Identifying the Enochic Son of Man as God’s word and wisdom

Abstract

While many interpreters of the Enochic Parables have recognized a connection between the Enochic Son of Man and personified wisdom, this article argues that the Enochic Son of Man should be primarily identified as God’s wisdom as well as God’s word. To this end, the article argues that (a) the Son of Man is best understood as a divine being rather than an idealized human being, (b) a prominent word and wisdom theology existed in the late Second Temple period, and (c) both similarities between the Enochic Son of Man and word/wisdom as well as the narrative of the Parables support the conclusion that the Enochic Son of Man is an apocalyptic embodiment of God’s word and wisdom.

Keywords

divine enthronement Parables of Enoch Son of Man wisdom word

Introduction

In the last 20 years, there has been a renewed scholarly interested in the Parables of Enoch (chapters 37–71 of 1 Enoch, also known as the Similitudes).¹ Particular interest has focused on the Parables’ depiction of a heavenly messianic figure who is identified as “Son of Man,” and the relevance of this figure for understanding both the messianism and monotheism of Second Temple Judaism as well as the development of Christology in the early Christian movement. There has been great debate over the identity and nature of this Son of Man figure. Is this figure properly identified as divine, human, or in some way both? Can this figure be properly identified with any other person or concept in Second Temple Jewish thought, for example, Enoch, Michael, Metatron, or personified wisdom? While some have drawn comparisons between this Son of Man figure and the personified wisdom of both the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Jewish literature, I know of no thorough treatment that demonstrates that the Enochic Son of Man (from now on ESM) is best identified with both God’s wisdom and the closely related concept of God’s word.² Thus, after briefly addressing a handful of preliminary issues, I will argue that (a) the ESM is best identified as a divine being rather than strictly a human one, (b) a prominent word/wisdom theology existed in the late Second Temple period, and (c) the ESM is best understood as an apocalyptic embodiment of God’s word and wisdom. I conclude by briefly considering the significance of this identity of the ESM for the christological development of the early Christian movement.

Preliminary considerations regarding the Parables of Enoch

The following analysis rests on a number of important conclusions regarding the Parables of Enoch, conclusions that remain debated to varying degrees but have strong support in the secondary literature on the Parables. There is not sufficient space in the present work to establish these conclusions sufficiently here, and thus I rely on and briefly note the fruit of previous scholarship and direct the interested reader to it.

The first important conclusion on which this work rests is the Parables’ date of composition. Although debate is ongoing, there seems to be a growing majority of Enochic interpreters that date the Parables between the late 1st century BCE (c. 30) and the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in the 1st century CE (see Boccaccini, 2007: 263–89; Bock, 2013: 111–3; Charlesworth, 2013: 37–57; Collins, 1995: 177–82; Hannah, 2007: 469–77; Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2011: 58–66). A number of factors support such a dating: (a) The invasion discussed in 1 Enoch 56 seems best identified with the Parthian invasion of 40 BCE (Arcari, 2007: 478–6; Charlesworth, 2013: 47); (b) 1 Enoch 67:5–13 seems to be best understood as a reference to Herod’s use of the baths at Kallirrhoё (Hannah, 2007: 469–77); (c) the critique and predicted judgment of landlords or land owners in the Parables fits well with the Herodian period in which a significant amount of land passed from Jewish ownership to Gentile, leaving many Jews as tenant farmers rather than land owners (Charlesworth, 2013: 48–53). While some have argued that the absence of the Parables in the DSS suggests a date post 70 CE (e.g. Milik, 1976: 89–100; Knibb, 1979: 345–59), this absence is well explained by aspects of the Parables that would be in conflict with the Qumran community (Charlesworth, 2013: 44; Collins, 1995: 177–82). Thus, this study will move forward under the assumption that the Parables were composed between the late decades of the 1st century BCE and the middle decades of the 1st century CE.³

The second important conclusion on which this work rests is that the Parables of Enoch are representative of normative Jewish thought in the Second Temple period, and that they do not represent a sectarian and/or idiosyncratic expression of Judaism. Such a conclusion is supported by the recent work of Gabrielle Boccaccini (2007: 263–89), who demonstrates that the Parables engage, embrace, and merge together prominent paradigms of Second Temple Judaism, and Pierluigi Piovanelli (2007: 363–79), who demonstrates that the intended audience of the book does not seem to be a distinct sect of Jews who have set themselves apart from other Jews, but rather “the entire assembly of the Jewish people who have fallen under the domination of a new and merciless dynasty” (p. 375; see also Boyarin, 2007: 380–5). Thus, this study will proceed under the assumption that the Parables are representative of normative and widely accepted Jewish thought in the Second Temple period.

The third important conclusion is that while some Second Temple Jews may have affirmed the existence of other gods, singular devotion to and worship of the God of Israel was a commitment shared by virtually all Second Temple Jews, and thus based on the second conclusion, a virtue shared by the Parables of Enoch. Such a conclusion regarding Second Temple Jews is established by the vast amount of evidence, including the testimony of both Greeks and Romans, the claims of Jewish authors like Philo and Josephus, Second Temple religious literature, the existence of a single temple and cult devoted to one God, and the willingness of many Jews to give their life rather than compromise their singular devotion.⁴ For the sake of simplicity, I will use the term “monotheism” to refer to such a commitment. I use this term in full awareness of recent studies that have identified the numerous problems that surround the language of monotheism, not the least of which are the modern origins of the term and the anachronistic dangers of applying it to Second Temple Judaism.⁵ But as defined here, I do not believe my use of the term carries with it such problems.

The ESM as a divine figure

Two figures feature prominently in the Parables of Enoch. The first is best identified with the God of Israel. Throughout the parables, he is generally identified as “The Lord of Spirits,” a title that seemingly reflects the title “Lord of Hosts” that is frequently found in the Hebrew Bible.⁶ Although less frequent than “Lord of Spirits,” the title “Head of Days,” is also used to describe the God of Israel. This title is likely dependent on the title “Ancient of Days” found in Daniel 7. This connection to Daniel 7 is made virtually certain by the physical description of the “Head of Days” as one with a head covered in white wool, a description also given to the “Ancient of Days” in Daniel 7:9.

A variety of titles are used to identify the second figure, the primary subject of this study. These include the “Righteous One,” “Chosen one,” “Messiah,” and “Son of Man.” He is regularly presented as being in the presence of the Lord of Spirits, and is even depicted as dwelling under the wings of the Lord of Spirits (39:6). He is closely associated with both righteousness (46:3; 48:4, 7) and wisdom (48:7; 49:3; 51:3). His primary role is that of both judge and ruler over the entire creation (41:9; 46:4–5; 48:4; 49:3; 52:4; 55:4; 61:8–9; 62:6). Closely associated with these roles is the frequent and striking depiction of this figure seated on what seems to be God’s glorious and heavenly throne (45:3; 51:3; 55:4; 61:8; 62:6; 69:29). In addition to being seated on God’s throne, he is frequently depicted as an object of human worship (46:5; 48:5; 61:7; 62:6, 9). Finally, it seems that this figure is preexistent and predates the creation itself (48:3–4, 6; 62:7).

That a single figure, other than the God of Israel, bears all of these descriptors in a single text is indeed striking and arguably unique in Second Temple Judaism. Such a figure appears on the surface to be in some way divine. He receives worship from human beings, sits on a divine heavenly throne, and exercises judgment and sovereignty over the created order.⁷ Yet such a conclusion obviously seems to conflict with the commitments of Jewish monotheism, as it would mean that in the Parables there is the depiction of two divine figures, the God of Israel and the ESM. To resolve this conflict, some scholars have attempted to argue that this figure is not divine at all, but rather an idealized or exalted human figure. Those who take such a position must (a) explain away any evidence that would be perceived as demanding a divine identity for the Son of Man figure (e.g. the receiving divine worship, sitting on God’s throne, etc.); (b) explain away any evidence that would preclude this figure from being human (e.g. preexistence); and (c) put forward evidence from Enoch that directly supports a human identity rather than a divine one. Here we will consider attempts to address each of these issues.

Addressing evidence of divinity: the ESM as a recipient of divine worship and seated on God’s throne

Larry Hurtado (2003) is perhaps the leading voice in rejecting the conclusion that the ESM is truly a recipient of divine worship (pp. 38–9). Hurtado claims that the ESM, as God’s appointed eschatological agent, receives mere obeisance and not true worship. For Hurtado, this obeisance is no different than that which Isaiah prophesied regarding the Servant of the Lord (Isa. 45:14; 49:7, 23; 60:14), an argument strengthened by the Parable’s presumed dependence on the Isaianic Servant Song.⁸ In addition, Hurtado (2003) mitigates what some have seen as evidence for the cultic worship of the ESM by claiming that he is not worshipped while sitting on a divine heavenly throne but that he is only shown obeisance while he sits on an earthly throne (p. 39, n. 38). In this way, the ESM is merely an agent of God that receives appropriate reverence rather than a second divine figure that receives cultic worship.

But these arguments from Hurtado require closer examination. While Hurtado claims that the ESM merely receives obeisance rather than true worship, Crispin Fletcher-Louis argues that the Parables use language that seems to go beyond mere obeisance. On more than one occasion, the reader is told that the ESM is praised, blessed, exalted, and glorified in addition to the reception of “worship/obeisance” (46:5; 62:6, 63:4; Fletcher-Louis, 2015: 180). James Waddell astutely points out that these words that are used to describe the worship of the ESM are often the very words (often found in the same order!) used to describe the worship of God himself (39:7, 12; 46:6; 61:9; 61:12; 2011: 92, 96–100).⁹ When the language that is used to describe the worship of the God of Israel is, in the same context, being used to describe the worship of the ESM, it seems to be special pleading to conclude one is true divine worship and the other is mere obeisance.

