G. A. Klingbeil discusses, and offers possible resolutions to purported anachronisms in Genesis and other biblical texts such as camels, tents, and nomadism.
G. A. Klingbeil, “Historical Criticism,” in Dictionary of the Old Testament: Pentateuch, ed. T. Desmond Alexander and David W. Baker (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2003), 410–416 (Logos ed.)
4.4. Camels in the Patriarchal Narratives as an Indication of the Anachronistic Nature of the Pentateuch. The Hebrew noun gāmāl (“camel”) occurs twenty-eight times in the Pentateuch from Genesis 12 onward, mainly in connection with the patriarch Abraham. Critical scholarship explains these references as a typical anachronism (Lemche), inasmuch as camels were only domesticated in Palestine at the end of the second millennium B.C. and not earlier. Depending on the position taken for the date of the exodus (see Exodus, Date of) and subsequently extrapolating back to the patriarchal period, one would date the call of Abraham either to (1) 2200–2150 B.C. in the early exodus (= fifteenth century B.C.) and long sojourn view; (2) 2000–1950 B.C. in the early exodus but short sojourn view; or (3) 2000–1950 B.C. (the same date as the preceding view) in the late exodus and long sojourn view. A. E. Hill and J. H. Walton (83–85) have provided a very useful introduction to the chronological issues involved in pentateuchal studies, together with a helpful table summarizing the different positions.
The paleozoologic, iconographic and textual evidence concerning the domestication of the camel in the ancient Near East is ambiguous, but it seems clear that the camel (including both the Bactrian two-humped camel [camelus bactrianus] and the one-humped dromedary [camelus dromedarius]) had been domesticated in lower Mesopotamia and southern Arabia by 2500 B.C. (Hesse, 217; Staubli, 184–85; Borowski, 112–18). R. Younker has recently discussed some petroglyphs depicting camels being led by human figures in the Wadi Nasib, Sinai. These petroglyphs were discovered in close proximity to a Proto-Sinaitic inscription found by Gerster in 1961, which he dates not later than 1500 B.C. Zarins (1825–26) notes that osteological remains from Shahr-I-Sokhta in eastern Iran in a context dated to 2700 B.C. clearly indicate a domesticated camel. In the Arabian Peninsula bones found at Umm-an-Nar and dated to the late third millennium B.C. would also support the view of an early domestication of the camel. Some bone remains have been found at Arad in an Early Bronze context (c. 2900 B.C.; cf. Wapnish), although it is not clear whether they indicate a domesticated animal. Looking from the angle of Jordan, J. Sauer has argued that the camel was definitely domesticated by the third millennium B.C. but that its widespread use only began to emerge during the final moments of the Late Bronze Age. It would thus appear that Abraham’s “camel connection” is not a good example for an anachronism but rather can be confidently explained in the context of either the early or late date connected to the patriarchal period, beginning around the end of the third millennium B.C. O. Borowski (113) has made the interesting observation that camels were instrumental in the establishment of desert nomadism with its change in lifestyle. The Genesis story of Abraham leaving the urban center of Ur and becoming a gēr (“stranger, traveler, man without an established residence,” Gen 15:13; 23:4) living in a tent does coincide with this function.
4.5. Tents and Patriarchal Nomadism as an Indication of the Anachronistic Nature of the Pentateuch. D. J. Wiseman (1978) has conveniently summarized the evidence for the existence of tents during the patriarchal period. He suggests that the nomadism of the patriarchs is hardly the same as the “enclosed nomadism” as found in the Mari documents of the Middle Bronze Age. Since the references to tents are mostly connected with the act of building an altar and after the initial move from Ur to Haran to Palestine are only mentioned when Abraham was forced to move from the Bethel area, it is possible to argue that they represent seasonal movements of a specific group, something similar to the phenomenon visible in modern-day bedouins living in the twenty-first century. Sufficient extrabiblical evidence from Mesopotamia and Egypt has been marshaled by D. J. Wiseman (197–98) to dismiss this critique raised by traditional historical criticism. The issue of nomadism is also significant regarding the existence of a tent sanctuary and needs to be understood as the matrix for the discussion of the following section.
