From:  Hanson, Paul D.  "Israelite Religion in the Early Postexilic Period."  In Ancient Israelite Religion, edited by Patrick Miller, Paul Hanson, and S. Dean McBride, 485-508.  Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987.
 
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Israelite Religion in the Early Postexilic Period
THE VITAL ROLE OF ANTECEDENT TRADITIONS
[485]   The religious life of the Jews in the early postexilic period is incomprehensible if the effects of the devastating events of the first decades of the sixth century B.C.E. are not taken fully into account. Within a community characterized by a considerable diversity, no group emerged from this period without experiencing considerable change, due in no small part to a spiritual trauma that called into question some of the most fundamental principles of the Yahwistic faith.
        To be sure, the Judahite nation had not been spared adversity in the past. Its position between Egypt and the empires of Mesopotamia virtually guaranteed constant threats of aggressive encroachment upon both its northern and southern borders. The demise of its sister nation in the north at the hands of the Assyrians in 722 B.C.E. stood as a grim reminder of the fragile nature of its own political existence. That reminder, reinforced by the harsh lessons of its own history such as Sennacherib's devastating invasion of the land in 701 B.C.E., had already nurtured within the nation several distinct ways of coping with the ominous threats posed by foreign aggressors. Within circles closely associated with Zion and the Davidic house a theologumenon had developed that based the security of Jerusalem and the stability of the Davidic dynasty upon divine election. Likely fostered by the royal house since the latter days of the united monarchy, this tradition clearly influenced the thought of the great eighth-century prophet Isaiah (see esp. Isaiah 7-11), and it received powerful historical corroboration by the near-escape of the capital city during the massive assault on the land by the Assyrians at the very end of the eighth century. The majestic Ariel prophecy in Isa 29:1-8 gives testimony to the miraculous divine intervention that the adherents of this view awaited from God against any enemy that plotted to destroy the holy [486] City of David (see Psalm 2). The persistence of this view into the period of Babylonian ascendancy is indicated by the confident attitude of Jeremiah's opponents (see Jer 7:1-15, and even more emphatically, the version of the Temple incident in Jeremiah 26).
        Jeremiah speaks from a vastly different perspective and is a prime witness to a second tradition that was developing in the period leading up to the exile. Rather than taking comfort in the allegedly eternal promises of God to protect the royal city and its king, those who subscribed to this tradition took their clues from the religious and moral conditions prevailing in the land, which conditions they measured against the standards of classical Yahwistic faith. They concluded that the situation of Judah was essentially the same as the one that Amos and Hosea had described on the eve of the decline and destruction of the Northern Kingdom, a situation characterized by apostasy and the repudiation of the divine standards of righteousness and compassion. Jeremiah, for his part, concluded that the king and the people were locked by the perversity of their hearts into a path leading to destruction, which was to be Yahweh's judgment on the disobedience of the land (Jer 17:9-10). What hope he saw was a hope lying beyond this judgment.
        A third tradition flourished in the years between the destructions of Samaria and Jerusalem, namely, that of the Zadokite priestly family. After years of gradual ascendancy at the cost of the wider circle of levitical priests (1), and perhaps following the example of an earlier reform program sponsored by Hezekiah, the high point was reached when Josiah, as a part of his thoroughgoing reform, closed outlying sanctuaries and centralized all cultic activities in Jerusalem, under the leadership of the Zadokites. It was during this period that many of the legal and narrative traditions found in the so-called Priestly stratum of the Pentateuch developed toward their final form. The influence of this tradition is also manifested by the Book of Ezekiel, for example, in the application of theological themes such as the "glory of Yahweh," in the emphasis placed on the centrality of the Temple and its Zadokite priesthood, in the downgrading of the royal figure (named nasi' ["prince"] rather than melek ["king"]), and in the elaborate program of restoration found in Ezekiel 40-48, a program resting solidly upon a Zadokite Temple theology. Especially when one bears in mind the central role exercised by the Zadokite priests both during the exile and in the years of rebuilding that followed Cyrus's edict, it comes as no surprise that this third tradition was in a favorable position to continue guiding the thought of many as they sought to work out the riddles of the postdestruction era.
        Finally, we mention a fourth preexilic tradition, one broadly cosmopolitan in perspective and related to similar phenomena in the great cultures [487] of ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt, the so-called wisdom tradition. With a distinctly empirical orientation, its practitioners sought to grasp the harmony underlying all phenomena by tracing them to their grounding in an order both unchanging and eternal. Equipped with wisdom, kings were enabled to reign wisely over a citizenry living in prosperity within a society in which virtue was rewarded and wickedness punished. To this universal tradition the Jews added their own confession, whereby they specified wisdom's ultimate Source: "The fear of Yahweh is the beginning of knowledge" (Prov 1:7a).
        Given the rich legacy of the four well-developed traditions that we have briefly surveyed, it is quite natural that when tragedy struck in the form of a crushing foreign invasion and consequent destruction of Temple and nation, many people turned to those same traditions in search of explanations. In identifying four traditions that were to continue to play a key role in the religious thought of the Jews, we must avoid the danger of oversimplifying either the preexilic or the postexilic situation. As indicated by the prophet Isaiah, these traditions could be melded with a high level of effectiveness and without consequent evisceration. And though the writings of the postexilic period give evidence that group identity was in part fostered by the particular stream of tradition to which a specific group adhered, such adherence must not be construed in a rigid sense. Zadokites naturally continued to cultivate the theological and cultic notions with which their ancestors had identified; those whose interests were tied to the Davidic house looked to royal traditions with special favor; those who felt called to extend the concerns of the prophets into the new period displayed a predisposition toward the writings of figures such as Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, and Jeremiah; those dedicated to wisdom continued to search for the harmony uniting all reality. Still the common legacy shared by all of these groups far outweighed the differences in emphasis. For example, central in the thinking of all groups was the role of righteousness (especially as it was expressed in tora). So long as the abiding significance of this common legacy is kept clearly in mind, distinguishing between the specific traditions drawn upon by different groups in the early postexilic period can add a measure of clarity to our knowledge of the religious groups active during that time and to our understanding of the specific ways in which they responded to the recent tragedy experienced by the nation.