But what is to be made of the Parables’ use of the Servant Song, a song in which the conquered enemies of God prostrate themselves before God’s servant, an act clearly illustrating obeisance, seemingly before a royal figure, rather than worship? Does dependence on such texts dictate that the worship of the ESM in the Parables must also be understood as mere obeisance? While dependence on Isaiah should not be denied, it must be acknowledged that at other points, the Parables not only use imagery from the Servant Song but also push beyond that imagery (see Fletcher-Louis, 2014: 179). Fletcher-Louis (2015: 179) notes that while in Isaiah, the suffering servant is “known,” “called,” and “remembered” while in his mother’s womb, the ESM is “chosen,” “named,” and “hidden” before the creation of the world. Many recognize a dependence on Isaiah at this point in the Parables, which seems probable. But there also seems to be significant development of this Isaianic tradition, as the ESM receives these actions prior to creation and not simply from the womb, that is, it seems that the Parables have greatly enhanced the significance of the Isaianic servant. If the Parables take such a significant leap forward in Isaiah’s depiction of God’s servant at this point, certainly a development in Isaiah’s depiction of the obeisance this figure receives is also possible. Thus, one cannot strictly deny the possibility of true worship of the ESM in this Enochic passage simply on the basis of its Isaianic intertextuality (Fletcher-Louis, 2015:180).

In addition, we must consider Hurtado’s claim that the ESM is only depicted as sitting on an earthly human throne rather than a heavenly divine throne. Much rides on this claim and what one concludes about the nature of the ESM’s throne. If the ESM receives worship while sitting on a divine throne, it is difficult to conclude that he is merely receiving obeisance, as the divine throne strongly evokes a setting of cultic worship. But beyond assessing the worship of the ESM, as noted above, sitting on the divine throne itself can be taken as evidence for the ESM’s divinity (see Bauckham, 2008: 152–81). Hurtado is able to dismiss both divine implications by arguing for a human throne rather than a divine one.

With these stakes in mind, I contend that Hurtado’s claim does not seem consistent with what one finds in the Parables themselves. While at times, the reader is simply told that the ESM sits on “the throne of glory,” a phrase that might be ambiguous enough to interpret as an earthly throne, in 1 Enochic 51:3, the Lord of Spirits explicitly claims that the ESM sits on “my throne.”¹⁰ Thus, it seems most probable that the “throne of glory” the ESM is repeatedly depicted as sitting on is to be understood as God’s throne as well. Apart from the explicit claim of 51:3, the very reference “throne of glory” is most naturally understood as God’s own throne, as “glory” is a concept closely associated with the God of Israel in both Jewish religious texts in general and 1 Enoch in particular (1 Enoch 9:4; 14:20–21; 22:14; 25:3, 7; 27:2–3, 5; 36:4; 39:12; 40:3; and so on). 1 Enoch 47:3 explicitly refers to God’s throne as “the throne of his glory,” drawing together the divine throne with the concept of glory. Finally, that from this throne the ESM will judge the angel Azaz’el and his entire company strongly supports the conclusions that this is a heavenly throne rather than an earthly one. In light of this evidence, it seems the most natural reading of the Parables is that the ESM does indeed sit on a divine heavenly throne rather than an earthly one.

Taken all together, this evidence strongly supports the conclusion that, contra Hurtado, the ESM receives more than mere obeisance. He in fact receives the very divine worship that is granted to Lord of Spirits, the God of Israel. He also sits on God’s very throne, a strong indicator in and of itself that this ESM is in some way divine. While the ESM’s reception of worship and placement on God’s throne might raise difficult questions about the identity of the ESM, the nature of Jewish monotheism, or the “orthodoxy” of the Parables, I contend that the weight of evidence favors such depictions.

Addressing evidence related to a human identity: Enoch as the Son of Man, preexistence, and human descriptors

In Daniel Kirk’s recent work on Jesus as an idealized human being in the synoptic gospels, he argues that the ESM is also best understood as just such an idealized human being. Kirk (2016: 151–5) first notes that at the conclusion of the Parables, the human figure Enoch is identified as the very Son of Man that has been depicted throughout the entirety of the text. As such, Kirk (2016: 153) claims,

For the author or redactor of the final chapters of 1 Enoch, the glorification of the Son of Man, his receipt of worship, his session on God’s throne, and his judgement of the world are all predicated of an idealized human figure exalted to heaven.

Kirk also finds the various Ethiopic phrases that are regularly translated as “Son of Man” to be significant. He rightly notes that the Ethiopic translation uses three different phrases for the “Son of Man” figure: zeku/zentu walda sab’ (that/this son of man (pl)), we’etu walda be’si (this son of man (sg)), and zeku/we’etu walda ‘eguāla ‘emma heyāw (that/this son of the offspring of the mother of the living).¹¹ This latter phrase is in fact that most commonly used to depict the ESM.¹² For Kirk, the variety of phrases to convey the idea of the ESM and in particular, the phrase “this son of the offspring of the mother of the living” demonstrates, at the very least, that conception of the ESM figure had not been divorced from a human identity.

Enoch as the Son of Man

What is to be made the Parables’ final identification of the Son of Man with the idealized human figure Enoch? Does such identification confirm that this Son of Man is best understood as a human being rather than a divine being? Here we consider the arguments for and against this position.

Did the Parables intend to identify Enoch as the Son of Man?

First, it should be noted that this identification has been recognized as problematic by virtually all interpreters of the Parables. Throughout the entirety of the Parables, Enoch is the figure who has been witnessing the Son of Man, and as such, natural questions arise. How does Enoch then become that very Son of Man, or how did Enoch not recognize himself previously as that Son of Man? And how, if the ESM is a preexistent being, can Enoch, clearly a created human being (Gen. 5:18–23), be identified with this Son of Man? Numerous solutions have been offered to resolve this troubling identification. Perhaps the most common solution is to claim that either chapter 71 or both 70 and 71 are later additions to the Parables, and that the identification does not actually reflect the identity of the ESM in the earliest form of the Parables.¹³ Thus, perhaps this identification with Enoch is the response of a redactor who was troubled in some way by this figure and sought to resolve this perceived difficulty. If this reaction happened quite late, it could be understood in terms of a later Judaism responding to Christian understanding of Jesus as the “Son of Man,” that is, the text claims that Enoch rather than Jesus was the heavenly Son of Man all along (see Nickelsburg, 2007: 46). If this solution is correct, then an earlier form of the Parables present a divine ESM figure who, through redaction, is turned into a human figure.

While many have adopted such an explanation, others have argued that chapters 70 and 71 are authentic to the parables, and that Enoch’s identification as the Son of Man finds cohesion with the rest of the book of Enoch (Kvanvig, 2007: 179–215; VanderKam, 1992: 177–88; Waddell, 2011: 51–60). For these interpreters, a major obstacle identifying Enoch with the Son of Man is the Parables depiction of the ESM as preexistent. How can Enoch, a created being according to Genesis 5, be identified as the preexistent Son of Man?

The preexistence of the Son of Man

James VanderKam (1992) is a leading voice among Enochic interpreters who argue for the authenticity of chapters 70–1, and in his arguments to this end, he rejects the commonly held position that the Parables present the ESM figure as preexistent (pp. 179–82).¹⁴ VanderKam takes each tradition that has been understood to convey a preexistent ESM separately and offers a way of reading each without the implication of preexistence. Beginning with 1 Enoch 48:3, he argues that it is only the name of the ESM that preexists creation not the ESM himself. He cites T. W. Manson who argues, “The naming of the name of a group or an individual can mean simply the designation of that group or individual to some high destiny. And this seems to be the most likely meaning in this passage in Enoch.”¹⁵ Following James Kugel, Daniel Kirk has argued along similar lines. He proposes that the Parables are following a tradition found in Psalms 72:17, which Kugel translates, “May his name be forever; his name bursts forth before the sun.”¹⁶ Here the name of the king of Israel is understood to have existed before the sun, a tradition that is quite similar to what is seen in 1 Enoch 48:3. But the naming of God’s king in Psalm 72:17 does not intend to communicate the king’s preexistence, and as such, both VanderKam and Kirk argue that neither should the preexistent naming of the ESM communicate his preexistence.

The argument is more complicated in the treatment of 1 Enoch 48:6, a passage in which the ESM is hidden or concealed in the presence of the Lord, not merely named, before the creation. But here, VanderKam (1992) argues that what is envisioned is not the ESM himself being hidden but rather it is only the identity of the ESM that is hidden (p. 180). He argues for a connection between this motif of hiddenness and Isaiah 49:1, in which the servant of the Lord is hidden in the divine hand as a means of protection. While VanderKam might have a sound basis for explaining away preexistence in 48:3, his basis is much weaker with 48:6. It seems questionable to use the motif of hiddenness in Isaiah 49:1, a hiddenness that emphasizes protection to then argue for a hiddenness in 1 Enoch 48:6 that emphasizes a concealment of identity. The comparison between Isaiah 49:1 and 1 Enoch 48:6 also seems questionable as the servant of the Lord in Isaiah is never described as being concealed or hidden prior to creation itself. If 1 Enoch 48:6 is in some way dependent on Isaiah 49:1, the significant differences in details makes it unclear both how it is so and also what the implications of that dependence might be (cf. Kvanvig: 2007: 202, who finds VanderKam’s argument unpersuasive). Without reliance on Isaiah 49:1 for reading 1 Enoch 48:6, one is simply left to read what the text actually says, namely, that the ESM himself, not the identity of the ESM, was hidden before creation.

VanderKam’s argument against a preexistent ESM runs into even greater trouble when trying to explain 1 Enoch 62:7, trouble that VanderKam (1992) himself recognizes (pp. 180–1). In 62:7 the ESM is not only said to be hidden but also “preserved” from “the beginning.” VanderKam acknowledges that the language of being “preserved” cannot be easily explained in terms of identity alone and seems to be speaking of the ESM himself. But VanderKam’s way of addressing this difficulty is the uncertain meaning of the phrase “the beginning.” Unlike 1 Enoch 48:3 and 48:6, 62:7 does not explicitly refer to a time prior to creation, but rather, it refers to an ambiguous “beginning,” (perhaps birth or reign?). Thus, VanderKam (1992) argues this reference to “the beginning” could be understood as the beginning of this figure’s reign as God’s anointed ruler and not the beginning of time, that is, not prior to creation (p. 181).