4.6. Tabernacle, Tents and Religious Terminology as an Indication of the Anachronistic Nature of the Pentateuch. It has been alleged that the tent of meeting or *tabernacle described in Exodus should be understood as a rehashed version of the temple adapted for the prehistorical times by exile-suffering priestly experts (and thus connected to the elusive P source). However, recent studies of the archaeology of temple/tent sanctuaries during the Late Bronze Age have demonstrated the existence of these structures in Egyptian and Northwest Semitic contexts (Kitchen 1993; Fleming 2000). Meanwhile V. A. Hurowitz (110–13) has emphasized the parallel literary structure of the tabernacle building account with Mesopotamian building accounts. Cornelis Houtman (1994) has also indicated the resemblance of the tabernacle with Persian royal tents, which themselves were not a new architectural development but rather the continuation of a well-established ancient Near Eastern tradition. All this evidence suggests that tent sanctuaries would fit in the Late Bronze Age and, based upon comparative material (including the structure and position of Ramses II’s war tent during the battle of Kadesh, which needs to be understood in terms of the Egyptian theology of the divine king [Kitchen 1993, 121*] and B. Rothenberg’s discovery of an Egyptian Sinai sanctuary at Timna‘from the Late Bronze Age involving a tent structure) would support the notion of the historicity of the tabernacle building account in Exodus during that same period.
The main issue in this question is the true time frame of the texts containing the description of religious space (such as the tabernacle section) or ritual/legal activity connected to the religious events. The majority of these texts have been generally assigned to the P source in traditional historical criticism, with occasional reference to the so-called H substratum, and have been thought to include a substantial part of Exodus plus the major part of Leviticus. One of the arguments regularly brought forward in standard commentaries on Leviticus is the lack of comparative material of religious ritual from the Late Bronze Age that would corroborate the biblical account of these practices and texts. However, recent comparative evidence dating to the second part of the second millennium B.C. challenges this specific line of argumentation and provides palpable evidence of similar religious institutions and practices in a time frame parallel to the indicated historical period of the historical Moses in the second half of the second millennium B.C.
At this point it would be wise to consider the advantages and limits of the comparative method in theological and historical studies. Both parallelomania and parallelophobia have been widely documented in the history of interpretation of biblical and ancient Near Eastern research (G. A. Klingbeil 1998, 332–35; Malul). When utilizing comparative material, one should first seek to compare comparables and not the proverbial apple with an orange. This requirement involves texts of similar genres and also texts originating in the same historical and geographical sphere. Second, one should work contextually (Hallo), seeking to take into account not just an isolated phenomenon of a given culture but attempting to understand the entire cultural and religious system behind the phenomenon—including the marked and less obvious differences. Third, the comparative method understood in this manner does not seek to explain origins (which endeavor in itself, because of chronological questions, is often quite challenging) but rather should be used to describe a cultural or religious phenomenon and posit it in a more general historical context.
