Journal of Semitic Studies-Vol. 1-2010 PDF

92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv 08-03-2010 11:22 Pagina 1
EDWARD LIPINSKI ISSN 0022-4480 (PRINT)

‘Le Gérondif en Phénicien’ 1
SPRING 2010
ISSN 1477-8556 (ONLINE)
ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA
‘“Orphaned” Converted Tense Forms in Classical Biblical Hebrew
Prose’ 11
BAHAA AMER AL-JUBOURI
‘Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes du temple de Nannay à Hatra’ 37
GERRIT BOS
‘Medical Terminology in the Hebrew Tradition: Shem Tov Ben
JOURNAL OF
Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, Book 30’
AARON D. RUBIN
53 JOURNAL OF
‘The Development of the Amharic Definite Article and an Indo-
Semitic
nesian Parallel’ 103
ABDULRAHMAN S. AL SALIMI
‘Identifying the (Iba∂i/Omani) Siyar’ 115
SAM LIEBHABER
Semitic Studies
‘Rhythm and Beat: Re-evaluating Arabic Prosody in the Light of
Mahri Oral Poetry’ 163
Studies
SADOK MASLIYAH
‘The Folk Songs of Iraqi Children: Part One’ 183
JAMES DICKINS
‘Basic Sentence Structure in Sudanese Arabic’ 237
REVIEWS 263
SHORT NOTICES 311
VOLUME LV. NO. 1

SPRING 2010
VOLUME LV. NO. 1
92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv 08-03-2010 11:22 Pagina 2
SUBSCRIPTIONS
INFORMATION FOR AUTHORS
A subscription to Journal of Semitic Studies comprises 2 issues. Prices include postage by surface mail, or for
subscribers in the USA and Canada by airfreight, or in India, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, by Air
Speeded Post. Airmail rates are available on request. Contributions, books for review, and other editorial communications should be
Annual Subscription Rate (Volume LIII, 2 issues, 2008) addressed to:
Institutional The Editors
Print edition and site-wide online access: £166//249/US$315
Print edition only: £152//228/US$289 Journal of Semitic Studies
Site-wide online access only: £138//207/US$262
Personal
Middle Eastern Studies
Print edition and individual online access: £54//81/US$103 School of Languages, Linguistics and Cultures
Please note: £ Sterling rates apply in UK, / rates apply in Europe, US$ elsewhere
University of Manchester
There may be other subscription rates available, for a complete listing please visit www.jss.oupjournals.org/
subinfo. Manchester M13 9PL
Full prepayment, in the correct currency, is required for all orders. Orders are regarded as firm and payments UK
are not refundable. Subscriptions are accepted and entered on a complete volume basis. Claims cannot be
considered more than FOUR months after publication or date of order, whichever is later. All subscriptions Article Length
in Canada are subject to GST. Subscriptions in the EU may be subject to European VAT. If registered, please
supply details to avoid unnecessary charges. For subscriptions that include online versions, a proportion of the Editorial policy is normally to favour shorter articles, i.e. no longer than 10,000 words.
subscription price may be subject to UK VAT. Personal rate subscriptions are only available if payment is made
by personal cheque or credit card and delivery is to a private address. Typescript layout
The current year and two previous years’ issues are available from Oxford University Press. Previous volumes Articles and reviews should be typed on one side of the paper (A4 or 8.5 x 11 inches)
can be obtained from the Periodicals Service Company, 11 Main Street, Germantown, NY 12526, USA. with double spacing and generous margins on one side of the paper only. Authors of
Email: psc@periodicals.com. Tel: +1 (518) 537 4700. Fax: +1 (518) 537 5899.
articles should submit TWO COPIES, and disk, if available. Non-Roman script is to
For further information, please contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press,
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK. Email: jnls.cust.serv@oxfordjournals.org. Tel (and answer- be written as clearly as possible and used as sparingly as possible. Notes should be
phone outside normal working hours): +44 (0)1865 353907. Fax: + 44 (0)1865 353485. In the US, please numbered consecutively, double spaced and placed at the end. The Editors will not
contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press, 2001 Evans Road, Cary, NC accept for publication any typescripts which do not conform to these standards. For
27513, USA. Email: jnlorders@oxfordjournals.org. Tel (and answerphone outside normal working hours):
800 852 7323 (toll-free in USA/Canada). Fax: 919 677 1714. In Japan, please contact: Journals Customer
detailed instructions please see the style sheet.
Services, Oxford University Press, 1-1-17-5F, Mukogaoka, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, 113-0023, Japan. Email: oku-
daoup@po.iijnet.or.jp. Tel: (03) 3813 1461. Fax: (03) 3818 1522.
Abstracts
Methods of payment. (i) Cheque (payable to Oxford University Press, to Oxford University Press, Cashiers Authors of articles are required to provide an abstract, which should be a single para-
Office, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK) in GB£ Sterling (drawn on a UK bank), US$ Dol- graph, not exceeding 150 words.
lars (drawn on a US bank), or EU/ Euros. (ii) Bank transfer to Barclays Bank Plc, Oxford Group Office,
Oxford (bank sort code 20-65-18) (UK), overseas only Swift code BARC GB 22 (GB£ Sterling to account no. Submission
70299332, IBAN GB89BARC20651870299332; US$ Dollars to account no. 66014600, IBAN GB27BARC
20651866014600; EU/ Euros to account no. 78923655, IBAN GB16BARC20651878923655). (iii) Credit We will also normally require the final revised version to be supplied in hard copy and
card (Mastercard, Visa, Switch or American Express). electronically. Whilst we can accept most wordprocessor formats the preferred option
Journal of Semitic Studies is published two times a year in April and October by Oxford University Press, is Word. The files should be submitted in the wordprocessor's native format and as an
Oxford, UK. Annual subscription price is £166//249/US$315. Journal of Semitic Studies is distributed by RTF (Rich Text Format).
Mercury International, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. Periodicals postage paid at Rahway, NJ and
at additional entry points. Illustrations
US Postmaster: send address changes to Journal of Semitic Studies (ISSN 0022-4480), c/o Mercury Interna-
tional, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. Electronic submission of illustrations. We can accept 3.5-inch floppy disks, CD-
PERMISSIONS
ROMs and email attachments. High-quality print-outs of all figures are still essential,
For information on how to request permissions to reproduce articles/information from this journal, please visit
as they will be scanned for reproduction in the event of problems with the electronic
www.oxfordjournals.org/permissions. files. Figures must be saved as high-resolution TIF files (at least 300 pixels per inch for
ADVERTISING photographs, and 1200 pixels per inch for black and white line drawings).
Inquiries about advertising should be sent to Helen Pearson, Oxford Journals Advertising, PO Box 347, Offprints and Proofs
Abingdon OX14 1GJ, UK. Email: helen@oxfordads.com. Tel: +44 (0)1235 201904; Fax: +44 (0)8704
296864. Authors of articles will receive one copy of the issue containing their article and
DISCLAIMER twenty-five offprints of their article free of charge. Alteration on the proofs, other
Statements of fact and opinion in the articles in Journal of Semitic Studies are those of the respective authors than the correction of printer's errors, may be disallowed.
and contributors and not of Journal of Semitic Studies or Oxford University Press. Neither Oxford University
Press nor Journal of Semitic Studies make any representation, express or implied, in respect of the accuracy of Copyright and Permissions
the material in this journal and cannot accept any legal responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions Manuscripts submitted will be expected to contain original work and should not have
that may be made. The reader should make his/her own evaluation as to the appropriateness or otherwise of
any experimental technique described. been published in abridged or other form elsewhere. It is a condition of publication
© The University of Manchester 2008 in the Journal that authors grant an exclusive licence to The University of Manches-
All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted ter. Any requests from third parties to reproduce articles are handled on behalf of the
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior journal by Oxford University Press. This will also allow the article to be as widely dis-
written permission of the Publishers, or a licence permitting restricted copying issued in the UK by the seminated as possible and will protect the rights of the author and OUP. In granting
Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 9HE, or in the USA by the an exclusive licence, authors may use their own material in other publications pro-
Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923.
Typeset by Drukkerij Peeters, Herent, Belgium
vided that the journal is acknowledged as the original authority for publication, and
Printed by Bell & Bain Ltd, Glasgow, UK Oxford University Press is notified in writing and in advance.
92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw 08-03-2010 11:11 Pagina 1
JOURNAL OF
Semitic
Studies
V OLUME LV. NO. 1
SPRING 2010
EDITORIAL COMMITTEE
P. S. ALEXANDER
G. J. BROOKE
R. BUCKLEY
A. CHRISTMANN
J. F. HEALEY
P. C. SADGROVE
92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw 08-03-2010 11:11 Pagina 2
JOURNAL OF
Semitic
Studies
Editorial Committee
P.S. Alexander
G.J. Brooke
R. Buckley
A. Christmann
J.F. Healey
P.C. Sadgrove
Editorial Advisers
C.E. Bosworth
S.P. Brock
K.J. Cathcart
R. Gleave
M. Kropp
Y. Matras
A.R. Millard
M. Morgenstern
M.E.J. Richardson
P. Schäfer
A. Shivtiel
G. Rex Smith
Y. Suleiman
E. Ullendorff
The Journal of Semitic Studies publishes a book supplement series. For more
information see www.jss.oxfordjournals.org. The editors welcome proposals for
further titles in the series. For more details please write to the editors, Journal of
Semitic Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, School of Languages, Linguistics and
Cultures, University of Manchester, Manchester M13 9PL, UK
92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw 08-03-2010 11:11 Pagina 3
JOURNAL OF
Semitic
Studies
V OLUME LIV. NO. 1
SPRING 2010
Contents
articles
EDWARD LIPINSKI, ‘Le Gérondif en Phénicien’ 1
ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA, ‘“Orphaned” Converted Tense Forms in Classical
Biblical Hebrew Prose’ 11
BAHAA AMER AL-JUBOURI, ‘Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes du temple
de Nannay à Hatra’ 37
GERRIT BOS, ‘Medical Terminology in the Hebrew Tradition: Shem Tov
Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, Book 30’ 53
AARON D. RUBIN, ‘The Development of the Amharic Definite Article and
an Indonesian Parallel’ 103
ABDULRAHMAN S. AL SALIMI, ‘Identifying the (Iba∂i/Omani) Siyar’ 115
SAM LIEBHABER, ‘Rhythm and Beat: Re-evaluating Arabic Prosody in the
Light of Mahri Oral Poetry’ 163
SADOK MASLIYAH, ‘The Folk Songs of Iraqi Children: Part One’ 183
JAMES DICKINS, ‘Basic Sentence Structure in Sudanese Arabic’ 237
reviews
Rainer VOIGT (ed.), From Beyond the Mediterranean: Akten des 7. Internationalen
Semitohamitistenkongresses (VII. ISHaK), Berlin 13, bis 15, September 2004
(Aaron D. RUBIN) 263
Elizabeth FROOD, Biographical Texts from Ramesside Egypt (Karl JANSEN-
WINKELN) 265
William M. SCHNIEDEWIND and Joel H. HUNT, A Primer on Ugaritic: Language,
Culture and Literature (Wilfred G.E. WATSON) 266
James W. WATTS, Ritual and Rhetoric in Leviticus: From Sacrifice to Scripture
(Walter J. HOUSTON) 269
Christophe NIHAN, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch (Calum CARMICHAEL) 270
92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw 08-03-2010 11:11 Pagina 4
Jill MIDDLEMAS, The Templeless Age: An Introduction to the History, Literature and
Theology of the ‘Exile’ (Ralph W. KLEIN) 271
Archie T. WRIGHT, The Origin of Evil Spirits (Philip R. DAVIES) 273
Kay PRAG, Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967: Volume V.
Discoveries in Hellenistic to Ottoman Jerusalem (A. Asa EGER) 274
Peter E. PORMANN (ed.), Rufus of Ephesus: On Melancholy (Oliver KAHL) 278
P.S.F. VAN KEULEN and W.Th. VAN PEURSEN (eds), Corpus Linguistics and
Textual History: A Computer-Assisted Interdisciplinary Approach to the Peshitta
(Jerome A. LUND) 280
Christa MÜLLER-KESSLER, Die Zauberschalentexte in der Hilprecht-Sammlung,
Jena und weitere Nippur-Texte anderer Sammlungen (Matthew MORGENSTERN) 282
Avi SAGI, The Open Canon: On the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse (Azzan YADIN) 291
Shmuel SAFRAI lèz, Zeev SAFRAI, Joshua SCHWARTZ, and Peter J. TOMSON (eds),
The Literature of the Sages, Second Part: Midrash and Targum, Liturgy, Poetry,
Mysticism, Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science and the Languages of
Rabbinic Literature (Ephraim NISSAN) 293
Timothy EDWARDS, Exegesis in the Targum of the Psalms: The Old, the New,
and the Rewritten (David M. STEC) 297
Mariano GÓMEZ ARANDA, Dos Comentarios de Abraham ibn Ezra al Libro de Ester:
Edición crítica, traducción y estudio introductorio (Aaron D. RUBIN) 298
Dvora BREGMAN, The Golden Way: The Hebrew Sonnet during the Renaissance
and the Baroque (Arie SCHIPPERS) 300
Leora BATNITZKY, Leo Strauss and Emmanual Levinas: Philosophy and the Politics
of Revelation (A.H. LESSER) 304
Khaleel MOHAMMED and Andrew RIPPIN (eds), Coming to terms with the Qur’an.
A volume in honor of Professor Issa Boullata (Stefan WILD) 306
John A. MORROW (ed.), Arabic, Islam and the Allah Lexicon: How Language
Shapes our Conception of God (Gerhard BOWERING) 308
short notes
Pekka LINDQVIST, Sin at Sinai: Early Judaism Encounters: Exodus 32
(Mila GINSBURSKAYA) 311
Bernard M. LEVINSON, ‘The Right Chorale’: Studies in Biblical Law and
Interpretation (Walter J. HOUSTON) 312
James T. SPARKS, The Chronicler’s Genealogies: Towards an Understanding of
1 Chronicles 1–9 (Brian E. KELLY) 313
92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw 08-03-2010 11:11 Pagina 5
Fiona C. BLACK, The Recycled Bible: Autobiography, Culture, and the Space Between
(Philip R. DAVIES) 314
Andrew D. GROSS, Continuity and Innovation in the Aramaic Legal Tradition
(Stephen A. KAUFMAN) 315
Giancarlo TOLONI, La sofferenza del giusto: Giobbe e Tobia a confronto
(George J. BROOKE) 315
Mark J. BODA, Daniel K. FALK and Rodney A. WERLINE (eds), Seeking the Favor
of God. Volume 1: The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism;
Volume 3: The Impact of Penitential Prayer beyond Second Temple Judaism
Melvin K.H. PETERS (ed.), XIII Congress of the International Organization for
Septuagint and Cognate Studies: Ljubljana, 2007 (George J. BROOKE) 317
Sidnie White CRAWFORD, Rewriting Scripture in Second Temple Times
(Ariel FELDMAN) 318
Lorenzo DITOMASSO, The Dead Sea New Jerusalem Text: Contents and Contexts
(Charlotte HEMPEL) 318
Antti LAATO and Jacques VAN RUITEN (eds), Rewritten Bible Reconsidered:
Proceedings of the Conference in Karkku, Finland, August 24–26 2006
David T. RUNIA and Gregory E. STERLING (eds), The Studia Philonica Annual:
Studies in Hellenistic Judaism Volume XX.2008 (George J. BROOKE) 320
Frances FLANNERY, Colleen SHANTZ and Rodney A. WERLINE (eds), Experientia,
Volume 1: Inquiry into Religious Experience in Early Judaism and Early Christianity
Bart D. EHRMAN, Whose Word is It? The Story Behind Who Changed the New
Testament and Why (George J. BROOKE) 321
Julius Heinrich PETERMANN, The Great Treasure or Great Book, commonly called
“The Book of Adam”, the Mandaeans’ work of Highest Authority
(Matthew MORGENSTERN) 321
Benjamin RICHLER, Hebrew Manuscripts in the Vatican Library Catalogue
(Renate SMITHUIS) 322
Seth S. SANDERS (ed.), Margins of Writing, Origins of Cultures
(Alasdair LIVINGSTONE) 323
LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN
EDWARD LIPINSKI
UNIVERSITY OF LEUVEN
Abstract
A single Latin manuscript, Berne codex 123 (folio 7a), preserves a

statement by Isidorus Hispalensis who tells of twelve parts of speech
in Phoenician, consisting of the usual eight with the addition of the
article, the ‘impersonal mode’ (having no set person or number),
the infinitive and the ‘gerund’. This paper proposes identifying the
gerund with the infinitive followed by a personal pronoun, a con-
struction attested in Phoenician inscriptions from Byblos, Zincirli,
Karatepe and Çineköy, and occurring sporadically in Ugaritic,
Hebrew and South-Arabian. It is argued that it represents an earlier
stage or a variant of the Ethio-Semitic ‘gerund’ denoting an action
simultaneous or anterior to the one expressed by another verb in the
perfect or the imperfect. Its absence in Aramaic, North-Arabian and
Classical Arabic once again shows the weakness of the hypothesis of
a ‘Central Semitic’.
Isidore de Séville (c. 560–636), connu en latin sous le nom d’Isidorus

Hispalensis, fut évêque de Séville pendant une trentaine d’années
(c. 602–36), mais ses charges épiscopales ne l’empêchèrent point de
devenir l’un de plus importants chaînons du savoir entre l’Antiquité
classique et le Moyen-Âge. Isidore n’a pas l’habitude de mentionner
ses sources, mais il est évident qu’il a recueilli ses informations dans
nombre d’ouvrages d’auteurs antiques, dont certains sont irrémédiable-
ment perdus. C’est à une telle source qu’il doit aussi sa connaissance
des douze catégories grammaticales du phénicien, parmi lesquelles il
mentionne l’infinitif suivi du gérondif.1
Isidorus dicit: Phoenices XII partes esse dixerunt, articulum nonam
partem putauerunt, qui cum Graecis octaua pars est; inpersonalem
1
Son texte est préservé dans un seul manuscrit, le Codex Bernensis 123, fol. 7a:
H. Hagen, ‘Anecdota Helvetica’, dans H. Keil, Grammatici Latini VIII, Leipzig 1870
(réimpr. Hildesheim 1961), CCLV–CCLVI. C’est un extrait, bien sûr, et nous
n’avons pas la certitude qu’il reproduit le texte d’Isidore d’une manière exacte et
complète.
1
modum decimam partem putauerunt, quia non habet certam personam

et certum numerum, nisi addas pronomen ut ‘legitur a me, a te, a nobis’,
et infinitiuum undecimam putauerunt, quia uim nominis habet, idest
nominatiui, accusatiui quoque et ablatiui; gerendi modum duodecimam
partem putauerunt, quia habent verba gerendi uim et formam nominum,
ut ‘amandi, amando, amandum, amatum, amatu’, et ideo Phoenices
dixerunt XII.
«Isidore dit: Les Phéniciens ont dit qu’il y a douze parties (du discours).
Ils considéraient que l’article est la neuvième partie, celle qui chez les
Grecs est la huitième partie. Ils considéraient que le mode impersonnel
(participe) est la dixième partie, qui n’exprime ni la personne ni le
nombre, sauf si l’on ajoute un pronom, par exemple ‘lu par moi, par
toi, par nous’. Ils considéraient que l’infinitif est l’onzième (partie),
vu qu’il possède des fonctions du nom, à savoir le nominatif (sujet),
l’accusatif (objet) et l’ablatif (adverbe). Ils considéraient que le gérondif
est la douzième partie, vu que les verbes au gérondif possèdent des
fonctions et une désinence à l’instar des noms, comme amandi, amando,
amandum, amatum, amatu. C’est pourquoi les Phéniciens ont dit qu’il
y avait douze parties (du discours)».
Il y a cinquante ans J.M. Solá-Solé a déjà attiré l’attention sur ce
texte important,2 préservé dans un manuscrit de l’Ars de Clément
l’Écossais, maître de grammaire à la Cour de Charlemagne. Solá-
Solé a cependant compris le gérondif des Phéniciens d’une manière
très différente de celle qui sera exposée ci-dessous. Il y voyait l’infi-
nitif introduit par une préposition, ce qui ne semble pas pouvoir
correspondre à la distinction établie dans la source ultime d’Isidore.
L’infinitif construit du phénicien avec préposition équivaut sans
doute au gérondif latin, mais il est atemporel et impersonnel, c’est-
à-dire qu’il ne peut guère être considéré comme une catégorie gram-
maticale distincte de l’infinitif.
«Gérondif», c’est par contre le nom attribué par les éthiopisants à
l’infinitif suivi du suffixe pronominal indiquant le sujet.3 Cette forme
2
J.M. Solá-Solé, ‘Sur les parties du discours en phénicien’, Bibliotheca Orientalis,
14 (1957), 66–8.
3
Le substantif verbal constituant la base du gérondif a été appelé «infinitif» par
F. Praetorius, Grammatik der Tigriñasprache in Abessinien (Halle 1871), 336, et
A. Dillmann, Grammatik der äthiopischen Sprache 2 (Leipzig 1899), 235, suivis par
la plupart des chercheurs, notamment M. Cohen, Le système verbal sémitique et
l’expression du temps (Paris 1924), 50–1, §26. Cf. aussi O. Kapeliuk, ‘Reflections
on the Ethio-Semitic Gerund’, Proceedings of the 13th International Conference of
Ethiopian Studies (Kyoto 1997), 492–8.
2
s’emploie en guèze,4 tigrigna,5 amharique,6 argobba7 et dans les dia-

lectes occidentaux du gouragué.8 Elle exprime la circonstance sans
détermination de moment et peut se traduire en français, suivant les
phrases, soit par un présent, soit par un passé. Elle est utilisée le plus
souvent pour signifier l’antériorité de l’action par rapport à l’action
indiquée par le verbe principal.
Ce nom verbal spécial, auquel on a donné à bon escient le nom de
gérondif, est comparable à l’infinitif phénicien suivi du pronom per-
sonnel9 et exprimant, lui aussi, une circonstance antérieure à l’action
signifiée par le verbe principal. Il y a une dizaine d’années j’ai donc
appelé cette construction «gérondif»10 en suivant, je pense, l’exemple
d’Isidore de Séville qui devait disposer d’une source latine se référant
à la grammaire des textes littéraires puniques, spécialement de nature
narrative.11
4
F. Praetorius, Aethiopische Grammatik (Karlsruhe-Leipzig 1886 [reprint, New
York 1955]), 62, §77; A. Dillmann, op. cit. (n. 3), 235; M. Chaîne, Grammaire
éthiopienne 2 (Beyrouth 1938), 35; Th.O. Lambdin, Introduction to Classical Ethiopic
(Geëz) (HSM 24, Ann Arbor 1978), 135–6.
5
R.M. Voigt, Das tigrinische Verbalsystem (Marburger Studien zur Afrika- und
Asienkunde A/10, [Berlin 1977]), 140–220.
6
E.G. Titov, Le gérondif dans la langue amharique, dans Afrikanskiy etnogra-
fitcheskiy sbornik III (Moskva-Leningrad 1959), 184–204 (en russe); Id., Quelques
cas de l’emploi de l’ainsi dénommé gérondif et de la construction avec le gérondif dans
la langue amharique, dans Semitskiye yaziki I, (Moskva 1963), 82–9 (en russe);
J. Hartmann, Amharische Grammatik (Äthiopistische Forschungen 3, Wiesbaden
1980), 198–201, 369–70, 373; U. Maass, Das Gerundium im Amharischen und
im Tigrinya. Eine vergleichende Funktionsanalyse, Dissert. (Univ. Leipzig 1990);
W. Leslau, Reference Grammar of Amharic (Wiesbaden 1995), 355–90; U. Maass,
‘On Grammatical Functions of the Gerund in Amharic’, dans P. Zemánek (éd.),
Studies in Near Eastern Languages and Literatures. Memorial Volume of Karel Petrácek
(Praha 1996), 343–57.
7
W. Leslau, Ethiopic Documents: Argobba. Grammar and Dictionary (Wies-
baden 1997), 52–5.
8
W. Leslau, Gurage Studies: Collected Articles (Wiesbaden 1992), 135–6, 443–
58.
9
J.M. Solá-Solé, L’infinitif sémitique (Paris 1961), 110–18; F. Bron, Recherches
sur les inscriptions phéniciennes de Karatepe (Genève 1979), 143–6; J. Friedrich et
W. Röllig, Phönizisch-punische Grammatik 3 (Roma 1999), 192–3, §267.
10
E. Lipinski, Semitic Languages: Outline of a Comparative Grammar (OLA 80,
Leuven 1997) (2e édition, 2001), §42.12.
11
L’existence de cette littérature est encore attestée au Ve siècle par S. Augustin.
Cf. F. Vattioni, ‘Sant’Agostino e la civiltà punica’, Augustinianum 8 (1968), 434–
67. On trouvera une bibliographie plus complète dans E. Lipinski (éd.), Diction-
naire de la civilisation phénicienne et punique (Turnhout 1992), 49b.
3
L’usage du gérondif a connu un grand développement dans les