In response to this argument, it seems most appropriate to begin by levying a critique against VanderKam’s entire approach. VanderKam takes these three texts that seem to convey the preexistence of the ESM and deals with them separately, explaining why each individual text need not be understood to convey preexistence. But one must ask whether interpreting these pieces separately rather than together is the best approach, as it seems to deny what is almost certainly inter-textual allusions within the Parables.¹⁷ It seems these three passages are better understood together rather than separately, and that they are all conveying a common and unified understanding of the ESM. For example, both 48:6 and 62:7 speak of the ESM being hidden, with 48:6 placing this hiddenness “before the creation of the world” and 62:7 placing it “from the beginning.” It seems likely that both texts are referring to the same “hiddenness,” and as such, 48:6 helps clarify the meaning of “from the beginning” in 62:7, namely, that it refers to a time prior to creation rather than to the beginning of the ESM’s reign or birth. If 48:6 is allowed to clarify the meaning of “from the beginning” in 62:7, then it also means that 62:7 is claiming the ESM is “preserved” from a time prior to creation, that is, the ESM is rightly understood as preexistent. This understanding of 62:7 can then be brought to bear on 48:3 and 48:6, and support that the actions of naming, choosing, and hiding, described in these passages, are rightly happening to the ESM himself prior to creation.

Only by divorcing 48:6 and 62:7 is VanderKam able to read “the beginning” references in 62:7 as something other than the beginning of creation, a move that lets him deny preexistence to the ESM in 62:7. Such divorce seems a misguided reading strategy. Even when each preexistent tradition is taken separately, VanderKam’s attempt to wash them of preexistence has weaknesses, with some efforts being stronger than others (compare his treatment of 48:3 with 48:6 above). But when all three traditions are understood as mutually interpretive, VanderKam’s position (and the similar position of others) becomes even weaker. As such, it seems the most natural and straightforward reading of these traditions is to be favored, namely, that the Parables present the ESM as existing prior to creation.¹⁸

The Son of Man as both Enoch and preexistent?

But if the Parables do in fact present the ESM as preexistent, can he still be identified with Enoch? And if so, what implications does that have for his human identity? Helge S. Kvanvig affirms both Enoch as the Son of Man and the preexistence of the ESM, but in doing so it is questionable just how “human” he envisions Enoch to be. By reading the Parables together with the Enochic Book of the Watchers, Jubilees, and against the Mesopotamian concept of primeval sages, apkallus, Kvanvig (2007) argues that Enoch was understood by the author of the Parables to be a preexistent being, one closely associated with the wisdom figure of Proverbs 8 (pp. 200–6). Kvanvig reads 1 Enoch 42, in which wisdom fails to find a dwelling on earth and thus makes its permanent dwelling in heaven, as a parody of Enoch in Genesis 5. Thus, for the Parables, the Enoch of Genesis 5 is the embodiment of preexistent wisdom (Prov 8), who seeks to find a dwelling on earth yet fails to find one and returns to heaven. Yet for Kvanvig (2007), the preexistent ESM figure is also rightly identified with preexistent wisdom (a connection made through the shared feature of preexistence), and as such, the final identification of ESM with Enoch finds internal coherence (p. 210).¹⁹ While I will return to the link between the ESM and wisdom at a later point, here I would simply state that Kvanvig’s solution does not simply result in truly understanding the ESM as a human being, idealized or otherwise. Instead, it results in understanding the ESM as preexistent wisdom, and thus a being that is at least in some way divine.

An alternative proposal to that of Kvanvig is that the human Enoch, who has borne witness to the preexistent ESM throughout the parables, is finally merged with that ESM at the end of the Parables. 1 Enoch 71:14 could then be understood in terms of apotheosis or translation of a human being into some sort of heavenly being. Although VanderKam (1992) rejects the preexistence of the ESM, he does envision some sort of new union taking place in 71:14, where the human Enoch becomes one with his heavenly double, the ESM (pp. 182–4). But again, there is no reason to conclude that the ESM figure is a human figure simply because he is ultimately identified with Enoch, as it is Enoch the human being that is being mapped onto or merged with the heavenly and divine ESM.

Ultimately, the identification of the ESM with Enoch in chapters 70 and 71 does not actually necessitate the conclusion that the ESM is a human being. First, it is possible that this identification is quite late, and that earlier forms of the Parables never identified the ESM with Enoch—a popular position among Enochic interpreters. But even if this identification was intended, the preexistence of the ESM forces one to understand Enoch as more than a mere idealized human being, that is, either he is the embodiment of a preexistent divine being and not fully human or he is a human being whose identity is mapped onto a preexistent divine being. Either way, identifying the preexistent ESM as simply an idealized human being is both unnecessary and problematic (e.g. how does a fully human being preexist the creation of human beings?)

Diverse ethiopic phrases for the ESM

Finally, what is to be made of Kirk’s claim that the variety of Ethiopic phrases used to connote the ESM figure evinces a reluctance to divorce this figure from a human identity? While this diversity in phrasing is noteworthy, it is not at all clear that the use of such phrases bind this figure to a human identity. Kirk is certainly right that all three phrases that connote this ESM figure are phrases that can, and generally do, convey a human identity. But one must ask whether they do indeed do so in the Parables. In the context of the Parables, each of these phrases clearly refer to the same figure, a figure that is without question patterned after the “the one like a Son of Man” in Daniel 7:13.²⁰ Human appearance (not necessarily human identity) is the most distinguishable feature of the Son of Man figure in Daniel 7, and thus it is not surprising that in making reference to this figure, the Parables would draw upon this prominent feature. But as such, it seems Kirk is overreaching in his conclusion and that the most one could deduce from this evidence is that these phrases all function to convey a figure with a human appearance, not necessarily human identity.

Kirk seems to find particular significance in the Ethiopic phrase zeku/we’etu walda ‘eguāla ‘emma heyāw (that/this son of the offspring of the mother of the living), seeing it as a phrase that uses the notion of being born of Eve in order to emphasize humanness. But given that this phrase is that which is used to translate the biblical phrase “son of man” throughout the Ethiopic Bible, including Daniel 7:13, it seems Kirk makes more of the title than is demanded.²¹ The presence of this phrase in 1 Enoch need not evince a human identity for the ESM, but can be explained as simply the normative way the Ethiopic text translates the Hebrew Bible (and Daniel 7:13 in particular).

It seems all that can truly be deduced from the use of these three phrases is that this figure has a human appearance. But such an appearance does not necessarily demand a mere human identity, as even angels can take on human appearance in Jewish tradition.

Human identity of the ESM: concluding remarks

In summary, it seems there is little basis for concluding that the ESM is merely an idealized human figure. His preexistence and his reception of true divine worship make such an identity problematic. In light of the available evidence, it seems this figure is best understood as some sort of divine being who will act as God’s Messiah. I now turn to the thorny question of what sort of divine being this messianic ESM might be.

Divinity of the ESM

If the ESM is best identified as a divine figure, the question emerges as to what sort of divine figure he is. While he has been understood in a variety of ways—a quasi-divine figure, an angelic being, a heavenly doppelganger for some earthly counterpart—all such ways of understanding of the ESM run into similar troubles if they do not in some way identify ESM with/as the God of Israel. This trouble comes in two places, namely, the ESM seated on the throne of God himself and his reception of divine worship. As Richard Bauckham (2008) has demonstrated, sitting on God’s throne was with rare exception the prerogative of God alone, and as such, the ESM partaking in just such an act is difficult to explain without identifying him with the God of Israel (pp. 151–82). Perhaps even more troublesome is the divine worship received by the ESM. Within Jewish monotheism, divine worship is to be reserved for God alone, and as such it becomes quite difficult to explain how the ESM is a worthy recipient of this worship apart from some sort of identification with the God of Israel. While it cannot be ruled out with certainty that the Parables might illustrate a new or idiosyncratic expression of Judaism, one that breaks the normative boundaries related to both the throne of God and the worship of God alone, it seems such a radical option should only be considered when options available within the normative bounds of Judaism have been explored. Such an approach is particularly important given that 1 Enoch offers no evidence that it is a sectarian text that would represent an idiosyncratic or sectarian form of Judaism (see Boyarin, 2007: 380–5; Piovanelli, 2007: 363–79).

It is noteworthy that in addition to the ESM sitting on God’s very throne and receiving divine worship, there is an additional indicator that this ESM is rightly identified with the God of Israel. Both Bauckham (2008: 228–32) and Fletcher-Louis (2015: 182) have noted that the Parables often apply YHWH texts to the ESM. For example, 1 Enoch 52:6 and 53:7 depict mountains melting like wax before the “Chosen One,” where theophanic texts of the Hebrew Bible apply the same imagery to YHWH (Mic. 1:3–4; Ps 97:4–5). And just as YHWH is depicted as breaking the teeth of the wicked (Pss 3:7; 58:6), the Parables depict the ESM doing the same (46:4). It also seems that the Parables transform the “day of the LORD” into the “day of the Chosen One” (61:5). When added to the depiction of the ESM seated on God’s throne and receiving worship, these examples of YHWH scriptures being applied to the ESM strengthen the notion that in some way the ESM is rightly identified with YHWH himself.

Clearly, the most significant obstacle to identifying the ESM with the God of Israel is the Parables’ presentation of both the ESM and the Lord of Spirits as distinct beings. While the ESM seems to share divine prerogatives and is ascribed YHWH texts from the Hebrew Bible, it is also quite clear he and the “Lord of Spirits” are distinct. Their appearances are clearly different, they are in each other’s presence but not equated as one in the same, and the ESM figure even offers worship to the Lord of Spirits (61:10–11). The relationship between the ESM and the Lord of Spirits is thus a vexing one, as in certain ways the reader seems led to identify the ESM with YHWH while in other ways the two are presented as distinct. It is my contention that the most plausible solution to this vexing relationship is found in the Second Temple conception of God’s word/wisdom, a concept to which I will now turn.