Examples of recent comparative studies that are helpful in terms of the issue of the origin and development of the Pentateuch involve material from Emar in Syria. Emar (modern Tell Meskene) is situated some 90 km east of modern Aleppo and in six seasons was excavated as part of a salvage operation during the construction of a dam on the Euphrates near Tabqa. The city existed on this particular site for roughly two hundred years, from the fourteenth to the end of the thirteenth centuries B.C., after which it was destroyed (G. A. Klingbeil 1998, 344; Adamthwaite). The important contribution of Emar, however, does not primarily involve its archaeology but rather the immense quantity of cuneiform texts (written mostly in Akkadian, but also including Hittite and Hurrian texts) unearthed in different parts of the city. It is interesting to note that different scholars working independently have arrived at the conclusion that Emar ritual texts shed significant light upon pentateuchal ritual texts and their historical contexts (Sitze im Leben). A helpful example can be found in the anointing rites during the ordination ritual of Aaron and his sons (Ex 29 [prescription] and Lev 8 [description]). Until recently, the traditional historical-critical credo (and often espoused in commentaries on Exodus or Leviticus) was that anointing rites of priests could only be attested outside of the OT in the postexilic period. However, the evidence from Emar (369.3–4, 20–21) is unequivocal and involves the high priestess (NIN.DINGIR) of the deity dIM (most likely the storm god Baal), who has oil poured on her head twice on two different days during her ordination ritual (G. A. Klingbeil 1996 and 2000; Fleming 1998). Furthermore, it is interesting to note that both anointing rites are not connected with urban centers and well-established temples and palaces but are situated in the context of limited leadership. D. E. Fleming (1992) has discussed this specific Syrian model of societal structure under the heading of “limited kingship,” emphasizing the distinct difference with urban, king-focused societies of Mesopotamia during the second half of the second millennium B.C. Other comparative evidence pointing to the later part of the second millennium for ritual, legal and religious phenomena attested in the Pentateuch include the order and origins of the Israelite *festival calendar, which should not be understood in terms of postexilic innovations but rather as the reflections of ancient realities from an earlier period (Fleming 1999a and 1999b).
Other relevant material from Syria (Ebla) and Asia Minor (Hittites) have been discussed concerning elimination rituals, such as the well-known scapegoat ritual in Leviticus 16 (Zatelli; Wright). Other relevant comparative material includes the Ugaritic ritual texts concerning sacrificial and divinatory rites (Pardee; summary of Smith, 97–100, 197–200, 220–223), dating to the Late Bronze Age and demonstrating distinctly close parallels, especially concerning the sacrificial system. D. P. Wright (275), for example, finds that while there are definite connections between elimination and purification rites from the OT and the ancient Near East, there are also explicit differences, distinguishing the two different textual corpora with their often conflicting worldviews. This leads to an important aspect of comparative evidence regarding analogy. It can be often observed that similar phenomena have distinct foci in different cultural entities. Thus the simplistic equation of origin or cultural/religious influence that one culture had on another should be discarded in favor of a more complex view in which the modern researcher seeks to understand the underlying intention(s) and worldview of the author of the biblical text. What is clear from the evidence mentioned above, however, is that important ritual elements found in the so-called Priestly source cannot be marked as “late” in the context of the history of Israelite religion.
4.7. The Egyptian Connection in the Pentateuch and Its Repercussions for Historical Criticism. A major part of the storyline of the Pentateuch is connected to Egypt, involving sections of Genesis (Abraham’s visit to Egypt in Gen 12; the story of the servant of Sarah, *Hagar, in Gen 16; and the Joseph cycle in Gen 37–50), and Exodus–Deuteronomy (exodus event and the manifold references to it). Over the past twenty years a renewed interest in studying the relationship between Israel/Palestine and Egypt can be seen in research. Some of the important recent works include D. B. Redford, K. A. Kitchen (1994), J. D. Currid (1997) and J. K. Hoffmeier (1997). Currid (23–27) has provided a fascinating discussion as to why the renewed interest for studying the relationship between Egypt and Palestine/Israel has only hit academic circles from 1985 onward. Some of the hesitation of Egyptologists tackling the question of historical connections between Palestine and Egypt can be explained in terms of a negative view concerning the biblical writers’ familiarity with Egyptian cultural, linguistic, religious and perhaps even political realities. Furthermore, some historians refuse to take the possible connection seriously, arguing that the biblical text does not seek to write history, but rather theology, and thus cannot be utilized as a bona fide historical source. As has been shown above, this perspective appears to be rather simplistic in view of the complex issue of historicity and ancient historiography in general. Another factor for the relative lack of qualified studies of the relationship between Israel and Egypt in biblical times can be found in the centrality of Mesopotamian thought over against the Egyptian background that many scholars posit, especially regarding the content of Genesis. Finally, scholars have long argued that the total lack of references to the exodus event in Egyptian sources precludes the historicity of this event. However, this argument from silence needs to be seen in its proper context, as can be seen in other areas of ancient Near Eastern research where long-cherished theories (usually critical toward the biblical record) have seen their systematic erosion or—sometimes—destruction in the light of new and forthcoming evidence. As a good example, Currid mentions N. Glueck’s thesis concerning the archaeology of Transjordan, which suggested that no sedentary evidence from the Late Bronze Age could be found in Transjordan, thus discrediting the biblical record of the conquest. However, this older view of the archaeology of Transjordan had to be totally reformulated in view of current data (cf. LaBianca and Younker). One could include here also the recent discussion concerning the historicity of David and the “monumental” tenth century B.C. in Israel and the influence on this discussion of the Aramaic Tel Dan inscription dated to the ninth century B.C.