langues éthio-sémitiques, celles du nord aussi bien que celles du sud,
mais il faut se référer surtout à des exemples simples qui offrent les
meilleurs parallèles grammaticaux aux phrases concernées des inscrip-
tions de Byblos, de Zincirli, de Karatepe et de Çineköy. Le gérondif
est marqué en guèze par une désinence -ä ajoutée à l’infinitif et suivie
du pronom suffixe. Celui-ci désigne très souvent le même sujet que
celui de la proposition principale, mais peut aussi se rapporter à un
sujet différent. C’est le même sujet que l’on rencontre, par exemple,
dans la traduction en guèze du passage de l’Évangile de S. Matthieu 2,
3 se référant à l’arrivée des mages de l’Orient. Nous y lisons: wä-sämiö
Herod¢s dängä∂a, «et (l’)ayant appris, Hérode fut alarmé». Le gérondif
sämiö est constitué de l’infinitif sämi¨ du verbe «entendre», suivi du
-o qui provient du suffixe -ä-hu de la troisième personne. Le gérondif
exprime en l’occurrence l’antériorité de l’information à la crainte
éprouvée par Hérode. Mais la construction s’emploie aussi pour
signifier la simultanéité et le gérondif peut suivre la proposition prin-
cipale, comme dans le passage suivant de la Chronique du négus
Zarä Ya¨qob (1434–68):12 konu }äyhudä Ìädigomu krest¢nnahomu,
«Ils devinrent Juifs, abandonnant leur christianisme». Le gérondif
Ìädigomu est constitué ici de l’infinitif Ìädig, suivi de -ä-homu, devenu
-omu, le suffixe de la 3e pers. masc. plur.
Le gérondif s’emploie de la même manière en tigrigna qui rattache
le suffixe pronominal directement à l’infinitif, sans désinence voca-
lique, mais n’a pas conservé le h du suffixe de la troisième personne.
Ainsi lit-on dans l’Histoire de l’Éthiopie de Yay¢nsät Gäbrä-}Egzi}ab¢Ìer,
écrite en tigrigna:13 Mahdaw¢yan }¢ww¢n }¢nkab Sudan talaïlom n¢
Îtyoππya wåräuwa, «Mais les Mahdistes, ayant pénétré du Soudan,
ont pillé l’Éthiopie». Le gérondif est constitué ici de l’infinitif talaïl
à préformante ta-, «pénétrer», et du suffixe -om de la 3e pers. masc.
plur.
Deux gérondifs peuvent se suivre avant la proposition principale,
comme dans une autre phrase du même livre:14 nab S¢mä†ru Ra}si
}Alula l¢}ikom särawitom }aktitom nab kwinat gäÒom täbäggäsu, «Ayant
envoyé Ras Alula à Sematru et ayant rassemblé son armée, il se rendit
12
J. Perruchon, Chronique de Zar}a Yâëqob et de Ba}eda Mâryâm (Bibliothèque
de l’École des Hautes Études 93, Paris 1893), 97.
13
Yay¢nsät Gäbrä-}Egzi}ab¢Ìer, Tarik }Ityoππya (Asmara 1962), 109, ligne 9,
cité par R.M. Voigt, op. cit. (n. 5), 150.
14
Yay¢nsät Gäbrä-}Egzi}ab¢Ìer, op. cit. (n. 13), 101, ligne 19, cité par R.M. Voigt,
op. cit. (n. 5), 150.
4
au combat». Les deux gérondifs l¢}ikom et }aktitom sont constitués

des infinitifs l¢}ik et }aktit suivis du suffixe pronominal -om de la
3e pers. masc. plur., car l’auteur utilise ici le pluriel de majesté pour
désigner l’empereur de l’Éthiopie, tout comme il le fait dans la pro-
position principale dont le verbe täbäggäsu est au pluriel, ainsi que
l’indique la finale -u. Le gérondif s’emploie de la même manière en
amharique, argobba et gouragué.
À la différence des langues éthio-sémitiques, le phénicien n’utilise
pas comme sujet le suffixe pronominal, mais le pronom personnel
indépendant. La construction et le sens sont, pour le reste, identiques.
Comme il s’agit d’une proposition subordonnée, qui n’alterne pas
avec des parfaits conjugués, mais en dépend, une traduction plus
nuancée des inscriptions phéniciennes s’impose dans chaque cas.
Malgré sa lourdeur, c’est souvent le participe qu’on pourra employer
ici en français, mais on préférera, dans certains cas, une proposition
subordonnée, introduite par «comme», «vu que».
À Zincirli, dans l’inscription de Kulamuwa, on traduirait ainsi wskr
}nk ¨ly mlk }sr,15 «et comme j’ai pris à solde contre lui le roi d’Assyrie,
il donna une jeune fille pour une brebis et un homme pour un vête-
ment», c’est-à-dire: pour un prix dérisoire.
Les inscriptions phéniciennes de Karatepe contiennent toute une
série de gérondifs, dont l’usage multiple s’explique tout simplement
par le fait que ce sont les seuls textes phéniciens comportant une
section narrative de quelque ampleur. Il ne s’agit nullement d’une
dialecte différent. Voici une traduction de Phu/A I, 3–1316 qui tient
compte de l’emploi du gérondif:
Baal a fait de moi un père et une mère pour les Danouniens, vu que
j’ai fait vivre (yÌw }nk) les Danouniens, que j’ai élargi (yrÌb }nk) le pays
de la plaine d’Adana du soleil levant au couchant. Et il y eut en mes
jours toute sorte de bonheur pour les Danouniens, abondance et bien-
être, vu que j’ai rempli (ml} }nk) les greniers de Pahar. Ayant accumulé
(p¨l }nk) cheval sur cheval, bouclier sur bouclier et armée sur armée, …
j’ai brisé les rebelles, détruisant (trq }nk) tout le mal qui était dans le
pays. Ayant établi (y†n} }nk) la maison de mon seigneur dans le bien,
fait (p¨l }nk) du bien à la descendance de mon seigneur, l’ayant installée
(ysb }nk) sur le trône de son père et fait (st }nk) la paix avec chaque roi,
chaque roi m’a vraiment tenu pour un père à cause de ma justice, de
ma sagesse et de la bonté de mon cœur.
15
KAI 24, 7–8; TSSI III, 13, 7–8.
16
W. Röllig, ‘The Phoenician Inscriptions’, dans H. Çambel (éd.), Corpus of
Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions II. Karatepe-Aslanta≥ (Berlin 1999), 50–81 (voir
p. 50); KAI 26, A, I, 3–13; TSSI III, 15, A, I, 3–13.
5
L’inscription de Çineköy comprend deux gérondifs employés avec

un sujet différent de celui des propositions principales, comme c’est
le cas, par exemple, dans la courte phrase en guèze näÒära qäwima du
Synaxaire éthiopien,17 une collection de vies de saints pour chaque
jour de l’année liturgique: «il (la) regarda, tandis qu’elle se tenait
debout». Le gérondif est constitué ici de l’infinitif qäwim suivi de
suffixe pronominal de la 3e pers. fém. sing. -a-ha, devenu -a, alors
que le verbe principal est à la 3e pers. masc. sing. Les gérondifs de
Çineköy apparaissent dans des passages très semblables à ceux du
texte cité de Karatepe:18
Et comme j’ai accumulé (p¨l }nk) cheval sur cheval, armée sur armée, le
roi d’Assyrie et toute la maison d’Assyrie devinrent pour moi comme
un père et une mère … Et comme j’ai bâti (bn }nk) des forteresses, huit
à l’est et sept à l’ouest, elles furent quinze.
Un passage narratif avec quelques gérondifs se retrouve dans l’ins-
cription de Yehawmilk, roi de Byblos. Voici une traduction de ces
lignes, tenant compte de tous les gérondifs:19
Comme j’ai invoqué (qr} }nk) ma maîtresse, la Dame de Byblos, elle a
écouté ma voix. Comme j’ai fait (p¨l }nk) pour ma maîtresse, la dame
de Byblos, cet autel d’airain …, comme je l’ai fait (p¨l }nk) … pour ma
maîtresse, la Dame de Byblos, quand j’ai invoqué ma maîtresse, la
Dame de Byblos, elle a écouté ma voix et m’a fait du bien.
Il est intéressant de relever ici le parallélisme entre les lignes 2–3,
où l’on trouve le gérondif qr} }nk, et les lignes 7–8, où la conjonction
de subordination km}s est suivie du parfait: km}s qr}t, «quand j’ai
invoqué».
L’emploi phénicien du pronom indépendant écarte la possibilité
de l’usage d’un double suffixe avec l’infinitif, celui du sujet et celui
de l’objet, comme en arabe.20 Seul le suffixe pronominal désignant
17
I. Guidi, Le Synaxaire éthiopien III. Mois de Nahasè et de Pâguemên, dans
Patrologia Orientalis IX (Paris 1913), 237–476 (voir p. 379, ligne 3). Traduction
du contexte par S. Grébaut: «Lorsque son mari Tsagâ-za-}Ab sortit du temple avec
l’encensoir, il la regarda, tandis qu’elle se tenait debout, alors qu’elle était parée».
18
E. Lipinski, Itineraria Phoenicia (Studia Phoenicia XVIII; OLA 127, Leuven
2004), 127–8, lignes 5–12. L’editio princeps exige certaines mises au point: R. Teko-
glu et A. Lemaire, ‘La bilingue royale louvito-phénicienne de Çineköy’, CRAI 2000,
961–1007.
19
KAI 10, 2–8; TSSI III, 25, 2–8.
20
W. Fischer, Grammatik des klassischen Arabisch (PLO, n.s. XI, Wiesbaden
1972), 127, 271, Anm. 1.
6
l’objet peut être attaché au verbe. L’emploi du pronom indépendant

signifie aussi que l’on pourrait trouver un substantif à la place du
pronom dans la même fonction de sujet de l’infinitif. Cette construc-
tion ne peut être identifiée dans les textes phéniciens actuellement
connus, mais elle est attestée dans la poésie ugaritique. Ceci permet
d’écarter des exemples anachroniques d’un statif utilisé comme par-
fait. On la rencontre également en hébreu biblique et un emploi
comparable de l’infinitif se retrouve en sud-arabique.21 Bien qu’une
étude ultérieure soit ici nécessaire, il est utile de présenter quelques
exemples de cet usage. Il a certainement une base commune, mais
connut un développement différent selon les régions.
La parenté du sud-arabique avec l’éthio-sémitique suggère de pré-
senter d’abord des exemples rencontrés en sabéen. L’infinitif absolu
y est donc employé de manière analogue, mais il n’est pas accompa-
gné d’un pronom suffixé ou indépendant, du moins dans l’état actuel
de notre documentation, le sujet étant chaque fois le même que celui
du verbe principal. L’emploi occasionnel de l’infinitif à désinence -n
ne permet pas de douter que les formes en question sont bien des
infinitifs, tandis que la séquence des verbes utilisés dans certaines
phrases indique qu’ils n’expriment pas la suite des actions, mais signi-
fient une circonstance antérieure à l’action exprimée par le verbe
principal, tout comme le gérondif éthiopien.
Ainsi, la phrase sabéenne b¨dw / whb¨ln / whrg / ws1by / wgnm /
wmtlyn22 signifie: «ils emportèrent, ayant saisi, tué, capturé, dévasté,
pillé». Il est évident que l’action de saisir, tuer, capturer et piller ne
fait pas suite à l’enlèvement du butin, mais le précède. Les infinitifs
en question expriment donc des circonstances antérieures à l’action
du verbe principal b¨dw. Cependant, la même construction peut
marquer la simultanéité: tnÌyt / wtn∂rn,23 «elle confessa faisant péni-
tence». Les infinitifs des exemples sabéens suivent le verbe au mode
personnel, alors que le gérondif éthiopien précède souvent le verbe de
la proposition principale.
21
A.F.L. Beeston, Sabaic Grammar (Manchester 1984), 22, §8:2. Cf. aussi
M. Höfner, Altsüdarabische Grammatik (PLO 24, Leipzig 1943), 63–5, §54, avec
plusieurs exemples, également en qatabanite et minéen.
22
A. Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions from MaÌram Bilqis (Publications of the
American Foundation for the Study of Man 3, Baltimore 1962), no 631, ligne 8,
citée par A.F.L. Beeston, loc. cit.
23
CIS IV, 532, 2; K. Conti Rossini, Chrestomathia Arabica Meridionalis Epigra-
phica (Roma 1931), 54, no 46, ligne 2.
7
Ceci semble être aussi le cas de certains infinitifs ugaritiques24.

Ainsi ngs }ank et ¨dbnn }ank précèdent le statif Ìt}u dans KTU 1.6, II,
21–3:
Comme j’ai assailli le Très Puissant Baal,
comme j’en ai fait un agneau dans ma bouche,
c’est dans l’orifice de ma gueule qu’il est englouti.
Le pronom n’est pas employé si le sujet de l’infinitif absolu est le
même que celui du verbe principal, comme dans le cas de qm et de
ndd en KTU 1.3, I, 2–11, où il précède des prétérits yíqtul:
Pardamenni, valet du Très Puissant Baal,
laboureur 25 du Prince, seigneur de la terre,
s’étant levé (qm), prépara le dîner 26 et lui servit à manger.
Il découpa une poitrine devant lui
avec un couteau salé, un morceau de (bête) grasse.
S’affairant (ndd )27, il se donna de la peine28 et l’abreuva,
il mit une coupe dans sa main, un hanap dans ses deux mains.
L’emploi de l’infinitif absolu en début de phrase ou après des
formes verbales personnelles se rencontre aussi en hébreu biblique
très tardif.29
On a pu citer un exemple en Dan. 9:5, où quatre parfaits «nous
avons péché, nous avons commis l’iniquité, nous avons fait le mal,
nous avons trahi», sont suivis de l’infinitif absolu sor. Celui-ci ne
constitue pas la suite de l’énumération, mais signale en quoi ces fautes
ont consisté: «en nous détournant (sor) de tes commandements et
ordonnances».
24
Cf. J. Tropper, Ugaritische Grammatik (AOAT 273, Münster 2000), 492–3,
§73.531.
25
Le nom s}id doit se comprendre à la lumière de s3}d en sabéen: «superficie
cultivée», «terre labourée», «labour». Cf. A.F.L. Beeston, M.A. Ghul, W.W. Müller
et J. Ryckmans, Dictionnaire sabéen (anglais-français-arabe) (Louvain-la-Neuve —
Beyrouth 1982), 137.
26
On rapprochera yt¨r de l’hébreu mishnaïque s¨r, «préparer le dîner», et du
guèze särää, avec métathèse.
27
Le verbe ndd correspond à l’hébreu et à l’araméen ndd, «être affairé»,
«s’enfuir».
28
Il convient de rapprocher le verbe y¨sr de l’arabe äsura, «être pénible», d’où
«se donner de la peine».
29
W. Gesenius et E. Kautzsch, Hebräische Grammatik 28 (Leipzig 1909), 359–
60, §113z. Voir aussi P. Joüon, Grammaire de l’hébreu biblique 3 (Rome 1965),
356–8, §123u–y; P. Joüon et T. Muraoka, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew II (Roma
1996), 429–32, §123u–y.
8
Deux autres exemples de cette construction se rencontrent en

Qoh. 4, 2 et Esth. 9:1.30 La forme verbale indique qu’il ne peut s’agir
du parfait, bien que le contexte montre qu’elle exprime un résultat
acquis. La phrase n’est pas subordonnée à une proposition principale
et ne peut donc être analysée comme les exemples attestés par les
inscriptions phéniciennes des 8e–5e siècles av.n.è. C’est de nouveau
l’éthiopien qui fournit la clef de la solution, plus exactement le tigrigna
et le dialecte amharique de la province de Godjam,31 où le gérondif
peut recevoir pleine indépendance et signifier à lui seul le résultat
d’une action. Par exemple, en tigrigna, }eskä gälä do sämi¨ki,32 «Dis,
as-tu appris quelque chose (et le sais-tu)?». L’infinitif sämi¨, «entendre»,
est suivi ici du suffixe pronominal de la 2e pers. fém. sing., suivant les
règles du gérondif. Dans Qoh. 4:2, suite à son expérience désabusée,
l’Ecclésiaste déclare: w¢-sabbe aÌ } anî …, «Et j’ai estimé (et j’estime) les
morts qui sont déjà morts».33 Le cas d’Esth. 9:1 est semblable, sauf
que le sujet de l’infinitif est un pronom de la 3e pers. masc. sing.,
détail important, puisque tous les exemples phéniciens actuellement
connus sont attestés avec le pronom de la 1re pers. sing. Esth. 9:1 se
réfère à la situation des Juifs persécutés: w¢-nah apok hu} } aser, «et elle
s’est retournée de manière que …». La situation s’est renversée et est
restée telle quelle, les Juifs ayant écrasé leurs ennemis.
Il existe d’autres cas où le sujet de l’infinitif n’est pas prono-
minal, comme dans Esth. 3:13, où l’infinitif absolu est indépen-
dant. Cet usage de l’infinitif fonctionnant à lui seul marque un
développement qui n’est certainement pas influencé par l’emploi du
gérondif en tigrigna et dans le dialecte de godjam. Il suppose l’exis-
tence antérieure, en hébreu, d’un gérondif limité à une fonction
subordonnée. Peut-être le trouve-t-on en Lév. 6:7; Nomb. 15:35 et
30
R. Lehmann, ‘Who needs Phoenician?’, M. Witte – J.F. Diehl (éds), Israeliten
und Phönizier (OBO 235, Fribourg-Göttingen 2008), 1–37, en particulier p. 27–31,
propose d’ajouter à ces textes Gen. 31:5 et Is. 48:13, en y lisant l’infinitif absolu à
la place du participe. La structure syntaxique des phrases en question n’est cepen-
dant pas la même.
31
D’après D.L. Appleyard, ‘New Finds in the 20th Century: The South Semitic
Languages’, IOS 20 (2002), 401–30, en particulier p. 421–2, le développement
du gérondif dans ces deux régions serait indépendant, mais elles ne sont pas très
éloignées l’une de l’autre et il faut tenir compte de déplacements possibles de popu-
lations.
32
Mark Twäyn, N¢}¢s¢nnät Tom Såwyär (Asmara 1967), 181, ligne 15.
33
A. Schoors, The Preacher Sought to Find Pleasing Words I (OLA 41, Leuven
1991), 91, 170, discerne ici an infinitif absolu utilisé à la place d’une forme conju-
guée, sans noter quelque particularité.
9
Deut. 15:2.34 Une étude systématique des cas semblables aboutira

peut-être à des distinctions chronologiques, mais elle exigera une
mise au point de nombreuses traductions qui ne tiennent pas compte
des différences grammaticales.
Ces exemples montrent que le texte narratif des anciennes compo-
sitions ouest-sémitiques35 n’était pas composé de phrases simplement
juxtaposées. Les éléments du récit étaient combinés entre eux de
manière à exprimer une pensée cohérente. Les formes verbales et les
conjonctions de subordination servaient à créer une unité claire et
distincte, tout comme l’usage occasionnel de l’infinitif absolu.
Les langues du groupe cananéen, l’ugaritique, le sud-arabique et
l’éthio-sémitique attestent ainsi l’usage d’un gérondif. En revanche,
je n’ai pas trouvé les traces d’un emploi comparable de l’infinitif
en araméen, en nord-arabique et en arabe classique. Ceci montre
une nouvelle fois, soit dit en passant, que la théorie d’un «sémitique
central» ne résiste pas face aux faits grammaticaux, aussi bien que
phonologiques.
Address for correspondence: elip@telenet.be

Ave. Adolphe Lacomblé 50/11, 1030-Brussels, Belgium
34
Les cas de l’infinitif absolu avec sujet nominal en Gen. 17:10; Ex. 12:48;
Ps. 17:5; Prov. 17:12; Job 40:2, signalés par W. Gesenius et E. Kautzsch, op. cit,
(n. 29), 361, §113gg, paraissent moins clairs.
35
L’emploi du terme «gérondif» dans une grammaire de l’akkadien (G. Buccellati,
A Structural Grammar of Babylonian [Wiesbaden 1996], 481, §86.3) ne se réfère pas
à un phénomène grammatical comparable.
10
‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS IN
CLASSICAL BIBLICAL HEBREW PROSE
ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA
UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA
Abstract
From Saussure’s distinction between diachronic and synchronic

linguistics, it follows that Classical Biblical Hebrew wayyiqtol and
weqatal are, grammatically speaking, ‘converted’ tenses. The converted
tenses, as such, are not mere verbs, but verb phrases, consisting of a
conjunction (conversive waw) and a verb. But verb phrases can be
syntactically manipulated: the converted tenses might be realized in
alternate forms. In fact, I will analyse numerous anomalous occur-
rences of both qatal and yiqtol as instances of tense ‘conversion’, in
which conversive waw has been replaced by a syntactic equivalent
or displaced by a syntactic insertion, and is thus separated from the
converted verb — a phenomenon I refer to as ‘orphaned’ converted
tense forms. Most notably, I will account for }az yiqtol in this manner.
The adverbial }az has replaced waw, so that the converted imperfect
appears without the conjunction, but with the same tense value as
wayyiqtol.
Introduction
A century ago, Ferdinand de Saussure laid the foundation for that

movement eventually known as structuralism by setting forth in sys-
tematic fashion the concepts, axioms and principles of what he called
‘general linguistics’.1 As Emile Benveniste, a key figure in French
structuralism, recognized already in 1954, one of the crucial innova-
tions he bequeathed to linguistics was his distinction between the
synchronic and diachronic dimensions of language: ‘The novelty of
the Saussurian point of view … was to realize that language in itself
1
Saussure, Course in General Linguistics, trans. Roy Harris (La Salle 1986); here-
after cited as Course. First published posthumously in 1916, Course is based on
students’ class notes dating as far back as 1906. For incisive commentary on Saussure’s
thought, see Jean-Claude Milner, For the Love of Language, trans. Ann Banfield
(New York 1990), 81–97; idem, Le Périple Structural (Paris 2002), 15–43.
11
‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS
does not admit of any historical dimension, that it consists of syn-

chrony and structure, and that it only functions by virtue of its sym-
bolic nature’.2 Thus, according to Saussure: synchronic linguistics
‘will be concerned with logical and psychological connexions between
coexisting items constituting a system, as perceived by the same col-
lective consciousness’; and diachronic linguistics ‘will be concerned
with connexions between sequences of items not perceived by the
same collective consciousness, which replace one another without
themselves constituting a system’ (Course, 98; see the general discus-
sion in 79–98).3
It is in reference to Saussure’s programmatic remarks that one should
understand Benveniste’s analysis of the tense system in French: ‘The
question is, then, to look in a synchronic view of the verbal system in
modern French for the correlations that organize the various tense
forms’.4 He specifically analyses an apparent ‘defect’ (redundancy) in
the language, namely, the coexistence in French of two preterites, the
passé simple (aorist) and passé composé (perfect). ‘According to the tra-
ditional interpretation’, he notes, ‘these are two variants of the same
form … and their co-existence points to a transitional phase in which
the early form (il fit) is retained in the written language, which is more
conservative, while the spoken language anticipates the substitution of
the competing form (il a fait) which is destined to become the only
one’ (205–6). This strictly diachronic explanation, which ‘reduc[es] the
phenomenon to the terms of a successive development’ (206), he rejects
2
Benveniste, ‘Recent Trends in General Linguistics’, in Problems in General
Linguistics, trans. Mary Elizabeth Meek (Coral Gables 1971), 4.
3
Saussure provides an apt illustration of this principle, viz., the mutual irrele-
vance of diachronic facts and synchronic facts: ‘The Latin word crispus (‘wavy,
curly’) supplied French with a stem crép-, on which are based the verbs crépir (‘to
rough-render’) and décrépir (‘to strip the plaster from’). Then French at a certain
stage borrowed from Latin the word decrepitus (‘worn by age’). This became
in French décrépit, and its etymology was forgotten. Nowadays, it is certain that
most speakers connect un mur décrépi (‘a dilapidated wall’) and un homme décrépit
(‘a decrepit man’), although historically the two words have nothing to do with
each other. People often speak of the façade décrépite [‘decrepit façade’–RSK] of a
house. That is a static fact, because it involves a relationship between two terms
coexisting in the language. But in order to bring it about, certain evolutionary
changes had to coincide. The original crisp- had to come to be pronounced crép-,
and at the right moment a new word had to be borrowed from Latin. These
diachronic facts, it is clear, have no connexion with the static fact which they
brought about. They are of quite a different order’ (Course, 83).
4
Benveniste, ‘The Correlations of Tense in the French Verb’, in Problems in
General Linguistics, 205.
12
in favour of his now famous synchronic distinction between two lin-

guistic ‘systems’: narration (histoire) and discourse (discours). The passé
simple, on the one hand, ‘today reserved to the written language, char-
acterizes the narration of past events…. Events that took place at a
certain moment of time are presented without any intervention of the
speaker in the narration’ (206). The passé composé, on the other hand,
‘creates a living connection between the past event and the present in
which its evocation takes place…. Like the present, the perfect belongs
to the linguistic system of discourse, for the temporal location of the
perfect is the moment of the discourse while the location of the aorist
is the moment of the event’ (210). In other words, there exists in
French a synchronic opposition between two modes of tense: discourse,
a subjective, deictic system centred on the speaker (‘I’); narration, an
objective, non-deictic, ‘unspeakable’ system.5 In fact, as I have argued
elsewhere, the same grammatical distinction also exists in Classical Bib-
lical Hebrew (CBH) — which will prove relevant further on.6 To sum-
marize in simplified form: wayyiqtol is a non-deictic preterite, locating
events without reference to a speaker, and thus occurs primarily
(though not exclusively) in narration (histoire); qatal is a deictic pret-
erite, centred on the linguistically identifiable here and now of the
speaker, and thus occurs primarily (though not exclusively) in direct
discourse (discours).
Saussure, however, had little to say about syntax. For syntax — the
concatenation of signs — is a function of parole (language in use),
precisely what is excluded from the structural analysis of langue
(language as an abstract system of elements).7 This study will there-
fore proceed within the research program of generative linguistics,
which has, as Jean-Claude Milner observes, ‘refuted’ the structuralist
‘empirical doctrine of language’.8 The stated aim of this linguistics,
5
See Ann Banfield, Unspeakable Sentences (Boston 1982), 140–80. In pro-
nouncing the passé simple ‘unspeakable’, Banfield means to indicate that native
speakers of French judge it ‘unacceptable’ in the spoken language.
6
See Robert S. Kawashima, Biblical Narrative and the Death of the Rhapsode
(Bloomington 2004), 35–76.
7
At most, structuralist linguistics classifies surface structures rather than analys-
ing syntax as such (Banfield, Unspeakable Sentences, 1–21).
8
Milner, Introduction à une science du langage (Paris 1989), 642; see also 36–40,
63–6, 142–4, 639–42. Conversely, text-linguistics has claimed to move beyond
Chomsky’s sentence-based paradigm, by analysing larger linguistic structures, i.e.,
‘texts’ or ‘discourse’ — an interesting empirical claim which I cannot deal with here.
What is clear, however, is that, generally speaking, text-linguistics continues to oper-
ate within the limited aims of the structuralist enterprise, viz., the classification of
linguistic surface structures.
13
inaugurated by Noam Chomsky, is to represent formally what he calls