God’s word and wisdom in Second Temple Judaism

As I have noted above, a number of interpreters have proposed a relationship between personified wisdom and the Son of Man of the Enochic Parables. Ultimately, I will offer a case that such an identification should be primary in understanding the ESM. Yet, I will expand that identification to not only include the personification of God’s wisdom but also the concept of God’s word. In this section, I consider the place of both God’s wisdom and word in Second Temple Jewish thought. It should be noted that at this point in my argument, I am not seeking to directly link any particular word or wisdom tradition to the text of the Parables but am only seeking to demonstrate that a well-established word and wisdom theology existed in the Second Temple period.

God’s personified wisdom in Second Temple Jewish thought

The personification of God’s wisdom is first seen in Proverbs 8, where wisdom claims to be created by God before the creation of the earth (vs 22–23). Wisdom not only claims to be present with God throughout the creation but also claims to assist God in the act of creation itself, “like a master worker” (vs 24–30).²² This depiction of wisdom is embraced and developed in a number of the Second Temple Jewish texts. Wisdom is presented as preexisting creation (Sirach 1:4; 24:9) and even as God’s agent in the act of creation itself (Wis. 7:22; 8:6; 9:2; 2 Enoch 30:8). Wisdom is depicted as dwelling in heaven and enthroned there. In Sirach, wisdom sits on a heavenly throne that is depicted as a pillar of clouds (24:4). Wisdom of Solomon presents wisdom as sitting next to God’s throne (9:4) and being sent from God’s throne (9:10). 1 Enoch, in the Dream Visions, depicts wisdom in close proximity to or even possibly on God’s throne (84:3). Wisdom is also closely associated with sovereignty over God’s creation. Sirach claims that wisdom has power over the waves of the sea, the entirety of the earth, and every people and nation (24:6). And Wisdom of Solomon claims wisdom “reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other and she orders all things well” (Wis. 8:1). Wisdom is also closely associated with God’s glory and radiance. Wisdom of Solomon describes wisdom as “the pure emanation” of God’s glory (7:25), “a reflection of eternal light” (7:26), “a spotless mirror of the working of God” (7:26), and “an image” of God’s goodness (7:26).

Wisdom also features prominently in the writings of Philo. Philo identifies wisdom as the most significant of the four divine virtues—wisdom, justice, courage, and self-control. Philo also claims that wisdom is preexistent, that it was the first thing God quarried out of his own powers (Leg. All. 2.86), and that it is older than the creation of the universe (Virt. 62). Like Wisdom of Solomon, Philo also emphasized that wisdom is radiance and light, and even declares it to be the archetypal model for the sun (Migr. 40; Quaest. in Gn. 1.7). Wisdom is also depicted as sovereign over creation, regulating all divine and human affairs (Spec. Leg. 2.231) and even judging the universe (Fug. 196). Wisdom is also that which makes human worship of God possible (Quaest. in Gn. 1.6). Following Proverbs and Wisdom of Solomon, Philo depicts wisdom as God’s active agent in creation. Using biological imagery, Philo conceives of God as the Father of creation and wisdom as the mother, with wisdom receiving the seed of creation from God and then giving birth to it (Ebr. 30–31). Thus, Philo calls the world the only and beloved son of wisdom, and wisdom, the mother of the entire universe (Ebr. 31). At many other points, Philo identifies wisdom as mother or mother of all things/creation (Leg. All. 2.49; Fug. 109; Det. 30, 54; Conf. 49.; Quis. Her. 53).

God’s word in Second Temple Jewish thought

Closely associated with this Second Temple conception of wisdom is that of God’s word (Hebrew, דבר‎; Greek, λόγος or ῥῆμα). For a variety of reasons, this concept is more complex than that of God’s wisdom and will require more detailed discussion.

God’s word in the Hebrew Bible

The concept of God’s word is ubiquitous throughout the Hebrew Bible. God creates through speaking. He speaks often to his people, including the patriarchs, judges, kings, and prophets. Within these traditions in the Hebrew Bible, there are texts that could imply God’s word has an independent existence from God himself. For example, Psalms 33:6 states, “By the word of the LORD, the heavens were made.”²³ And Psalms 107:20 says, “He sent forth his word and healed them” (cf. Ps. 147.15, 18; Isa. 9:8; 55:10–12). Certain narratives also seem open to the interpretation of the “word of the LORD” as a distinct entity from God himself. In Genesis 15, it is the “Word of the LORD” that comes to Abraham, speaks to Abraham, and seemingly seals the covenant with Abraham by passing through the divided animals. In the calling of Samuel (1 Sam. 3), it is clearly the Lord who calls Samuel, but it seems he does so by the agency of his word. The text claims that at the time of his calling, Samuel did not yet know the LORD and the reason given is that the “word of the LORD” had not yet been revealed to him. Shortly after Samuel’s calling, the text says, “The LORD continued to appear at Shiloh, for the LORD revealed himself to Samuel at Shiloh by the word of the LORD” (3:21). This text seems to imply some sort of distinction between the LORD and his word. Such a distinction also seems present in Elijah’s theophanic encounter on Mount Horeb. In 1 Kings 19:9, we are told “the word of the LORD came to him saying, ‘What are you doing here Elijah?’” After Elijah’s response, “the word of the LORD” clearly replies and says, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.” On the surface of this text, a clear distinction exists between “the word of the LORD” and the LORD himself. Clearly these examples do not rise to the level of personification that is given to wisdom in Proverbs 8 and subsequent Second Temple traditions, but some sort of distinction between God and his word can be easily perceived.

God’s word Second Temple religious texts

Similar traditions about God’s word can be found in Jewish religious texts of the Second Temple period. Again, God’s word is associated with creation. The Wisdom of Solomon claims that God made all things by his “word” (9:1). Similarly, Jubilees 12:4 claims that God created everything by his word (cf. Sibylline Oracles 3:20). 2 Baruch claims that God’s word fixed the firmament of the world (21:4; see also 56:4). 4 Ezra 6:38 says, “I said, ‘O Lord, you spoke at the beginning of creation, and said on the first day, “Let heaven and earth be made,” and your word accomplished the work.’” And after describing the work of the third day, 4 Ezra 6:42 claims, “For your word went forth, and at once the work was done.”

In addition to creating, God’s word is also depicted as a means through which God accomplishes various divine tasks and purposes in both heaven and on earth. Sirach claims that it is by God’s word that the sun accomplishes its task and that the universe is held together (43:5, 26). In Sirach’s descriptions of the powerful deeds of Elijah, it is by God’s word that the rains of heaven were held back and by which the dead were raised (48:3, 5). In 2 Baruch, God’s word holds back angels from making themselves known (51:11). 2 Baruch also present’s God’s word as sovereign, as it is by that word that God brings about future events and to that word that “the beginning of the ages” are subservient (54:3). In the Wisdom of Solomon, God’s “all powerful word” is depicted as a sword-bearing warrior leaping from heaven, where it was presumably seated on God’s throne (18:15–16). It travels to earth for the purpose of bringing judgment, and it is depicted as standing on earth but reaching into heaven (18:16). While these texts also present God’s word as an entity that could be distinct from God himself, there is also the development of the personification of God’s word, much like the personification of wisdom in Proverbs, Sirach, and Wisdom of Solomon.

God’s word in Philo of Alexandria

This personification is seemingly transformed into the complete hypostasis of God’s word in the writings of Philo. There is no body of Jewish literature in which the word (gr. λόγος) of God plays a more prominent role in its understanding of God than that of Philo. The Logos²⁴ appears over 1400 times in the writings of Philo and is inseparable from his understanding of the God of Israel and the way in which that God engages his creation (Mayer, 1974). Throughout Philo’s writings, the Logos repeatedly appears to be a distinct divine being or hypostasis. The Logos is identified as God’s “chief messenger,” one “highest in age and honor” (Her. 205; Colson and Whitaker, LCL; cf. Fug. 101). The Logos is identified as God’s first-born Son and one that is the ruler over all of creation, including God’s angels (Agr. 51; Conf. 146; Cher. 36). In his reign over the heavenly bodies, he is likened to a viceroy who rules on behalf of a great king (Agr. 51). For Philo, God is only accessible through his Logos. Philo claims that the divine Logos is the image of God himself and that which is “placed nearest, with no intervening distance to the alone truly existent one” (Fug. 101; Colson and Whitaker, LCL). Subsequently, the Logos is the means by which the transcendent God both creates and engages creation: “that same [Logos], by which he made the universe, is that by which he draws the perfect man from things earthly to himself” (Sac. 8; Colson and Whitaker).

Such an understanding of the Logos has implications for Philo’s interpretation of Jewish Scripture, particularly when that Scripture depicts God being seen by or in some way encountered by human beings. Although not always consistent, Philo often explains such appearances in terms of intermediaries such as the Logos or “the Powers.”²⁵ For example, it is seemingly the Logos that appears to Moses on Mount Sinai rather than God himself (Conf. 95–97). Genesis 17:1, in which God appears to Abraham is understood in a similar way.²⁶

According to Philo, only God’s Logos (and powers incorporated therein) can be rightly named. In fact, Philo claims that the Logos is the one who bears the names “beginning,” “name of God,” and even the title “God” (Conf. Ling. 146; Som. I.227–230). He is even willing to declare that the Logos is δεύτερον θεόν or “second God” (Quaest. in Gen. II.62).

It is difficult to read Philo and not conclude that he conceives of God’s word as a distinct hypostatic entity. But how characteristic is Philo’s conception of the God’s wisdom and word for Second Temple Judaism? Many question how representative Philo is of Second Temple Judaism, particularly in regard to Philo’s depiction of both word and wisdom. I will turn to this issue below, after attention has been given to another important witness concerning God’s word.

God’s word in the Targums

A final tradition that must be considered in assessing the place of God’s word in Second Temple Jewish thought is that of the Palestinian Targums, where a robust theology of God’s word (Aramaic: Memra) is seemingly present. Our primary focus here will be the text of Neofiti 1, the written composition of which ranges anywhere between the 1st and 4th century CE, though even many who favor a late date allow that many of the interpretative traditions in Neofiti 1 find their origin in the late Second Temple period.²⁷ I will make a case below that these traditions regarding God’s word or Memra are in fact just such early traditions.