Recent research concerning the connection between Israel and Egypt can be divided into three main areas, although systematization is always prone to simplification and runs the risk of leaving out important aspects. First, it focuses upon linguistic connections between Egyptian and Hebrew, involving the text of the MT and Hebrew onomastics. A second major field where Egyptian studies can contribute to our understanding of the meaning and historical Sitz im Leben of the biblical text is the religious world referred to both in the biblical text (specifically in Exodus) and in the Egyptian texts. Third, the archaeology of Egypt can contribute to our understanding of the historical and societal conditions of the period described in the Pentateuch. Obviously, the latter contribution is problematic inasmuch as it requires a decision upon the historical context of the exodus event. D. Merling (20–58) provides an in-depth discussion of the distinct models concerning the exodus/conquest events with both their weak and their strong points. It seems that in the age of models and paradigm changes, every new reconstruction of historical events related to the Bible proposes also a new framework of events and causes connected to these events. This clearly points to the difficult nature of the data, but it also can say something about those trying to reconstruct biblical history (or its lack thereof, a position maintained by modern critical scholarship). These differences cannot only be evaluated on the basis of the different data sets but should also take into account the distinct philosophical and theological presuppositions scholars arrive at when studying the text.
Egyptian data can help to provide a matrix against which these paradigms can be evaluated. In the following (sections 4.7.1–3), the three main areas of contact (linguistics, religious thought and archaeology) will be discussed in more detail.
4.7.1. Egypt and the Pentateuch—Linguistics and Onomastics. Relevant data for this section comes from the Joseph cycle (Gen 37–50) and we will focus the discussion on specific names in the narrative. The appropriate historical setting for this story is the Middle Bronze Age, and Egyptian material that broadly could be connected to this period includes the Execration texts and the Story of Sinuhe. Genesis 37:36 describes the first contact that Joseph has with Egyptian society in the form of his new master, a man named Potiphar, who is portrayed as the sĕrîs parʿōh (“one of Pharaoh’s officials,” NRSV), which is followed by śar haṭṭabbāḥîm (“commander of the guard,” NJB). In Egyptian the name Potiphar literally means “he whom Re gives” (Currid, 75) or “the gift of [the god] Re” (Kitchen 1994, 85), and it has been suggested that it is an abbreviated form of the name p3-di-p3-rʿ, which is also the name of the future father-in-law of Joseph (Gen 41:45, 50; 46:20) and which might be a conscious literary device expressing irony, especially in view of the events about to take place. Both names are rendered Petephrēs by the LXX. However, this name type does not appear earlier than the Twenty-First Dynasty in Egyptian inscription, which corresponds to the eleventh century B.C. and definitely falls outside the possible time frames for either chronology of the patriarchs. Traditional historical criticism has interpreted this fact as an indication of the late nature of the text, although Kitchen (1994, 85–86) has argued for a conscious modernization of an earlier form didirʿ, (“the gift of Re”), which utilizes a known pattern didi-X (“gift of X [= deity]”). This name pattern is attested for both the Middle Kingdom and the later Hyksos period and thus would fit the biblical chronology. While modernization is not uncommon in biblical literature (cf. the geographical name Leshem, which apparently was the earlier Canaanite name of Dan [Jos 19:47], but which was not used in earlier texts referring to Dan such as Gen 14:14) and sometimes during the process of transmission scribes “updated” a geographical or administrative term that they did not understand anymore for a newer one, Kitchen’s suggestion of meaningful modernization of an Egyptian name by a Hebrew scribe is doubtful. Perhaps it might be better to argue that the existence of the definite article p3 as an onomastic element in Brooklyn Papyrus 35.1446 from the Thirteenth Dynasty could be an indication that the name pattern reflected in the biblical name might even be earlier, although no specific examples have been found (Hoffmeier 1997, 86–87).