        There is much truth in the claim that Yahwism survived the loss of nationhood, the destruction of Temple, and the incalculable human shame and suffering of this period in no small part due to earlier prophetic tradition. Second Isaiah could argue that this calamity did not disprove Yahweh's might or mercy precisely because he could assume [488] knowledge of the judgment prophecies of the preexilic prophets (see Isa 42:24-25). And in the wake of Second Isaiah there arose devoted disciples who relied primarily on the classical prophetic writings, and especially on the oracles of judgment against Israel, as a key to their own experiences. The stream of tradition they constituted will provide one of the foci of our ensuing discussion.
        But the judgment prophecies were not the only words recalled as people struggled to make sense out of the humiliating situation to which they had fallen and to lay the foundations for a new life as God's people. The royal tradition recalling God's promises to David and Zion was also remembered and applied to the new situation. Haggai applied this tradition to the Davidide Zerubbabel and emerged with a daring messianic prophecy (Hag 2:20-23). Zechariah entertained similar notions (Zechariah 4). This tradition also played an important role in the earliest edition of the Chronicler's History, as shall be discussed below.
        The Book of Zechariah also gives ample evidence that the third preexilic tradition that we mentioned above also continued to exert its influence on the thoughts of the survivors of the Babylonian destruction. For many, the most reliable path into the future had already been charted within the traditions handed down by the Zadokite priests (e.g., Ezekiel 40-48 and the Priestly recension of the Pentateuch). There can be little doubt that the Zadokite priests themselves were actively engaged in cultivating such traditions further and in defending them against the attacks of rival groups (see Zechariah 3 and Ezekiel 44).
        Finally, there is abundant evidence in Psalms and Proverbs, as well as in later collections of sapiential sayings, that the wisdom tradition enjoyed a popular following in the exilic and postexilic periods and provided a medium through which thoughtful individuals puzzled over the anomalies of their new situation.
        We shall now attempt to describe the general social situation within which these four traditions were drawn upon in attempts to understand harsh new realities. This will be followed by an examination of representative writings of the early postexilic period to discern more specifically how the older traditions of royal cult, priesthood, prophecy, and wisdom functioned as a guide to understanding the tragedy of the Babylonian destruction.
THE SOCIAL CLIMATE IN THE WAKE OF THE BABYLONIAN DESTRUCTION
        Over the span of some seven centuries Jewish court officials, priests, prophets, and sages had developed their systems of religious thought, which had ordered the lives of their people and provided them with the [489] symbols and images necessary for interpreting new experiences and choosing between the options forced upon them by world events. Specifically in the case of the Southern Kingdom of Judah, the capacity of the Jerusalem Temple theology to provide direction and undergird social and political stability was quite remarkable. The fact that a single dynasty was able to remain in power for over four centuries bears clear witness to that capacity. And the often harsh criticism directed at the political and religious leaders of Judah by certain prophets does not gainsay this observation, for internal criticism was to some degree tolerated by the system (albeit often begrudgingly) and represented one of its most progressive qualities.
        As even some of the religious symbolism found in the prophetic writings indicates, the faith of Judah had developed in intimate association with the Jerusalem Temple. Individual groups could dispute over the division of religious leadership in the land, but their conceptualization of divine providence was ever tied to the Temple that Solomon had built on Zion. The attacks of certain prophets on the misuse of sacrificial practices and on the false sense of security derived by some people from a high form of royal ideology do not obscure the fact that the celebration of Yahweh as king that occurred amid sacrifice and praise in the Temple united the hearts and nurtured the aspirations of most of the inhabitants of Judah. This is to say that the Temple, both as home of the cult and symbol of Yahweh's presence in the land, was a master symbol in the religious faith of the Jewish inhabitants of Judah on the eve of the Babylonian invasion. This is a fact corroborated equally by prophetic and hymnic literature of the preexilic period and by laments arising out of the exile.
        Recognition of the pivotal role of the Yahwistic religious symbol system in the life of the nation, and specifically of the central religious significance of the Temple, provides background for considering the effects of the destruction of Zion on the survivors. Here we can be aided by the insights of modern social scientists into such situations of calamity.
        The destruction of the Temple, and all of the repercussions attending that destruction, represent a classical case of social anomie. C. Geertz has written: [490] To this Geertz adds this vivid description of the "uncanny" by S. Langer:         It is no accident that the literature of the exilic and early postexilic periods frequently deals with the themes of chaos and creation. As the great civilizations of the ancient Near East had struggled with these themes in their myths and rituals as a means of dealing with the threats and changes of nature and history, so too the Jews found themselves forced to address the fundamental problem of life's viability afresh (cf. Isaiah 24-27; 65:17-25; Zechariah 14). To be sure, the physical and economic hardships they faced were severe. But far worse was the threat posed by the new situation to the fundamental system of thought and belief that had sustained the people in their own land, that is, the threat to the Yahwistic symbol system or Weltanschauung. What was to be said in defense of a god whose temple had been destroyed by the followers of other gods? Who was now determining the destiny of the Jewish people, now that they found themselves in a land in which Marduk rather than Yahweh was worshiped as the supreme ruler of the universe? Such questions threatened to undo the fabric of the religious system that had enabled the Jews to cope with life in a viable way. They describe the state of mind to which L. Festinger has attached the now fashionable term "cognitive dissonance (4)."