‘linguistic competence’: the knowledge native speakers possess that
enables them to generate grammatical sentences and reject ungram-
matical ones.9 This competence consists of two separate components:
a dictionary and a grammar. The ‘mental dictionary’, which Joseph
Emonds describes as ‘the faculty of human linguistic memory and
culture’, contains those brute facts speakers must memorize — most
prominently, words.10 The ‘mental grammar’ is the set of internalized
rules — syntactical, morphological, phonological — by which the
native speaker can, at least in principle, generate all and only the
sentences of a language. Thus, every linguistic realization — word,
phrase, sentence, etc. — is either contained in the dictionary or gen-
erated by the grammar out of elements from the dictionary.
Chomskyan, no less than Saussurean, linguistics studies language
as a synchronic object. For neither the grammar nor the dictionary
makes reference to diachronic derivation, which is to say, a native
speaker’s linguistic competence does not entail knowledge of the his-
tory of the mother tongue — such knowledge may, but need not be
exploited. If it is nonetheless true that everything in a language is the
result of linguistic evolution — what else could it be? — the real
question is, then, whether a given linguistic element has been incor-
porated within the synchronic system, or whether it can only be
understood in terms of diachronic linguistic evolution. Within the
generative model, this question amounts to whether a given linguistic
form, construction, etc. pertains to the dictionary or to the output of
the grammar. For if the grammar accounts for everything that is
synchronically generated by rules, the dictionary, as a list of memo-
rized facts, accounts for that part of language which has simply been
9
See, e.g., Chomsky’s foundational text, Syntactic Structures (The Hague 1957).
He gives his most accessible account of generative linguistics in Language and
Mind 3 (Cambridge 2006). N.B., I am not concerned here with a particular version
of his theory — extended standard, government and binding, minimalist — but
with the overarching research program of generative grammar which can be said to
join these various theories: see Chomsky, New Horizons in the Study of Language
and Mind (Cambridge 2000), 3–18.
10
Emonds, Lexicon and Grammar (Berlin 2000), vii. The distinction between
components corresponds to the process of native language acquisition. Grammatical
rules are never encountered as such. Rather, native speakers (primarily as children)
encounter an extremely poor set of data (actual speech), and from these acquire those
highly abstract rules capable of generating the infinite number of possible gram-
matical strings for a given language. Since the entries in the dictionary — words,
e.g. — cannot be so generated — the sign is ‘arbitrary’, as Saussure observed —
each must be encountered as such and then memorized.
14
transmitted, such as it is, from the past. In order to capture the non-
generative nature of the dictionary, some linguists have adopted the
term ‘listeme’ — on analogy with ‘morpheme’, ‘phoneme’, etc. —
which Steven Pinker glosses as ‘an element of language [morphemes,
word roots, irregular forms, collocations, and idioms] that must be
memorized because its sound or meaning does not conform to some
general rule’.11 In such cases, as Saussure himself admitted, a linguis-
tic element ‘can be explained only in historical terms, by appeal to
relative chronology’ (Course, 96).12
The study of CBH, one foot still planted in nineteenth-century
philology (diachronic linguistics), has been slow to take full cogni-
zance of the synchronic nature of language.13 Witness the sense of
embarrassment frequently surrounding the very concept of ‘con-
verted’ tenses, whose origin in traditional (pre-modern) grammar
makes it seem hopelessly unscientific, especially in light of the discov-
ery that the converted imperfect derives from an archaic preterite.14
Thus, Jacob Weingreen, citing G.R. Driver, proclaims: ‘All attempts
to explain this at first strange phenomenon, whereby two tenses
apparently exchange functions, on logical grounds, have failed, but
the historical development of the Hebrew language readily accounts
for it…. [T]here are two different systems, drawn from different
sources, merged in the Hebrew scheme of tenses’.15 What concerns
me here is not the historical thesis itself, which I have omitted, but
11
Pinker, Words and Rules (New York 1999), 292. The term was coined in
Anne Marie Di Sciullo and Edwin Williams, On the Definition of Word (Cambridge
1987).
12
Saussure’s admission in no way violates — or ‘complicates’ or ‘nuances’ —
the distinction between the diachronic and synchronic dimensions of language.
Rather, listemes should be conceived of as tracing diachronic arcs through time,
intersecting the synchronic state (plane) of a language at a geometrical point with-
out synchronic extension.
13
There are exceptions. See Galia Hatav, ‘Anchoring world and time in biblical
Hebrew’, Journal of Linguistics 40 (2004), 491–526, esp. 492–4 and references
there. That field variously known as ‘text-linguistics’, ‘discourse analysis’, etc. is an
indirect heir of Saussurean structuralism and, as such, synchronic: see, e.g., Robert
D. Bergen (ed.), Biblical Hebrew and Discourse Linguistics (Dallas 1994); Walter
R. Bodine (ed.), Discourse Analysis of Biblical Literature (Atlanta 1995); and David
Allan Dawson, Text-Linguistics and Biblical Hebrew (Sheffield 1994).
14
For an historical survey of studies of the CBH verbal system, including pre-
modern views, see Leslie McFall, The Enigma of the Hebrew Verbal System (Sheffield
1982). The now standard designation ‘consecutive tenses’ seems to function as a fig
leaf, covering up the shame of the medieval notion of tense ‘conversion.’
15
Weingreen, A Practical Grammar for Classical Hebrew2 (Oxford 1959), 252–
3; see also 90–1.
15
the willingness to freely replace a synchronic explanation ‘on logical

grounds’ with a diachronic one based on the ‘historical development’
of CBH. Such Hebraists, in Saussure’s words, have yet ‘to distinguish
clearly between states and sequences’ (Course, 98).
In fact, while the converted imperfect (wayyiqtol ) descends, as is
well known, from the archaic preterite (*wa + yaqtul ), the converted
perfect (weqatal ) followed a more complicated path.16 It apparently
began as the resultative (*wa + qatala) found in the apodosis of
conditional clauses. Only later, on analogy with wayyiqtol, did the
converted perfect assume the various tense-aspect values of the imper-
fect — qatal: wayyiqtol:: yiqtol: weqatal.17 In other words, the con-
verted tenses result from the ‘synchronic reinterpretation’ of previously
established linguistic forms.18 As undeniably important as the discov-
eries of diachronic linguistics have been, they do not change the fact
that wayyiqtol and weqatal were, in the eyes of native speakers, con-
verted tenses. Various morphological anomalies — wayyiben, wattasar,
instead of *wayyibneh, *wattasîr — would not have presented them-
selves to native speakers as linguistic problems requiring a diachronic
explanation — that they are vestiges of *yaqtul — but would have
seemed as harmless as an irregular verb in English — ‘ran’ not ‘runned’.
From the synchronic organization of the converted tenses follow
several crucial but largely unrecognized linguistic consequences. Inas-
much as grammar conceives of wayyiqtol and weqatal as the converted
imperfect and converted perfect, respectively, they are not actual
16
In this discussion, I summarize Ronald S. Hendel, ‘In the Margins of the
Hebrew Verbal System: Situation, Tense, Aspect, Mood’, ZAH 9 (1996), 153 n.5.
See also G. Bergsträsser, Hebräische Grammatik (2 vols, Hildesheim 1962 [1929]),
II, §3 (hereafter Bergsträsser); T.L. Fenton, ‘The Hebrew “Tenses” in the Light of
Ugaritic’, in Proceedings of the Fifth World Congress of Jewish Studies (5 vols, Jerusa-
lem 1969), IV, 31–9. On the origins of wayyiqtol, see Mark S. Smith, The Origins
and Development of the Waw-Consecutive (Atlanta 1991), 1–15; Anson F. Rainey,
‘The Ancient Hebrew Prefix Conjugation in the Light of Amarnah Canaanite’,
HS 27 (1986), 4–19; idem, ‘The Prefix Conjugation Patterns of Early Northwest
Semitic’, in Tzvi Abusch, John Huehnergard and Piotr Steinkeller (eds), Lingering
over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran
(Atlanta 1990), 407–20. On the origins of weqatal, see William L. Moran, ‘The
Hebrew Language in its Northwest Semitic Background’, in G. Ernest Wright (ed.),
The Bible and the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of William Foxwell Albright
(Garden City 1965 [1961]), 74–5; Bruce K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Intro-
duction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake 1990), §32.1.2.
17
See Saussure’s relevant discussion of linguistic analogy in Course, 160–71.
18
Hendel, ‘Hebrew Verbal System’; see also Angel Sáenz-Badillos, A History of
the Hebrew Language, trans. John Elwolde (Cambridge 1993), 69.
16
verbs, but verb phrases consisting of a conjunction (the so-called

conversive waw) and a verb: wayyiqtol = waw + converted yiqtol;
weqatal = waw + converted qatal.19 Which is to say that the gram-
matical concept of converted tense is independent of, cannot be
reduced to, its paradigmatic forms, wayyiqtol and weqatal. On the
contrary, since phrases, unlike words, are subject to internal syntactic
manipulations, it follows that the converted tenses can, in principle,
be realized in alternate forms. In fact, a number of anomalous occur-
rences of both qatal and yiqtol constitute instances of tense ‘conver-
sion’, in which conversive waw is replaced by a syntactic equivalent
or displaced by a syntactic insertion, and is thus separated from the
converted verb — a phenomenon I refer to as ‘orphaned’ converted
tense forms. Most notably, I will account for }az yiqtol — but not
†erem yiqtol — in this manner.20 The adverbial }az has replaced waw,
so that the converted imperfect appears without the conjunction, but
with the same tense value as wayyiqtol. The conditions of replacement
and displacement indicate that I am not merely providing an ad hoc
explanation for grammatical difficulties.21
I am not the first to identify orphaned converted tense forms.
Beat Zuber, in particular, anticipates this study in important respects.
Instead of providing a properly syntactic explanation, however, he
theorizes that a certain power (Umkehrfunktion) resides in various
particles (Tempusverhalten verschiedener Partikel ).22 Several genera-
tions earlier, a few scholars recognized various instances of these con-
verted tenses, as well — though, sadly, their insight seems to have
been largely forgotten by subsequent scholarship.23 Their examples,
19
One might object that wayyiqtol and weqatal are written as single words — at
least when word breaks are represented. Typographical word divisions, however, do
not necessarily coincide with underlying (abstract) linguistic word divisions: see
Steven Pinker, Language Instinct (New York 1995), 126–57.
20
While scholars have often treated }az yiqtol and †erem yiqtol as a matched pair,
there is no a priori reason for doing so: see Bergsträsser II, §7c,g; Galia Hatav, ‘The
Modal Nature of [†erem] in Biblical Hebrew’, HS 47 (2006), 23–47; and Jan
Joosten, ‘The Long Form of the Prefix Conjugation Referring to the Past in Biblical
Hebrew Prose’, HS 40 (1999), 18–19.
21
I thus reject the negative view which maintains that tense forms in CBH freely
change tense value: see Alexander Sperber, Hebrew Grammar: A New Approach (New
York 1943), 181–207. His discussion, however, is valuable for identifying a number
of interesting, because anomalous, occurrences of various tenses (192–8). See also
Ziony Zevit’s analysis of ‘non-past yaqtul’ in ‘Talking Funny in Biblical Henglish
and Solving a Problem of the Yaqtul Past Tense’, HS 29 (1988), 25–33.
22
Zuber, Das Tempussystem des biblischen Hebräisch (Berlin 1985), 156–84.
23
See Julius Friedrich Böttcher, Ausführliches Lehrbuch der Hebräischen Sprache,
2 vols (Leipzig 1866–8), 2.205; Heinrich Ewald, Ausführliches Lehrbuch der hebräischen
17
however, while interesting, are mostly prosodic, which raises prob-

lems beyond the scope of this study.24
Conversely, no less a scholar than S.R. Driver dismissed this the-
ory, insisting that without conversive waw, the appropriate uncon-
verted tense is invariably employed.25 Driver, however, betrays here
a lack of linguistic clarity all too common in the field. In effect,
he takes linguistic surface structure as the sole fact to be accounted
for, a false premise common to traditional grammar as well as struc-
turalist methods. Thus, all occurrences of the surface forms yiqtol
and qatal are analysed as the imperfect or perfect, respectively. If a
particular instance of yiqtol and qatal defies the standard assignment
of tense value — and such anomalies are legion — a suitable seman-
tic nuance is invented in ad hoc fashion in order to rescue the surface
form and restore grammatical order.26 Generative linguistics, how-
ever, has provided powerful arguments for positing beneath the lin-
guistic surface an abstract grammatical structure — I do not even
refer here to ‘deep structure’. An adequate description of a linguistic
surface structure must capture these underlying relations. Consider
the two uses of the present tense form in ‘It is [now] cloudy’ and
‘Pi is [*now] equivalent to the ratio of a circle’s circumference to
its diameter’. The former is the present tense proper (co-temporal
with the moment of speech), and so it can co-occur with the deictic
Sprache des alten Bundes 8 (Göttingen 1870), §346b; and Ferdinand Hitzig, Der
Prophet Jeremia 2, (Leipzig 1866), 334 (Jer 44:22); idem, Das Buch Hiob (Leipzig
1874), 23 (Job 3:25), 39 (Job 5:19–20). I also draw from S.R. Driver’s summary
of Hitzig’s relevant comments, apparently scattered in additional sources, in A Trea-
tise on the Use of the Tenses in Hebrew and Some Other Syntactical Questions 3 (Oxford
1892), §§85 Obs, 109 Obs.
24
In general, the evidence for this study comes from the prose portions of
Genesis-Kings.
25
Driver, Tenses, §§85 Obs, 109 Obs.
26
The contingence of its encounter with the real of language distinguishes lin-
guistics proper — i.e., modern, scientific — in its various forms, from traditional
grammar and certain structuralist methods. Thus, traditional grammar, as Milner
observes, ‘constructs an image’ of language (pertaining to Lacan’s order of the
‘imaginary’), one that is ‘total’, since nothing need escape grammatical description
(For the Love of Language, 75). And various structuralist methods, as Banfield points
out, ‘even when they pretend to be empirical … find their data too easily, the notion
of argument being absent’ (‘Preface to Phrases sans parole’, trans. Thelma Sowley, in
Robert S. Kawashima, Gilles Philippe and Thelma Sowley (eds), Phantom Sentences:
Essays in Linguistics and Literature Presented to Ann Banfield [Bern 2008], 463). In
marked contrast, the contingence of the linguistic discovery, as part of ‘the order of
science’, requires that linguistic knowledge take the form of ‘fragments’ (Milner,
For the Love of Language, 76).
18
adverbial ‘now’. The latter is the ‘generic’ present (related to no

particular moment), and so it cannot. The hypothetical insertion of
‘now’, a type of syntactic experiment, precludes an explanation of
these two sentences based on mere interpretive sleight of hand (seman-
tic nuance). Rather, one must posit beneath a single surface form the
abstract but ‘real’ existence of two distinct tenses. Just so, one cannot
simply dismiss my theory for positing beneath the surface forms
yiqtol and qatal a second pair of tense values. In fact, my theory has
considerable explanatory power, accounting for a multitude of gram-
matical anomalies, while economically replacing a cumbersome set of
ad hoc semantic nuances with a single grammatical principle, firmly
established on independent grounds, viz., tense conversion.
On }az yiqtol as an ‘orphaned’ converted imperfect
The most common form of the orphaned converted imperfect is }az

yiqtol. In order to account for the surprising fact that the prefix
conjugation following }az (‘then’) often refers to past events, many
scholars resort to a purely historical explanation: it is a vestigial
occurrence of the archaic preterite *yaqtul.27 It must immediately be
observed that this diachronic hypothesis is premised on a widespread
but largely repressed synchronic perception that, in terms of tense value,
}az yiqtol is equivalent to *yaqtul, which in CBH means wayyiqtol.28 As
27
See Bergsträsser II, §7g; Edward L. Greenstein, ‘On the Prefixed Preterite in
Biblical Hebrew’, HS 29 (1988), 8; Joosten, ‘Prefix Conjugation’, 22 n.17, 24–5;
Alviero Niccacci, Syntax of the Verb in Classical Hebrew Prose (Sheffield 1990), 194.
By comparing CBH with Arabic, Waltke and O’Connor effectively offers a dia-
chronic explanation of }az yiqtol (An Introduction, §31.6.3a). Recall that Saussure’s
‘diachronic’ linguistics was originally called ‘comparative’, because whether it com-
pared successive states of a language in order to trace linguistic change, or parallel
linguistic facts from different languages in order to posit a common predecessor
(such as Indo-European or proto-Semitic), the comparison served the diachronic
analysis of language (see Milner, Périple structural, 19–20).
28
For this reason, †erem yiqtol and }az yiqtol require two separate explanations.
In the former, yiqtol retains the normal tense value of the (unconverted) imperfect.
For as Hendel observes, †erem (‘not yet, before’) ‘requires a relative future verb by
its inherent meaning’ (‘Hebrew Verbal System’, 160; he builds on earlier versions of
the relative tense theory of CBH; see esp. Bergsträsser II, §§6–7. For an historical
survey, see McFall, Enigma, 21–4, 33–4, 41–3, 177–9). It is only because †erem
yiqtol is a relative clause, whose translation into English (and other Indo-European
languages) typically requires the shifted past, that scholars have often misidentified
the Hebrew construction as a form of the past tense. In }az yiqtol, however, the
imperfect has been converted into a genuine preterite. What is more, the adverbial
19
we will see, the diachronic hypothesis is almost certainly false. But as

we have already seen, even if it were true, it would not, in and of
itself, preclude the existence of a synchronic pattern or rule. Rather,
one must produce arguments for assigning }az yiqtol to the dictionary
as a listeme. Two possibilities immediately present themselves.29
One might be tempted to analyse }az yiqtol as fixed ‘idiom
chunks’ preserving the archaic preterite *yaqtul.30 Idioms have two
defining linguistic features: unpredictable (idiomatic) meaning, and
non-productive (fixed) syntactic structure. To be more precise,
Andrew Radford defines idioms as expressions ‘which have an idio-
syncratic meaning that is not a purely componential function of the
meaning of their individual parts’.31 Apropos of their syntax, he con-
tinues: ‘There seems to be a constraint that only a string of words
which forms a unitary constituent can be an idiom. Thus, while we
find idioms … which are of the form verb + complement … we don’t
find idioms of the form subject + verb where the verb has a comple-
ment which isn’t part of the idiom’.32 Consider expressions such as:
‘kick the bucket’; ‘bite the bullet’; ‘break the ice’. The meaning of
these expressions may have made some sense in their original context,
but they survive unchanged as odd relics from the past. They must
therefore be memorized individually, like words themselves. Note as
}az, unlike †erem, locates the event, not in some relative future, but at a definite
point in time, viz., ‘then’. Thus, it has been argued that }az marks the insertion of
archival material into Kings, and replaces a date in the source text (James A. Mont-
gomery, ‘Archival Data in the Book of Kings’, JBL 53 [1934], 49; Martin Noth,
The Deuteronomistic History [Sheffield 1981], 128 n. 45). On the relation between
temporal adverbs and verbal tense and aspect, see Hamida Demirdache and Myriam
Uribe-Etxebarria, ‘The Syntax of Time Adverbs’, in Jacqueline Guéron and Jacque-
line Lecarme (eds), The Syntax of Time (Cambridge 2004), 143–79. For a general
overview of }az, see Martin Jan Mulder, ‘Die Partikel [}az] im biblischen Hebräisch’,
in K. Jongeling, H.L. Murre-Van den Berg and L. van Rompay (eds), Studies in
Hebrew and Aramaic Syntax: Presented to Professor J. Hoftijzer on the Occasion of his
Sixty-Fifth Birthday (Leiden 1991), 132–42.
29
The following arguments also apply, mutatis mutandis, to †erem yiqtol, which
is to say, †erem yiqtol is not a listeme, but is generated by the grammar.
30
Joosten calls }az yiqtol a ‘fixed phrase’ preserving an ‘older grammatical func-
tion’ (‘Prefix Conjugation’, 25), while Niccacci identifies it as a specimen of ‘certain
fixed constructions’ preserving the ‘archaic use of YIQTOL’ (Syntax, 194). Neither
provides a precise linguistic definition of this ‘fixed’ phrase/construction with which
one might have tested their hypothesis. Montgomery similarly proposes that the
construction is a ‘stylism’ resulting from the use of archival data — though he does
not discuss the problem of tense per se (‘Archival Data’, 49).
31
Radford, Syntactic Theory and the Structure of English (Cambridge 1997), 322.
32
Radford, Syntactic Theory, 322–3, emphasis his.
20
well their fixed collocation of a particular verb with a particular com-

plement. As fixed expressions they do not even tolerate the insertion
of modifiers, at which point they lose their figurative (idiomatic)
meaning.
*He kicked the green bucket.
*Sooner or later you’ll need to bite the silver bullet.
*It’s time we broke the hard ice.
It is immediately clear, however, that }az yiqtol fails both criteria. It
has a productive syntax, indiscriminately combining subjects, verbs
and complements, and it does not in and of itself have an unpredict-
able idiomatic meaning.33
Alternatively, one could simply analyse }az yiqtol as a ‘strong’
or irregular verb form, which preserves the remnant of an archaic
morphological pattern. As Pinker notes apropos of irregular English
verbs — drink-drank, sink-sank, shrink-shrank, etc. — they ‘are
mere fossils of [Proto-Indo-European] rules’.34 In other words, while
the ‘weak’ forms evolve in conformity with those regular synchronic
patterns generated by the grammar, the ‘strong’ forms, immune for
whatever reason to certain linguistic changes, are left behind by his-
tory in various archaic states, which speakers perceive as grammatical
irregularities. In CBH, the short forms of wayyiqtol constitute just
such an irregular pattern, and they thus provide important evidence
for the historical relation between wayyiqtol and *yaqtul. This
hypothesis, however, fails to account for }az yiqtol, which is con-
spicuously regular in terms of the imperfect tense. As is well known,
one predictably encounters the long form of the prefix conjugation
in these constructions.35
1 Kgs 11:7: }az yibneh selomoh bamâ likmôs — not yiben, as in wayyiben
Then Solomon built a high place for Chemosh.
If one still insisted on tracing yiqtol in such constructions back to
*yaqtul, one would then have to admit that it is no longer a mere
fossil, but an element that has been reabsorbed by the grammar and
33
Pinker identifies another class of listemes similar to idioms, viz., ‘colloca-
tions’: ‘string[s] of words commonly used together: excruciating pain; in the line of
fire’ (Words and Rules, 290, emphasis his); see also Geoffrey Nunberg, Ivan Sag, and
Thomas Wasow, ‘Idioms’, Language 70 (1994), 491–538. I will not consider this
case separately, however, since }az yiqtol is not a collocation for the same reasons
that it is not an idiom.
34
Pinker, Language Instinct, 138.
35
See also Exod. 15:1; Num. 21:17; Deut. 4:41; Josh. 8:30; 2 Kgs 12:18.
21
resumed evolving as a regular linguistic form — in other words, that

}az *yaqtul has been synchronically reinterpreted as }az + imperfect.
It may be true, as Edward Greenstein has observed, that ‘in one
instance [of }az yiqtol] the Masoretic vocalization reflects the shorter
*yaqtul rather than the longer *yaqtulu form’:36 }az yaqhel (‘Then
[Solomon] assembled’; 1 Kgs 8:1) — not yaqhîl. But does this justify
deriving }az yiqtol from the archaic prefix preterite? One could just as
easily point to irregular long forms of wayyiqtol — e.g., wattibkeh
(1 Sam. 1:7; 2 Kgs 22:19) and wayyibneh (Josh. 19:50; 1 Kgs 18:32).
Following Greenstein’s logic, one should derive wayyiqtol from
*yaqtulu.37 As he himself argues, however — correctly this time —
the more common short forms (wayyaqom, wayyiben, etc.) argue for
its derivation from *yaqtul instead.38 In both cases, then, the excep-
tional forms merely prove the rule. But they are not without signifi-
cance. On the one hand, wattibkeh and wayyibneh though quite pos-
sibly ungrammatical, indicate the writers’ perception of the ‘conversive’
relationship between wayyiqtol and yiqtol — a type of linguistic
Freudian slip.39 In 1 Kgs 8:1, on the other, a biblical writer (or
Masorete), aware of how irregular it is for yaqhîl (marked as imper-
fect) to function as a preterite, ‘corrected’ it by analogy with wayyiq-
tol. In doing so, this individual betrayed the grammatical equivalence
he perceived between }az yiqtol and wayyiqtol. The preponderance of
evidence, however, suggests that this example is an instance of hyper-
correction.
Not only does }az yiqtol not behave like a listeme, we have positive
evidence that it has nothing to do with the preterite *yaqtul in the
first place. For all the occurrences of }az yiqtol in direct discourse
(Benveniste’s discours) refer to events in the future: Gen. 24:41;
Exod. 12:44, 48; Lev. 26:34, 41; Deut. 29:19; Josh. 1:8; 20:6;
36
Greenstein, ‘Prefixed Preterite’, 8. Joosten rightly pronounces it a ‘grammat-
ical anomaly’ (‘Prefix Conjugation’, 25 n. 24).
37
That wattibkeh in 1 Sam. 1:7 probably continues an iterative past sequence
does not change the fact that it is, morphologically speaking, a (nonstandard) form
of wayyiqtol. See the unconvincing analysis of these long forms in Paul Joüon and
Takamitsu Muraoka, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (2 vols, Rome 1991), II,
§79m.
38
Greenstein, ‘Prefixed Preterite’, 8–9.
39
This sort of error — producing a regular form (‘runned’) where an irregular
one is called for (‘ran’) — is typical of non-native speakers (and young children).
Perhaps, then, these non-standard long forms are due to dialectal variation (including
that due to diachronic evolution), as opposed to mere carelessness on the part of a
native speaker of ‘normative’ CBH.
22
1 Sam. 6:3; 20:12; 2 Sam. 5:24; 2 Kgs 5:3.40 If this construction

were a vestige of *yaqtul, it should refer uniformly to the past.41
Instead, we find that this single construction can refer to either the
past or the future. This is a grammatical problem that any adequate
theory must solve — more on which below. Finally, diachronic evi-
dence within the Bible itself suggests that }az yiqtol (with past tense
meaning) did not evolve from }az *yaqtul or even }az *yaqtulu, but
from }az qatal. For it is precisely this last construction that we find
in archaic poetry.42
Exod. 15:15: }az nibhalû }allûpê }edôm
Then were dismayed the chieftains of Edom.
On the basis of this limited but telling evidence, it appears that }az
yiqtol, far from being an archaism in BH, first appears in CBH prose,
when yiqtol simply replaces qatal.43
To summarize: }az yiqtol is not a listeme (a vestige of *yaqtul );
rather, it is generated by the grammar in the form of the imperfect.
And yet, it does not take the tense value of the imperfect (present-
future), but rather of the preterite. How can this be?
Exod. 15:1: }az yasîr moseh ûbenê yisra}el }et hassîrâ hazzo}t layhwh
Then Moses sang, and the Israelites, this song to the Lord.
Judg. 5:1: wattasar debôrâ ûbaraq ben }abînoäm bayyôm hahû}
And Deborah and Barak son of Abinoam sang on that day …
Consider the nearly identical syntax and context of Exod. 15:1
and Judg. 5:1. Even the temporal adverb, }az, in the former has its
equivalent in the latter — bayyôm hahû}. But for the change in sub-
ject, these two sentences have virtually the same meaning, including
their tense value.44 So much so that I maintain that }az yasîr and
40
In direct discourse, }az qatal is used to refer to the past — more on which
below.
41
See McFall, Enigma, 222–3.
42
See also Gen. 49:4; Judg. 5:11, 13, 19, 22.
43
It is true that in Ugaritic }idk (‘then’) can be followed by the prefix conjuga-
tion: }idk l ttn pnm ¨m }il, ‘then she verily sets face toward El’ (Daniel Sivan, A
Grammar of the Ugaritic Language [Leiden 1997], 181). But the evidence of biblical
poetry is more pertinent here.
44
Contra those who give the construction the tense-aspect value of the imper-
fect: Carl Brockelmann, Hebräische Syntax (Neukirchen 1956), §42a; Driver, Tenses,
§§26–7; E. Kautzsch (ed.), Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar 2, trans. A.E. Cowley
(Oxford 1910), §107c (hereafter GKC); Isaac Rabinowitz, ‘}Az Followed by Imper-
fect Verb-Form in Preterite Contexts: A Redactional Device in Biblical Hebrew’,
23
wattasar — i.e., }az yiqtol and wayyiqtol — are syntactically parallel.