According to Martin McNamara (1992), “the word of the Lord” (or “Memra” of the Lord in Aramaic) is “the designation for God most characteristic of all the Targums” (p. 37). The phrase is found a significant 178 times in the official Babylonian Targum Onkelos, but in the Palestinian Targums, its frequency almost doubles (McNamara, 1992: 37–8). In Pseudo-Jonathan, the phrase is found 322 times, often used to paraphrase references to the LORD in the Hebrew text (McNamara, 1992: 37–8). It functions similarly in Neofiti 1, where it appears 312 times. But in the marginal notes retained in the text of Neofiti 1, the phrase appears a staggering 636 times (McNamara, 1992: 37–8). These marginal notes are almost exclusively commenting on places in the text where the original paraphrase has maintained the reading of the LORD from the Hebrew text, and thus the notes seem to be directing the reader to either understand or at least read these paraphrases as “the Memra of the LORD” rather than the LORD himself. It is the presentation of the “the Memra of the LORD” in Neofiti 1, likely the earliest Palestinian targumaic tradition, that I will consider here.

Throughout the Palestinian Targum Neofiti 1, “the Memra of the LORD” is the primary agent of divine action, particularly when that action is directly related to the created order. In Genesis 1, it is almost exclusively “the Memra of the LORD” and not the LORD that creates the world.²⁸ Human interactions with the LORD in the Hebrew text are almost always described, either in the paraphrase itself or the marginal notes, as interactions with “the Memra of the LORD” or “the name of the Memra of the LORD.” In Genesis 3:8, Adam and Eve hear the “Memra of the LORD” walking in the Garden of Eden. In the establishment of the Noahic covenant, the LORD makes the covenant between his Memra and creation, rather than between himself and creation (as in the Hebrew of Gen. 9). In the Abrahamic visitations from the LORD, it is “the Memra of the LORD” that appears to Abraham rather than the LORD himself (see Gen 17). Whereas the LORD speaks directly to Moses from the burning bush in the Hebrew text of Exodus 3, in the Aramaic paraphrase, it is the “the Memra of the LORD” that speaks. Instead of the LORD himself accompanying Moses on his return to Egypt, the LORD tells Moses he will be with him by means of “his Memra.” God’s Memra is depicted as dwelling in the land with God’s people, protecting them from plague (Exod. 8:18). Whereas in the Hebrew text God appears to Moses on mount Sinai in a cloud, in the paraphrase, it is God’s Memra rather than God himself that is revealed (Exod. 19:9). In addition, God’s Memra seems to be the object of worship, as altars are built and prayers are offered to “the Memra of the LORD” or “the name of the Memra of the LORD,” contra the Hebrew text in which such worship is offered to the LORD himself (e.g. Gen. 8:20; 12:8; 13:4, 18).

These examples, which are only a small representative sample, seem to depict God’s word (Memra) as the primary way in which the one God of Israel both creates and interacts with his creation. A distinction between God and his Memra (or the “name of his Memra”) is clearly intentional in the text of the Palestinian Targum as expressed in Neofiti 1, but the nature and significance of that distinction is debated. The majority of targumaic and rabbinic scholars conclude that this evidence does not indicate a belief in God’s Memra as a distinct hypostatic being. Instead, it is argued that that God’s Memra is simply used as a “buffer word,” one that both replaces embarrassing anthropomorphisms and also allows avoidance of direct interaction between God and his creation.²⁹ Thus, while God’s Memra might appear to be a distinct divine entity in the Palestinian targumaic tradition, it is actually a concept created and invoked in order to protect God’s transcendence.

Yet recently, Daniel Boyarin (2004) has demonstrated the weakness of this position (pp. 112–27). He asks if Memra is a theologically constructed circumlocution for referring to God himself, a circumlocution functioning to maintain absolute divine transcendence, then who actually created the world, exercises sovereignty over it, or appears within it? Either the author/reader understands this figure to be God himself, in which case no real protection of divine transcendence has been accomplished other than through meaningless linguistic gymnastics, or God’s Memra is truly understood as a distinct divine entity through which the transcendent God can in fact be present (Boyarin, 2004: 117). Thus, Boyarin demonstrates that this common theological explanation does not take seriously the commitment to divine transcendence that its proponents argue led to this conception of God’s Memra in the first place! According to Boyarin (2004), this view of God’s Memra ascribes to it “only counterfeit coinage of linguistic simulation of a theology of transcendence of God without the theology itself” (p. 117).³⁰ If the commitment to the transcendence of God was taken seriously by the Jews who both read and produced the Targums, then Memra ought to be understood as distinct hypostasis. To understand it as anything else undercuts the very commitment to transcendence that Second Temple texts like the Targums and the writings of Philo evince.

The relationship between God’s word and wisdom in Second Temple Judaism

After considering both God’s wisdom and word in the religious traditions of the Second Temple period, it has perhaps become clear to the reader that the depiction of these two concepts overlap significantly in many ways. Not only do both seem to be presented as distinct divine beings and agents through which the God of Israel accomplishes various tasks, but also, the tasks which they are depicted as accomplishing are strikingly similar. Both word and wisdom are depicted as divine agents through which God created the world. Both are depicted as exercising God’s sovereignty over the world, for example, ruling over the earth, holding the earth together, and so on. Word and wisdom are often described with similar words or through similar concepts. Wisdom is identified as the first of God’s creative acts, while God’s word is identified as his “first born son” and is associated with the beginning of creation. Both are associated with the throne of God, with wisdom depicted as being next to the throne and the word as springing forth from it. These similarities alone strongly suggest that these two concepts (or entities) are closely connected to each other in the thought world of Second Temple Judaism. That such a connection was perceived by some in the Second Temple period is clearly seen in Wisdom 9:1–2 where synonymous parallelism is used to equate both word and wisdom: “O God of my ancestors and Lord of mercy, who have made all things by your word (emphasis mine) and by your wisdom (emphasis mine) have formed humankind to have dominion over the creatures you have made.”

While Philo does not directly equate word and wisdom, he indirectly does so by attributing to them the same functions. Nicola Denzey (2001) outlines the following similarities: both create the universe, both are identified as “eldest” and present at creation, both reflect the image of God, and both are models for primordial light (pp. 27–8). James Dunn (1980) notes that the two seem to be equated through Philo’s depiction of the manna given to Israel (p. 171, n. 4). In De mutatione nominum 259, manna is allegorized as “heavenly wisdom,” whereas at many other points in Philo, manna is identified with the Logos (Leg. All. III. 169f; Sac. 86; Det. 118; Fug; 137). While Philo claims that the Logos flows from God’s wisdom, he also claims that the Logos is the source of that wisdom. It seems the relationship between the two is very fluid for Philo and that at times he is able to use them synonymously.³¹ In light of this evidence, I contend that for at least some (perhaps many) Second Temple Jews, word and wisdom were understood synonymously.

The lonely voice of Philo and the value of targumaic evidence

Because Philo’s depiction of God’s word is seemingly more sophisticated and developed than what one sees in the Hebrew Bible and other Second Temple religious literature, it is common among scholars to conclude that Philo’s depictions of word and wisdom represents a unique (or virtually so) development and expression within Second Temple Judaism.³² Where one finds possible seeds of hypostatic wisdom and word in Jewish Scripture and other Second Temple literature, one finds full-grown trees in Philo. Thus, one can argue that Philo’s hypostatic conceptions of word and wisdom are not truly normative for Second Temple Judaism, but they are in fact actually aberrations and largely unrecognizable to Second Temple Jews.

Such an assessment is problematic for many reasons. First, it must be noted that while Philo’s depictions of word and wisdom are more developed than what is found in Jewish Scripture and other Second Temple literature, many functions and descriptions of word and wisdom found in the former are also found in the latter. For example, Philo’s depiction of wisdom as active in creation can also be found in Proverbs, Wisdom of Solomon, 2 Enoch, and the Palestinian Targum of Genesis 1:1 (note that Neofiti 1 states “From the beginning, with wisdom the Memra of the LORD created and perfected the heavens and the earth”).³³ Philo depicts wisdom as sovereign over God’s creation, and such depictions can also be found in Sirach and Wisdom of Solomon. Both Philo and the Wisdom of Solomon identify wisdom with light, brilliance, and radiance. Regarding God’s word, Philo’s depiction of the Logos as an agent of creation also appears in Wisdom of Solomon and the Palestinian Targum. And Philo’s depiction of the Logos as the primary means by which God engages creation finds a striking parallel in the Palestinian Targum. There is actually quite little in Philo’s depiction of the function of word and wisdom that does not find a parallel in other Second Temple literature.

While Philo’s thinking on both word and wisdom appears to be more developed than what is found in other Second Temple Jewish literature, one must ask whether such development is simply an accident of genre rather than evidence of more developed Philonic thinking. In other words, Philo produces philosophical and theological treatises that offer the opportunity (and expectation) for greater theological depth and articulation, whereas Sirach and Wisdom of Solomon are producing wisdom literature, a genre that is more limited in its ability to offer complex theological explanations. For example, given the similarities between Philo and Wisdom of Solomon in the depiction of word/wisdom, can we assume that the same sophisticated thought found in former might not also undergird the depictions of word and wisdom found in the latter?

Second, Philo is most often writing for a Jewish audience familiar with Jewish Scriptures. It is striking then that Philo can frequently refer to God’s word or wisdom, as well as their various functions, without any explanation or justification. It seems quite clear that Philo assumes his readers are familiar with these concepts and accept a certain basic understanding of word or wisdom that Philo can draw upon.³⁴ Philo never seems to have to defend his teaching on either word or wisdom to his readers or explain how what he is saying is not in violation of Jewish monotheism, a conviction that Philo clearly holds. Such a lack of justification strongly indicates that Philo’s teaching on word and wisdom shares common ground with his audience, and that they, like Philo, see no conflict in identifying the Logos as a divine hypostasis or even as a “second god.” At the very least then, it seems we can say that Philo is representative of a normative Alexandrian Judaism, and not completely unique. And if this type of thinking existed among Alexandrian Jews, why would we conclude that it did not exist among other Hellenistic Jews? Other than an a priori commitment to a particular view of Jewish monotheism, that is, one in which the singularity of the God of Israel is normative, there seems to be little reason. Even the degree to which Philo’s treatment of the Logos was influenced by Platonism and Stoicism has come under scrutiny, with many interpreters arguing that Philo’s presentation of the Logos is dependent on Jewish traditions rather than Greek.³⁵ Thus, there is good reason to believe that Philo’s hypostatic depictions of word and wisdom were at home in his Hellenistic Jewish context and that Philo is no aberration.

