Is Og with the Quick or the Dead? New article from Laura Quick

Laura Quick has just published a useful discussion of the issues surrounding interpretation of King Og’s ערשׂ, in Deuteronomy 3.11, which she interprets as a literal sleeping bed rather than as a coffin or sarcophagus:

Laying Og to Rest: Deuteronomy 3 and the Making of a Myth,” Biblica 98:2 (2017): 161–172.

Quick argues first of all that there are no grounds for interpreting Og as having a link to the dead within the context of the biblical narrative in Deuteronomy 3. She points out, rightly I think, that the Rephaim, of which Og is the last member, were in the perspective of the biblical narrative alive at the time of the biblical conquest. While the Rephaim are long-dead in other poetic biblical passages, that is not the case here, because this is precisely the early pre-Israelite biblical period when the Rephaim are presented as still alive. Similarly, Francesca Stavrakopolou has argued that “It might be supposed, with Mario Liverani and others before him, that the biblical writers recast the Rephaim as giants because they believed that ‘before being dead they must have been alive . . . They should thus have been a people, one that exists no more, but lived in Palestine before [the Israelites’] arrival’” (Land of Our Fathers, 67, citing “Liverani, Israel’s History, 276. See also Loretz, Götter – Ahnen – Könige als gerechte Richter, 259–66″).

However, I note that from the perspective of the author of Deuteronomy, who knows of Og’s ערשׂ being on display in Ammon in his own day, the fact that Og is alive in the biblical narrative is evidentially neutral for identifying his ערשׂ – he’s been long dead and buried. So as King Og is now remembered as one of the long dead, it’s still just as plausible that we’re talking about his sarcophagus.

Quick also agrees with Allan Millard’s view that a bed made with iron indicates a literal sleeping bed rather than a sarcophagus, which would be made of stone. (See also Ulrich Hübner, “Og von Baschan und sein Bett in Rabbat-Ammon (Deuteronomium 3,11)”, ZAW 105 (1993): 86–92.) This is a plausible argument. And yet, as the history of debate has shown, there is a lot of uncertainty that remains. For example (and there are further possibilities), Driver (Deuteronomy, 54) suggested that the ברזל might be basalt rather than iron. As the ערשׂ is evidently on display in Ammon, in Deuteronomy’s day, this is quite understandable as a gigantic basalt tomb; but it is less understandable that there would be an enormous manmade bed with iron parts. It’s possible, but at the very least, the case is hardly laid to rest on the basis of the “iron”/”basalt”.

So Quick tries to rebut the links between Og and the dead which rely on data from outside of the biblical narrative in Deuteronomy 3, that is: the Ugaritic text KTU 1.108 (tablet ca. 1200 B.C.E.), Psalm 68, and a Phoenician tomb inscription from the early fifth century B.C.E., Byblos 13. Her reasoning here seems to be that, if these texts don’t support a chthonic connection to Og, this removes the supporting arguments upon which some scholars have relied to interpret Og’s ערשׂ as a sarcophagus rather than a bed. So this is not a direct argument for the interpretation of Og’s ערשׂ as a sleeping bed or sarcophagus. And it cannot logically have the power to put the issue to rest.

Yet Quick is right that the the general article before ʿg in the Byblos 13 inscription makes it difficult to translate the term as the proper name ‘Og’, and that the reference to Bashan/bashan in Psalm 68 is not in the immediate context related to the dead. But in respect of the Ugaritic KTU 1.108, her assertion that  “the translation preferred by the majority of Ugaritologists reads these lexemes not as toponyms, but as divine names, Aṯtartu and Haddu” – which cites only (the often idiosyncratic) de Moor – is not convincing. The relevant part of the text reads (with my translation):

yšt rpˀu mlk ˁlm He is established, the rpˀu, the eternal king,
           wyšt [ˀil?] gṯr wyqr             and established is [the god(?),] Gathar-and-Yaqar;
ˀil yṯb bˁṯtrt the god who sits (enthroned) in Athtarat,
           ˀil ṯpṭ bhdrˁy the god who rules in Hedrey.