Apparently, then, }az has replaced the conversive waw as a type of
syntactic equivalent,45 while the now orphaned converted imperfect
retains its preterite tense value.46 So reasoned the writer or Masorete
in 1 Kgs 8:1, who, as noted earlier, apparently corrected — or hyper-
corrected — the ostensibly irregular long form of the preterite, yaqhîl,
replacing it with yaqhel.
What is surprising (and neglected in the literature) is that }az
yiqtol has past tense meaning only in narration. In direct discourse,
it retains the future tense value of the imperfect, so that the alternate
construction }az qatal must be used instead to refer to past events:
Josh. 22:31; 2 Sam. 5:24; etc.47 Tense conversion elegantly accounts
for this striking fact: }az yiqtol is converted in narration, unconverted
in discourse. Furthermore, the synchronic distribution of converted
VT 34 (1984), 53–62; E.J. Revell, ‘The System of the Verb in Standard Biblical
Prose’, HUCA 60 (1989), 11; Christo H.J. van der Merwe, Jackie A. Naudé, and
Jan H. Kroeze, A Biblical Hebrew Reference Grammar (Sheffield 2002), §19.3.2.
One should probably include in this group Frithiof Rundgren, who proposes the
rather baroque notion of an ‘imparfait de rupture’ that ‘neutralizes’ the opposition
between the ‘kursive’ (imperfect) and ‘non-kursive’ (perfect) tenses (‘Erneuerung des
Verbalaspekts im Semitischen: Funktionell-diachronische Studien zur semitischen
Verblehre’, Acta Universitatis Upsalensis; Acta Societatis Linguisticae Upsalensis n.s. 1/3
[1963], 88–9).
45
Their syntactic equivalence is suggested by their complementary distribution:
}az (not counting compound forms with min) is attested 118 times in the Masoretic
Text (MT); we}az occurs only 4 times. Of the latter, three are found in the apo-
dosis of a conditional statement, which motivates the presence of we; the fourth
(Jer 32:2) constitutes the only unmotivated attestation of we}az. The infrequency
of we}az is striking, given the frequency of sentence-initial waw in CBH. It means
that the presence of }az precludes we (and vice-versa), which suggests that their
combination was felt to be redundant.
46
According to Wolfgang Schneider, }az in narrative ‘ersetzt das Tempus-
Zeichen “wa”’ (Grammatik des biblischen Hebräisch 8 [München 1993], §48.4.3.4);
see again Zuber, Tempussystem, 163–5. Rainey vaguely suggests that ‘the use of the
imperfect as a narrative tense [is probably] made possible by the combination with the
adverb, [}az]’ (‘Further Remarks on the Hebrew Verbal System’, HS 29 [1988], 35).
McFall offers the still weaker hypothesis (incorrectly attributed to †erem as well):
‘The so-called conversive force of [}az] and [†erem] depends on the fact that a cor-
responding tense (the past) precedes, with which it is co-ordinated’ (Enigma, 223).
Joüon and Muraoka correctly observe that yiqtol here has ‘no iterative or durative
aspect, and thus [has] the value of qatal, which would be the expected form’
(A Grammar, II, §113h), but fails to offer an adequate explanation. While Ewald’s
theory is based on an incorrect diachronic derivation, we + }az → wa (§231a), it
correctly relates }az yiqtol to the converted imperfect (§§233b, 346d).
47
While }az qatal also occurs in narration (Exod. 4:26; Josh. 10:33; 22:31; etc.),
this does not affect my argument here.
24
and unconverted }az yiqtol corroborates, in turn, the distinction I

have maintained elsewhere between narration (histoire) and direct
discourse (discours) in CBH: like wayyiqtol, converted }az yiqtol is
characteristic of narration, not discourse.48
The matching diachronic distributions of }az yiqtol and wayyiqtol
further corroborates their grammatical equivalence, albeit indirectly.
It has been suggested that }az yiqtol begins dying out in Late Biblical
Hebrew (LBH), eventually to be replaced by }az qatal 49 — just as it
originally derived, I have argued, from the latter. It should be admit-
ted that already in CBH, }az qatal apparently provided a viable alter-
native to }az yiqtol in narration: Gen. 4:26; Exod. 4:26; Josh. 10:33;
Judg. 8:3; 13:21; 2 Sam. 21:17, 18; 1 Kgs 8:12; 9:24; 22:50;
2 Kgs 14:8.50 Nevertheless, the relative frequency of their appearances
in Chronicles demonstrates a decisive shift in LBH: }az qatal occurs
seven times (1 Chron. 15:2; 16:7; 20:4; 2 Chron. 6:1; 8:12; 8:17;
24:17); }az yiqtol (with past tense meaning) occurs only twice, and
both of these derive from the parallel passage in Kings (2 Chron. 5:2 =
1 Kgs 8:1; 2 Chron. 21:10 = 2 Kgs 8:22).51 This construction is
arguably replaced by baët hahî} qatal as well, which apart from a
single appearance in Josh. 5:2, is restricted to a cluster of occurrences
in Kings: 1 Kgs 14:1; 2 Kgs 16:6, 18:16, 20:12, 24:10. The life span
of }az yiqtol thus coincides with that of wayyiqtol, which likewise
flourished in CBH.52 And this correlation of their diachronic evolu-
tion supports my hypothesis that the two are synchronically related.
Finally, as a type of linguistic thought experiment, one might
consider various near synonyms for }az. Why does the orphaned
converted imperfect co-occur only with }az, and not with these alter-
natives? CBH possesses two prepositional phrases that constitute
near synonyms of }az: bayyôm hahû} (‘in that day’) and baët hahî}
(‘at that time’).
48
Kawashima, Biblical Narrative, 35–76.
49
See Brockelmann §42; Waltke and O’Connor, An Introduction, §31.6.3
50
I exclude here occurrences found in direct discourse (discussed earlier), where
qatal is the expected preterite: Josh. 22:31; 2 Sam. 2:27 (counterfactual); 5:24;
2 Kgs 13:19 (counterfactual). It is far from clear that }az qatal is ‘ungrammatical’
as Montgomery claims (‘Archival Data’, 49). Neither do I perceive a clear semantic
difference between }az yiqtol and }az qatal. I view occurrences of }az qatal in narra-
tion as the result of dialectal variation or of genuine uncertainty regarding the use
of tense with }az.
51
See Arno Kropat, Die Syntax des Autors der Chronik (Giessen 1909), 17.
52
See esp. Sáenz-Badillos, History of Hebrew, 112–29; Smith, Waw-Consecutive,
27–33.
25
Gen. 15:18: bayyôm hahû} karat yhwh }et }abram berît

In that day, the Lord cut a covenant with Abram.53
Josh. 5:2: baët hahî} }amar yhwh }el yehôsua¨
At that time, the Lord said to Joshua …54
These two prepositional phrases, while similar in meaning and func-
tion to }az, have a different syntactical status. They occur only rarely
in sentence-initial position — recall, e.g., the sentence-initial position
of }az in Exod. 15:1 and the sentence-final position of bayyôm hahû}
in Judg. 5:1. And in those few cases when they are in a position
to replace conversive waw, they seem disqualified from doing so by
virtue of their being a full prepositional phrase, rather than a mere
particle. Thus, we never encounter bayyôm hahû} yiqtol or baët hahî}
yiqtol, where the imperfect has been converted into the preterite.
They are followed by either yiqtol as relative future (Lev. 22:30) or
the preterite qatal (see previous paragraph). More frequently, how-
ever, they follow the verb and therefore cannot interfere syntactically
with wayyiqtol to begin with.55
Other Orphaned Converted Imperfects
Aside from these occurrences of }az yiqtol with past tense meaning,
there are only a few additional cases of the orphaned converted
imperfect, but these nonetheless provide important corroboration of
the linguistic analysis just proposed. An exceptional case is found in
Judg. 2:1 (}aäleh, ‘I brought [you] up’), where conversive waw has
simply been dropped for no discernable reason. The subsequent verb
sequence, however, leaves no doubt as to its tense value: wa}abî}…
wa}omar, ‘And I brought … and I said’. More typically, conversive
waw is displaced from its prefixal position.
1 Kgs 20:33: weha}anasîm yenaÌasû waymaharû wayyaÌle†û
And the men divined and hurried and took [his meaning].
In effect, the grammatical subject (‘the men’) is inserted between
conversive waw and converted imperfect. Again, the subsequent
wayyiqtols leave no doubt as to its tense value.
53
See also Josh. 4:14 and 1 Kgs 8:64.
54
See also 1 Kgs 14:1; 2 Kgs 16:6; 18:16; 20:12; 24:10.
55
To take just a few examples, see: Gen. 30:35; 33:16; 48:20 (bayyôm hahû} );
and Josh. 6:26; 11:10, 21; Judg. 3:29 (baët hahî} ).
26
1 Sam. 1:10: wehî} marat napes wattitpallel äl yhwh ûbakoh tibkeh56
And she was bitter of soul, and she prayed to the Lord and wept deeply.
Here, the infinitive absolute (bakoh), functioning as a manner adver-
bial (‘deeply’), has been embedded within the underlying verb phrase,
thus displacing conversive waw from its prefixal position.57 One can
restore the underlying syntax by moving the infinitive after wayyiqtol,
where it more properly belongs: wattitpallel äl yhwh wattebk bakoh
(cf Gen. 31:15). True, one expects the syntactic interruption, which
precludes clause-initial wayyiqtol, to result in qatal: ûbakoh baketâ. At
least certain biblical writers, however, thought it grammatically
acceptable to insert the adverbial between the conversive waw and
the converted imperfect. And just as the grammar generates the long
form tibkeh according to regular rules, so it generates conversive waw
not as wa- but as û.
The same syntactic phenomenon seems to be in evidence in the
following examples as well, but now an entire phrase separates con-
versive waw from orphaned converted imperfect.
Exod. 8:20: wayyaäs yhwh ken wayyabo} ärob kabed… ûbekol }ereÒ
miÒrayim tissaÌet ha}areÒ mippenê heärob
And the Lord did so. And a great swarm came… And in all the land
of Egypt the land was ruined because of the swarm.
Analogous to the previous example, the adverbial phrase (bekol }ereÒ
miÒrayim) inserts itself between the waw and the orphaned converted
imperfect (tissaÌet). I interpret the underlying syntactic relations thus:
*wattissaÌet ha}areÒ bekol }ereÒ miÒrayim mippenê heärob.58
56
We find a striking potential parallel in the Deir Allah inscription: wyqm bl¨m
mn mÌr … ubkh ybkh, ‘And Balaam rose the next day … and wept bitterly’ (Com-
bination 1.3–4; see Shmuel Ahituv, Handbook of Ancient Hebrew Inscriptions, [Jeru-
salem 1992], 266 [Hebrew]). Given the textual gap, it is impossible to analyse the
syntax precisely. If wbkh ybkh continues the preterite sequence of wyqm, I would
analyse it in the same way as 1 Sam. 1:10. For a radically different construal of the
inscription, see Klaas A.D. Smelik, Writings from Ancient Israel (Louisville 1992), 83.
57
Contra Waltke and O’Connor’s semantic explanation (An Introduction,
§31.2c). On the infinitive absolute and its interaction with tense, see Kawashima,
Biblical Narrative, 52–6.
58
Even Driver describes this imperfect as ‘of an exceptional character’ (Tenses,
§27g). Giving the verb an imperfective tense value — e.g., ‘the land was being
ruined’ — makes less sense semantically than the simple preterite reading. Note,
restoring wattissaÌet results in the repetitive phrase, ha}areÒ bekol }ereÒ miÒrayim. The
writer may have fronted the prepositional phrase, making an orphan of the con-
verted imperfect, in order to avoid this inelegant concatenation.
27
Num. 35:20: we}im besin}â yehdapennû }ô hislîk älayw biÒdiyyâ

wayyamot
And if in hatred he pushed him or hurled something at him, lying in
wait, and he died…
In Num. 35:20, note how we}im … yehdapennû is syntactically par-
allel to }ô hislîk (qatal ) and continued by wayyamot (wayyiqtol ).59
Moreover, the other parallel cases considered in this passage are all
presented as past events (qatal ): e.g., we}im … hikkahû (Num. 35:16,
17, etc.).
Deut. 2:12: ûbese¨îr yasebû haÌorîm lepanîm ûbenê ësaw yîrasûm
wayyasmîdûm wayyesebû taÌtam
And in Seir had dwelt the Horim previously, but the sons of Esau
dispossessed them and destroyed them and dwelt there in their place.
2 Kgs 20:14: mâ }amerû ha}anasîm ha}elleh ûme}ayin yabo}û }elêka
What did these men say to you, and from where did they come to you?
Now in both of these examples, one must seriously contend with the
possibility that the sentence is simply ungrammatical — in spite of
the fact that we can no longer consult a native speaker. I for one
would replace yîrasûm and yabo}û with their qatal equivalents, yaresû
and ba}û (cf. Gen. 42:7) — not as textual emendations, but as gram-
matical corrections.60 Even so, I interpret the actual data as indirect
evidence of the writers’ mental grammar. What function did each
writer intend for the unexpected imperfect? In both cases, the con-
verted imperfect.61 Thus, yîrasûm in Deut. 2:12 is continued not by
59
This verse comes from casuistic law and is sometimes interpreted with imper-
fective/future meaning, but see n. 70 below.
60
Chomsky defines linguistic ‘competence’ in opposition to ‘performance’,
which is subject to individual variation and error. Like Saussure’s distinction
between langue and parole, this reduction of the linguistic object to an idealized
form is the epistemological act whereby linguistics constitutes itself as a science.
Inasmuch as one seeks to analyse the linguistic competence of CBH speakers, not
all the data contained in MT can simply be accepted as grammatical. For even if it
were purified of all textual corruption, MT would still pertain by definition to
linguistic performance. Thus, although we can no longer consult native speakers,
one must, however cautiously, attempt to separate the grammatical from the
ungrammatical. This is no different from the venerable practice of text criticism,
which proceeds by sorting through variant readings and even emending the text
when necessary. The refusal to admit the existence of ungrammatical constructions
(and textual corruptions) in MT is akin to the doctrine of scriptural inerrancy.
61
Greenstein lists Deut. 2:12 and 2 Kgs 20:14 (among less convincing exam-
ples) as cases where: ‘Without special pleading, it is simplest to analyze the prefixed
28
weqatal, but wayyiqtol; and in 2 Kgs 20:14, Isaiah’s question (yabo}û)

is answered in the perfect tense (ba}û), the event being treated as
a fait accompli.62 So why does the converted imperfect appear in
orphaned form? Again, due to the displacement of conversive waw.
I would thus grammatically ‘restore’ these sentences as follows:
*Deut. 2:12: ûbese¨îr yasebû haÌorîm lepanîm wayyîresûm benê ësaw
wayyasmîdûm wayyesebû taÌtam
*2 Kgs 20:14: mâ }amerû ha}anasîm ha}elleh wayyabo}û me}ayin }elêka
In the first case, however, we lose the disjunction between the
first and second clauses; in the second, the interrogative needs to be
in clause-initial position. For these reasons, neither sentence actually
occurs in these forms. In terms of tense sequence, however, these
hypothetical reconstructions are the best approximation of the gram-
matically acceptable syntactic form each writer was aiming for.
Finally, one finds a cluster of orphaned converted imperfects
caused by the insertion of the negative particle.
2 Sam. 2:28: wayyitqa¨ yô}ab bassôpar wayyaämdû kol ha äm welo}
yirdepû ¨ôd }aÌarê yisra}el welo} yasepû ¨ôd lehillaÌem
And Joab sounded the trumpet and all the troops halted, and they no
longer pursued Israel and they no longer continued to fight.
1 Kgs 8:8: wayya}arikû habbaddîm wayyera}û ra}sê habbaddîm min
haqqodes äl penê haddebîr welo} yera}û haÌûÒâ
And the poles extended out, and the ends of the poles were seen from
the sanctuary in front of the inner shrine, but they were not seen
outside.
Jer 44:22: welo} yûkal yhwh ¨ôd lase}t…wattehî }arÒekem
And the Lord could no longer bear … and so your land became …
In all three cases, the most natural reading of yiqtol is as the converted
imperfect.63 Note in particular the parallel in 2 Sam. 2:28 between
welo} yirdepû ¨ôd (yiqtol ) and welo} yasepû ¨ôd (qatal ), both presuma-
bly having the same tense value. In fact, welo} qatal is the standard
form: Deut. 34:10; Josh. 2:11, 5:1,12; 1 Kgs 10:5; 2 Kgs 2:12.
verbs in these pairs as preterites’ (‘Prefixed Preterite’, 11). What he has in mind,
however, is a diachronic derivation from *yaqtul.
62
Contra Zuber, Tempussystem, 134–5. This past tense context differentiates
2 Kgs 20:14 from similar examples in present tense contexts: Josh. 9:8; Judg. 17:9;
19:17. On these latter examples, see also McFall, Enigma, 84–5; Waltke and
O’Connor, An Introduction, §31.3b.
63
Contra Revell’s analysis of 1 Kgs 8:8 (‘System of the Verb’, 12).
29
In order to account for these anomalous occurrences of yiqtol, one

must yet again choose between inventing an ad hoc semantic nuance
and invoking an established syntactic principle, viz., tense conversion.
Orphaned Converted Perfects
The converted perfect (weqatal ),64 as a verb phrase, is subject to the

same syntactical manipulations as the converted imperfect (wayyiqtol ).
That is, conversive waw can either be replaced by a syntactic equiv-
alent, or displaced by an embedded element, leaving behind an
orphaned converted perfect. Since these linguistic principles should
by now be clear, the remaining discussion will primarily consist of
the presentation of evidence, and this often in highly elliptical form.
But in the interest of firmly establishing the orphaned converted
perfect as a genuine syntactic phenomenon, the number of examples
presented will not be any less exhaustive.
In one instance, conversive waw is unceremoniously dropped —
similar to }aäleh in Judg. 2:1 (discussed above).65
Isa. 8:8: weÌalap bîhûdâ sa†ap weäbar äd Òawwa}r yaggîa¨
And it will sweep into Judah; it will overflow and pass through; up to
the neck it will reach.
The sequence of weqatal and yiqtol forms suffices to establish the
future tense value of sa†ap. More commonly, we find orphaned con-
verted perfects where conversive waw has been replaced by a syntactic
equivalent. Compare the prodoses in the following two examples,
two versions of the oath Judah makes to his father.
Gen. 43:9: }im lo} habî}otîw }elêka wehiÒÒagtîw lepanêka weÌata}tî leka
kol hayyamîm
If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, I shall be
guilty before you forever.
Gen. 44:32: }im lo} }abî}ennû }elêka weÌata}tî le}abî kol hayyamîm
If I do not bring him back to you, I shall be guilty before you forever.
Rather than propose some overly subtle semantic distinction between
}im lo} habî}otîw and }im lo} }abî}ennû, one should simply admit
64
For a recent survey of the various uses of the converted perfect, see Robert
E. Longacre, ‘Weqatal Forms in Biblical Hebrew Prose’, in Bergen (ed.), Biblical
Hebrew and Discourse Linguistics, 50–98.
65
See already Böttcher, 2.205.
30
that they have the same tense value, and identify the former as an
orphaned converted perfect.66
Interestingly enough, we find a regularly attested construction —
analogous to }az yiqtol — in which the conversive waw in weqatal
is replaced by a syntactic equivalent: }ô qatal.67 In these examples,
we find a set of parallel possibilities: an initial case (weqatal ) followed
by one or more alternatives, each introduced by }ô (‘or’). Thus,
}ô qatal is syntactically parallel (equivalent) to weqatal. Moreover,
}ô qatal typically occurs in a sequence of imperfects and/or converted
perfects, further confirmation of its tense value.
Num. 11:7–8: wehamman kizra¨ gad hû} we¨ênô ke¨ên habbedolaÌ sa†û
haäm welaqe†û we†aÌanû bareÌayim }ô dakû bammedokâ ûbisselû
Now manna, it was like coriander seed, and its appearance was like the
appearance of bdellium. The people would walk around and gather
and grind it in a mill or pound it in a mortar, and boil it.
In Num. 11:7–8, sa†û is an habitual past — it should read wesa†û
(or perhaps yasu†û).68 The habitual past is continued by a sequence of
converted perfects: welaqe†û, we†aÌanû, }ô dakû, ûbisselû. Thus, the
manna was processed in one of two possible parallel fashions: the Isra-
elites either ‘would grind’ it (we†aÌanû) ‘or would pound’ it (}ô dakû).
Converted }ô qatal appears most frequently in the prodosis of
casuistic law.69 Here it becomes part of a parallel structure of two or
more legal conditions. Since legal stipulations generally refer to future
contingent events, }ô qatal should again be analysed as an orphaned
converted perfect, in order to obtain the logically required tense
value.70 For this reason it functions, in the following examples, as the
66
Contra Driver, Tenses, §138. C. van Leeuwen assigns future tense meaning to
}im qatal in Gen. 43:9, but does not provide a convincing syntactic explanation for
it ( ‘Die Partikel [}im]’, OTS 18 [1973], 21 and n.3).
67
See Zuber’s insightful discussion of }ô qatal in Tempussystem, 157–9.
68
Again, I am not proposing a textual emendation, but a grammatical correc-
tion. Note, in 1 Sam. 2:13, the habitual past sequence begins with a participial
phrase, which I would compare to the two verbless clauses at the beginning of this
passage. Cf. Driver’s forced explanation (Tenses, §114a).
69
On }ô in conditional clauses, see Driver, Tenses, §138 Obs; GKC §159cc;
Joüon and Muraoka, A Grammar, II, §167 — none of whom comment on the
enigmatic yet regular use of qatal here.
70
In a telling contrast, these examples can be distinguished from others where
}ô qatal requires a relative past reading. In such cases, it refers to a circumstance
markedly antecedent to the legal case under consideration: Exod. 21:36 (an ox
previously known to be prone towards aggressive behaviour); Lev. 5:1 (a potential
witness who had earlier seen or learned about some disputed matter); Num. 35:18,
20, 21, 22 (the prior killing which resulted in the killer’s fleeing to a city of refuge
31
syntactic equivalent of either yiqtol or weqatal. In the list of examples