Daniel Boyarin (2004) has argued that the Logos theology evident in Philo, and that likely shared by other Hellenistic Jews (at least Alexandrian), was not solely of a “Hellenistic” provenance, but it was also prevalent in Palestinian Judaism as well (pp. 116–20). Boyarin’s (2004) evidence is certainly controversial, as he points to the Palestinian Targum’s and their use of Memra to support his claim (pp. 116–20). He notes strong parallels between Philo’s use of Logos and the use of Memra in the Palestinian Targum, particularly Neofiti 1 (e.g. the Memra of the Lord creates, the Memra of the Lord is that which interacts with human beings in place of God himself, the Memra of the Lord leads God’s people as a pillar of cloud, etc.).

While Boyarin (2004) acknowledges that the Palestinian Targums could be quite late (even as late as the 3rd or 4th century), this does not mean that they do not provide evidence for a Memra/Word theology in the Second Temple Judaism of Palestine; rather he argues it demonstrates that such a theology persisted well into the Rabbinic period that sought to stamp it out (pp. 116–20). It is highly improbable that later Palestinian Judaism of the 2nd to 4th century CE developed a new and robust Memra theology a century after such a theology (Logos theology) was already manifest at least in some expressions of Hellenistic Judaism. Such development is particularly unlikely to have occurred in the climate of a Rabbinic Judaism that resisted expressions of Judaism that paralleled Christianity—and Christianity’s embrace of a Logos theology cannot be denied.

A much more plausible theory is that the Memra/Word theology of these Palestinian Targums reflects the theology of Palestinian Judaism in the Second Temple period, and that this theology of Palestinian Judaism was closely related to the Logos theology of Hellenistic Judaism—perhaps it was even the foundation for such expressions in Hellenistic Judaism. This Memra/Word theology, a theology that according to Boyarin (2004) was promulgated in the synagogues and not the rabbinic houses of study then persisted into the rabbinic period, where it was frequently resisted (pp. 116–7).³⁶ If Boyarin’s reconstruction is correct, then Philo is by no means a lonely voice in the Second Temple period. In fact, Philo simply reflects a prominent Second Temple Jewish theology of word and wisdom, one that existed in both Hellenistic and Palestinian Judaism of the 1st century CE.

Word and wisdom in Second Temple Judaism: concluding remarks

In light of this analysis of God’s word and wisdom, a number of conclusions can be made. First, God’s word and wisdom were understood to be divine agents of the one God of Israel, agents that were rightly identified with that God but also understood to have distinct identities in and of themselves. Second, this agency was deemed necessary in light of beliefs regarding the transcendence of the one God of Israel, and these agents were the means by which this transcendent God could be immanent to the creation. Third, for many Jews, the concepts of both God’s word and wisdom were understood to represent the same reality rather than two distinct realities, and thus could be used synonymously in Second Temple Judaism. Fourth, the prominence of this concept of God’s word and wisdom in a wide array of Second Temple Jewish literature strongly suggests that this concept was widespread in Second Temple Judaism and did not represent a sectarian or idiosyncratic perspective. In light of these conclusions, I now put forward a case for identifying the ESM with the twin concepts of God’s word and wisdom.

Identifying the ESM with God’s word and wisdom

In the Parables’ construction of the ESM figure, a number of strands of Hebrew Scripture and thought have been woven together. Most interpreters of the Parables recognize that the author is weaving together imagery and concepts from Daniel 7, the Deutero-Isaianic servant of the Lord, Davidic traditions, as well as the wisdom tradition.³⁷ While many have recognized the wisdom tradition of Proverbs 8 as giving some shape to the Parable’s depiction of the ESM, few are willing to identify this wisdom with the ESM.³⁸ In addition, I know of no interpreter of the Parables that has identified the ESM with the concept of God’s word. Here I contend that the relationship between the ESM and the twin tradition of God’s word and wisdom is far greater than most interpreters have acknowledged, and that the ESM is best identified as the apocalyptic embodiment of God’s word and wisdom.

Similarities between word/wisdom and ESM

The similarities between the traditions of God’s word/wisdom and the ESM are numerous. The first similarity of note, and that most commonly identified by interpreters of the Parables, is that of preexistence. Parallels are most often drawn between this preexistent ESM and the personified wisdom of Proverbs 8. But as I have demonstrated above, preexistence is a characteristic frequently associated with both God’s word and wisdom. This similarity is particularly significant because of its rarity in Jewish thought, as few figures in Second Temple Judaism are attributed preexistence other than the ESM and God’s hypostatic word and wisdom.

But beyond this commonly identified similarity of preexistence, many more can be offered. Much has been made of the ESM sitting on God’s throne, a privilege generally reserved for God alone. Yet at many points, both God’s word and wisdom are closely associated with proximity to God’s throne, sitting either near it, on it, or departing from it (Sir. 24:4; Wis. 9:4, 18:15–16; 1 Enoch 84:3). Thus, another rare feature, namely, a divine entity in some way distinct from God himself sitting on the divine throne, is shared by both the ESM and God’s word/wisdom.

Another striking parallel is that both the ESM and God’s word are depicted as objects worthy of receiving divine worship. As I have argued above, the worship granted the ESM in the Parables is more than mere obeisance, it is divine worship. In the Palestinian Targums, God’s Memra (word) is an object that receives cultic worship. Although Philo does not depict the Logos as receiving cultic worship, that the Logos would be a common recipient of such worship seems implied through Philo’s belief that the Logos was the only way the God of Israel could be encountered by his creation. For example, presumably it would be God’s Logos (or powers emanating from the Logos) and not God himself that fills the cultic place of worship as a cloud and received cultic worship (e.g. see Exod. 40:34; 1 Kgs. 8). Thus, in God’s word and the ESM, we see another rare analog, namely, the worship of a divine entity that is in some way distinct from God himself. Additional similarities involve shared functions. Both ESM and God’s word/wisdom are attributed the divine function of exercising judgment over God’s creation (Wis. 18:16, and Philo, Fug 196), as well as the prerogative of sovereign rule over the creation (Sir. 24:6; 43:5, 26; Wis. 8:1; and in Philo, Spec. Leg. 2.231; Agr. 51; Conf. 146, Cher. 36).

Thus, we have two distinct divine entities that share numerous features, many of which are features that are rarely applied to anyone beyond God himself. That these two figures share so many rare analogs strongly suggests a common identification. For Jews familiar with traditions of God’s word/wisdom being preexistent, closely associated with God’s throne, and the object of divine worship, it would not be a significant leap of the imagination to link the ESM, who shares these same features, to God’s word/wisdom. Such an imaginative leap would seem particularly at home in apocalyptic literature, where embodiments of abstract and spiritual realities were common.

Connections between the ESM and God’s word/wisdom in the Parables

While the strong similarities between the ESM and God’s word/wisdom might lead readers to make the imaginative leap noted above, the connection between these two concepts within the Parables themselves requires consideration. Wisdom is a prominent motif throughout the entire book of Enoch in general, and the Parables are no exception. In 1 Enoch 42, before the ESM is first directly identified, wisdom is portrayed as seeking a place to dwell, and after failing to find such a place among humans, it takes up its residence in heaven among the angels. Here there is no direct link to the ESM or Chosen One, but with this story, the Parables depict wisdom as a distinct entity, one that dwells in heaven in the presence of God’s angels, that is, the Parables are clearly familiar with and favorable to a conception of wisdom as a distinct and personified entity. Although not proof of mutual identification, it is noteworthy that both the Lord of Spirits and the ESM dwell in the presence of angels, as wisdom is also depicted doing. In addition, connections are made between the ESM/Chosen One and wisdom. In 1 Enoch 48:1, the naming of the ESM is immediately preceded by a description of a spring of righteousness which is surrounded by springs of wisdom, from which the thirsty drink and are filled. The proximity of these springs of righteousness and wisdom with the naming of the ESM, who will bring both wisdom and righteousness, may tie these two realities together. A connection between the ESM and wisdom is strengthened only a handful of verses later where the text claims that the wisdom of the Lord of Spirits reveals the ESM to the holy and righteous (48:7). Such a depiction would be consistent with wisdom revealing herself to the holy and righteous (Prov. 1:23; 8:1–20; 9:1–6; Wis. 6:12–16; 7:24–28; 10:1–21; Sir. 1:16–19; 4:17–18; 15:1–5) and/or God’s wisdom being a source of God’s word (and vice versa) in Philo (Fug. 97; Somn. 2.242, 245). In 49:3, the reader is told that the ESM is filled with the spirit of Wisdom, and later in 51:3, the text claims that secrets of wisdom will go forth from the mouth of the Chosen One. Thus, the ESM is revealed by wisdom, but also reveals wisdom. If the ESM was identified with God’s word, then in being both revealed by wisdom and the revealer of wisdom, he would be quite similar to the Logos as depicted in Philo (Fug. 97; Somn. 2.242, 245). When taken all together, these verses tie the ESM closely together with the concept of wisdom.