Contra Quick, most interpreters do identify the parallel words in KTU 1.108 with the cities situated in the Hauran (biblical Bashan), south of Damascus, north of the Yarmuk River. In Deut. 1:4; Josh. 12:4; 13:12, 31, the two cities are associated especially with King Og, who is described as enthroned (Heb. √ישׁב, cf. Ug. √yṯb) in the same two cities and also as one of the Rephaim. In favour of this interpretation are Michael C. Astour, ‘Two Ugaritic Serpent Charms’, JNES 27 (1968), 21; Margulis, ‘A Ugaritic Psalm’, 294 (‘the Honor of El sits (enthroned) in Ashtaroth’); Marvin H. Pope, ‘Notes on the Rephaim Texts’, in Essays on the Ancient Near East in Memory of Jacob Joel Finkelstein, ed. Maria de Jong Ellis, MCAAS 19 (Hamden: Archon, 1977), 170 (‘the god who dwells in Ashtaroth’); Sergio Ribichini and Paolo Xella, ‘Milk‘aštart, MLK(M) e la tradizione Siro-palestinese sui Refaim’, RSF 7 (1979), 154 (‘e Yqr il risiede in ˁAṯtartu’); Johannes C. de Moor, An Anthology of Religious Texts from Ugarit, Nisaba, 16 (Leiden: Brill, 1987), 187 (‘the god who is dwelling in Athtartu’); Dennis C. Pardee, Les textes para-mythologiques de la 24e campagne (1961), Ras Shamra-Ougarit 4 (Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisation, 1988), 81 (‘le dieu qui siege à ˁAshtarot’); Wyatt, Religious Texts from Ugarit, 395 (‘the god enthroned in Athtarat’); Gregorio del Olmo Lete, Canaanite Religion: According to the Liturgical Texts of Ugarit, tr. Wilfred G. E. Watson (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2004), 186 (‘(the) god who sits in ˁAṯtartu’); DULAT, 195 (‘the god who sits in TN’); Aïcha Rahmouni, Divine Epithets in the Ugaritic Alphabetic Texts, HO, Section One: The Near and Middle East 93, tr. J. N. Ford (Leiden and Boston: Brill), 208 (‘The god who sits (enthroned) in ˁAṯtartu’).

In addition, the preposition b- does not ever mean ‘with, in the company of (a person)’, which favours the toponymic interpretation (Rahmouni, Divine Epithets, 38).

The spelling of Ug. hdrˁy versus Heb. אדרעי is not a common transition in North-West Semitic but is not unattested (e.g., Akkad. ewūm ‘to become’, cf. Aram. hǝwā: Sabatino Moscati, Anton Spitaler, Edward Ullendorff, and Wolfram Von Soden, An Introduction to The Comparative Grammar of the Semitic Languages: Phonology and Morphology, PLONS 6 (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1969), 42. Alternatively, Baruch Margulis suggests a scribal error of hdrˁy for ˀidrˁy, given the similarity of h and ˀi and the single, small missing wedge which would be involved (‘A Ugaritic Psalm (RS 24.252)’, JBL 89 (1970): 294). Nicolas Wyatt dismisses the difference as insignificant, imploring, ‘This is a school exercise!’ (Religious Texts from Ugarit: The Words of Ilimilku and His Colleagues, BS 53 [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998], 396 n. 8).

So there is life yet in King Og’s sarcophagus, I think.

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Ancient misinterpretation of large bones as mythological giants

A new study provides a useful survey of ancient and early modern discoveries of large bones which were misinterpreted as the remains of giants. (They usually, in fact, belonged to mammoths and whales.)

Marco Romano and Marco Avanzini, “The skeletons of Cyclops and Lestrigons: misinterpretation of Quaternary vertebrates as remains of the mythological giants” Historical Biology (June 2017): 1-24.