Left to fester without satisfactory resolution, they can destroy the identity of a people, replacing social, political, and religious order with chaos, and making it vulnerable to complete assimilation to the captors.
        Geertz has gone on to specify three points at which chaos "threatens to break in upon man: at the limits of his analytic capacities [= bafflement], at the limits of his powers of endurance [= suffering], and at the limits of his moral insight [= intractable ethical paradox] (5). All three of these manifestations of chaos are amply documented in the literature of tile time of the Babylonian destruction. Bafflement is readily apparent in the terse note made within the Deuteronomistic History by one of its final editors. It focuses on the Davidide whose early successes in battle and [491] religious fervor had raised nationalistic and even messianic expectations to a high pitch in the closing decades of the sixth century. Without comment or explanation the stinging contradiction of all that pious Yahwists held dear is recorded: "Pharaoh Neco king of Egypt went up to the king of Assyria to the river Euphrates. King Josiah went to meet him; and Pharaoh Neco slew him at Megiddo." (2 Kgs 23:29) (6). The terrible suffering of the population of Judah is recorded in another note in the Deuteronomistic History:         Finally, expressions abound of the intractable ethical paradox pressed upon the Jewish consciousness by the devastation of their land, their Temple, and their possessions, as these examples from the Book of Lamentations illustrate: The numbing paradox of the situation is summarized by this comparison with Sodom: "For the chastisement of the daughter of my people has been greater than the punishment of Sodom" (Lam 4:6a).
        Given this frontal attack on cherished traditions of the past such as the divine election of Israel and the special status of Zion, its Temple, and its Davidic king, it was inevitable that tremendous strains would arise within the various groups seeking to preserve the religious beliefs and values of the past. And such strains would necessitate changes varying all the way [492] from minor adjustments, to major changes, to outright abandonment of Yahwistic tradition in favor of other options (e.g., Jer 44:16-18). We turn now to specific texts to examine some of the changes that arose in response to Judah's brush with chaos in its various forms of bafflement, suffering, and intractable ethical paradox.

RESPONSES TO CALAMITY
        The social and political conditions we have been describing are of the type that commonly abet otherworldly tendencies among those who have experienced the shaking of the fundamental conceptual foundations that have upheld their beliefs, customs, and institutions in the past (7). In medieval Europe, groups experiencing chaos in the form of unstable political conditions and religious persecution became the breeding ground of millenarian movements (8). During the Hellenistic and Roman periods, the experience of oppression at the hands of both foreigners and rivals within the Jewish community gave rise to apocalyptic movements (9). Recent study has traced the roots of apocalypticism back to the period that is the focus of our present study, especially among circles seeking to apply certain prophetic traditions to the new postexilic conditions in the face of stiff opposition from the dominant Zadokite priestly leadership (10).
        One of the peculiarities of the early postexilic situation that has not been explained satisfactorily, however, is the fact that visionary literary conventions and images that would be adopted and further developed in later centuries by apocalyptic circles can be found not only among the distinctly dissident circles of the late sixth century B.C.E. but also within circles comprised of or allied to the Zadokite leadership. This poses a problem, however, only if the element of deprivation commonly associated with apocalyptic and millenarian movements is narrowly construed along socioeconomic lines. This is not to deny the general truth of this statement by Y. Talmon: "Radical millenarism found support in all levels of society at one time or another but essentially it is a religion of the deprived groups - oppressed peasants, the poorest of the poor in cities and towns, populations of colonial countries" (11). Any apparent contradiction disappears when one recognizes that social groups and individuals possessing roles of leadership and authority can also experience deprivation, if not specifically in socioeconomic terms, then in terms of a perceived diminution of power vis-a-vis the world powers of the time (12). As we turn to examine the varied responses to the Babylonian conquest arising within the Jewish community, we must avoid the oversimplification of associating apocalyptic themes solely with explicitly dissident groups. We must take careful note of expressions of bafflement, suffering, ethical paradox, cognitive dissonance, and deprivation in its various [493] forms, and analyze the impact that such experiences had upon the reapplication of earlier tradition by each of the groups in the early postexilic period.

The Reapplication of Royal Tradition
        Deeply ingrained in the thinking of many Jews was a very ancient belief, a belief perhaps more widely held throughout the ancient Near East than any other, namely, that the well-being of a nation depended on the maintenance of the central cult, a responsibility primarily residing in the hands of the king. From a transcendent point of view, the smooth operation of the sacrificial system located in the temple assured that the demands of the patron deity of the land were being fulfilled, a condition upon which the prosperity of any nation depended (13). From a more mundane point of view, an efficiently operating cult assured that the resources of the land were being properly distributed in such a way as to assure the highest level of economic prosperity and political stability possible (14).