But perhaps the strongest and boldest means by which the ESM is identified with God’s word/wisdom might be found in chapter 69, the conclusion of the third and final parable.³⁹ 1 Enoch 64–69:25 addresses the Noahic flood, as well as the evil for which this flood was judgment, evil in which fallen angels played a significant role. 1 Enoch 69:2–25 seemingly offers the conclusion to this section in its description of fallen angels. In verses 13–14, verses fraught with interpretive challenges, the notions of a chief oath and a secret name are introduced to the reader. It seems the content of the oath is first controlled or protected by a soon-to-be fallen angel named Kasbe’el, who desires to reveal the oath to human kind. This angel also seeks knowledge of a secret name from the angel Michael, a name that seems closely related to the oath. Kasbe’el wants to reveal this secret name to human kind along with the oath. Whether Kasbe’el is able to convince Michael to give him the name is unclear, as is whether Kasbe’el ever revealed the name to the inhabitants of the earth. What seems clear is that in verse 15, the angel Michael has control of the oath and presumably the secret name associated with it.⁴⁰ Then, in verse 16, the secret content of the oath is revealed to the reader, namely, that the oath was responsible not only for the act of creation itself but also that the oath sustains and orders the creation.⁴¹

The meaning and significance of this oath is debated. Some have sought for explanations in the notions of laws or covenants related to luminaries in the Hebrew Bible and other Jewish texts.⁴² Some have looked at the notion of oaths or the role of God’s name in the act of creation in both hekhalot and Rabbinic literature.⁴³ While influence from the former seems likely, the late date of the latter may undermine its value. A more plausible way forward, and one noted by surprisingly few interpreters, is to identify this oath with God’s word and wisdom, particularly since there is such a well-established tradition in Second Temple Judaism that attributes not only creation but also the governance of the created order to that word and wisdom.⁴⁴ That this Enochic oath does the very thing that both God’s word and wisdom are widely known to do strongly suggests an implied relationship between the two. The case becomes even stronger in light of evidence that God’s words were often equated to oaths. Such a belief is seen in Philo’s interlocutor whose position regarding God and oaths is described in the following way: “Moreover, the very words of God are oaths and laws of God and most sacred ordinances” (Leg. 3:204; Colson and Whitaker, LCL). While Philo disagrees with this as an argument against God’s need to swear by his own being, he does seem to agree with the equating of anything spoken by God to an oath: “But God is trustworthy in His speech as elsewhere, so that His words in certitude and assurance differ not a whit from oaths” (Sacr. 1:93; Colson and Whitaker, LCL). Thus, given such an understanding of God’s very words, that they themselves are certain and eternal oaths, it seems natural that a divine “oath” might be used in apocalyptic texts as a symbol for God’s preexistent word, a word that in a prominent strand of Second Temple Jewish thought brought about, ordered, and sustained God’s creation.

If such an identity for this divine oath is accepted, it has significant implications for identifying the ESM with God’s word and wisdom. Here the narrative of the present state of 69:13–29 needs careful consideration. In verses 13–14, the text describes a fallen angel’s wrongful revelation (or attempted reveleation?) of both an oath and a secret name. In verses 15–16, both the oath and the name are back in the possession of the angel Michael, and the text declares the secrets of the oath, that is, the reader is being told that these long-held secret things are now, at the right time, being revealed to them. What follows is the description of the oath’s work of both creating and sustaining the created order. Immediately after the secret of this oath is revealed, an unspecified “they” rejoice, give praise, blessing, and exaltation because the name of the ESM has been revealed to them. Most Enochic interpreters conclude that these verses are misplaced and thus determine that they cannot be describing what has immediately preceded them in verses 2–25.⁴⁵ While such conclusions might be true about the redactional and compositional history of the Parables, they are patently false when considering the present form of the text. If one is following the final form of the third parable’s narrative, what has been immediately revealed to the reader, and thus the most reasonable cause for rejoicing is the oath and its role in creation. Thus, when considering the narrative flow of the passage, the most logical conclusion is that the revelation of the ESM referenced in verse 27 is none other than the oath that has just been revealed in verses 16–25.

Such a conclusion fits well with other pieces of Parable’s narrative. First, the oath is closely linked to a secret name in verses 13–14, which suggests that the revealing of the oath is in some way a revealing of this secret name. Second, the ESM has also been associated with a name that existed prior to the sun and the constellations (48:2–3) and which, in the narrative of the Parables, has not yet been revealed to the reader, that is, it remains secret. Thus, one might conclude quite naturally that with verses 13–29, the third parable culminates in the revealing of the name of the ESM, a name that the reader has already been told was given before the creation of the heavenly luminaries. That name is the powerful divine oath that both created and sustains those very heavenly luminaries. When this reading of the parables is combined with identifying the “divine oath” as the preexistent word and wisdom of God, the reader is only left to conclude that the ESM himself is properly identified with God’s preexistent word and wisdom, the oath that created and sustains the universe.

The ESM as the apocalyptic embodiment of personified word/wisdom

When the strong similarities between the ESM and God’s word/wisdom are taken together with the indicators found in the Parables themselves, a strong case emerges for identifying the ESM with God’s word/wisdom. Some might push back by claiming that the book never explicitly makes such an identification or that the human form of the ESM figure resists such an interpretation.⁴⁶ I would counter such an argument through consideration of the genre of apocalyptic literature itself, a genre that regularly avoids explicit identification and chooses rather to work through symbolism, riddles, puzzles, and the power of implied communication and figurative language. In this genre, it is in fact quite normal for well-known concepts, figures, or entities to be presented through symbols or symbolic embodiment. In the canonical form of Daniel, the Son of Man is interpreted as an embodied symbol for righteous Israel (Dan. 7:18). In the book of Revelation, the church of God is represented by a number of symbolic embodiments, including 144,000, two witnesses, and a wedding bride. These are yet a few examples among many. That the word and wisdom of God should be depicted as the ESM is entirely consistent with such a practice of symbolic embodiment. Such embodiment makes even more sense when one considers that the Parables are weaving together their understanding of God’s word and wisdom with significant strands of Jewish messianism, including the deutero-Isaianic servant of the Lord and the Davidic king.⁴⁷ That such blending yields the embodiment of both word and wisdom in a human figure should not be surprising, as it is quite normative for apocalyptic literature.

An advantageous solution and its significance

This proposed solution has the advantage of easing the previously noted tensions related to interpreting and identifying the ESM. A significant tension created in Enoch is the depiction of a divine figure, one that in some way is distinct from the God of Israel but receives divine worship. Given the presumed monotheistic commitment of Enoch, such a depiction is challenging. Must one conclude that the Parables present a form of Judaism that has compromised its monotheistic worship of the God of Israel? Must one conclude that this ESM is not divine at all and read against the text that depicts him as receiving divine worship? Identifying the ESM as the apocalyptic embodiment of God’s word and wisdom alleviates this tension; as such worship is permissible to God’s word/wisdom because, though distinct from the God of Israel, it also fully represents that God’s presence and/or immanence in the created world. This identification of the ESM also alleviates the tension of the ESM sitting on God’s very throne; a prerogative that seems to be reserved for God alone in the Second Temple period. Because God’s word/wisdom are an inseparable part of the divine identity itself, again the means by which the transcendent God is able to be immanent, this divine enthronement is both natural and expected—and as noted above, has precedent in Second Temple literature.

Such an identification would seemingly have tremendous significance not only for understanding possible conceptions of monotheism in Second Temple Judaism but also for the development of the Christology of the early church. It is abundantly clear that the blending of Jewish messianism with Jewish word/wisdom traditions was prominent in Christian understandings of Jesus’ identity. Evidence of such blending is most obviously present in the Pauline corpus (1 Cor. 8:6; 10:4; Col. 1:15–19), Hebrews (1:1–3), and the Gospel of John (1:1–18). John’s gospel is of particular importance, because not only is Jesus presented as the incarnation of the preexistent Logos (1:1), but he is also presented as a heavenly Son of Man who descended from heaven and previously shared in God’s glory there (3:13; 17:5). If the ESM is rightly identified with God’s word/wisdom, then this explicit blending of Messiah and word/wisdom traditions in the early Christian movement already had a precedent in Second Temple Judaism. Surely such a precedent would be significant in reconstructing the development of the Christology of early Christianity.

Footnotes

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

1.

For examples of such interest, see Boccaccini ed., 2007; Bock and Charlesworth eds., 2013; Black, 1992: 145–168; Fletcher-Louis, 2014: 58–79; Fletcher-Louis, 2015: esp 171–205; VanderKam, 1992: 169–91; Waddell, 2011.

2.

For studies that have argued for a connection between the ESM and personified wisdom, see Boyarin, 2012: esp. 71–101; Coppens, 1955: 33–41; Feuillet, 1953: 170–202, 321–46; Kvanvig, 2007: 179–215; Nickelsburg, 1992: 137–50, esp 139.

3.

An important issue related to the date of the Parables is the document’s literary unity. Many believe that the Parables existed in at least one earlier form than the form we currently possess (for discussion, see Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 10–20), though some contend the current form (perhaps sans chapters 70–1) is the earliest form (see Sacchi, 2007: 502–3). Of the former, the majority seem to conclude that the third parable has experienced the most significant redaction (chapters 58–69). It is not my intention to offer a resolution to this problem here. For my purposes, the pressing question is whether the current form of the Parables represents a form that existed in last century of the Second Temple period. In this regard, there is seemingly nothing in the interpolated material or in the redactional process that suggests a date later than 70 CE. In fact, some of the supposed interpolated material appears to possess a reference to Herod the Great’s visit to the hot springs of Kallirrhoё (67:5–13), which would suggest a date for this material in the later 1st century BCE or early 1st century CE. Thus, for the sake of this article, I am going to proceed under the assumption that current form of the Parables, by and large, represents a form that existed prior to 70 CE. I should clarify that this assessment pertains to the three parables proper, chapters 37–69. The date of chapters 70–1 is less certain, and the possibility of a later date for these chapters will be addressed below.

4.

See the thorough discussion of this evidence offered by : 23–37). See also, Dunn, 2010: 62–6.

5.

For such studies, see Bauckham, 2008: 60–106; Hayman, 1991: 1–15; Hurtado, 1998: 3–26; McGrath, 2009; Sawyer, 1984: 172–80.

6.

In 1 Enoch 39:12–40:1, the Parables seem to draw on Isaiah 6:3, but this text renders the Isaianic divine epithet “Lord of Hosts” as “Lord of Spirits.” For discussion, see Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 41.

7.

has argued quite persuasively that within Judaism in particular, sitting on the divine throne connotes divine identity (pp. 152–81).

8.

For a similar position, see Kirk, 2016: 152–53.

9.

