam (1972: 95). Upon closer inspection of published photographs, I think the last proposal is the least plausible on paleographic grounds, as the letter lacks any hint of the angular downward turn of the rešseen elsewhere in the document. Neither is the letter very yod-like. yodselsewhere in the text are all drawn in simple cursive, a stroke made obliquely to the right and then a horizontal stroke to the left, forming a triangular shape. However, the scribe does not appear to have been entirely consistent in his script forms, so it remains a possibility that the yodis simply awkwardly formed, with a long vertical stroke. The most widely accepted reading, that of the ḥet, is conceivable, but even here the downward stroke seems unusually short based on other examples, with the tail only barely reaching below the supposed horizontal bar. Further, the vertical stroke is abnormally thin and delicate (cf. Naveh 1970: figs. 4-8). In the end, it is perhaps best to adopt Yardeni’s restoration of a ḥet, since she had access to the original document and may have noticed shading and traces not visible from the photos alone.
[18] On the social context and purpose of the oath, cf. Porten 1996: 266; Granerød 2016: 45-49; 267-68; Becking 2017a: 41-42.
[19] On the alleged Jewish practice of addressing oaths and prayers to temples or cult paraphernalia, see Thomas 2017: 173-77.
[20] Transcription and translation adapted from van der Toorn 2018: 125-28.
[21] That Anat, the name of the wife of Bethel, occurs only once in the papyrus can be explained by the fact that the goddess is elsewhere designated through a conventional epithet, i.e. mrt“Lady.”
[22] See already Vincent 1937: 654-55, though strangely Rohrmoser is noncommittal on Ašim’s gender (2014: 141-44). Whether the gender of a deity corresponds to the gender of a name bearer is irrelevant.
[23] See Barstad 1984: 157-81; Winter 1983: 501-502; Maraqten 1996: 26-27; Cogan 1999: 105-106; Merlo 2009; Niehr 2014: 169-70. This would necessitate understanding the yodin ʾšymʾas a mater lectionis. An alternative etymology from ʾšm“sacrifice” has been supported by Silverman 1985: 223-229 and Levine 1974: 128-32.
[24] Transcription and translation adapted from van der Toorn 2018: 199-202.
[25] Cf. van der Toorn 2016b: 673. That Ašim-Bethel is referred to as “my lord” does not establish identity with Bethel, since the term mrwas an honorific and potentially could have been applied to multiple deities.
[26] The [m]qmnin line 8 and mqmyʾin line 10 have often been read [n]qmnand nqmyʾand understood in the sense of divine “avengers,” but the careful analysis of Yardeni clarified that the term likely begins with a mem, thus removing “the action of Malchiah from the realm of divine vengeance” (Porten 1987: 90). The formulaic use of the preposition bynand the reference to the mqmyʾwith the demonstrative ʾlhalso support localizing the figures to the human realm. See Rohrmoser 2014: 423-25, n. 59.
[27] For discussion of the oath of Malkiya, cf. Porten 1987: 91; Rohrmoser 2014: 423-25; Granerød 2016: 47.
[28] Transcription and translation adapted from van der Toorn 2018: 206-210.
[29] This is in contrast to Holm, who proposes that Ḥarim-Bethel and El are Nanay’s marriage attendants (2017: 15-16).
[30] As I have discussed elsewhere, the “Guilt of Samaria” in Amos 8:14 is probably a play on the divine title “Name of Samaria” (Thomas 2017: 175-76).
[31] Pap. Amherst 63 provides an important parallel in this regard.
[32] The combination of Judean YHW with Aramaean Anat-Bethel and Ašim-Bethel and the interchange of Anat-Bethel with Anat-YHW highlight the innovative and constructive character of the pantheon nomenclature, still reflecting fractures from the transition. Kaplan has discussed how cross-cultural contact among mercenary communities in Egypt encouraged the transfer of ideas and practices from one group to another (2003). Other proposals that situate the cultural syncretism in post-destruction Israel/Samaria seem overly speculative and lacking in evidence (cf. van der Toorn 1992; Niehr 2014: 153).
[33] See discussion and references in Thomas 2016; 2017.
[34] Cf. Silverman 1969: 702; 1973: 377-78; Knauf 2002: 184-85; Liverani 2005: 219-220.
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