below, I provide only the relevant parallel verbal constructions.71
Exod. 21:37: û†ebaÌô (slaughters) | | }ô mekarô (or sells)
Exod. 22:9: ûmet (dies) | | }ô nisbar (or is injured) | | }ô nisbâ (or is
carried off)
Exod. 22:13: wenisbar (is injured) | | }ô met (or dies)
Lev. 4:22–3: we}asem (realizes guilt) | | }ô hôda¨ (or is made known)
Lev. 4:27–8: we}asem (realizes guilt) | | }ô hôda¨ (or is made known)
Lev. 5:21–2: wekiÌes (deceives) | | }ô äsaq (or defrauds) | | }ô maÒa}
(or finds)
Lev. 25:48–9: tihyeh lô (will have) | | }ô hissîgâ (or prospers)
Num. 5:14: weäbar älayw (comes over him) | | }ô äbar älayw (or
comes over him)
Num. 30:3: yiddor (makes a vow) | | }ô hissaba¨ (or swears an oath)
Num. 30:4, 11–12: tiddor (makes a vow) | | we}im … nadarâ (but if …
makes a vow) | | }ô }aserâ (or takes a pledge)
In all these cases, }ô replaces conversive waw, leaving behind an
orphaned converted perfect. The equivalence of }ô qatal to weqatal is
further emphasized by the tense sequence in Lev. 5:21–2 (}ô maÒa} …
wekiÌes … wenisba¨ ), Num. 5:14 (}ô äbar… weqinne}), and
Num. 30:11–12 (we … nadarâ … }ô }aserâ … wesama¨ ): in these
examples, }ô qatal is continued by weqatal within the prodosis.
In a telling contrast, analogous passages sometimes employ }ô yiqtol,
but only when a syntactic element intervenes between the conjunction
and the verb. It indicates the equivalence: }ô …yiqtol = }ô qatal. Appar-
ently, the interposed element prevents }ô from replacing the conversive
waw of weqatal, resulting in yiqtol instead of converted qatal.72
1 Sam. 26:10: Ìay yhwh kî} im yhwh yiggapennû }ô yômô yabô} wamet
}ô bammilÌamâ yered wenispâ
As the Lord lives, the Lord will strike him down, or his day will come
and he will die, or he will go down to battle and perish.
In casuistic law, we find the parallel structure: kî yiqtol … }ô kî yiqtol.73
or his execution at the hands of the victim’s kin). Note, Num. 35:16–23 comprises
several prodoses (vv16, 17, 18, 20, 21, 22f), each having the tense sequence qatal/
wayyiqtol (except for the orphaned converted yehdapennû in v 20); the imperfect/
converted perfect only appear in the corresponding apodoses.
71
In two cases we find }ô qatol (infinitive absolute) — Lev. 25:14 (}ô qanoh)
and Deut. 14:21 (}ô makor) — and in both cases I would change (emend, this time)
qatol to qatal (orphaned converted perfect).
72
See also Exod. 19:13.
73
See also Lev. 5:3; 13:16; 15:25; Deut. 24:3.
32
Exod. 21:33: wekî yiptaÌ }îs bôr }ô kî yikreh }îs bôr welo} yekassennû
wenapal sammâ sôr }ô Ìamôr
And when a man opens a pit, or when a man digs a pit and does not
cover it, and an ox or a donkey falls into it …
The available evidence suggests that, without the syntactic interruption
between }ô and yiqtol, we would find }ô qatal instead: }ô ba} yômô …
}ô yarad bammilÌamâ; }ô karâ bor.
In a related set of cases, conversive waw is not replaced by a syn-
tactic equivalent, but rather displaced, separated from the converted
perfect, by an embedded construction — weqatal, like wayyiqtol,
again being treated as a verb phrase, not a verb.
Gen. 17:16: ûberaktî }otah wegam natattî mimmennâ leka ben ûberaktîha
wehayetâ legôyim malkê ämmîm mimmennâ yihyû
And I will bless her, and indeed I will give you a son from her. And I
will bless her, and she will become nations. Kings of peoples will be
from her.
As Zuber, apparently alone, has recognized: ‘waw allenfalls auch über
eine Partikel hinweg seine Umkehrfunktion ausüben kann’.74 The
adverbial gam, like the infinitive absolute in 1 Sam. 1:10 (discussed
above), has interposed itself between conversive waw and converted
perfect. Remove the adverbial and one uncovers a typical weqatal
chain: ûberaktî, wenatattî, ûberaktîha, wehayetâ. Analogous to the
long form of the orphaned converted imperfect (see discussion of
1 Sam. 1:10 above), the verb phrase wenatattî (with ultimate stress),
once it has been separated into its constituents by the syntactic inser-
tion, loses the final stress characteristic of weqatal: wegam natàttî
(with penultimate stress).
1 Sam. 2:16: lô} 75 kî ättâ titten we}im lô} laqaÌtî beÌozqâ
No, you must give it now! And if not, I will take it by force.
Correct analysis of this conditional phrase must begin with the well
established fact that the apodosis should begin with the converted
perfect, as in 1 Sam. 6:9: we}im lo} weyada¨nû (‘And if not, then
we will know’).76 In other words, laqaÌtî has the same tense value
74
Zuber, Tempussystem, 162. Major grammars — Driver, GKC, Joüon and
Muraoka, Waltke and O’Connor — do not comment on this verse. One might also
interpret natattî as a performative — ‘I hereby give’ — but the tense sequence
argues for an orphaned converted perfect.
75
Reading with qere.
76
Recall that weqatal probably originated in this very syntactic function.
33
as weyada¨nû; i.e., it is an orphaned converted perfect.77 Correct anal-

ysis of this orphaned converted perfect requires that one restore the
full version of the prodosis, which has been partially elided in surface
structure: we}im lô} titten (‘And if you do not give’). Apparently,
when the verb in the prodosis (titten) underwent deletion, the waw
in the prodosis was able to take over the function of tense conversion
from the conversive waw originally contained in the apodosis, which
would have read welaqaÌtî. The final result: }im lo} separates conver-
sive waw from the orphaned converted perfect.
Finally, on several occasions, a particle, especially }im, has the same
syntactic effect in the prodosis of casuistic law.78 For this last set of cases,
I merely list several pairs of verb phrases. First, I provide several exam-
ples of the orphaned converted perfect. Then, in each case, I corroborate
its tense value by offering a syntactic equivalent (yiqtol and/or weqatal ),
selected from a closely related passage. I leave it to the reader to further
confirm my analysis, by verifying in each case that the orphaned con-
verted perfect occurs in a sequence of yiqtol and/or weqatal.
we}im ra}â (Lev. 13:56) = we}im yir}eh (Lev. 13:53) — ‘he sees’
we}im †aharâ (Lev. 15:28) = wekî yi†har (Lev. 15:13) — ‘she becomes
clean’
we …lo} hebî}ô (Lev. 17:3–4) = lo} yebî}ennû (17:8–9) — ‘he does not
bring’
we}im lo} maÒe}â (Lev. 25:28) = ûmaÒa} (Lev. 25:26) — ‘he does (not)
find’
we}im mak (Lev. 27:8) = yamûk (Lev. 25:25) — ‘he is poor’
we}im makar (Lev. 27:20) = yimkor (Lev. 25:29) — ‘he sells’
we}im henî} (Num. 30:6) = yanî} (Num. 30:9) — ‘he forbids’
As with analogous examples of the orphaned converted imperfect,
it is possible that these are, strictly speaking, ungrammatical in ‘nor-
mative’ CBH. Even so, the notion of the orphaned converted perfect,
a single linguistic principle, enables us to account for these anomalous
occurrences of qatal without positing yet more semantic nuances.
Conclusion
In this way, seemingly disparate particular phenomena become

part of a general grammatical order. What once required ad hoc sub-
77
Contra Driver, Tenses, §136g.
78
On }im in conditional clauses, see Driver, Tenses, §§136,138; GKC §159 l–v;
Joüon and Muraoka A Grammar, II, §167; van Leeuwen, ‘Partikel’, 16–27. On the
possible future reference of }im qatal, see n. 66 above.
34
categorizations of qatal and yiqtol are now accounted for by a single

grammatical principle — tense conversion. At the same time, the
very hypothesis that wayyiqtol and weqatal are, grammatically speak-
ing, converted tenses, receives unexpected confirmation — not a case
of circular reasoning, but the corroboration of a theory previously
established on independent grounds. True, I cannot explain why a
converted tense is retained in orphaned form in some cases and not in
others. In many cases, the orphaned converted tense appears to be an
acceptable stylistic variant. In others, however, it most likely betrays
the influence of non-normative CBH. In either case, the solution
offered here, which explains a considerable number of unexpected
tense forms, many in constructions that certainly are grammatical
(}az yiqtol and }ô qatal ), seems preferable to the ad hoc, impression-
istic, and overly subtle semantic explanations frequently offered, in
an attempt to reconcile conspicuously odd examples of yiqtol and
qatal with their superficially apparent tense values. And even in those
cases where an orphaned converted tense form most likely constitutes
an actual grammatical error, it betrays the intuition of at least certain
biblical writers that wayyiqtol and weqatal are indeed the converted
imperfect and converted perfect, respectively.
Beyond the particular thesis, one must again insist on the larger
theoretical point: the diachronic development of language as such
does not enter into grammar. This is not to deny the importance
of diachronic linguistics. However, as Saussure, again, predicted:
‘Having paid too much attention to history, linguistics will go back
now to the static viewpoint of traditional grammar, but in a new spirit
and with different methods’ (Course, 82). What I have suggested, but
not been able to pursue here in detail, is that his prediction was ful-
filled not by structuralism, but by Chomskyan linguistics. While
there has been no need here for analyses based on linguistic ‘trees’,
simply to appeal to the biblical writers’ linguistic ‘competence’, to
seek to eliminate linguistic ‘performance’, and to employ concepts
such as the ‘idiom’ that are defined in terms of generative rules
for what is and is not acceptable, is already to enter into another
linguistic universe.79
Address for correspondence: rsk@ufl.edu
79
I am grateful to Ron Hendel and Mark Smith for commenting on an earlier
version of this paper. Its basic arguments were first presented in the 2004 Annual
Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. A substantially revised version was
presented at the 2007 Annual Conference of the Association for Jewish Studies.
35
NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES
DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY À HATRA

UNIVERSITY OF BAGHDAD
Abstract
The inscriptions discussed here were discovered during excavations

undertaken by the Iraq Antiquities Service in the summer of 1992
in the remains of a building situated 90 m to the south-west of the
enclosure of the Grand Temple at Hatra. The building, constructed
above a raised pavement reached by three staircases, is composed
of two broad rooms, each with three similar entrances, and in the
middle of the west wall of the second room an entry leads to a square
stone cellar. The building is similar to the third sanctuary, which is
situated in the eastern part of the town, and, according to the
author, would be the fourteenth sanctuary in Hatra and was conse-
crated to the goddess Nannay. Here, we take up the study of these
new inscriptions which Dr Jabir Kh. Ibrahim published and trans-
lated in the journal Sumer. The numbering of the inscriptions is
retained and continues the established numbering of the Hatra
inscriptions.
Ces inscriptions étaient découvertes dans les fouilles entreprises par

le Service Iraquien des Antiquités et du Patrimoine dans les décombres
d’un édifice situé à une distance de 90 mètres du côté sud-ouest de
l’enceinte du grand temple de Hatra en été 1992. L’édifice, construit
au-dessus du dallage élevé escaladé par trois escaliers, se compose de
deux salles larges. Chacune a trois entrées comparables et au milieu
du côté ouest de la deuxième salle une entrée se conduit à une
chambre carrée et voûtée de pierre. L’édifice est analogue au sanc-
tuaire troisième, situé dans la partie orientale de la ville, et d’après
l’auteur il serait le sanctuaire quatorzième de Hatra, consacré à la
déesse Nannay.
Nous reprenons ici l’étude de ces nouvelles inscriptions que
Dr Jabir Kh. Ibrahim a publié et traduit en arabe dans la revue Sumer.1
1
J. Kh. Ibrahim, ‘Unpublished Inscriptions from the Temple of Nannay in
Hatra’, Sumer 51 (2001–2), 200–16 (en arabe).
37
NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY
La numérotation des inscriptions est celle de Sumer et continue la

numérotation de la série d’inscriptions précédente.2
4633
Inscription de deux lignes de caractères enfoncés, gravée sur la face
latérale du seuil en marbre de Mossoul et situé à longe du dallage de
l’entrée de la chambre sacrée. Longueur 220 cm, largeur 70 cm et
hauteur 17 cm. La fin de la première ligne est très abîmée. Longueur
du reste de la première ligne 195 cm.
1. bsnt 400+10+2 }qymyt }n} ¨qby kmr} dy nny rb} br syl} mn bny tmny
qsys} }? n??? } …?? lnny
2. mrt tg} drgyt} dy Ì†r} ¨l Ìyyhy w¨l Ìy} †hmh kwlh kmr} dy nny w¨l slm
Ì†r} klh
1. En l’an 412 (=100/101 de notre ère) j’ai érigé, moi, ¨qby, le grand
prêtre de Nannay, fils de syl}, des Bene tmny, les symposiarques …
pour Nannay de l’escalier,
2. la femme de la couronne, de Hatra, pour sa vie et la vie de sa tribu
tous, les prêtres de Nannay, et pour la paix de Hatra tous.
L.1: bsnt. Il faut signaler, tout d’abord, l’absence de byrÌ, ‘au mois
de’. Cette formule de datation nous est connue autrement
seulement dans deux inscriptions, nos 214: 1 et 290: 1.
}qymyt. Ibrahim lit }qymt, mais le yod est très net sur le fac-
similé. Voir no. 288a: 7.
¨qby. C’est un hypocoristique attesté aussi sous la forme ¨qbw:
411: 8b; 450: 2.
nny. Cette divinité féminine est attestée une seule fois à Hatra
auparavant: 4: 1.
2
J.Kh. Ibrahim, ‘Unpublished Inscriptions from the Eastern Gate in the (City)
Wall of Hatra’, Sumer 50 (1999–2000), 166–84 (en arabe), qui contient les numé-
ros 424–62. Les numéros 417–23 seront publiés prochainement par le même auteur.
Pour tous les numéros précédents, voir K. Beyer, Die aramäischen Inschriften aus
Assur, Hatra un dem übrigen Ostmesopotamien (Göttingen 1998).
3
Cette inscription a été étudiée pour la première fois par l’auteur dans al-Jubouri,
‘Unpublished Aramaic Inscriptions from Hatra’, Journal of the Academy of Sciences
(Syriac Corporation) 17 (1999), 92 (en arabe).
38
kmr} dy nny rb}. C’est la première attestation de l’existence

à Hatra d’un grand prêtre de Nannay. D’ailleurs, rb} pour
Ibrahim qualifie Nannay, mais Nannay est une déesse. Cette
épithète appartient à kmr}, ‘le prêtre’, même s’il vient après
le nom de la déesse.
qsys}. J’y vois le pluriel qassise, ‘les symposiarques’, appartenant
aux Bene tmny.
syl}. Nom propre nouveau à Hatra. On le trouve aussi dans les
anciennes inscriptions édesséniennes: syl} 4.
tmny. Nom de tribu à quel appartienne ¨qby. Il est attesté à
Palmyre comme nom propre: tmny}5. Ibrahim lit }zn ¨dn}
sans commentaire. Malheureusement la fin de la ligne est
défectueuse, ce qui nous empêche d’en proposer une lecture
satisfaisante.
L.2: mrt. Ce mot est déjà connu à Hatra, cf. no. 404:1.
tg}. Ce mot est attesté ici pour la première fois à Hatra. On peut
y reconnaître l’équivalent de tg} du palmyrénien6 et du
syriaque taga 7 qui a le sens de ‘couronne’. Ce mot se présente
en arabe sous la forme taj. D’autre part, mrt tg} semble être
l’épithète de Nannay.
drgyt}. Dans l’article cité plus haut, nous avions lu ce mot
rbyt}, ‘l’intendant’. drgyt}, attesté ici pour la première fois à
Hatra, est bien connu épigraphiquement dans le monde
ouest-sémitique où drg} désigne ‘escalier’. Voir l’araméen
d’Empire et le judéo-araméen8. Au syriaque le même mot
traduit l’hébreu ma¨ alo† de 2 Rois 9:139. drgyt} est une forme
adjectivale au féminin, ‘de l’escalier’, avec référence à la
déesse Nannay. Le même mot se trouve encore une fois dans
l’inscription no. 473 ici plus bas.
Ìy}. est une forme du status constructus (en absence de la parti-
cule de liaison d- ou dy, ‘de’). Cette orthographie est bien
attestée à Hatra, cf. nos 4: 5; 28: 4; 34:6, etc.10.
4
A.H. Al-Jadir, A Comparative Study of the Script, Language and Proper Names
of the Old Syriac Inscriptions (University of Wales Ph.D. thesis, 1983), 407.
5
J. Stark, Personal Names in Palmyrene Inscriptions (Oxford 1971), 55, 117.
6
J. Hoftijzer et K. Jongeling, Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions,
vol. 2 (Leiden 1995), 1203.
7
J. Payne Smith, A Compendious Syriac Dictionary, (Oxford 1903), 604.
8
J. Hoftijzer et K. Jongeling, op. cit, vol. 1, 259–60.
9
R. Payne Smith, Thesaurus Syriacus, I (Oxford 1879–1901), cols 944–5.
10
Pour d’autres attestations, voir: R. Degen, ‘Die Genitivverbindung im Ara-
mäischen der Hatra Inschriften’, Orientalia 36 (1967), 76–80.
39
†hmh. Il s’agit d’un nom nouveau attesté pour la première fois

dans l’épigraphie nord- et ouest-sémitique. Ce mot est conservé
en syriaque comme †uhma 11, en mandéen: †uhma12, et en
arabe: †uhm13.
slm. Ce mot n’était pas encore attesté à Hatra, mais on le trouve
en araméen d’Empire, en nabatéen, en palmyrénien, en judéo-
araméen14 et en syriaque.
464
Inscription incrustée de plombe gravée sur la face supérieure du seuil
précédent.
bsnt 400+10+2 }qymyt }n} ¨qby kmr} dy nny rb} br syl} br ¨qby br syl} br
bswn br tqwn
En l’an 412 (=100/101) j’ai érigé, moi, ¨qby, le grand prêtre de Nannay,
fils de syl} fils de ¨qby fils de syl} fils de bswn fils de tqwn
bswn: Il s’agit d’un nom propre nouveau à Hatra. Nous ne lui
trouvons pas d’étymologie probante.
tqwn: Nom propre nouveau à Hatra. Comme parallèles nous
pouvons citer le nom propre assyrien Taquni15.
465
Inscription de trois lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue trouvé dans
la deuxième salle. La fin de l’inscription est incomplète. Longueur de
ligne 65 cm.
11
J. Payne Smith, op. cit., 168.
12
E. Drower et R. Macuch, A Mandaic Dictionary (Oxford 1963), 177.
13
Ibn ManÂur, Lisan al-ärab, vol. 15 (Cairo 1882–91), 265.
14
J. Hoftijzer et K. Jongeling, op. cit., vol. 2, 1147.
15
K.L. Tallqvist, Assyrian Personal Names (Helsingfors 1914), 230.
40
1. bsnt 400+20+3 }qymtny nny

2. kmr} bsnt 400+20+10+2
3. }qjmt }n} brnny br …
1. En l’an 423 (=110/111) Nannay a érigé pour moi,
2. prêtre. En l’an 432 (=120/121)
3. j’ai érigé, moi, brnny fils de…
L.3: brnny. Le nom propre est bien connu à Hatra, cf. nos 1: 1; 2:
2; 106: 2b, etc.
466
Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue en marbre

de Mossoul, trouvé près de l’angle sud-ouest de la deuxième salle.
Longueur 68 cm et hauteur 15 cm. Le début et la fin de l’inscription
sont perdus. Longueur de la première ligne 60 cm.
1. [Òlm} dy….] br brnny d}qym lnpsh

2. ¨l Ìyyhy w¨l Ìy} …
1. [Statue de …] fils de brnny qu’il a érigé pour lui-même
2. pour sa vie et pour la vie de …
L.1: Òlm} dy. Nous proposons de restituer au début de la ligne la for-
mule Òlm} dy, ‘statue de’. L’érection d’une statue pour lui-même
est un phénomène connu à Hatra, voir les nos 20:2; 35:5.
467
Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue trouvé à

gauche de l’entrée à la première salle. Le début de l’inscription est
perdu. Longueur de la première ligne 40 cm.
41
1. mqymsms w¨bd¨gylw
2. bnyh
1. mqymsms et ¨bd¨gylw
2. ses fils
L.1: mqymsms. Ibrahim lit mqwmsms. mqymsms serait attesté deux

fois aux nos 60 et 61.
¨bd¨gylw. Ce nom propre est très fréquent à Hatra, cf. nos 37: 7;
80: 1, 7, 8; 141: 1, etc.
468
I
Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue en marbre
de Mossoul. Longueur 51cm, largeur 34 cm et hauteur 13 cm. Lon-
gueur de l’inscription 48 cm.
1. mqymsms rbyt}
2. br wrwd rbyt} dmrtn
1. mqymsms, l’intendant,
2. fils de wrwd, l’intendant de Martan
L.1: wrwd. Ibrahim lit zr(d)zd(r). wrwd est bien connu à Hatra,
cf. nos 60; 61; 102, etc. D’ailleurs mqymsms br wrwd
rbyt} semble être le même personnage qui nous est connu par
l’inscription no. 60.
L.2: rbyt} dmrtn. Cette fonction nous est connue par le no. 364:4.
469
Inscription de quatre lignes gravée sur une frise de banc incomplet

situé sur l’autel. La fin de l’inscription est endommagée. Longueur
67 cm et largeur 43 cm.
42
1. ¨bd wqrb gdyhb [br] }by rby[t}]

2. dbrmryn }lh} …… }l[kwd]
3. mlk} ¨l Ìyyh w¨l [Ìy}…]
4. [wmn dy] rÌym lh klh
1. A fait et a offert gdyhb [fils de] }by, l’intendant
2. de Barmaren le dieu …… }l[kwd]
3. le roi, pour sa vie et pour [la vie de …]
4. [et] tous ceux qui l’aiment.
L.1: ¨bd wqrb. L’interprétation d’Ibrahim comme des noms propres
n’est pas adéquate dans le contexte précise de notre inscrip-
tion. Ils s’agirent de deux verbes de troisième personne au
passé qui signifient ‘a fait et a offert’.
gdyhb. Nom propre attesté plusieurs fois à Hatra, cf. 4: 2–3;
13:2; 23:2, etc.
}by. Ibrahim traduit ‘mon père’. gdyhb br }by est connu par
le no. 415:3a.
rby[t}] dbrmryn. La fonction rbyt} dbrmryn, ‘l’intendant de
Barmaren’ est connue par le no. 224:5.
L.2: }l[kwd]. On pourrait lire }lkwd, théophore connu à Hatra,
cf. 79: 5, 6, 7, 8; 80:2, 9; 113:1, etc.
L.3: ¨l [Ìy}.On pourrait restituer Ìy} et lire ¨l Ìy}, formule usuelle si
largement attesté dans les dédicaces hatréennes.
L.4: [wmn dy]. On pense dans le contexte hatréen de restituer wmn
dy, ‘celui qui’, devant rÌym lh klh, formule bien connu à
Hatra, nos 20: 4; 35: 8; 52: 5.
470
Inscription de deux lignes, peinte en encre rouge, gravée sur le socle
d’une statue de femme en marbre de Mossoul, dont il ne reste que
les pieds, trouvée dans la deuxième salle. Longueur 50 cm, largeur
35 cm et épaisseur 16 cm.
43
1. Òlmt} dy mlk}
2. brt nbwdyn dmytt
1. Statue de mlk}
2. fille de nbwdyn qui est morte
L.1: Òlmt}. Le mot désignant la statue est au féminin pour une effigie
de femme, cf. 5: 1; 30: 1; 34: 2, etc.
mlk}. Nom propre nouveau à Hatra. Il est attesté à Palmyre
comme nom masculin16. L’anthroponyme Malkah est encore
en usage chez les populations de la langue arabe.
L.2: nbwdyn. Nom propre connu par les inscriptions nos 279: 1;
310; 416: 3; 446: 1.
471
Inscription de trois lignes en caractères grands gravée sur une pièce

de bloc de construction ou pièce d’une base de statue en marbre de
Mossoul. Longueur 1,10 mètres et largeur 54 cm. Le début et la fin
sont perdus. Longueur du reste 53 cm.
1. [Òlm} dy … br b]rsms kmr}

2. [dy …… Ìpy]zy mlk} …??
3. ………………w? mlh
16
J. Stark, op. cit., 32, 95.
44
1. [Statue de … fils de b]rsms le prêtre

2. [de …… Ìpy]zy le roi …??
3. ………………???
L.1: [Òlm} dy]. Ici on pourrait restituer tout simplement Òlm} dy,
‘statue de’, suivi d’un nom propre.
b]rsms. Ibrahim propose de lire [¨b]d. brsms est attesté aux
nos 393: c; 432: 1.
L.2: Ìpy]zy. Nous sommes tenté de restituer Ìpy devant zy et lire
Ìpyzy (232: 4b). On pourrait aussi proposer Ìp}zw (59; 118;
121; 126) ou rp}zw (332: 2).
L’espace vide qui précédait ce nom propre était occupé par le nom
du dédicant suivi de br, ‘fils de’.
472
Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur la base d’une statue représentant

un personnage pieds-nus en marbre de Mossoul, trouvée dans la
deuxième salle. Longueur 60 cm, largeur 30 cm et épaisseur 16 cm.
Le début est abîmé. Longueur de la deuxième ligne 34 cm.
1. [bsnt] 400+20+20+20+10? Ò[lm} dy }qym]