My thanks to : 180) for directing me to Waddell.

10.

The most natural understanding of this declaration would be God’s heavenly throne, though one might argue that it refers to an earthly throne that is established by God, that is, the throne of Israel’s king is ultimately God’s throne. The problem with such a reading is that there is little precedent in either the Hebrew Bible or other Second Temple literature where the throne of Israel’s king is identified as God’s throne. In 1 Chronicles 29:23, the throne of Israel’s king is described as the “throne of the Lord,” but this descriptor is lacking in the LXX. A similar reference is found in 2 Chronicles 9:8. However, there is no instance in which God directly refers to his own throne where the referent is the earthly throne of Israel’s king. In fact, in all instances in which God uses the phrase “my throne,” it is never used to describe the throne of an earthly king (see Is 66:1; Jer 49:38; Ez 43:7).

11.

For discussion of these phrases, see Black, 1985: 206–7; Kirk, 2016: 154; Waddell, 2011: 48, n. 3.

12.

Black (1985: 206–7) and : 154) both note that some variant readings replace we’etu walda be’si (this son of man) with walda be’sit (son of woman).

13.

For such a position, see Collins, 1995: 178–81; Knibb, 2007: 62–3; : 42–3. For discussion of interpolation and redaction in the parables, see footnote 3 above.

14.

Daniel Kirk follows VanderKam (2016) in many of these arguments against preexistence (pp. 153–4).

15.

See VanderKam, 1992: 180, citing T. W. Manson, 1949–50: 182.

16.

See Kirk, 2016: 154, citing translation (p. 60).

17.

It is noteworthy that all three of the texts that might indicate the preexistence of the ESM are generally recognized to all be a part of the earliest form of the Parables, that is, they cannot be separated on the basis that they are the work of a later redactor. For discussion, see Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 19.

18.

For others who reject VanderKam’s position on the preexistence of the ESM, see Collins, 1995: 179; Kvanvig, 2007: 202.

19.

The weakness of Kvanvig’s proposal is the claim that Enoch was ever understood as a preexistent being, a position John Collins argues finds slender support in Second Temple literature. See John Collins critique of position (pp. 216–27).

20.

It is widely recognized that the ESM tradition draws on the “Son of Man” tradition of Daniel 7. See Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 44.

21.

Presumably the scribes who translated the Ethiopic text were Christians, who recognized Jesus as both human and divine and also identified him with the “Son of Man” in Daniel 7:13.

22.

A number of other Hebrew Bible texts associate wisdom with God’s creation of the world, though they lack the explicit personification found in Proverbs 8. See Prov. 3:19; Ps. 104:23; Jer. 10:12; 28:15.

23.

Here I am following the practice of the NRSV, in which all capital letters are used when the LORD is being used to translate YHWH.

24.

While discussing Philo, we will refer to the “word” as Logos, as such is both common in philonic studies and it communicates the significance that Philo gives to the Greek word λόγος over against ῥῆμα (both of which can be translated “word”).

25.

While some have argued that Philo understands all human visionary encounters with Israel’s God in terms of encounters with intermediaries, that is, the Logos or “powers,” has argued that Philo is actually ambivalent on this issue and that at times, it seems he is willing to allow for humans to actually encounter the transcendent God of Israel (pp. 25–47).

26.

Here Philo claims that it is God’s “powers” that Abraham encounters, both of which are united in and flow from God’s Logos. Mackie (2009) offers a helpful discussion of the two powers “God” and “Lord” in the writings of Philo (pp. 29–30). Both powers are divine intermediaries, with “God” being associated with goodness and creative capacity and “Lord” being identified with sovereignty and judgement (Mackie, 2009: 29, n. 14). Both however are united in the Logos (Cher. 27–30) and emanate from the Logos (Quaest. in Ex. 2.68). See also, Dillon, 1996: 161–3; Segal, 1977: 175; Strickert, 1996: 40–57.

27.

For discussion of dating Neofiti 1 and the interpretive traditions there in, see McNamara, 2011, 214; Kaufman, 1994: 130.

28.

In the few occasions in which the paraphrased text maintains the Hebrew reading of “the LORD,” the marginal notes of Neofiti 1 direct the reader to read the text as “the Memra of the LORD” instead.

29.

This position goes back to the Jewish Rabbi Maimonides (12th century), but was adopted by many interpreters during the 20th century. The landmark work for this position seems to be Moore, 1922: 45–81. Moore is followed by many, including by Strack and Billerbeck (1922: 333), Burkitt (1923: 158–9), Aufrecht (1979). A good review of scholarship on this issue can be found in McNamara (2010: 154–61). McNamara himself previously held this understanding of targumaic uses of the “Memra of the LORD” (McNamara, 1972: 101–6), but in his revised edition of Targum and Testament, he seems more open to possibility of the “Memra of the LORD” representing a hypostasis.

30.

Ibid.

31.

For such a conclusion, see Boyarin, 2004: 109–10; Denzey, 2001: 27–9; Goodenough, 1935: 23 (here Goodenough claims that “Philo flatly identifies the Logos with Sophia”) Mattila, 1996: 109; Wolfson, 1947, II.258–61; Mack (1973: 110, n. 10); : 171).

32.

Examples might include Erwin Goodenough, 1940; Sterling, 2000: 792. Following the Messina Colloquium, concludes that Philo represents a pre–Gnostic stage in the development of Gnosticism proper (p. 383).

33.

For this translation, see McNamara, 1992: 52.

34.

For such an argument, see Boyarin, 2004: 113; Segal, 1977: 163; Winston, 1985: 11.

35.

For example, see Boyarin, 2004: 113–4; Hannah, 1999: 80–1.

36.

argues that such expressions of Judaism are to be included in the Rabbinic polemics against the “two powers in heaven” heresy, a heresy that is frequently targeted in Rabbinic literature (pp. 120–5). In Border Lines, Boyarin rejects the common narrative that Rabbinic Judaism quickly became normative for Jews of the post–temple era, and argues that Rabbinic orthodoxy, an orthodoxy committed to the singularity of the God of Israel, had to be constructed over several centuries. Thus, the Palestinian Targums represent a dominant strand within Judaism that resisted Rabbinic hegemony.

37.

For recognition and discussion of these strands, see Black, 1992: 145–68; Boccaccini, 2007b: 363–79; Kvanvig, 2007: 179–215; VanderKam, 1992: 169–91.

38.

For example, see Boccaccini, 2007b: 276–7; Dunn, 1980: 73, 76; Nickelsburg, 1992: 140.

39.

There is debate as to whether chapter 69, in its current form, was a part of the earliest version of the Parables. Chapters 65–9:1 is widely recognized as an interpolation (see Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 294–6). In the rest of chapter 69, a number of distinct sections have been identified. Nickelsburg separates 69:2–12 and 69:26–9 from 69:13–25. The former he argues could be a part of the original parables, while the latter he regards an interpolation (Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 297–314; for additional discussion, see Ben–Dov and Ratzon, 2015: 19–51 and Winston Suter, 1979: 19–23). Despite this interpolation, there is little reason to believe that the text in its current form did not exist in the first century CE, and as such, is representative of Jewish thought at this time (for explanation for such a conclusion, see footnote 3 above.)

40.

For discussion of this complicated text, see Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 305–7. See also Ben–Dov and Ratzon, 2015: 19–51; Winston Suter, 1979: 19–23.

41.

Sutter (1979) claims that the oath itself is never revealed, but only that its powers are revealed (pp. 22–3). But this claim seems inconsistent with the declaration of verse 16, “And these are the secrets of the oath.” It seems clear to me that what is being provided in verses 16–25 are the identity and contents of the oath that have long been kept a secret. Here the apocalyptic Parables reveal this long-held secret to the reader, a common feature of the genre. For discussion of the oath’s participation in creation, see Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 307–9.

42.

See Ben–Dov, 2007: 149; Ben–Dov and Ratzon, 2015: 42–3; Sutter, 1979: 19–20.

43.

See Ben–Dov, 2007: 149; Ben–Dov, 2015: 44–6; Sutter, 1979: 22–3; Olson, 2004: 271; Orlov, 2017: 38–40.

44.

Nickelsburg and VanderKam (2012) draw a comparison between this divine oath and personified wisdom of Proverbs 8 (p. 307); see also Knibb, 1978: 2:162.

45.

See Black, 1985: 249 and Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 2012: 313–4 for discussion of such a conclusion.

46.

For just such an example, see James Dunn, 1980: 73 and 76.

47.

For a discussion of these strands and their influence, see Black, 2007: 150–61; Boccaccini, 2007: 263–89.

Author biography

Adam Winn is Assistant Professor in the College of Christian Studies at the University of Mary-Hardin Baylor. He is the author of a number of academic articles and essays and has written three books on the Gospel of Mark.

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21.

Denzey

N.F.

, “Genesis Traditions in Conflict? The Use of Some Exegetical Traditions in the ‘Trimorphic Protennoia’ and the Johannine Prologue,” Vigiliae Christianae, 55(1), 2001, pp. 20–44.

22.

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23.

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J.D.G.

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24.

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25.

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26.

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27.

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E.R.

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28.

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E.R.

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29.

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D.D.

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30.

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D.D.

, “The Book of Noah, the Death of Herod the Great, and the Date of the Parables of Enoch,” in G.Boccaccini (ed.), Enoch and the Messiah Son of Man: Revisiting the Book of Parables (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), pp. 469–77.

31.

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32.

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33.

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34.

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S.A.

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35.

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36.

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M.A.

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37.

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M.A.

, “The Date of the Parables of Enoch: A Critical Review,” New Testament Studies, 25, 1979, pp. 345–59.

38.

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M.A.

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H.S.

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42.

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44.

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45.

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, The Aramaic Bible: Targum Neofiti 1 Genesis (Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1992).

46.

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, Targum and Testament Revisted: Aramaic Paraphrases of the Hebrew Bible, 2nd edn. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010).

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48.

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T.W.

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50.

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51.

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52.

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53.

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55.

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57.

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58.

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60.

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61.

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J.A.

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66.

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H.C.

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67.

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68.

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69.

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, Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity and Islam, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1947).