Genesis 41:45 describes the elevation of Joseph in the service of Pharaoh, after his convincing explication of the dream of Pharaoh. As part of this change of status (involving visible insignias of power as well [Gen 41:40–43]) the king also gives Joseph the new name Zaphenathpaneah. Y. Muchiki (224–25) provides a good review of the many prevailing interpretations of this name, including Steindorff’s generally accepted suggestion to read *dḋp̄̇ntṙiẇḟʿnh̆ (“The god said, ‘Let him live’ ”). Kitchen (1994, 82–84) proposed a consonantal metathesis (i.e., a change of position of consonants because of phonological reasons), resulting in a possible Zathenaph instead of Zaphenath. This would correspond to the Egyptian ḏd-n.f-[ʾI]p- ʿnḫ, which one could translate “X (“Joseph” in the context of Gen 41:45) is called ʾIṗʿnkh.” This name structure as well as the name itself (Kitchen 1982, 2.1129) can be found in Egyptian texts from the time of the Middle Kingdom onward, and Kitchen has documented his suggestion sufficiently to make it a viable option. However, one should remember that it is based upon a metathesis in Hebrew. Muchiki (224) suggests the reconstruction *df[3.i]-nṯ[r] p[3]- ʿnḫ (“my provision is god, the living one”) without resorting to a metathesis or any other phonetic “freestyling.” Contextually, this etymology would also make sense in the framework of Genesis 41.
Muchiki’s work is a gold mine for OT scholars studying Egyptian elements and loanwords in northwest Semitic languages. It is noteworthy that most Hebrew personal names with possible or clear Egyptian linguistic connections appear in the Pentateuch or in genealogies connected to that period. Furthermore, vocalization can be used to determine a possible time frame when the term entered the Hebrew corpus as an Egyptian loanword. The vocalization of the Hebrew term patrūsîm (“Pathrusim”) in the Table of Nations in Genesis 10:14 suggests that the Egyptian word p3-t3-rs[i] (“upper Egypt”) probably entered Hebrew in the second millennium B.C., since its first-millennium vocalization, based upon its occurrence in a neo-Assyrian text from Esarhaddon, was pa-tu-ri-si, which would include the sounds e/i instead of the long u-sound (Muchiki, 234–35). It has also been shown that most of the Egyptian loanwords (45 percent) in the OT correspond to the semantic domain of natural products (minerals, botanic terminology), and 35 percent can be classified as describing the domestic material culture (Muchiki, 323). This stands in stark contrast to the Akkadian loanwords, which come primarily from the realm of administrative/political terminology. Thus it can be shown that a second-millennium sojourn and exodus from Egypt could be supported in view of the linguistic data. On leaving Egypt, Israel was not yet mature as a nation—a fact that can be appreciated both in the biblical records in books such as Joshua, Judges and Samuel as well as in the semantic domains of the loanwords brought out of Egypt.