The article provides a host of examples. But the short section on biblical giants on pp. 3-4 contains many errors: a quotation from Genesis 6.4 is wrongly cited “Genesis 6.3”. The term “nephilion” should be Heb. “nephilim” or Ar. “Nephilin”. The Anakim are wrongly identified as Amorites in Numbers 13, which is rather the result of a conflation with the differing account in Deuteronomy 1. It has “cube” instead of “cubit”. It confusingly alternates between arabic and roman numerals for the same biblical citations (e.g. “Deuteronomy 2, 10-11”, but “Deuteronomy II, 10”). The phrase “one the vanquished kings” should be “one of the vanquished kings”. It has Italian “Giosuè” for “Joshua”. The citation “Number XXI, 33” should be “Number[s] [XXII], 33”.

Note also earlier studies on this subject by folklorist Adrienne Mayor and biblical scholar Brian Doak.

Benjamin Netanyahu claims historical basis to Abraham’s purchase of Tomb of Patriarchs. But forgets that the Giants owned it.

At the beginning of his weekly cabinet meeting, on 9 July 2017, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu read from Genesis 23.16, 19-20. This passage narrates the story of Abraham’s purchase of a tomb for the burial of his wife, near the city of Hebron.

16 Abraham agreed with Ephron; and Abraham weighed out for Ephron the silver that he had named in the hearing of the Hittites, four hundred shekels of silver, according to the weights current among the merchants…. 19 After this, Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the field of Machpelah facing Mamre (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan. 20 The field and the cave that is in it passed from the Hittites into Abraham’s possession as a burying place.

Hebron is a city in Palestine which is currently under military occupation by Israel.

On 7 July 2017, UNESCO voted to recognize the Mamluk-era Old Town of Hebron (Al-Khalil), including its first-century CE Tomb of the Patriarchs (the Ibrahimi mosque), as a protected World Heritage site.

In response, Netanyahu argued, based on the legendary account in Genesis 23, that Hebron was Jewish. “The connection between the Jewish people and Hebron and the Tomb of the Patriarchs is one of purchase and of history which may be without parallel in the history of peoples.” Netanyahu also had a bit of a tantrum, and said that he wouldn’t pay $1 million from Israel’s United Nations membership dues, but would instead transfer the funds to the establishment of The Museum of the Heritage of the Jewish People in Kiryat Arba and Hebron.

But did Abraham really buy the tomb?

According to Genesis 23, Abraham bought the tomb from a Hittite man named Ephron. However, Abraham’s legal title to the land is highly questionable, in light of the rival account in the Torah, in Numbers 13. Here, the city of Hebron clearly belongs to three Giants (Anakim), named Ahiman, Sheshai, and Talmai. It doesn’t belong to Hittites at all. So on the basis of Numbers 13, we have to question whether the Hittite Ephron ever had a good legal title to give to Abraham. Hebron, according to this account, belonged to Giants.

Therefore, under the legal principle of Nemo dat quod non habet (a person cannot grant a better title than they have), Abraham never legally bought the land. He could only have bought it from its legal owners, the Giants. If we treat the Torah as history, we must respect the legal ownership of Hebron by ancient Giants.

… unless, of course, both Genesis 23 and Numbers 13 are just legends, and neither should be cited as “history” by a modern Prime Minister.

But then, might the Israeli government have to admit that the notion of modern Israel’s right to “Greater Israel” (Kol Yisrael) might itself be based on legends?

 

New True Legends ‘Documentary’: Holocaust of Giants

 

There is a new ‘documentary’ out about the biblical giants: True Legends – Episode 3 – Holocaust of Giants (GenSix Productions, May 2017). According to the ‘documentary’, a worldwide conspiracy exists to hide the bodies of Giants, whose DNA are being harvested by genetic engineers intent on resurrecting the biblical Rephaim.

From the mounds of America, to the megalithic ruins on the island of Sardinia in the Mediterranean Sea, the desiccated bones of dead giants are being systematically disentombed and secreted away to clandestine vaults for apocalyptic purposes. While occultists are attempting to harness the arcane necromancy of the Canaanites, genetic engineers are working feverishly to reconstitute the genomes of the giants, and resurrect the dreaded race of Rephaim in the earth.