        Among those viewing the world from the perspective of royal tradition, it was quite natural that the hardships being experienced in the land in the years immediately following the exile would be traced to the fallen state of temple and cult. The prophet Haggai gives explicit expression to this world view as he delivers his divine oracles:

The solution Haggai presents, again in the form of the divine oracle, is fully in harmony with the basic royal ideology we described above: The deplorable economic and social conditions of the land could be [494] changed only if the root of the problem was addressed. For what the land was experiencing was more than a poor harvest or a dry season; it was experiencing divine curse! The nerve center of the nation, indeed of the cosmos, had to be restored to its proper order, and this could occur only if the Temple, which was the earthly center of the cult and the mundane counterpart to the heavenly temple, were rebuilt and its sacrificial system brought back into full operation.
        That Haggai's message is continuous with the central themes of the royal theology of the preexilic Jerusalem cult is obvious. Beyond this, is there any indication that the Babylonian destruction contributed an impact of its own to the manner in which royal themes were applied to the changed circumstances of the postexilic period? Though we believe there is, the nature of that impact is sufficiently subtle to require careful delineation.
        Haggai's line of reasoning can be summarized as follows:         2. Era of Blessing
           a. Admonition: "Build the house, that I may take pleasure in it and that I may
               appear in my glory, says the Lord" (Hag 1:8)
            b. Query: "Consider from this day onward" (Hag 2:18)
            c. Description of divine blessing (Hag 2:6-9, 18-19)

        The logic behind this formulation of the problem and its solution is derived from the heart of the royal ideology that had been developed into a specifically Yahwistic form within the Temple cult of Jerusalem. For example, Psalm 68 celebrates the God of Israel with the words:

Israel's God is sovereign over all creation, yet his sanctuary is in Jerusalem. From that sanctuary flow the power and the blessing that are the basis of the prosperity of the nation. The importance of honoring God through careful maintenance of the Temple cult is implicit throughout the royal hymns.
        The key to Haggai's message relates directly to this theologumenon. The admonition, "Build the house!" carries a twin mandate: (1) Give [495] proper glory to God and (2) Restore the economic system of the land. These are ultimately two sides of the same phenomenon. If we are to look for evidence of the impact of the Babylonian destruction in this message, it must be found in terms of specific nuances rather than in terms of fundamental changes, for continuity here is much more conspicuous than change. Our attention, therefore, must be directed toward Haggai's words of promise as they describe the results of the restoration of Temple and cult:         The imagery in this passage is familiar. The hymnody of the Temple had celebrated Yahweh's rule over all creation, and his victories on Israel's behalf over all enemies (e.g., Psalms 46; 47; 48). What is notable here, however, is the application of the most lofty of royal/mythic imagery to one moment in history and to one particular historical figure. The moment is a specific day in 520 B.C.E.: "the twenty-fourth day of the ninth month" (2:18), that is, the day on which the foundation stone of the new temple was laid. The historical figure is Zerubbabel, who was a Davidide, to be sure, but not a king, for Israel was kingless under the dominion of a foreign lord, Darius the Persian. At this specific moment and to this particular figure was given a, dazzling promise:         What in the royal psalms were quasi-mythic formulations of God's creative power and universal sovereignty have here been transformed into a lofty eschatological promise, one that had direct bearing on the historical realities of the time. Specifically, this promise implied the overthrow of Persian hegemony, the glorification of Judah, and the ascendancy of the Davidide Zerubbabel as Yahweh's "servant," "signet ring," and "chosen" (15). This eschatologization of mythic themes is one of the hallmarks [496] of biblical apocalypticism (16), and the influence exercised on the later development of Jewish apocalyptic by Haggai's application of royal/mythic themes to the early postexilic situation cannot be denied. For a related phenomenon, we now turn to a second example of the reapplication of royal tradition, namely, in the prophecy of Zechariah.
        Though later redactors treated Haggai and Zechariah as "identical twins (17)," a close reading of the two books gives no evidence that they took each other's mission or message into account. What is more, their messages appear to have been quite distinct from one another. Zechariah seemed to be more reticent than Haggai in making a public announcement that a messianic turn of events was about to be inaugurated specifically by Zerubbabel. Zerubbabel is mentioned by name only in Zech 4:6ab-l0a (four times!), a passage that is clearly intrusive (the angel's answer, introduced in Zech 4:4-6aa, is answered in 4: l0b). Elsewhere, reference is made more obliquely to the "Branch" (semah in Zech 3:8 and 6:12). This term, designating "royal heir" in Hebrew as well as in Phoenician, perhaps provided Zechariah with a more guarded means of proclaiming his eschatological message than would have been possible had he named Zerubbabel explicitly.