2. [qym]t kmr} dnny
1. [En l’an] 470? (=158/159) [le statue qu’a érigé]
2. qymt, le prêtre de Nannay
L.1: [bsnt]. L’espace libre devant ‘400+20+20+20+10’ nous permet

de restituer la formule qui précéde le chiffre des centaines
comme bsnt, ‘en l’an’. D’ailleurs, les inscriptions de Hatra
datées jusqu’à ici ont atteint 31 textes.
Ò[lm} dy }qym]. Nous proposons de restituer Ò[lm} dy }qym], seule
possibilité valable dans le contexte hatréen. On doit avoir le
verbe }qym, ‘a érigé’, suivi du nom Òlm}, ‘statue’.
45
L.2: [qym]t. Le nom propre doit probablement être complèté [qym]t :

comparer no. 474: 1. Il s’agit du même personnage. Ce nom
propre se retrouve à Hatra sous la forme qymty : no. 164: 117.
473
Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur la base d’une statue en calcaire,
longueur 73 cm, largeur 57 cm et hauteur 15 cm. Les derniers mots de
la deuxième ligne sont disparus. Longueur de la deuxième ligne 65 cm.
1. }qym Ìyws}
2. kmr} dy nny drgyt} dy [Ì†r} ……]
1. A érigé Ìyws},
2. le prêtre de Nannay de l’escalier de [Hatra……]
L.1: Ìyws}. Pour ce nom propre à Hatra, cf. nos 180, 407, 412:2a.
L.2: [Ì†r}]. On peut restituer [Ì†r}] grâce à l’inscription 463: 2. Pour
drgyt} voir le no. 463 ci-dessus.
474
Inscription de deux lignes, dont le début est perdu, gravée sur une pièce
de linteau en calcaire (longueur 80 cm ≈ largeur 25 cm), située au dessus
de colonnes supérieures de façade du temple, trouvée parmi les décombres
à la côté est de l’édifice. Longueur de la première ligne 75 cm.
1. ……]b w¨l Ìy} qymt kmr} wbny ddh

2. ……] w}bgd }rdkl}
17
Pour d’autres attestations, voir: S. Abbadi, Die Personennamen der Inschriften
aus Hatra (Hildesheim 1983), 159–60.
46
1. ……] et pour la vie de qymt, le prêtre, et ses cousins

2. ……] et }bgd, le maçon
Le début de l’inscription a été effacé, ce qui nous empêche d’en pro-
poser une lecture soutenable.
L.1: Ìy} : voir le no. 463.
L.2: }bgd. Nom propre attesté sous deux autres formes }bygd (107:
1, 2; 245:1) et }bygyd (301: 1; 363: 1).
475
Inscription d’une ligne, dont la fin est perdue, gravée sur socle d’une
statue en marbre de Mossoul, dont il reste que les pieds. Longueur
64 cm, largeur 38 cm et épaisseur 13 cm, trouvée à la côté droite de
la deuxième salle. Elle était mise sur une base ou une étagère fixée au
mur du temple.
1. nwdn br qymt kmr} dy [nny]

1. nwdn fils de qymt, le prêtre de [Nannay]
nwdn. Ce nom propre nous est connu ici pour la première fois à
Hatra. Il nous mettrait en présence d’une forme fawäl.
qymt. Ibrahim lit qwmt.
[nny]. Nous proposons de restituer [nny] parce que les textes de ce
groupe proviennent du sanctuaire de Nannay.
476
Inscription de trois lignes, d’après Ibrahim, était plus de trois lignes,
gravée sur une frise ou base de statue en calcaire trouvée dans la
deuxième salle. Longueur de la deuxième ligne 38 cm.
47
1. ……]mt nny
2. …… }p]Ìw }spp†}
3. …… n]sryhb mry}
1. ……]?? Nannay
2. …… }p]Ìw, le préfet
3. …… n]sryhb, le seigneur
L.2: }p]Ìw. Nous serions tenté de restituer }p devant Ìw et lire }pÌw
(10: 3c, 3d; 390: 2).
}spp†}. Ce nom de fonction militaire, qui n’est attesté qu’une
seule fois à Hatra: no. 382, signifie ‘le chef de guerre’18.
L.3: n]sryhb. En effet, nsryhb le seigneur (mry}) nous est connu par
les nos 274: 3–4; 346: 3; 351: 1–2; 356: 2–3; 361: 2.
477
Inscription gravée sur le support de pierre situé à gauche de l’entrée

moyenne de la deuxième salle. Longueur 1,10 mètres. La partie supé-
rieure est érosive, et le reste de ces mots est très abîmé. Longueur de
reste de la deuxième ligne 28 cm.
1. …… kmr} [dy ……
2. ……¨l] Ìyyhy dy ……
3. ……]¨ bnyhy
1. …… le prêtre de……
2. …… pour la vie de ……
3. …… ? ses fils.
478
Inscription d’une ligne, en long 40 cm, gravée sur la face d’une

base de statue en marbre de Mossoul, trouvée dans la deuxième salle.
Longueur 46 cm, largeur 40 cm et hauteur 10 cm.
18
Pour d’autres interprétations, voir: B. Aggoula, ‘Remarques sur les inscriptions
de Hatra’, Syria 63 (1986), 368–70.
48
1. Òlmt} dy ¨ty
1. Statue de ¨ty
¨ty. Il s’agit d’un hypocoristique nouveau à Hatra, mais bien
connu en palmyrénien comme un nom masculin.19 On le
voit aussi comme un nom masculin dans le Bible: Ättay,
I Chron. 2:3520. On peut citer pour ¨ty les noms hypocoris-
tiques assyriens A-te-} et A-ti-21.
479
Inscription gravée au dos d’une statue féminine en marbre de Mos-

soul sans tête, trouvée à la proximité de l’entrée droite conduisant à
la deuxième salle.
19
J. Stark, op. cit, 46, 108.
20
Pour d’autres attestations, voir F. Brown, S.R. Driver and C.A. Briggs, A
Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford 1952), 774.
21
K.L. Tallqvist, op. cit, 47.
49
1. gnyt}
2. d(?)sms
3. glp}
4. ¨bdgd}
5. br
6. ¨g} dkyr
7. l†b
1. La génie.
2. de sms,
3. le sculpteur.
4. ¨bdgd}
5. fils de
6. ¨g}, qu’il soit commémoré
7. en bien.
L.1: gnyt}. Ce mot était auparavant attesté une seule fois, qualifiant
hdyrt (no. 410: 1).
L.2: Ibrahim lit d- avant sms, main nous ne pensons pas que çela est
certain. En effet, il n’y a rien sur le fac-similé qui permet un
dalat qui précède le mot sms. La ligne verticale n’est que bien
vaguement dessiné. Comparer avec les autres dalat comme
dans ¨bdgd} et dkyr.
sms. Il y a tout lieu de penser que sms désigne un nom propre,
et qu’il ne faut pas y voir un nom divin, comme Ibrahim.
A mon sens, il s’agit peut-être du nom divin employé comme
nom propre de personne. D’autres parts, notre traduction de
les trois première lignes diffère de celle d’Ibrahim sur quelques
points: il a considéré gnyt} la génie du dieu Samas et ce n’est
pas raisonnable. De plus le mot glp}, ‘le sculpteur’, appartient
à sms, parce que les fonctions ne précèdent jamais les nom
propres dans les inscriptions de Hatra.
L.4: ¨bdgd}. Nom propre connu à Hatra par no. 27: 7.
L.6: ¨g}. Ce nom propre se rencontre plusieurs fois dans les inscrip-
tions de Hatra: nos 5: 1, 2, 4; 13: 3; 48: 2, etc.
480
Inscription incisée sur le dallage de la troisième salle, en long 10 cm.
50
dkyr }sw l†b

Que soit commémoré }sw en bien.
ˆsw. Ibrahim lit ˆsw/b, qui est traduit ‘l’exorciste’. La tentative de l’au-
teur de l’expliquer, ˆsw/b, par l’assyrien asipu, ‘qui fait des incantations’,
ne peut pas se justifier facilement. Pour nous }sw est un nom propre
nouveau. Il s’agit d’une variante de ˆs} attesté au no. 30: 2. Ce nom
propre rappelle le nabatéen ˆsw 22.
Address for correspondence:

Dept of Syriac Language, Faculty of Languages, University of Baghdad, Iraq
Plate 1
22
S. Abbadi, op. cit, 82–3.
51
Plate 2
Plate 3
52
MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW
TRADITION: SHEM TOV BEN ISAAC,
SEFER HA-SHIMMUSH, BOOK 30
GERRIT BOS
MARTIN-BUBER-INSTITUT FÜR JUDAISTIK, UNIVERSITÄT ZU KÖLN
Abstract
The terminology in medieval Hebrew medical literature is virtually

lacking in standard Hebrew dictionaries. The only dictionary with a
certain number of medical terms is that composed by Ben Yehuda.
The secondary literature dealing with medieval Hebrew medical ter-
minology is extremely limited and only covers a few medical terms.
However, in recent years research into medieval Hebrew medical
terminology has broken new ground. The translation technique of one
major translator, namely ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen, and
his vocabulary, have been studied, and hitherto anonymous transla-
tions have been ascribed to him.
Another medieval translator whose medical terminology is currently
being analysed is Shem Tov Ben Isaac, the translator of al-Zahrawi’s
Kitab al-taÒrif. As part of his translation he compiled two independent
glossaries of medical synonyms. However, since these glossaries are
only partial, and since they do not give these terms in a specific con-
text, further analysis of the novel medical terminology is necessary to
properly define his technical vocabulary. Thus, this study is devoted
to an analysis of technical terminology in book 30, which deals with
surgery. The terms, arranged alphabetically, are compared with those
of the Arabic edition and English translation by Spink-Lewis, and
with those used by Nathan ha-Me}ati, ZeraÌyah Îen, and Moses Ibn
Tibbon.
Introduction
The terminology in medieval Hebrew medical literature, both origi-

nal works and translations, has been sorely neglected by modern
research.1 Moreover, it is virtually lacking in the standard dictionaries
for the Hebrew language, such as Ha-Millon he-Ìadash composed by
1
The following survey does not take into consideration the field of medieval
plant names and remedies.
53
MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION
Abraham Even-Shoshan.2 The only medieval medical work to which

Even-Shoshan refers is the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-
Qanun by Nathan ha-Me}ati;3 and even those references are indirect,
having been borrowed from the dictionary composed by Ben Yehuda.
Ben Yehuda’s dictionary is the only one which does contain a certain
number of medical terms.4 However, it needs to be revised since it
does not make use of even the limited sources registered in the intro-
duction. The only dictionary exclusively devoted to medical terms,
both medieval and modern, is that by Masie, entitled Dictionary
of Medicine and Allied Sciences.5 However, like the dictionary by
Ben Yehuda, it only makes occasional use of the sources listed in the
introduction and all too infrequently differentiates between the vari-
ous medieval translators. Further, since Masie’s work is alphabetised
according to the Latin or English term, it cannot be consulted for
checking on a Hebrew one. Beyond these general dictionaries, the
secondary literature dealing with the subject of the medieval Hebrew
medical terminology is extremely limited and generally only deals
with a small number of medical terms.6
An early study is Joseph Hyrtl’s ‘Das Arabische und Hebräische in
der Anatomie’ which was published in 1879.7 Although it was a pio-
neering work, it is of little use for scholars today for the following
reasons: (1) It only deals with a small number of terms; (2) Most of
these terms derive from one source only, namely a printed edition of
the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb by Nathan
ha-Me}ati, which was published in Naples in 1491–2;8 (3) It does not
specify particular translators. Thus, Hyrtl states about the almagabani
(fauces), i.e. larynx, that it was translated in the Hebrew Avicenna as
2
The edition I consulted is that in five volumes, Jerusalem 2000.
3
Ibid., vol. 1, p. 16.
4
Eliezer Ben Yehuda, Millon ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit. Thesaurus Totius Hebraitatis et
Veteris et Recentioris. 17 vols. Berlin-Tel Aviv 1910–59. Repr. Tel Aviv 1948–59.
5
A.M. Masie, Dictionary of Medicine and Allied Sciences. Latin-English-Hebrew.
Edited by S. Tchernichowski, Jerusalem 1934.
6
The following survey does not pretend to be complete or exhaustive.
7
Joseph Hyrtl, Das Arabische und Hebräische in der Anatomie (Vienna 1879).
8
For the Hebrew translations of the K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb by Nathan ha-Me}ati,
ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen, Joshua Lorki and an anonymous translator,
and the manuscripts of these translations see Chayyim Rabin, ‘Toledot Targum
Sefer ha-Qanun le-Ivrit’, Melilah 3/4(1950), 132–46 (Manchester 1950). B. Richler,
‘Manuscripts of Avicenna’s Kanon in Hebrew translation; a revised and up-to-date
list’, Koroth 30, vol. 8 (1982), 145–68; Lola Ferre, ‘Avicena Hebraico: La traducción
del Canon de Medicina. The Hebrew translation of Avicenna’s Canon’, BIBLID 52
(2003), 163–82.
54
ַ from ‫לוּע‬
‫לוֹע‬ ַ (to devour). He fails to specify to which of the different
translations of Avicenna he refers. Shortly after Hyrtl, David Kauf-
mann’s monograph on the five senses, entitled ‘Die Sinne: Beiträge
zur Geschichte der Physiologie und Psychologie im Mittelalter aus
hebräischen und arabischen Quellen’ was published in Budapest
1884.9 The work is admittedly very useful even today; however, the
medical terminology he discusses is limited to that of the physiology
of the five senses.
A more general study dealing with medieval medical terminology
was undertaken by Hermann Kroner, a Rabbi practicing in Bopfingen,
southern Germany, and published in 1921 under the title ‘Zur Ter-
minologie der arabischen Medizin und zu ihrem zeitgenössischen
hebräischen Ausdrucke’.10 However, it only discusses a relatively small
number of terms since it is based primarily on the Hebrew translations
of some of Maimonides’ minor works, and only distinguishes between
two translators, ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen and Moses Ibn
Tibbon. It also suffers from several mistakes, sometimes resulting from
the fact that Kroner only had access to corrupt manuscripts. Thus the
term ‫ منهرم‬featured on p. 55 and translated as ‘Apathischer (Lässiger)’
should be corrected to ‫ منهزم‬meaning ‘defeated, vanquished’. And ibi-
dem ‫( تسجيع‬Rhythmus (des Herzens) geben) should be read as ‫تشجيع‬
meaning ‘strengthening’ which was translated by Ibn Tibbon as ‫לתת‬
‫גבורה‬.
In 1945 Asher Goldstein published an article entitled Ha-Refu}ah
we-ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit (Medicine and the Hebrew Language) in which
he discusses different ways in which a novel medieval Hebrew medi-
cal terminology was created. However, he only discusses a few terms.
Moreover, he seems to have had a certain bias against the Arabic
medical terminology since he denies the important role it played in
the formation of the medieval medical terminology in general, as he
states explicitly:
I allow myself to remind [the reader] of my warning published in
‘Ha-Rofe ha-Ivri’, I (1927), p. 18, about the danger of using the Arabic
[for the innovation of Hebrew medical terms], for it does not have any
scientific value in our days. And also in the Golden Age of Arabic
9
It was published as part of the Jahresbericht der Landes-Rabbinerschule in Budapest
für das Schuljahr 1883–84 and reprinted in David Kaufmann, Die Spuren al-Ba†aljûsi’s,
(Budapest 1880), and Studien über Salomon Ibn Gabirol (Budapest 1899). With an
introduction by Louis Jacobs, Farnborough 1972.
10
H. Kroner, Zur Terminologie der arabischen Medizin und zu ihrem zeitgenös-
sischen hebräischen Ausdrucke. An der Hand dreier medizinischer Abhandlungen des
Maimonides (Berlin 1921).
55
medical science, in the Middle Ages, when it left its mark on medicine
world-wide, [Hebrew] authors, doctors and translators of Arabic
medical works were careful not to use Arabic medical terms. Only a
few medical terms in Arabic infiltrated the Hebrew language.11
Accordingly when discussing the term ‫( חולי הפיל‬elephantiasis) as it
features in the Sefer Åori ha-Guf by Nathan Ben Jo}el Falaquera,12
Goldstein simply states that it is a translation of Latin elephantiasis.13
However, since the work is based on Arabic sources it would have
been more appropriate to suggest that it is a loan-translation from the
Arabic ‫داء الفيل‬. Again, in an article entitled ‘MunaÌim refu}iyyim
be-Ivrit mi-beÌinah historit’ (Medical nomenclature in Hebrew from
an historical point of view), which was published in 1967, Gold-
stein’s discussion of some medical terms, like hernia, duodenum, cir-
rhosis, and their Hebrew counterparts, is primarily based on the
Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb and some of
Maimonides’ medical writings, such as the Pirkei Moshe (= Medical
Aphorisms).14 However, he does not specify which of the Hebrew
translations he used. For instance, when discussing the disease called
‘Hemorrhagia’ (i.e. bleeding) he mentions as Hebrew equivalents from
Maimonides’ writings and Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun: ‫ תשפוכת‬,‫שטף דם‬
‫ רעף דם‬,‫דם‬15 without providing sources.
Following Goldstein, research into medieval Hebrew medical ter-
minology was generally limited to a study of the anatomical terms
featuring in Vesalius’ Tabulae Anatomicae Sex, which was published
in 1538, and his De Humani Corporis Fabrica Libri Septem, com-
monly known as Fabrica and published in 1543. As Vesalius himself
knew no Hebrew, the Hebrew (and Arabic) equivalents and their
transliterations for the Tabulae derive from an anonymous friend; for
the Fabrica, book one on osteology, he consulted his friend Lazarus
de Frigeis of Venice who relied, in turn, on the Naples edition of Ibn
Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb mentioned above. However, the Hebrew
11
Asher Goldstein, ‘Ha-Refu}ah we-ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit’, Harofé haivri. The
Hebrew Medical Journal, 2 (1945), 88–96, p. 95 (trans. from the Hebrew by
Gerrit Bos).
12
See Gerrit Bos and R. Fontaine, ‘Medico-philosophical controversies in
Nathan b. Jo}el Falaquera, Sefer Zori ha-Guf’, Jewish Quarterly Review, 90 (1999),
27–60.
13
Goldstein (ibid., p. 91) actually reads: ‫אלשופנאטטיאזיס‬.
14
Asher Goldstein, ‘MunaÌim refu}iyyim be-Ivrit mi-beÌinah historit’, Koroth,
vol. 4, 5–7 (1967), 452–62; vol. 4, 8–10 (1968), 625–36, and vol. 4, 11–12 (1968),
773–86.
15
Ibid., vol. 4, 5–7 (1967), 459.
56
terminology in the Fabrica edition of 1543 is very corrupt. De Frigeis’

knowledge of Hebrew and Arabic may have been sketchy; the tran-
scriber and the typesetter, who were evidently unfamiliar with Hebrew,
introduced many typographical errors.16
Mordecai Etziony studied the Hebrew material in two articles,
published in 1945 and 1946. The first article deals with the Hebrew
anatomical terminology featuring in Vesalius’ Tabulae,17 while the
second article covers the Hebrew terms featuring in the Fabrica.18 The
value of both articles lies primarily in their elucidation of the Hebrew
terminology; the author does not analyse the medieval source(s), but
only refers to Rabbinic parallels on the basis of Jastrow’s dictionary,19
as in the case of the term ‫( שלבים‬see below). In addition to Etzioni,
Charles Singer and C. Rabin studied the Hebrew material in Vesalius’
Tabulae in their monograph entitled: ‘Prelude to Modern Science:
Being a Discussion of the History, Sources and Circumstances of the
“Tabulae Anatomicae Sex” of Vesalius’ which was published in 1946
as well.20 The authors trace the Semitic terminology in the Tabulae
to contemporary oral usage in Arabic, Hebrew and Romance.21 They
state explicitly that this work was not influenced by the printed
Hebrew Avicenna.22 The study is valuable insofar as the authors
extensively discuss these Hebrew terms, compare them with the ter-
minology in the Fabrica and with that of the different medieval
16
See Andreas Vesalius, De humani corporis fabrica, translation and annota-
tion by Daniel Garrison and Malcolm Hast (Vesalius.northwestern.edu), bk. 1,
ch. 40, p. 166, esp. n. 5. See as well: Benjamin L. Gordon, ‘Review of Charles
Singer and C. Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science: Being a Discussion of the
History Sources and Circumstances of the ‘Tabulae Anatomicae Sex’ of Vesalius
(Cambridge 1946)’, The Jewish Quarterly Review, New Ser., 38/2 (1947), 201–
3, p. 201.
17
Mordecai Etziony, ‘The Hebrew-Aramaic element in Vesalius’ Tabulae Ana-
tomicae Sex. A Critical Analysis’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 18 (1945),
413–24.
18
Mordecai Etziony, ‘The Hebrew-Aramaic element in Vesalius. A Critical
Analysis’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 20 (1946), 36–57.
19
Cf. the author’s statement in ‘The Hebrew-Aramaic element in Vesalius’, p.
38: ‘References are given only in the case of some Hebrew terms. The occurrence
of those equivalents which are common use in old and modern Hebrew has not
been traced to any particular place in literature. Practically all references quoted are
those found in Jastrow’.
20
Charles Singer and C. Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science: Being a Discussion of
the History Sources and Circumstances of the ‘Tabulae Anatomicae Sex’ of Vesalius
(Cambridge 1946), esp. lxxv–lxxxvi.
21
Singer-Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science, lxxvii.
22
Singer-Rabin, ibid.
57
Hebrew translations of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb. Take for

example, their discussion on p. 24, n. 131, regarding the term ‫זרוע‬:
ZEROA¨ is biblical, being mostly applied to the forearm. It is thus
employed by Meathi and Lorci. The printed Hebrew edition of the
Canon of Avicenna (1491), however, following Graciano (= ZeraÌyah
Îen), used it for the upper arm. Doubtless on account of this confusion,
Vesalius or Lazarus in the Fabrica give the phrase of the printed Hebrew
Avicenna QENEH HA-ZEROA¨ = shaft of the upper arm.
One more study was devoted to the Hebrew elements in Vesalius’
Fabrica by Juan Jose Barcia Goyanes and published under the title
‘Los terminos osteologicos de la Fabrica y la evolucion del lenguaje
anatomico Hebreo en la edad media’ in 1982.23 As the title indicates
the author, unlike Etzioni, dealt with the origin of medieval Hebrew
terminology featuring in the Fabrica, book one. Thus he consulted
the Hebrew translations of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, by
Nathan ha-Me}ati, ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen, and
Joshua Lorki. The following comparative table clearly shows the dif-
ferences in approach by both scholars:
Etzioni Goyanes
Fabrica, ed. 1543, p. 166, l. 20: Ibid.:
Suturae… ‫ שלבים‬scelauim: The Suturae… ‫ שלבים‬scelauim: The
proper transliteration is shlabim proper transliteration is shlabim
meaning mortised boards, steps of a meaning mortised boards, steps of
ladder, plural of ‫ שלב‬shalv or shalav, a ladder, plural of ‫ שלב‬shalv or sha-
the derivative of the root ‫ שלב‬join, fit lav, of the root ‫שלב‬, joint.24
in with mortise and tenon. Compare N (= Nathan): ‫ שלב‬y ‫ שלבים‬salaß,
the synonym with ‫ מחוברים‬mechu- selaßîm. L (= Joshua Lorki): idem,
barim, Tabula VI, 1. For ‫ שלב‬see Az.25: idem; Z: ‫ חוליה‬Ìulyâ, mem-
Jastrow, Taanith Yerushalmi, IV 68. ber, joint, vertebra. Av (= Avicenna)
23
Juan Jose Barcia Goyanes, ‘Los terminos osteologicos de la Fabrica y la evolu-
cion del lenguaje anatomico Hebreo en la edad media’. Sefarad 42 (1982), 299–326.
24
For this term see the extensive discussion in H. Rabin, ‘Toledot Targum Sefer
ha-Qanun le-Ivrit’, Melilah 3/4 (1950), 132–46, p. 146.
25
Az. is the abbreviation used by Goyanes to refer to Azriel Ben Joseph of
Gunzenhausen, who with his father Joseph Ben Jacob printed the Hebrew edition
of the K. al-Qanun, Naples 1491–2. However, this edition is, according to Richler
(Manuscripts of Avicenna’s Kanon, p. 148, based on the translation of Nathan for
Books II–V, while the edition of Book I is based mainly on Lorki’s translation,
which is a revision of that by Nathan. Thus, Az. is nothing else but N. In an earlier
comparative study Rabin (Toledot Targum Sefer ha-Qanun le-Ivrit, p. 137) came to
the conclusion that this edition is mainly based on Nathan’s translation, but that
the editor sometimes prefers the version of Joshua Lorki or ZeraÌyah.
58
uses the terms ‫ درز‬and ‫دروز‬, which are

transliterated by Alpago26 as adorem
and feature in Vesalius as direzan,
adorem. AH27 has: seleß, pl. selaßîm,
pl. c. silßê. The term darz used by
Avicenna is a translation of the Greek
Åofß as used by Galen…
In a second article entitled ‘Medieval Hebrew Anatomical Names:

A contribution to their history’, published in 1985,28 Goyanes stud-
ied nineteen (mainly anatomical) terms in the previously mentioned
translations of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, and in Shem Tov
Ben Isaac’s Hebrew translation of al-Razi’s K. al-Mansuri.29
The usefulness of the published studies is unfortunately very lim-
ited because they discuss so few terms. Thus, they do not contribute
significantly to our knowledge of the medieval medical terminology
in general and do not make it easier to read the pertinent texts. More-
over, none of them is devoted to the technical vocabulary or transla-
tion technique of one translator in particular. These eclectic studies
do not help the reader of medieval Hebrew medical literature solve
the most common problem, namely, that many of the extant medical
texts do not name their translator.
However, in recent years research into medieval Hebrew medical
terminology has broken new ground. The translation technique of
one major translator, namely ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen,
and his vocabulary have been studied by Gerrit Bos in his edition of
ZeraÌyah’s translation of Aristotle’s De anima.30 ZeraÌyah was active
in the city of Rome as a translator of philosophical and medical works
from the Arabic into Hebrew in the last quarter of the thirteenth
century.31 Amongst the medical works translated by him are Maimo-
26
I.e. Andrea Alpago (sixteenth century), who revised the Latin translation by
Gerard the Cremona.
27
AH, i.e. The Academy of the Hebrew Language.
28
Juan Jose Barcia Goyanes, ‘Medieval Hebrew Anatomical Names: A contribu-
tion to their history’, Koroth, vol. 8, no. 11–12 (1985), 192–202.
29
For Shem Tov Ben Isaac see below. For this translation see Moritz Stein-
schneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters (Berlin 1893), 725–6.
30
Aristotle’s De Anima. Translated into Hebrew by ZeraÌyah ben Isaac ben
She}altiel Îen. Edited with Introduction and Linguistic Analysis (Leiden 1993),
23–43.
31
On ZeraÌyah see H. Vogelstein and P. Rieger, Geschichte der Juden in Rom,
2 vols. (Berlin 1895–6), vol. 1, 271–5, 409–18; M. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen
Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (Berlin 1893, repr. Graz
59
nides’ Medical Aphorisms and On Sexual Intercourse, Ibn Sina’s K.

al-Qanun fi al-†ibb (the first two books only) and Galen’s De causis
et symptomatibus and Katagenos.
The newly available knowledge about ZeraÌyah’s translation
technique and technical vocabulary has led to the ascription of four
hitherto anonymous medical treatises to him. Mauro Zonta identi-
fied ZeraÌyah as the translator of Hippocrates’ De superfoetatione
extant in an unique manuscript in Parma, Biblioteca Palatina,32
I identified ZeraÌyah as the translator of Maimonides’ On Hemor-
rhoids, extant in MS Parma 2642, De Rossi 354, Richler 1531;33
of On the Regimen of Health, extant in MS Paris BN hébr 1127
(a fragment only); and of On Poisons, extant in MSS Munich 43
and 280 (both fragmentary).34 I was able to identify ZeraÌyah as
the author of these translations because of the critical editions
I prepared of these works as part of the Maimonides’ project which
aims at providing critical editions of his medical works in the orig-
inal Arabic and medieval translations.35 In particular, the compila-
tion of Arabic-Hebrew glossaries and separate alphabetical indices
to the different Hebrew translations of Maimonides’ medical works
proved to be very useful for the purpose of identification, as it pro-
vided me with the technical terminology typical of the major trans-
lators of these works, namely Moses Ibn Tibbon, Nathan ha-Me}ati
and ZeraÌyah.
Another medieval translator whose medical terminology is cur-
rently being analysed is Shem Tov Ben Isaac of Tortosa. While in
Marseilles Shem Tov translated the famous medical encyclopaedia
entitled Kitab al-taÒrif li-man {ajiza {an al-ta}lif (The Arrangement
of Medical Knowledge for One Who is Not Able to Compile a Book for
Himself), which was composed in the tenth century by the Andalu-
1956), 766; A. Ravitzky, Mishnato shel R. ZeraÌyah b. Isaac b. She}altiel Îen, (Doct.
diss., Jerusalem 1977), 69–75; Bos, Aristotle’s De Anima, 1–4; M. Zonta, ‘A Hebrew
translation of Hippocrates’ De superfoetatione: Historical Introduction and Critical
Edition’, Aleph. Historical Studies in Science and Judaism, 3 (2003), 97–143,
pp. 104–9.
32
See Zonta, ‘A Hebrew translation’.
33
See B. Richler, Hebrew Manuscripts in the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma. Cata-
logue. Palaegraphical und codicological descriptions (Jerusalem 2001).
34
Maimonides, On Poisons and the Protection against Lethal Drugs. A New Par-
allel Arabic-English Translation by Gerrit Bos with Critical Editions of medieval
Hebrew translations and Latin translations by Gerrit Bos and Michael McVaugh.
(Provo 2009).
35
Forthcoming in the series entitled ‘The Medical Works of Moses Maimo-
nides’ published by Brigham Young University Press.
60
sian physician Abu l-Qasim Khalaf ibn Äbbas al-Zahrawi, known in

the western world as Abulcasis.36 In addition to the Kitab al-taÒrif Shem
Tov translated Abu Walid MuÌammad ibn Rushd’s Middle Commen-
tary on Aristotle’s De Anima,37 Abu Bakr MuÌammad ibn Zakariyya
al-Razi’s medical encyclopaedia K. al-ManÒuri,38 and Hippocrates’ Aph-
orisms with Palladius’ commentary.39 Shem Tov started his translation
of the Kitab al-taÒrif, which he called Sefer ha-Shimmush, in 1254 and
completed it at an unknown date. Instead of translating Zahrawi’s glos-
sary of medical terms in book 29 Shem Tov compiled two independent
lists of medical synonyms, the first in Hebrew-Arabic-Romance and the
second in Romance-Arabic- and sometimes Hebrew. These lists are
being edited, translated and annotated as part of a project initiated by
Gerrit Bos and Guido Mensching.40 A striking feature of Shem Tov’s
translation technique is that in several cases he created a novel41 Hebrew
36
For Shem Tov’s life and works see Gerrit Bos, ‘The Creation and Innovation
of Medieval Hebrew medical terminology: Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shim-
mush’, in Anna Akasoy and Wim Raven (eds), Islamic Thought in the Middle Ages:
Studies in text, Transmission and Translation in Honour of Hans Daiber (Leiden-
Boston 2008), 195–218.
37
Cf. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die
Juden als Dolmetscher, p. 148; Averroës. Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima.
A Critical Edition of the Arabic Text with English Translation, Notes, and Intro-
duction by Alfred L. Ivry (Provo, Utah 2002), xxviii–xxix, 150. n. 69.
38
Cf. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters, 725–6.
39
His commentary is no longer extant in Greek, but it has recently been redis-
covered by Hinrich Biesterfeldt and Y. Tzvi Langermann, who hope to publish soon
a preliminary study of Palladius’ commentary, to be followed by a full edition and
analysis.
40
The project is dedicated to the edition and the analysis of various unedited sci-
entific texts written in Middle Hebrew that belong to the area of medico-botanical
literature. Within this project the Cologne group, consisting of Gerrit Bos and Martina
Hussein, is responsible for the Hebrew-Arabic linguistic material, while the Berlin
group, consisting of Guido Mensching and Frank Savelsberg, is in charge of the Latin-
Romance material. First results of the research carried out in the context of the project
are: Bos-Mensching, ‘Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Glossary of Botanical Terms, nrs 1–18’,
Jewish Quarterly Review, 92 (2001), 1–20; Bos-Mensching, ‘Hebrew Medical Synonym
Literature: Romance and Latin Terms and their Identification’; Aleph, Historical Stud-
ies in Science & Judaism, vol. 5 (2005), 11–53; Bos-Mensching, ‘A 15th Century
medico-botanical synonym list (Ibero-Romance-Arabic) in Hebrew characters’, in Pan-
ace@), vol. VII, no. 24 (December 2006); see: http://www.medtrad.org/panacea/Indice
General/n24_tribunahistorica-bos.mensching.pdf; Bos, The Creation and Innovation of
Medieval Hebrew medical terminology.
41
With novel terms I mean one of three things: 1. terms that do not feature in
the current dictionaries at all; 2. terms which can be found in current dictionaries
but not in the sense they have in our text; 3. terms which can be found in current
dictionaries but are not registered as medieval.
61
medical terminology which was, in some cases adopted by subsequent

authors such as Nathan ha-Me}ati and ZeraÌyah Îen. An example is
the entry He 11 in our edition of the first glossary: ‫המעדת המעים ב“ה‬
‫זלק אלאמעא‬. The Hebrew HM{DT HM{YM, which is not attested in
secondary literature, may have been coined by Shem Tov as a Hebrew
loan translation of the Arabic zalaq al-amä} ‘Dysenteria spuria’. The
same Hebrew term features subsequently in Nathan’s and ZeraÌyah’s
Hebrew translations of Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms (XXII, 36;
XXIII, 80, 90, 93, 94). However, since these glossaries do not cover all
the technical terms featuring in the Sefer ha-Shimmush, and since they
do not give these terms in a specific context, further analysis and discus-
sion of the novel medical terminology employed by the author is neces-
sary to facilitate the reading of his translations in general, to ensure
recognition of his technical terminology in future dictionaries of the
Hebrew language, and to define properly his technical vocabulary. With
this end in view the following study is devoted to an analysis of a selec-
tion of the technical terminology of book 30, which deals with surgery,
and was by far the most popular and most influential part of this vast
medical encyclopaedia. Translated into Latin by Gerard de Cremona in
Toledo in the second half of the twelfth century and into Occitan in
the fourteenth century, it was a major source for the European treatises
on surgery composed subsequently, foremost that by Guy de Chauliac
(d. 1368) who quotes it no less than 157 times. Thus it played a sig-
nificant role in the development of the art of surgery in Europe.42 While
the original Arabic text of book 30 has been published in a critical edi-
tion and English translation by Spink-Lewis43 and the Occitan transla-
tion has been edited by Grimaud-Lafont,44 the Hebrew text is still
unedited.
The analysis of the technical medical terminology of the Hebrew
text is based on MS Paris, BN héb. 1163 which is the only manuscript
to have preserved book 30 and which was copied in a sephardic script
in the fourteenth century.45 The text appears in double columns
42
Cf. Danielle Jacquart and Françoise Micheau, La médicine arabe et l’occident
médiéval (Paris 1990), 150–1.
43
M.S. Spink and G. Lewis, Albucasis. On Surgery and Instruments. A definitive
edition of the Arabic text with English translation and commentary (Publications
of the Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine. New Series. Volume XII,
London 1973).
44
J. Grimaud and R. Lafont, La chirurgie d’Albucasis, texte occitan du XIVe siècle
(Montpellier 1988).
45
For the manuscript cf. H. Zotenberg (ed.), Catalogues des Manuscrits Hébreux
et Samaritains de la Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris 1866).
62
on fols. 201a–239a and has been illustrated with many drawings of

the surgical instruments recommended by the author, copied from an
Arabic Vorlage. In my study the terms, arranged alphabetically, are
compared throughout with those of the Arabic edition and English
translation by Spink-Lewis. I will refer to parallel terminology used by
other major translators, namely Nathan ha-Me}ati, ZeraÌyah Îen, and
Moses Ibn Tibbon. Of these translators both Nathan and ZeraÌyah
were active at a later date than Shem Tov Ben Isaac; Nathan worked
in Rome between 1279 and 1283 and ZeraÌyah worked in the same
city between 1279 and 1291. It is possible that both used part of
the novel terminology invented by Shem Tov Ben Isaac. In the case
of Moses Ibn Tibbon, however, it is hard to determine who influenced
whom, as he was active as a translator between 1240 and 1283 and
some of his translations are earlier than those by Shem Tov.46
The sources consulted for these comparisons are the translations of
Maimonides’ medical works which are being published as part of the
Maimonides’ Medical Works project mentioned above. I also consulted
Moses Ibn Tibbon’s Hebrew translation of the medical encyclopaedia
Zad al-musafir wa-qut al-Ìadir (Provisions for the Traveller and
Nourishment for the Sedentary), composed by Abu Ja¨far AÌmad ibn
Ibrahim ibn Abi Khalid ibn al-Jazzar (tenth century), a practising
physician from Qayrawan.47 This translation was composed in 1259
and is still unedited; of the many manuscripts testifying to its popu-
larity in Jewish circles I consulted MS Munich 19 which was copied
in 1552.48 In addition to these primary sources I refer to secondary
ones, primarily Masie, Dictionary of Medicine and Allied Sciences and
Ben Yehuda, Millon ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit for Nathan’s Hebrew trans-
lation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun prepared in Rome in 1279. The
dictionaries consulted for this study are those by Ben Yehuda, Even
Shoshan, Masie, and the online Dictionary of the Academy of the
Hebrew Language. The Bar-Ilan Responsa CD-Rom is used for attes-
tations from sources which are primarily halakhic.
46
For an extensive discussion of the question of the authors consulted by Shem
Tov and the authors influenced by him see Gerrit Bos, The Creation and Innovation
of Medieval Hebrew medical terminology: Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush
(forthcoming).
47
For Ibn al-Jazzar’s bio- and bibliographical data see Bos, Ibn al-Jazzar on
Sexual Diseases and their Treatment, pp. 5–7, and the relevant literature mentioned
there. See as well Bos, Ibn al-Jazzar on Skin Diseases and Other Afflictions of the Outer
Part of the Body. Critical edition of the Arabic text, Hebrew translation by Moses
Ibn Tibbon and modern English translation (forthcoming).
48
See M. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Handschriften der K. Hof- und Staats-
bibliothek in München, 2nd rev. enl. ed., (Munich 1895).
63
A final introductory note concerns the faithfulness of the transla-

tor in adhering to the original text. Hebrew translations of medical
texts in general closely follow the original text. Only rarely does one
find additions of a personal nature. A remarkable example of such a
personal addition and witness to the religious identity of the trans-
lator can be found in Book 1, ch. 47 where Shem Tov translates
the Arabic ‫( عند نهاية الشعر‬about the hairline) as ‫במקום הנחת תפלין‬
(where one places the Tefillin).49
List of terms
‫ אבר‬:‫ = האבר המושל‬Arab. ‫العضو الرئيس‬: ‘the major organ’; cf. II:40 (SP fol. 215a;
SL 321,13): ‫ויהיה הצמח לפעמים קרוב מאבר מושל שהמאחר לדקרו וממתין עד‬
‫( שיתבשל יזיק לאותו האבר המושל‬Or if the tumour be near a major organ,
if you delay the opening of it until it ripens you will damage that major
organ)50. In addition to ‫האבר המושל‬, Shem Tov has ‫( האבר הראשי‬II:86;
SP fol. 225a; SL 555, 24), and ‫( אחד מן האיברין השרים‬for ‫;عضو رئيس‬
SP fol. 225b; SL 557, l. 52). N translates Arabic ‫ العضو الرئيس‬as ‫האבר‬
‫ הראשי‬and Z as ‫( האבר השרי‬MA 25:70). M (BIZ 9:8) translates the
plural ‫ الأعضاء الرئيسة‬as ‫האברים הראשים‬.
‫ אגודה‬:‫אגודות‬. This term features with the following meanings: 1. Arab. ‫عقد‬:
‘nodules’; cf. II:27 (SP fol. 202b; SL 269, 1): ‫בהוצאת האגודות אשר תקרנה‬
‫( בשפתים‬on the extraction of nodules occurring on the lip). The same
Arabic term is translated as ‫ קשרים‬by M (BIZ 23:1); 2. Arab. ‫تعقّد‬: ‘callus’;
cf. III:20 (SP fol. 236b; SL 781,1): ‫ברפואת האגודות המתהוות בעקבות קצת‬
‫( השברים‬On the treatment of the callus that remains from a fracture);
3. Arab. ‫غدد‬: ‘buboes’; cf. L 2231, s.v. ‫غدّة‬: ‘A ganglion; i.e. any hard
lump in the tendinous parts’; cf. II:36 (SP fol. 214a; SL 301, 3): ‫לפעמים‬
‫( תקרנה בגרון אגודות דומות אל האגודות אשר תקרנה מחוץ‬Sometimes there
occur in the throat buboes [called ‘tonsils’], which resemble the buboes
occurring externally. The Arabic ‫ غدد‬is translated by N as ‫ גדרים‬or ‫גידים‬
and by Z as ‫ גלנדולי‬or ‫( גרנגולי‬MA 1:8); 4. Arab. ‫سلع‬: ‘cysts’ (= ‫אגודות‬
‫ ;)הבשר‬cf. II:41 (SP fol. 215a; SL 329, 3): ‫יקרו בעור הראש צמחים קטנים‬
‫( והם ממיני האגודות יקיפום קרומות הם להם נאדות דומים לזפק התרנגולת‬Small
swellings form in the scalp, which are of the various kinds of cyst, con-
tained within membranes which form a capsule to them like the crop of
a chicken); see SG Alef 38.
-: ‫ = אגודות הבשר‬Arab. ‫سلع‬: ‘cysts’; cf. 2:45 (SP fol. 216a; SL 343, 1): ‫שער‬
‫( מ“ה בבקיעה על מיני אגודות הבשר‬Chapter forty-five. On incision for vari-
ous kinds of cyst). Cf. SG Alef 38 and below s.v. ‫תלולית‬.
‫ ִאכּוּל‬:‫ = איכול‬I. Arab. ‫آكلة‬: ‘gangrene’ (cf. D 1:31, s.v. ‫أكلة‬: ‘gangrène, chancre,
ulcère’; cf. I:52 (SP fol. 208a; SL 155, 2–3): ‫האיכול אמנם הוא הפסד מתפשט‬
‫( באבר ויאכלנו כאכילת האש העצים היבשים‬Gangrene is a creeping corruption
49
See below s.v. ‫חלל העורף‬.
50
The English translation is that by Spink-Lewis unless indicated otherwise.
64
of a limb, consuming it as fire consumes dry wood); II. Arab. ‫‘ أكال‬irrita-