4.7.2. Egypt and the Pentateuch—Religious Terminology and Concepts. Currid (83–103) has successfully demonstrated the connection of Egyptian religious thought with the specifics of the plagues as described in Exodus 7–12. Exegetically, it is important to focus more on the polemics of the plagues instead of looking merely on their succession, historicity or sequence. In his discussion of the introductory serpent miracle (Ex 7:8–13), Currid establishes convincingly the religiously polemical nature of the subsequent plague narrative, which must be understood as the cosmic battle between the pharaoh (the human representative of the Egyptian pantheon) and Moses and Aaron (the human representatives of Yahweh). In Egyptian religious thought the snake was both feared and revered. When the Egyptian “wise men” could duplicate the miracle and thus—apparently—nullify the effect of the miraculous introduction of Moses and Aaron, the snake of Moses and Aaron ate the magician’s snake, which ironically prefigures the final outcome of the confrontation about to begin (see Currid for numerous textual references from Egyptian sources). Another important contribution of Currid is his discussion of the “hardening of the heart” of Pharaoh and its religious undertones in Egyptian religious thought (see Hardness of Heart; Exodus, Book of, §7.3). Hoffmeier (1997, 135–63) provides a convincing discussion of the phrases “strong hand” and “outstretched arm” in the Pentateuch (Ex 3:19; 6:6; 13:3, 14, 16; 15:6, 12, 16; 32:11; Deut 3:24; 6:21; 9:26, 29; 26:8), which he connects with Egyptian ḫpš (“strong arm”) and pr-ʿ (“the arm goes forth/is extended”). Both terms are usually related to the Egyptian sovereign and indicate conquest. Evidence of this concept can be found in Egyptian iconography (Hoffmeier 1997, fig. 15) as well as in the Akkadian zu-ru-uḫ in the Amarna letters of the king of Jerusalem (EA 286.12; 287.27; 288.14) sent to the pharaoh in Egypt. S. B. Noegel has provided additional references to Egyptian religious (magic) activity as found in the book of Exodus. The growing corpus of studies researching these aspects points to their relevance for the discussion of the historicity and origin of the Pentateuch.
4.7.3. Egypt and the Pentateuch—Archaeology and History. Kitchen (1994 and 1998) and Hoffmeier (1997) usefully review historical and archaeological material pertinent to the question of the origin and development of the Pentateuch. In this short section only the specific areas will be highlighted with further references to the studies indicated above. Both Kitchen and Hoffmeier provide ample textual and iconographical evidence for the presence of Semites in Egypt starting already in the First Intermediate Period and onward. During the Second Intermediate Period the so-called Hyksos controlled most of the Delta and other sections of Egypt. The work of Bietak at Tell el-Dabʿa has demonstrated the reality of this Semitic presence in terms of archaeology as well (Hoffmeier 1997, 63–65, 122–23), although it is not an easy undertaking to correlate ethnicity with specific archaeological data. There are two specific issues where archaeology can provide possible answers: (1) concerning the identity of the store cities mentioned in Exodus 1:11 (Rameses [Heb Raamses] and Pithom) and (2) regarding the possible route of the exodus. Both issues are still under discussion. Rameses is generally identified with Tell el-Dabʿa in the East Delta, while Pithom—whose identification is more complex—has several candidates, including Tell el-Maskhuta and Tell er-Retabe. Concerning the name of Rameses, it has often been argued that the city received its name from either one of the pharaohs of the Nineteenth Dynasty bearing that name. W. C. Kaiser (85–86) has provided some good arguments in favor of an earlier origin of the name and has documented research connecting the Nineteenth Dynasty to earlier Hyksos (or Asian/Semitic) predecessors. This would make the name a less compelling argument in favor of the later date of the exodus, during the thirteenth century B.C., and opens the possibility for an early date.
In terms of literature, Exodus 12:37; 13:17–20; 14:2 and Numbers 33 can be described as itineraries, and they have generally been connected to the P source. However, D. B. Redford’s comparison with Egyptian itineraries of Thutmose III has underlined the similarities to this genre, including not only lists of cities but also geographical features (such as mountains, springs, rivers). Thus care should be taken in assigning these sections an unhistorical character on the assumption that they were written during the fifth century B.C. (see Hoffmeier 1997, 177–78). According to Hoffmeier’s reconstruction, the OT portrays the Israelites as leaving from the eastern Delta and moving in a southeastern direction toward the Tjeku region in the eastern end of the Wadi Tumilat. It is clear that temporary desert camps will not leave much to be discovered by even the most dedicated archaeologist. However, future research should focus upon more general topographical features, including the location of the Eastern Frontier Canal, recently discovered by satellite images (Hoffmeier 1997, 164–75; see Exodus Route and Wilderness Itinerary).