        The major tradition upon which Zechariah drew stemmed from the program of the prophet Ezekiel, in which a restoration was envisioned led by a diarchy consisting of a Zadokite priest and a Davidic prince (Ezek 37:24-28; 43:18-27) and in which the former enjoyed the preeminent position, with the latter occupying a position within the second order of sanctity (Ezek 43:6-9; 46:18; 45:1-8). Zechariah, a prophet given to elaborate images and symbols, delineated his notion of a diarchy most clearly in the oracle in Zechariah 4, where a vision is described in which two olive branches flank the Temple lampstand as symbols of the two anointed ones, priest and prince, who were to preside over the nation as Yahweh's representatives. Though Zechariah seems to have exercised greater political restraint in his prophecies than Haggai - perhaps out of a more realistic view of the probable harsh response of the Persians to prophecies describing the meteoric rise of an explicitly named Davidic prince - it is clear that he was active within the same nationalistically charged environment as Haggai, to which he too responded in an eschatological mode by reformulating the priestly/royal tradition upon which he drew. The seven visions forming the core of his prophecy (the vision in Zechariah 3 was independent of this cycle of visions) picture a reconstituted Jewish community with Temple located veritably at the ornphalos mundi and with the indwelling of Yahweh's glory assuring security and blessing (18). As in the case of Haggai, the faith crisis precipitated by the failure of lofty hopes of restoration to materialize after the return of the [497] exiles occasioned a prophetic response. To the question, "O Lord of hosts, how long wilt thou have no mercy on Jerusalem and the cities of Judah, against which thou halt had indignation these seventy years?" (Zech 1:12), the prophet brings Yahweh's impassioned reply: The "theology of glory (kabod)" of the first Temple that had been cultivated by the Zadokite priests in the exile and that gave structure to Ezekiel's theology is here renewed: The basic pattern of the Jerusalem royal theology is again clearly visible: rebuilding of the Temple, indwelling of Yahweh's glory, renewal of the blessing, and security of the land. Here, however, a development earlier discernible in Ezekiel (19) is abetted: The leadership position of the Zadokite priesthood, with its high priest at the head, waxes at the expense of the incumbent of the Davidic house.
        This tendency is to be detected also in Zechariah 3, a chapter that seems to have been added as an introduction to the central vision of Zechariah's cycle of seven in Zechariah 4 in order to enhance the position of the priestly member of the diarchy, even as the interpolation in Zech 4:6ab-10a seems to have been added to heighten the visibility of the Davidide within that same central vision. Without going into the question of the authorship of Zechariah 3, its function seems to have been that of defending the legitimacy and purity of the Zadokite high priest Joshua against charges perhaps relating to his having spent years in exile on pagan soil. None other than Satan is the accuser, and none other than Yahweh defends the priest! Vindicated and sanctified, the priest then receives from an angel this solemn charge: "If you will walk in my ways and keep my charge, then you shall rule my house and have charge of my courts, and I will give you the right of access among those who are standing here" (Zech 3:7). The loftiness of this promise is realized when it is understood that "those who are standing here" are Yahweh's heavenly attendants! The high priest's authority rests upon no less a basis than his being privy to Yahweh's council, a claim that was earlier the unique prerogative of the prophets (e.g., Isaiah 6 and Jer 23:21-22). For a brief moment, attention turns to the Davidide ("the Branch"), only to return to [498] Joshua, with whose office is tied the cleansing of the land and the return of paradisaical conditions to Judah (Zech 3:9-10), the latter being a concern that traditionally had fallen under the aegis of the king.
        Zechariah thus bears witness to a stream of tradition in the early postexilic period that synthesized royal and priestly elements in a welldefined program of restoration and, for reasons no longer transparent to us, expanded the authority of the Zadokite priests so as to encompass areas earlier controlled by prophets and kings. The history of the growth and transmission of the Book of Zechariah thus gives us a glimpse of the development of the Jewish community from a diarchy under a Davidic prince and a Zadokite priest to a hierocracy under a Zadokite functioning as high priest.
        This development is documented even more dramatically by another major biblical source, the Chronicler's History. Through the research of D. N. Freedman (20) and F. M. Cross (21), a new reconstruction of the history of that source has emerged, throwing valuable light on the question of the reapplication of antecedent tradition during the early postexilic period. In this case one can trace stages of development from a program supporting the reestablishment of monarchy under the Davidic house to one heralding the hierocracy under the high priest of the Zadokite house as the culmination of God's history with the Jewish people.
        The promonarchical stage (Chr 1) consists of an early version of the genealogies in 1 Chr 1-9, 1 Chr 10-2 Chr 34, plus the Vorlage of 1 Esdras 1:1-3:13. Given its ideological predilection, it is not surprising to find Chr 1, drawing heavily upon the "Josianic" edition of the Deuteronomistic History (Dtr 1), a work that functioned in similar fashion in support of the Davidic house during its earlier renaissance in the latter half of the seventh century (22). The reapplication of royal tradition (in this case in the form of the history of the house of David) and of the priestly tradition inextricably tied to the Solomonic Temple is thus comparable to the process of reapplying royal and priestly tradition which we have found in the late sixth-century books of Haggai and Zechariah. It seems that we are dealing with several manifestations of the same restoration effort in which the career of Zerubbabel was viewed as the fulfillment of God's covenant with the Davidic house and as the occasion for the renewal of the institutions and practices established by God during the reigns of David and Solomon and valid by divine promise for all time. Freedman describes this "legitimate pattern of institutions and their personnel" as follows: "They are the monarchy represented by David and his house, the priesthood by Zadok and his descendents, the city and the temple in the promised land (23)."