The name of the film’s production company is GenSix Productions, based of course on the unusual story contained in Genesis 6:1-4 involving sex between the “sons of god(s)” and “daughters of men”, who give birth to the Nephilim.

The ‘documentary’ features Steve Quayle, Timothy Alberino, and Thomas Horn. Steve Quayle is a talk-show host and author of a number of books on conspiracies involving giants and genetic manipulation. Thomas Horn is the author of end-times conspiracies, Apollyon Rising 2012: The Lost Symbol Found and the Final Mystery of the Great Seal Revealed (2009) and Forbidden Gates: How Genetics, Robotics, Artificial Intelligence, Synthetic Biology, Nanotechnology, & Human Enhancement Herald The Dawn Of Techno-Dimensional Spiritual Warfare (2011). Timothy Alberino is “a researcher, explorer, and filmmaker who travels the Earth in search of evidence relating to the true narrative of forbidden history.”

There is a trailer for the video available on Vimeo:

Foetal Dystocia resulting from Watcher-Human Sex: Eric Ondina’s Art

In a piece entitled “Fall of the Watchers”, artist Eric Ondina has managed to capture an aspect of the myth of sex between Watcher angels and human women that usually gets glossed over in renditions of the story.

Eric Ondina, “Fall of the Watchers”

The Book of Watchers tersely summarises that the Watchers “took” the women, “went into” them, and “defiled themselves with” them (7.1ab). The twenty named Watchers are contrasted with the anonymous and unnamed women who they “choose for themselves”. The Watchers act, and the unnamed women are acted upon. Their identities are suppressed, irrelevant to their function within the plot. Their reactions here are limited to their childbearing function: they “became pregnant” and “bore to them gigantic offspring” (7.2).

But what did giving birth to “gigantic offspring” do to these women? The text falls silent, in contrast to the cries of anguish which would have accompanied such extreme foetal dystocia. The birth canal is only important in the story insofar as it satisfies the Watchers’ desires – for sexual intercourse and for children.

But in Ondina’s “Fall of the Watchers”, the effect on the Women is brought to the fore in the artist’s portrayal of an evidently painful, bulging womb. But this pain is combined with a comical characterisation of the women as obsessed with the jewellery that the Watchers gave to them. The combination of extreme discomfort and vain satisfaction is, of course, absurd. And this absurdity provides a visual critique of the tendency in the Watcher myth to belittle or even blame women for the actions of the Watchers.

Ondina himself comments:

I have extracted multiple motifs from this story and melded them into a dynamic composition. The piece is painted in oil on a hand molded, cresting, reinforced plaster slab, which is bordered by a deep cradle frame. It was my intention to make a painting which mirrors this mini-epic in scale, drama and abject gruesomeness. With this in mind I decided to invoke the compositional and painting techniques found in the dynamic baroque of the 17th century while emulating the decisive moment found in 18th century Romanticism. There is also a clear reference to the Northern European Renaissance in the detail, cathedral-esque shape of the substrate, insider humor, and violence. These fuse into a style I have developed in this series which is both contemporary and historically reinforced. While my painting seeks to provide a portal into the past, I seek to do so through a modern lens, injecting subtle to sardonic satire into my subjects. This is readily apparent along the bottom of the painting; in the lower right hand corner an oblivious woman pampers herself with gold and makeup, her stomach bursting at the seams as her hulking half-angel broodling slithers out. She is a sarcastic embodiment of how our contemporary sensitivities are want to perceive this story. The Abrahamic religions are not renowned for their justice towards women, and The Book of Enoch once again exemplifies this ancient trend. Women are the seductresses and the baby factories, the intermediaries and cause of the sinfulness pressed upon the world; because of their erotic allure, mankind suffered nightmarish consequences. My painted jezebel is a mocking testimony to this ancient fear-mongering.

In portraying this extreme foetal dystocia in this manner, Ondina’s “Fall of the Watchers” has drawn attention to an aspect of the Watcher myth that has escaped many commentators, as well as critiquing that very failure to take account of the effects on women implied by the Watcher myth.