        The later editions of the Chronicler's work, which originated in the [499] middle to late fifth century (Chr 2, consisting of Chr 1 plus the Aramaic source in Ezra 5:1-6:19 and the Ezra narrative beginning at Ezra 7:1, and Chr 3, in which the genealogies in 1 Chronicles 1-9 were brought up to date and the Nehemiah memoirs were added), give clear evidence of the eclipse of the Davidic leader and the exaltation of the Zadokite high priest to the position of preeminence within the Jewish community. Naturally, David and Solomon are established fgures in the history that the final editors of the Chronicler's History continue to hand down, which makes all the more noteworthy the fact that their earlier function of legitimizing the reestablishment of the David house is deflected and redirected toward the priestly house of Zadok. In the added material, Zerubbabel's royal titles are dropped (Ezra 2:2; 3:2, 8; 4:2, 3; 5:2; Neh 7:7; 12:1, 47), even as the heroic tale exalting his wisdom and piety is suppressed (cf. 1 Esdr 3:1-5:2), as the focus moves squarely upon the Zadokite priesthood presiding over a people living under Persian rule. There is no hint any longer of hope for the restoration of an indigenous Davidic kingdom. To the contrary, the Persians are hailed as God's chosen rulers, for whom prayers are to be offered in the Temple and to whom obedience is to be paid in all civil matters in return for freedom to live a life of fidelity to the Torah of Moses (Ezra 1:1; 6:4, 22; 7:27-28; 9:9; Neh 2:8, 9, 18). Eschatological expectations have disappeared. As with the latest redactional stages of Ezekiel and Zechariah, we thus find reflected in these later stages of the Chronicler's History a fifth-century community that has moved - in part because of changed international circumstances - away from a royal Davidic model of community, and even beyond a model of a balanced royal-priestly diarchy, toward an exclusively priestly form of rule most accurately described as a hierocracy. We have entered the era in which the patrons of the Zadokite leaders were no longer the kings and princes of the house of David but the members of the imperial house of Persia.
        Having examined writings within which royal traditions were reapplied to the changing circumstances of the early postexilic period, and having noted that in these writings one sees evidence for the enhancement of the Zadokite priesthood at the expense of the royal house of David, we turn next to ask whether there is evidence in the literature of this period for an appropriation of earlier tradition that was priestly in its orientation from the start.

The Reapplication of Priestly Tradition
        The results of a major literary effort to reapply earlier priestly traditions associated with the Jerusalem Temple are found in the so-called Priestly Writing (the name used by scholars to designate the final stratum [500] of the Pentateuch). Both in the way earlier materials were arranged and in the new theological framework into which such materials were placed, we witness a highly creative process of adapting beliefs and practices of the past to a radically changed situation (24). In Genesis 1, the chaos originally at home in ancient cosmogonic myth was transformed into a vivid metaphor for the threatening new situation faced by the exiles, even as the efficacy of God's magisterial command in bringing forth out of chaos a harmonious created order offered them a firm basis upon which to build hope for their own future. The great heroes of the past, like Noah, Abraham, and Moses, became mediators of the signs and practices that formed the heart of Jewish identity in exile: covenant, circumcision, Sabbath, and the commandments. The wilderness wandering of the ancient ancestors of Israel became a poignant model for their own sojourn in a foreign land. Antecedent temple rituals of expiation and atonement were subjected to profound reinterpretation against the background of the recent tragic events and within the new exilic setting (e.g., Leviticus 16 and 17). Theological concepts such as God's kabod ("glory") and God's "tenting" (skn) in the midst of Israel were reapplied as powerful conceptual resources for contemporizing God's abiding presence in a pagan land (25). It is striking, moreover, how this comprehensive picture of the people of Israel is dominated through and through by the priesthood, with no hint of an envisioned role for a Davidic "prince" or "king" (26).
        The hands of the priestly circles engaged in directing developments during the restoration period on the basis of antecedent priestly material are also to be detected in Zech 6:9-14. In what was originally an oracle celebrating the diarchy of priest and prince in the balanced manner characteristic of Zechariah, the present text betrays a rather crude textual surgery in which a place of equal honor has been denied Zerubbabel, resulting in the enhancement of the position of Joshua the high priest. Much speculation has poured into the attempt to explain this textual puzzle, out of which has emerged the likelihood that it reflects the efforts of the Zadokite priests to capitalize on the reversal suffered by the Davidides, perhaps due to Persian intervention brought about in response to what was perceived as a potentially dangerous resurgence of nationalism around the figure of Zerubbabel. Though the genealogy of the house of David continued to be compiled (cf. 1 Chronicles 3), the available evidence indicates that in the period between Zerubbabel and Nehemiah, Jewish governors of non-Davidic descent presided over the civil affairs of Judah (27).
        Ezekiel 44 gives us a further glimpse into the efforts of the Zadokites to consolidate power. Here the rivalry is not with the house of David but [501] with the Levites. The end result, however, is the same, namely, the enhancement of Zadokite power though the diminution of the power of another group. On the basis of charges of apostasy (which seem to be without historical basis), the right of the Levites to offer sacrifices in the Temple is denied, with the result that they are consigned to duties of a lesser order (28).
        In Zechariah 6 and Ezekiel 44 we thus see a second distinct pattern of response to the harsh new realities of the early postexilic period gaining momentum. Both in response to power vacuums and in response to rival claims, the Zadokites moved to consolidate their own power until it became preeminent and in a position to fashion the future of the Jewish community in keeping with the contours of their priestly program.
        As we search the literature of this period, we find traces of another group that was outmaneuvered by the Zadokites in the course of the latter's rise to preeminence. It consisted of those who drew upon the third complex of antecedent tradition cited in the introductory section of this chapter, namely, the writings of Israel's major prophetic figures.

The Reapplication of Prophetic Tradition
        There is evidence that the energetic Zadokite reform movement encountered considerable opposition. In response to Haggai's oracles urging the rebuilding of the Temple under Davidic/Zadokite leadership came the protest that this effort was not divinely sponsored at all but rather was the result of human perversity and rebelliousness (Isaiah 57; 65; 66) (29). An alternative program was accordingly advanced, one repudiating the exclusive claims of the Zadokites and focusing on an incisive intervention by God that would miraculously transform both the Jewish community and its natural habitation, resulting in the acknowledgment of God's reign throughout the world and in the establishment of unblemished righteousness within a nation of priests (Isaiah 60-62). While circles close to the Davidic house were favoring royal traditions and the Zadokites were drawing on materials deriving from their own past, what we may call a visionary group found its closest affinities with early prophetic writings, especially those gathered under the name of the prophet Isaiah. In some cases, they were specific in reapplying the words of Second Isaiah to the crises of the early postexilic period (30). They also found relevance in the genre favored above all others by the preexilic prophets, the judgment oracle, for as they surveyed the conditions prevailing in their community, it seemed apparent to them that theirs was a nation standing not under divine favor but continuing judgment. In their reapplication of that classical prophetic genre, the new situation left its mark, leading to the transformation of the judgment oracle into the [502] hybrid "salvation-judgment oracle," in which was announced simultaneously doom for the wicked and eschatological salvation for the righteous (e.g., Isaiah 59 and 65). On a deeper level, the prophetic message underwent significant transformation, for the restoration beyond judgment, which the classical prophets had conceived of mainly in historical terms, was envisioned increasingly with the aid of otherworldly categories, especially ones ultimately tracing back to ancient cosmogonic myth (e.g., Isa 59:15-20; 65:17; 66:15-16). This otherworldly tendency seemed to grow in direct relation to the disintegration of the life situation and social status of the dissident group.
        We noted earlier that the eschatologization of ancient mythic themes pointing in the direction of later Jewish apocalypticism was evident in the oracles of Haggai and Zechariah, at the base of which development could be detected the experiences of bafflement, suffering, and ethical paradox resulting from the tragic events of the early sixth century B.C.E. This "proto-apocalyptic" tendency did not develop further within Zadokite circles in the remaining Persian period, but was arrested in large part because of a normalization of society and cult under their leadership with a concomitant alteration in their perception of the world. Such was not the experience of the visionaries. To the general hardships suffered by all Jews during this period was added the stinging experience of progressive marginalization within their own community. They sensed that they were losing a grip not only on the world situation but on the situation within their own community as well, as they were removed from positions of power and forced into the kind of disenfranchisement that historically has been the breeding ground of apocalyptic speculation. While the initial experimentation of the Zadokite group with apocalyptic forms and images gave way to a more pragmatic posture generally inhospitable to otherworldly speculation, the apocalyptic predilection of the visionaries was only strengthened by their experience of unmitigated hardship. This gave rise to a rather persistent stream of eschatological speculation that later resurfaced in the mature apocalyptic writings of the Seleucid period.
        It is characteristic of the writings of the early postexilic period that the programmatic statements of various groups were not circulated independently under the name of their author but were embedded in writings that had already achieved a position of honor within the Jewish community. As the Zadokites advanced their cause by inserting into the Book of Ezekiel a polemical statement against the Levites (Ezekiel 44), so too the visionaries laid claim to the authority of Ezekiel by inserting Ezekiel 3839. In so doing, they disputed the claim of the Zadokites that their implementation of the program formulated in Ezekiel 40-48 represented the fulfillment of God's promises to the Jewish community. By [503] adding a vision of judgment outstripping the Babylonian invasion in horror, they proclaimed that Israel still stood within the era of divine wrath and that nothing less than direct divine intervention could remove obstacles of mythic dimensions and inaugurate the era of blessing envisioned by the prophet Ezekiel in chaps. 40-48.
        A similar statement was made in the small anonymous collections of oracles entitled massa' debar yhwh which in the course of transmission became attached to the collection of Zechariah's writings (Zechariah 9-11 and 12-14). Only after passing through awful trials and terrible judgments would a remnant of Israel be delivered by the divine warrior Yahweh and established in a realm portrayed in rather fully developed apocalyptic terms (cf. esp. Zechariah 14). Though the so-called Isaiah Apocalypse of Isaiah 24-27 offers little concrete evidence for its original setting, it seems to have originated in the early postexilic period within a similar climate of prophetic protest and apocalyptic speculation (31).
        The caution inserted at the beginning of this chapter regarding oversimplification of data in the attempt to detect streams of tradition in the early postexilic period must here be reiterated and amplified by way of an example. Zechariah 14 could serve as a clear illustration of a visionary formulation of the future, combining rather lofty apocalyptic themes with notions reflecting the concerns of priests (Zech 14:10-21). Even more dramatically, however, the Book of Malachi, which is another anonymous collection originally bearing the title massa' debar yhwh, bears witness to a dissident group combining priestly and prophetic themes and concerns. The present writer earlier has argued that the interests of Levites combined with those of prophetic disciples in the oracles of Isaiah 56-66 (32).
        This is clearly the case also in the Book of Malachi. Though the concerns reflected are thoroughly priestly in nature, the attack on the presiding priesthood, that is, the Zadokite Temple priests, is scathing. And the denouement is envisioned in lofty eschatological terms. This combination of themes and concerns can be accounted for most felicitously by assuming that the Book of Malachi originated among dissident Levites who formulated their own position with the aid of an old tradition concerning God's covenant with Levi, a tradition that by antedating the one depicting a similar covenant with the Zadokites was useful as an argument in favor of the authoritative status of the Levites. Moreover, in their conflict with their Zadokite opponents, these Levites welcomed the support of visionaries who combined condemnation of existing institutions and leaders with visions of divine judgment and reversal. This solution seems preferable to the suggestion that the Book of Malachi results from the combination of two sources, one priestly and the other apocalyptic.

[504] The Reapplication of Wisdom Tradition
        As indicated by certain passages in Jeremiah (e.g., Jer 17:5-10, and quite generally the "confessions" of Jeremiah) and in Ezekiel (especially Ezekiel 18), the late seventh and early sixth century was a time of increased concern with the plight of the individual within a community beset with problems and existing in a threatening world. Though certain traditional concepts were stretched through such questioning, the basic retributive structure of thought remained intact, preserved by Ezekiel within the full apparatus of the Temple theology and by Jeremiah within a more critical prophetic structure of thought.
        The perspective of the individual and the mood of questioning were pressed much farther in the Book of Job. Here the transformation of earlier tradition was accomplished by way of an appeal to both wisdom and prophetic themes, combined with a harsh critique of the traditional Temple theology and aspects of the royal theologumenon that continued to adhere to it. The end result was a unique readaptation of antecedent tradition that involved such a thoroughgoing transformation as to lead F. M. Cross to conclude: "Job brought the ancient religion of Israel to an end (33)." While this assessment has recently been challenged (34), it is clear that traditional beliefs and assumptions were subjected to such a severe reexamination in Job as to leave a deep and lasting mark on the history of Israelite religion.
        The effort to place the Book of job within its historical setting must appeal to a rather broad typology of biblical religion in the absence of unambiguous linguistic or historical data. Specifically regarding its place within the wisdom tradition, it is important to note that the mood of preexilic Jewish sapiential writings is generally optimistic and life-affirming. This is as true of the earlier sections of the Book of Proverbs as it is of early narrative materials that scholars have assigned to wisdom circles, such as the Joseph story in the Book of Genesis. According to the world view pervading these writings, there underlies all of life's experiences a cosmic order that is dependable, assuring success to the righteous and judgment to the wicked (e.g., Proverbs 16). The task of the sage is to probe behind the variegated phenomena constituting human experience to the divine order that explains everything according to one all-encompassing and integrated system of justice. The basic retributive theologumenon underlying this world view is essentially the same as that upheld by the Priestly Writing and the Deuteronomistic History.
        Against this background, the probing and questioning of traditional beliefs found in Job seems to be best explained on the assumption that, as in the case of similar self-examination within the other traditions we have [505] examined, the experience of the catastrophe of 587 B.C.E. has raised for Israel's sages a hard, new set of questions. A difference in perspective is also to be noted: Whereas the other writings we have examined arose as a communal response to the experiences of deprivation, bafflement, and paradox, the Book of job reveals the tortured soul of the individual seeking to make sense out of a world in which the righteous suffer and the wicked prosper. In the face of bitter contradictions and inexplicable paradoxes, the theme of the righteous sufferer found already in ancient Sumerian, Egyptian, Babylonian, and Canaanite sources becomes the suitable vehicle for arguing with God.
        The heart of the crisis revolves around Job's refusal to allow his experiences to be forced into the interpretive framework of an orthodoxy that raised too many contradictions and left unanswered too many questions to remain viable for the honest believer (Job 8:3-7; 22:29-30). For Job, faith could be preserved only if inadequate human constructs were banished in favor of an experience of the transcendent God of ineffable mystery who evokes awe and worship, not in return for blessings bestowed, answers given, or puzzles solved, but out of the sheer fact of incomparable majesty and holiness. The conceptual idiom that proved to be appropriate for expressing this confession was one ultimately rooted in ancient mythology but long since integrated into Yahwistic faith, especially within Israel's hymns of worship and within the creation traditions. And the correspondence style that proved appropriate was one more interrogative than indicative in nature, and depending on a lavish use of irony and indirect statement (35).
        The danger accompanying the delineation of the retributive doctrine found in the Priestly Writing, the Deuteronomistic History, the Chronicler's History, and wisdom tradition that Yahwistic faith would become the privileged right of life's winners was incisively checked by Job's outcry and the transformation of tradition it set in motion. Religious faith was for the God-fearing, regardless of their earthly fortunes, for it relied not upon human proofs but upon encounter with holy transcendence (Job 38:1-42:6). This lofty view of religion did not, however, create a wider gulf between the believer and other human beings. For it fostered an awareness of God's majesty conducive of genuine humaneness, the kind of openness that reaches out to others out of a true sense of solidarity with all mortals (cf. Job 19:21-22).
        After Job, wisdom writing would never return to its earlier optimism. It would remain dedicated to the search for the order underlying human existence and giving it meaning, but in that search it would be much more open to the ambiguity and contradiction that faces every human being, and especially the one facing crisis. Though the Book of Ecclesiastes is a [506] clear example of this transformation, the transforming effect of the Book of Job was felt by wider circles as well in a period of considerable hardship in which the sagacious heirs to Israel's sapiential traditions came to play an increasingly influential role in the Jewish community.

CONCLUSION
        The various streams of tradition that constituted the religious community of the Jews underwent considerable transformation in the wake of the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem. As a result, there arose patterns of leadership, belief, and practice that, while maintaining distinct connections with traditions of the past, nevertheless in part inaugurated and in part pointed the way toward a new era. The early postexilic period is thus important not only in itself, and not only as a witness to the direction in which biblical tradition had moved, but also as indispensable background to understanding the religious movements and parties that would develop during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. For the shape of these parties, within both Judaism and Christianity, was in part adumbrated by princes, priests, visionaries, and sages of the Persian period as they sought both to be faithful to traditions received from the past and to adapt to new conditions within a rapidly changing world.