tion’; cf. II:96 (SP fol. 231a; SL 657, 20):‫ומהם מי שימצא חכוך בפניו ובמצחו‬
‫( וחשיכות ואיכול בעיניו‬some have an itching in their face and forehead and
a dimness and irritation in their eyes). Hebrew ‫ איכול‬is only attested in
Ben Yehuda (BM 205) as occurring in medieval literature in the sense of
‘itching’. It features in N for Arab. ‫( أكلة‬corrosion/ canker/ cankerous
sore), whereas Z has ‫ אוכלת‬or ‫( חולי‬MA 3:109; 7:60; 9:105; 12:32;
16:7). See as well MD 188, s.v. ‘corrosion’.
‫ = אליה‬Arab. ‫ألية‬: ‘buttock’; cf. 4:14 (SP fol. 235b; SL 757, 14–16): ‫אך הדוקו‬
‫ראוי להיותו על זה התאר והוא לכרוך על השבר במצנפת גסה שלש כריכות או ארבע‬
‫( ולהעדיף ממנה מותר ואחר כך לקפול השוק עד שוב העקב אצל שרש האליה‬As to
the bandaging, you should wrap a firm broad sash two or three times
round the fracture [of the femur], leaving some over; then bind the leg
up so that the heel is brought to reach the root of the buttock). Hebrew
‫אליה‬, i.e. fat tail (BM 241) in the sense of ‘buttock’ is a non-attested
semantic borrowing from the Arab. ‫ ألية‬which has both meanings (cf. L 87).
‫ א ֶֹמץ‬:‫ = אומץ המעים‬Arab. ‫اعتقال الطبع‬: ‘constipation’; cf. II:81 (SP fol. 223b;
SL 515, 31–2): ‫( והפלחים יקרו הרבה מצד נגוב הצואה ואומץ המעים‬Fissures
often arise from dryness of the faeces and from constipation). Hebrew
‫ אומץ המעים‬is a non-attested term derived from ‫( לאמץ את המעים‬to con-
stipate) which is attested in Maimonides, Hilkhot Deöt 6:4; cf. BM 287–
8. N and Z translate the Arabic synonym ‫ احتباس البطن‬as ‫עוצר הבטן‬
(MA 9:55). M translates the Arabic synonym ‫ احتباس الطبيعة‬as ‫עוצר הטבע‬
(MZ fol. 91b).
‫ ִא ָסּר‬or ‫ = ֱא ָסר‬Arab. ‫رباط‬: ‘ligament’; cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583, 2–5):
‫כשנתחדש צמח במקצת האיברין הבשריים וארך זמנו עד שקבץ מוגלא ואחר נתבקע‬
‫או שדקרוהו ויצא כל מה שהיה בו מן המוגלא ונשאר המקום ריקן ככיס והעור אשר‬
‫עליו כבגד שכבר נתדקדק ולא הגיע אל ההפסד לגמרי לעשות רושם בעצם ולא בעצב‬
‫( ולא באסר‬When an abscess occurs in any of the fleshy parts and becomes
chronic and eventually collects pus, and then it breaks open or is perfo-
rated, and all the contained matter comes out and the site is left hollow,
like a vessel, and the overlying skin thinned like a rag, but the suppura-
tion has not gone so far as to involve bone or tendon or ligament).
Hebrew or Aramaic ‫ אסר‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the
sense of ‘band, chain, vow of abstinence’; cf. JD 57, and DA 32 for
the Aramaic term). In addition to ‫ אסר‬Shem Tov uses ‫ קשירה‬for ‫;رباط‬
cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 563, 103). N and Z translate Arab. ‫ رباط‬as
‫ קשירה‬,‫ קשורים‬,‫( קשור‬MA 1:8, 9-11; 3:21, 52; 7:33; 15:29, 40, 47, 66,
69, 70; 23:18; 25:36, 51, and M as ‫( קשרים‬BIZ 15:5).
‫ אפר‬:‫ = אפר העינים‬Arab. ‫رمد‬: ‘ophthalmia’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 629,
34–6): ‫והשני ורידין אשר בשתי הרקות תועלת הקזתם לכאב הצלחתא הישנה‬
‫והכאב הקשה ואל אפר העינים המתמיד והגרת המותרות הנשפכות החדות אל העינים‬
(The section of the two arteries in the temples gives relief for chronic
migraine and severe headache and constant ophthalmia and the flow
of acrid superfluities into the eyes). Hebrew ‫אפר העינים‬, a loan translation
of the Arab. ‫رمد‬, is not attested in the current dictionaries. Both N and Z
65
did not have a Hebrew equivalent for the Arabic term, as N transcribed
it as ‫רמד‬, and Z used both ‫ רמד‬and the Romance equivalent ‫ לגניא‬or ‫ַלגְ נְ יַ יא‬
(MA 9:31; 12:22; 19:16; 22:39; 23:70; 24:20). See as well KS 114–15.
‫ אצבע‬:‫ = אצבע קטנה‬Arab. ‫خنصر‬: I. ‘little finger’; cf. IV:12 (SP fol. 235a:
SL 747, 13–14):‫( ולהיות האצבע הקטנה למטה מכל האצבעות‬and the little
finger downmost); II. ‘little toe’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 230b; SL 655, 284–5):
‫ואם לא ימצא ולא יראה לחוש כלל ראוי להקיז קצת סעיפיו והם הנראים בגב הרגל בין‬
‫( אצבע קטנה והשני לו‬and if you do not find it [i.e. the sciatic vein] or it is
in no way palpable, then venesect one of its branches, which will be seen
on the surface of the foot between51 the little toe and the fourth toe).
Hebrew ‫ אצבע קטנה‬is not attested in the current dictionaries.
‫ = אצילה‬Arab. ‫إبط‬: ‘axilla’; cf. I:25 (SP fol. 205b; SL 77, 1): ‫שער כה‘ בכוית‬
‫( האצילה‬Chapter twenty-five. On cauterization of the axilla). The Hebrew
term features in the Bible in the sense of 1. joint and 2. cubit (cf. KB 81–2).
Ben Yehuda also gives several references to its occurrence in medieval
literature in the last sense only (BM 368). N translates the Arabic ‫إبطان‬
as ‫ אצילים‬and Z as ‫( שחי‬MA 7:21; 10:15). M (MZ fol. 90a) translates
Arabic ‫( إبطان‬BZ 147, l. 678) as ‫השחיים‬.
‫ = אצילי‬Arab. ‫ٕبطي‬ّ ‫ا‬: ‘axillary’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 627, 13–14):
‫והבאסליק הוא בזרוע למטה מן הגיד האמצעי לעמת הלב ויקרא גם כן האצילי‬
‫( ויקראוהו עם הארץ גיד הבטן‬then the basilic vein; this is the one situated
on the inner side and is termed also the axillary vein, but popularly it
is called the ‘belly-vein’). Hebrew ‫ אצילי‬is attested in BM 369 as featur-
ing in Nathan’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun.
‫ אשך‬:‫ = האשך הבשרי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة اللحم ّية‬: ‘a fleshy hernia’; II:63 (SP fol. 219b;
SL 435, 1):‫( שער ס“ג בבקוע על האשך הבשרי ורפואתו‬Chapter sixty-three.
On cutting for a fleshy hernia and its treatment).
-: ‫ = האשך הזמורי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة التي مع دالية‬: ‘hernia with varix’; II:64 (SP fol. 220a;
SL 439,1): ‫( שער ס“ד ברפואת האשך הזמורי ר“ל אשר יהיה עם זמורה‬Chapter
sixty-four. On the treatment of hernia with varix). Cf. entry ‫ זמורה‬below.
-: ‫ = האשך המימי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة المائية‬: ‘a watery hernia’; cf. II:62 (SP fol. 219a;
SL 425, 2).
-: ‫ = האשך המעיי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة المعائ ّية‬: “intestinal hernia”; II:65 (SP fol. 220a;
SL 441,1).
-: ‫ = האשך הרוחיי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة الريح ّية‬: ‘flatulent hernia’; II:66 (SP fol. 220a;
SL 447,1).
The term ‫ אשך‬only features in the current dictionaries in the sense of
‘testicle’; cf. BM 416. Another term for ‘hernia’ used by Shem Tov is
‫( פיתקא‬see below). Both N and Z have ‫ בקיעה‬for Arabic ‫( أدرة‬MA 9:123).
Masie (MD 351) mentions the following synonyms for ‘hernia’: ,‫שבר‬
‫ בקיע‬,‫ פרץ‬,‫שברון‬.
‫ בדק‬:‫ = בדק עצמו‬Arab. ‫تب ّرز‬: ‘to open one’s bowel’; i.e. to defecate; cf. II:81
(SP fol. 2223a; SL 513, 9–11): ‫ורפואת הטחורים אשר יהיו מבפנים לצוות אל‬
51
‘between the little toe and the fourth toe’: ‘towards the fourth toe and the
little toe’ SL.
66
‫( החולה לבדוק עצמו ולהרגיל העיצום עד שיבלוט פי הטבעת ויראו היבלות‬The treat-
ment of internal piles: bid the patient open his bowel and bear down
until the anus opens out and the swellings are disclosed to you). ‫בדק עצמו‬
is a non-attested Hebrew term coined after the Aramaic ‫;בדיק נפשיה‬
cf. SD 187. N translates Arab. ‫ تب ّرز‬as ‫ הוציא בציאה‬and Z as ‫יצא מנקב פי‬
‫( הטבעת‬MA 9:64).
‫ בית‬:‫ = בית הפרשות‬Arab. ‫فضاء‬: ‘perineum’; cf. II:80 (SP fol. 220a; SL 503,
8–9): ‫ולפעמים יהיה מהם טחורים כשיהיו בבית הפרשות מפולשים אל כיס מקוה‬
‫( המים ואל מעבר השתן‬Sometimes also there are fistulae occurring in the
perineum which penetrate to the urinary bladder and to the urethra).
Hebrew ‫ בית הפרשות‬is not mentioned in the current dictionaries. It is
attested in BIR in a quotation from Sefer ha-Orah (Part 2, [67], Din
Niqqur, beginning with: Heshiv R. (ed. S. Buber, 1905): ‫בית הפרשות שלו‬
‫( שקוראים קודי‘‘ל‬Its perineum, that is its QWDYL).52 In addition to this
term Shem Tov uses ‫ ריקות‬to render Arab. ‫ ;فضاء‬cf. below.
‫ = בליטה‬Arab. ‫نتو‬: ‘protuberance’; cf. II:16 (SP fol. 211b; SL 233, 31–3):
‫אמנם בליטת בשר ראש העין אם תהיה הבליטה מזקת העין נזק מכוער ראוי לתלות‬
‫הבליטה ההיא בחכה ולחתוך ממנה קצתה מבלי רבוי חתוך פן תתחדש הגרת הדמעות‬
(As for a protuberance of flesh in the angle [of the eye], if it causes great
hurt pick it up with a hook and cut part of it away, with not too big an
incision lest there be a flux of tears). Hebrew ‫ בליטה‬only features in a
medical sense in BM 549 in a quotation from Meir Aldabi, Shevilei
Emunah which was completed in 1360.
‫ בעבע‬:‫ = נתבעבע הצמח‬Arab. ‫تق ّرح‬: ‘to break out in open ulceration’; cf. Intro-
duction (SP fol. 201b; SL 5, 32–3): ‫וראיתי רופא אחר דקר צמח סרטני ונתבעבע‬
‫( הצמח אחר ימים‬And I saw another doctor incise a malignant tumour;
after some days the place broke out in open ulceration). The root ‫בעבע‬
only features in the dictionaries in the sense of ‘to bubble’; cf. BM 569.
N translates Arabic ‫ تق ّرح‬as ‫ התחבל‬or ‫ השחין‬and Z as ‫ התחבל‬,‫ חבל‬or ‫התנגע‬
(MA 6:72; 23:46); M (BIZ 13:3) translates the Arabic ‫( أقرح‬to ulcerate)
as ‫לנגע‬. See also ‫ צמח‬below.
‫ = ֶבּ ֶתק‬Arab. ‫فتق‬: ‘opening; rupture’; cf. II:65 (SP fol. 220a; SL 441, 2–4):
‫ התחדש זה האשך יהיה מבקוע יקרה בקרום הנמתח‬.‫שער ס“ה ברפואת האשך המעיי‬
‫על הבטן לעמת עיקרי הירכים וישפך המעי מן הבתק ההוא אל אחד מן הבצים‬
(Chapter sixty-five. On the treatment of intestinal hernia. This hernia is
due to a split occurring in the membrane stretched from the hypogas-
trium over the belly in the region of the groin. Through this opening
the bowel descends upon one of the testes). Hebrew ‫ ֶבּ ֶתק‬is only attested
in Ma}agarim (<30 '‫ סליחה >שו‬,‫ אלה ברכב‬:‫ סליחות‬/‫)שמעון‬. N translates
Arab. ‫ فتق‬in the sense of ‘hernia’ as ‫ בקיעה‬and Z as ‫טוּרא‬ ַ ‫בקיעה בלטין ְק ְר ַפ‬
(MA 9:123). M also has ‫( בקיעה‬MZ fol. 86a).
ْ ‫ َق‬: ‘incision’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 627, 29–31): ‫ואחר‬
‫ = גִ זְ ָרה‬Arab. ‫طع‬
‫להרים היד בגיד ובעור כלפי מעלה ולגזור הגיד עם העור לשנים ולהיות הגזרה שתי‬
52
‘QWDYL’, derived from Latin cauda is old French ‘coueril’: ‘région où com-
mence la queue’ (FEW 2–1:523a).
67
‫( אצבעות מצומצמות‬then lifting with your hand both vessel and skin make
an incision dividing both skin and vein; the length of the incision should
be about two fingers side by side). Hebrew ‫ גזרה‬is not attested in the
sense of ‘incision’ in the current dictionaries; cf. BM 744: ‘form, figure;
balcony; derivation’. N translates Arab. ‫طع‬ ْ ‫ َق‬as ‫ חתך‬,‫ לחתוך‬,‫ חתיכה‬and Z
as ‫ לחתוך‬,‫( חיתוך‬MA 15:10, 13, 14, 19, 25, 36, 40, 48; 24:54; 25:72),
and M as ‫( לחתוך‬BIZ 10:2).
‫( גיד‬fol. 203a1; 206b1) = 1. Arab. ‫عرق‬: ‘vessel’ or ‘vein’; cf. I:35 (SP fol. 206b;
SL 103, 4): ‫( הגיד אשר יגר ממנו הדם‬the vessel whence the blood comes),
and II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 625,1): ‫( הקזת הגידים‬venesection).
2. Arab. ‫‘ شريان‬artery’; cf. II:42 (SP fol. 215b; SL333,10). Next to ‫גיד‬
Shem Tov uses ‫ הגיד הנח‬for Arab. ‫وريد‬: ‘vein’ (II:52; SP fol. 217a;
SL377,16) and ‫ וריד‬for Arab. ‫‘ شريان‬artery’ (see below). And cf. the intro-
duction (SP fol. 201a; SL 3,14) where Shem Tov uses ‫הגידים הדופקים‬
‫ והנחים‬for Arab. ‫‘ العروق النوابض والسواكن‬arteries and veins’. The term ‫גיד‬
is subsequently used by Z for Arab. ‫‘ عرق‬vessel, vein, artery’, while N
uses ‫( עורק‬MA passim), just like M (26:2). See as well SG Gimmel 28.
3. Arab. ‫‘ قضيب‬penis’; cf. II:70 (SP fol. 220b; SL 454, 5–7): ‫אמנם בנשים‬
‫הוא מין אחד ויהיו למעלה מן הקיבה על הזקן התחתון כבצי אדם קטנים בולטים לחוץ‬
‫( האחד מהם כגיד האדם והבצים כבציו‬There is also one kind [i.e. of hermaph-
rodites] among women, in which there is, above the female pudenda, on
the pubes, what resembles the male organs. These are small indeed, but
protuberant, one being like the penis and the two others like testicles);
for its meaning of ‘penis’ in Rabbinic literature; cf. DA 76; JD 234.
For a summary account of all its meanings see E. Lieber, Asaf ’s Book of
Medicines, 238, n. 42.53
-: ‫ = הגיד המדני‬Arab. ‫العرق المدني‬: ‘the Medina vein’ = dracunculus medinen-
sis; cf. II:91 (SP fol. 227b; SL 601, 1): ‫( בהוצאת הגיד המדני‬On the extrac-
tion of the Medina vein).54 MD 233 has: ‫דרקונית מדינהץ‬.
-: ‫ = גיד הראש‬Arab. ‫القيفال‬: ‘the cephalic vein’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a; SL 633,
84–5):‫ושני הגידים אשר תחת הלשון תועלת הקזתם אחר הקזת גיד הראש אל החניקה‬
‫( אשר תהיה בגרון וחלי ערלתו ותחלאי הפה‬The two veins under the tongue:
their venesection is, after section of the cephalic, of good effect in the
quincy arising in the throat from disease of the uvula, and diseases of
the mouth). Hebrew ‫ גיד הראש‬is not attested in the current dictionaries.
N transcribes the Arab. ‫ قيفال‬as ‫ קיפל‬or translates it as Latin ‫ספליקא‬, and Z
has Latin ‫ ציפליקה‬or ‫( גיד הראש הנקרא ציפאליקה‬MA 12:23, 33, 36; 25:11).
‫ = גלגל‬Arab. ‫لولب‬: ‘speculum’ (see WKAS 1795: ‘a surgical instrument’);
cf II:77 (SP 222a; SL 484, 3):‫( זאת צורת גלגל לפתוח בו הרחם‬Speculum for
53
E. Lieber, ‘Asaf ’s Book of Medicines: A Hebrew Encyclopaedia of Greek
and Jewish Medicine, Possibly Compiled in Byzantium on an Indian Model’, in:
J. Scarborough (ed.), Symposium on Byzantine Medicine (Dumbarton Oaks Papers.
Number 38, 1984, Washington 1985), 233–49.
54
For this disease cf. the extensive discussion in Gerrit Bos, Qus†a ibn Luqa’s
Medical Regimen for the Pilgrims to Mecca. Edited with Translation and Commentary.
(Leiden 1992), ch. 14.
68
opening the entrance of the womb). Hebrew ‫ גלגל‬is not attested as a

medical instrument in the current dictionaries; cf. BM 763–5.
‫ גלד‬:‫ = הגלד הענבי‬Arab. ‫الطبقة العنبية‬: ‘uveal membrane’; cf 2:21 (SP 212a;
SL 249, 2): ‫( כשתקרה בליטה )= בקיעה( בגלד הענבי‬When a rupture befalls
the uveal membrane). Hebrew ‫ גלד‬features in the Bible in the sense
of ‘skin’ (KB 1:191); in Rabbinic literature as ‘coating, skin; thickness’
(JD 1:245), and in medieval literature as ‘peel’ (for instance of an onion)
(BM 770). In the sense of membrane it is not attested in the current
dictionaries; however, Kaufmann (KS 86) refers to a passage in Tiqqunei
ha-Zohar fol. 15b, where we find the same term as ‫גלידי‬. For an extensive
discussion of the different terms used for the membrane(s) of the eye
cf. Kaufmann, ibid., 85–7. For Hebrew ‫‘ ענבי‬grapelike’ cf. BM 4575;
Kaufmann, ibid., 90–2. N translates Arab. ‫ الطبقة العنبية‬as ‫הכתנת הענבית‬
and Z as ‫ הקרום הענבי‬,‫ הכת>נת< הענבי‬,‫הכת>נת< השכבית‬.
‫ = גלידה‬Arab. ‫‘ التحام‬adhesion’; cf. II:63 (SP fol. 219b–220a; SL 435, 17–19):
‫ואם תהיה הגלידה בין כלום מן הקרומות או במה שיש בין הכיסים ראוי להפריד כל‬
‫( הגלידה ההיא ולחתכה חתיכות חתיכות עגולות‬But should the adhesion have
formed somewhere inside the membranes or in the space between the
vessels, then you must free the adhesion as a whole and cut it away with
a circular incision). Hebrew ‫ גלידה‬is not mentioned in this sense in
the current dictionaries. In the sense of a bodily defect it is attested in
BIR in a quotation from Sefer ha-Ittur (Shaär sheni, hilkhot sheÌitah,
daf 30, ämmud 2) composed by Isaac b. Abba Mari of Marseilles
(1120? –1190?). In the EnÂyklopediah Talmudit (vol. 6, cols. 68–71) we
find ‫ גלודה‬defined as a defect (spec., missing skin, whether due to abbra-
sion, injury or disease) that renders an animal terefah (ritually unclean).
In Rabbinic literature we find Aram. ‫ סירכא‬in the sense of ‘adhesion,
cohesion’, esp. of the lobes of the lung; cf. JD 1028.
ַ ִ‫ = גּ‬Arab. ‫‘ ربو‬asthma’ cf. II:96 (SP fol. 231a-; SL 659, 35–6): ‫אמנם‬
‫נּוּח‬
‫נתינת הרבידות על המקום הנקרא אל כאהל והוא אמצע הצואר הוא תמורת הקזת‬
‫והקזת הבאסליק ולפיכך יועילו מן הגנוח וצרות הנשימה‬...‫הגיד הנקרא אל אכחל‬
‫( וקריעת כלי הנשימה והשעול והמלוי‬Now as to the application of cupping-
vessels to the interscapular region: it is instead of venesection of the
median and basilic veins; so it is effective for asthma and dyspnoea and
for rupture of the organ of respiration, and for cough and pletora).
Hebrew ‫נּוּח‬ַ ִ‫גּ‬, derived from ‫‘ גנח‬to groan, esp. 1. to sigh heavily under
an attack of angina pectoris; 2. to cough and spit blood’ (JD 259), is
not attested in the current dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫ ربو‬as ‫גניחה‬
and Z as ‫ שעול‬or ‫( הרימפלי הנקרא בערבי רבו ובלעז ַא ְסמוּ‬MA 2:25; 8:19;
22:30; 23:78).
‫ = גרב‬Arab. ‫‘ جرب‬granular conjunctiva; i.e. trachoma’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a;
SL 631, 54–5):‫ושני הגידים אשר בראשי העינים תועלת הקזתם לתחלאי העינים מן‬
‫( הגרב והאדימות והגידים המסתבכים האדומים הנקראים בלשונם סבל‬Venesection
of the two lachrymal veins gives relief in diseases of the eyes such as
granular conjunctiva and inflammation and pannus). ‫ גרב‬features in
BM 830 as 1. scabies, and 2. an affection of the eye in a quotation from
69
Nathan ha-Me}ati’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun. N and Z also

translate or transcribe Arab. ‫ جرب‬as ‫( גרב‬MA 15:24).
‫ גרגור‬:‫ = גרגורים‬Arab. ‫غراغر‬: ‘gargles’; cf. I:6 (SP fol. 204a; SL 31, 5): ‫כשירפא‬
‫( הרופא זה המין מן הנטייה במיני הג‘ירא פיקרא והעיטושים והגרגורים‬When this
kind of deformity [i.e. twisted mouth] has been treated with electuaries,
errhines, and gargles) (see as well below s.v. ‫)הטפה‬. BM 831 refers to
the term ‫ גרגורים‬as featuring in the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s
K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, by Nathan ha-Me}ati. In addition to this term,
Nathan uses ‫ ערעורים‬while Z has the Romance ‫( גרגריזמו‬MA 3:11, 87);
cf. SG Gimmel 14. MD 317 refers to the term ‫ גרגור‬as featuring in Sefer
Asaph.
‫ = גרגתני‬Arab. ‫ناصور‬: ‘fistula’; cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205a; SL 56,1): ‫שער י“ז בכוית‬
‫( הגרגתני אשר יקרה בראש העין‬On cauterization of a fistula in the angle of
the eye). Hebrew ‫ גרגתני‬originally means ‘a wicker or network in the wine
or oil press’ and has a secondary meaning of ‘the scarry and lifeless sur-
face of a healed up wound, eschar’ (JD 264; cf. Low XLV: ‘keloidosis’).
N transcribes Arab. ‫ ناصور‬as ‫ נאצור‬and Z translates it as Romance ‫פישטולא‬
(MA 15:29, 44). Cf. SG Gimmel 19.
‫ = גרד‬Arab. ‫جرد‬: ‘to strip’; cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205a; SL 59,17–18): ‫ואם עברו‬
‫עליו ארבעים יום ולא נרפא ראוי לתת עליו הסם החד האוכל עד שיתגלה העצם‬
‫( ולגרדו על מה שיבא זכרו מן המלאכה במקומו‬And should forty days have
passed and it does not heal, apply a sharp corrosive ointment so as to
expose the bone, and strip it as will be explained in the appropriate
chapter). The Hebrew term normally means to ‘scratch, shave', cf.
BM 834. In the sense of ‘to strip, to lay bare’, a semantic borrowing
from the Arabic cognate, the Hebrew term is not attested in secondary
literature.
‫ = גרה‬Arab. ‫ترقوة‬: ‘collar-bone’; cf. III:5 (SP fol. 235a; SL 721,1): ‫בחבוש הגרה‬
‫( כשתשתבר‬On the repair of a broken collar-bone). The Hebrew term is
the general name of that part of the body which extends from the neck
to the chest (JD 266; BM 836) and features in Rabbinic literature; cf.
SG Gimmel 27. The Arabic term is transcribed by N as ‫ תרקוה‬and trans-
lated by Z as ‫קטיולה‬,‫( קטולה‬MA 6:55, 57; 7:54; 12:27; 15:62). Accord-
ing to Goyanes (Medieval Hebrew anatomical names, pp. 197–8) there
was no traditional name for the clavicle in Hebrew and the Academy
of the Hebrew Language chose the name ‫‘ בריח‬bolt’, translation of the
Greek kleív. He adds that Razi (i.e. Shem Tov Ben Isaac, the translator
of the K. al-ManÒuri) has the term ‫‘ עצם הגרה‬neck bone’; see as well
SR 20, n. 104, 107.
‫ = גרירה‬Arab. ‫نَشْ ر‬: ‘saw-cut’; cf. II:86 (SP 225b; SL 562, 108–10): ‫וראוי להיות‬
‫הגרירה במגרה למעלה ממקום ההפסד מעט פן יהיה בתוך העצם הפסד ולא יראה מחוץ‬
‫( לחוש ויביא הצורך לגררו במגרה פעם שנית‬The saw-cut should be made a
little above the site of the disease in case there should be disease in the
cavity of the bone that is not apparent on the surface, which might
compel you to carry out the sawing a second time). Hebrew ‫ גרירה‬is only
attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘1. scraping off; 2. dragging,
70
pulling, moving an object without lifting; 3. carrying with, involving’

(JD 269).
‫ = גָּ ָרע‬Arab. ‫فاصد‬: ‘one who carries out venesection’; cf. II:95 (SP 229b;
SL 637, 105–6): ‫וצריך הגרע להיותו נזהר בעת הקזתו כי יש תחתיו וריד ואם פשע‬
‫( ויוסיף בתחיכת המסמר ויחתוך הוריד ההוא תתחדש ממנו רעיפת דם‬When one
venesects it [i.e. the basilic vein] one must be careful and wary of it, for
beneath the vein is an artery, so that if one is inaccurate and sticks the
scalpel in too far one will cut the artery and cause a haemorrhage).
Hebrew ‫ גָּ ָרע‬is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘scraper,
barber, in gen. low class surgeon, bloodletter’ (JD 271).
‫ גרר‬:‫ = גרר במגרה‬Arab. ‫نشر‬: ‘to saw’; cf. II: 86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 561, 91–2):
‫ואחר כך שבתי וגליתי העצם שנית למעלה מן הגלוי הראשון ומצאתי ההפסד הגיע אל‬
‫( העצם וגררתי במגרה מה שנראה לו גם כן מן ההפסד ההוא‬Then I again uncov-
ered the bone, above the first opening, and found the corruption co-
extensive with the bone. So again I sawed away as much of the corruption
as I could see). Hebrew ‫ גרר‬is only attested in the sense of ‘to saw’ in
Rabbinic literature; cf. JD 272. See as well Ma}agarim, s.v. ‫גרר‬.
‫ = דבשת‬Arab. ‫( حدبة‬SP fol. 202b; SL 129, 1): ‘hunchback’; cf. I:43
(SP fol. 202b; SL129,1): ‫( בכוית התחלת הדבשת‬on cauterization of early
hunchback). The Hebrew term is a hapaxlegomenon featuring in Isa. 30:6
meaning ‘hump’ (of a camel); cf. KB 1:213.
‫ = דליות‬Arab. ‫دوالى‬: ‘varices’ (cf. UW 346-347, s.v. kirsóv); cf. II:90
(SP fol. 227a; SL595, 2): ‫הדליות הם גידים נפתלים עבים מלאים מהעדפות‬
‫( שחוריות מתחדשות ברוב איברי הגוף‬Varices are thick twisted veins filled
with melancholic superfluities); the same Hebrew term features in M
(BIZ 22:1): ‫( נגעים נקראים דליות‬swellings called ‘varicose veins’).
BM 944–5 only refers to this term in the singular form ‫ ַדּליִּ וּת‬as featuring
in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun; MD 761
also refers to a singular ‫דלית‬. See as well ‫ זמורה‬below.
‫ = דרדני‬Arab. ‫لثّة‬: ‘gums’; cf. II:95 (SP 229a; SL 633, 77): ‫וגידי השפה והפסד‬
‫( הדרדני והשחין הרע‬and rotting of the gums). ‫ =( דרדני‬Persian darîdanî
meaning ‘fragments’, derived from the Persian verb darîdan? [VL 1:844]),
is not attested in the current dictionaries. Cf. SG Dalet 11. N translates
Arab. ‫ لثّة‬as ‫ לסתות‬and Z as ‫( חניכים‬MA 9:123).
‫ = הברה‬Arab. ‫قرقرة‬: ‘borborygmi’ (cf. UW 239, s.v. êmpneumátwsiv: ‘Blähung,
Aufblähung’); cf. II:90 (SP fol. 220a; SL 441, 12–14): ‫ולפעמים הלך במעי‬
‫הצואה ותתעכב שמה ויהיה ממנה אבדת החולה שהיא תחדש כאב קשה והברה וכל‬
‫( שכן בעת הסחיטה עליו‬Sometimes also the excrement comes down with
the bowel and gets held up there, and this involves the patient’s death,
for thence arises an intractable pain and borborygmi, specially when
pressed down). Hebrew ‫ הברה‬is not attested in a medical context in the
current dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫‘ قرقرة‬splashing sound’ as ‫ קרקור‬or
‫ קרקורים בבטן‬and Z as ‫ קולות‬or ‫( רעם‬MA 6:52; 7:55).
‫ = הגלדה‬I. Arab. ‫اندمال‬: ‘healing’; i.e. of a wound; cf. II:89 (SP fol. 227a;
SL 593, 34–5):‫והדבקות אשר יקרה אל האצבעות קצתם בקצתם יתכן היותו מזמן‬
‫( היצירה או מהגלדת חבורה או משרפת אש וזולתם‬As for webbing of the fingers
71
one to another, that occurs very frequently. It may be either congenital

or from the healing of a wound or burn or the like); II. Arab. ‫التحم‬
‘to mend’; cf. III:1 (SP fol. 232a; SL 679, 18–681, 20):‫וידוע שהעצמות‬
‫הנשברות כשתהיינה באנשים כחושים וזקנים לא יתכן חבורם והגלדתם על טבעם‬
‫( הראשון לעולם לנגוב עצמותם וקשים‬You should know that fractures occur-
ring in mature [Shem Tov, ‘skinny'] and old people cannot join and
mend into the original condition, on account of the dryness and hard-
ness of their bones). Hebrew ‫ הגלדה‬is only mentioned as a modern term
in EM 343. N translates Arab. ‫ اندمال‬as ‫ הבראה‬and Z as ‫( חיות‬MA 23:44).
Arab. ‫ التحم‬is translated by N as ‫ דבק‬or ‫ התדבק‬and by Z as ‫ התרקם‬or ‫עלה‬
‫ בשר‬or ‫( התרקם בשר‬MA 15:46, 56, 62; 25:17).
‫ = ִהדּוּק‬Arab. ‫ش ّد‬: ‘ligature’; cf. I:56 (SP fol. 208a–b; SL 165, 18–20):‫והמתעסק‬
‫בהפסקתו בקשירה או בהדוק בבגדים או בתת הדברים השורפים וכיוצא בהם לשוא‬
‫( יטרח כי לא יועילנו כלל אלא במקרה‬But those who try to stop bleeding with
ligatures or cloths, or by the application of caustics and the like, never
stanch it by these means, or at least very rarely). Hebrew ‫ ִהדּוּק‬features
in both Jastrow and Ben Yehudah as a synonym of ‫ ִחדּוק‬in the sense
of ‘that which is squeezed in to fill a gap, repair, insertion’ (JD 451).
Even-Shoshan mentions it in the sense of ‘a strong binding, connection’
(EM 346) (trans. Bos).
‫ הזלה‬:‫ = הזלות הראש‬Arab. ‫نظلات‬: ‘catarrhs’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 627,
22–3):‫אמנם שני הגידים אשר אחורי האזנים תועלת הקזתם מהזלות הראש הישנות‬
‫ומכאב הצילחתא ומן השחין הנקרא בלשונם אל סעפה ומן השחין הרחב הישן אשר‬
‫( יהיה בראש‬Venesection of the two veins behind the ears. Bleeding
from both of these will give relief in cases of chronic catarrh, migraine,
scabs55 of the head and chronic foul pustules). Hebrew ‫ הזלה‬is attested
in BM 1065 as featuring in Meir Aldabi, Shevilei Emunah which was
completed in 1360; the term features as ‫ הזלת החוטם‬for Arabic ‫زكمة‬
‘rheum’ in Moses Ibn Tibbon’s Hebrew translation of Maimonides’
Regimen of Health (BMR 4:21). N translates Arab. ‫ نظلة‬as ‫ נזלים‬,‫ נזל‬,‫נזילה‬
and Z as, ‫ נזל קטרא‬,‫( נזילה‬MA 3:66; 6:41; 8:38; 9:7; 13:13; 16:30).
‫ = הזרה‬Arab. ‫ذرور‬: ‘powder’; cf. II:17 (SP fol. 211b; SL 235,11–12):
‫וכשישלם החתוך ויכלה כל הבשר ראוי למלא העין במלח שחוק או להטיף בו מן‬
‫( ההזרה האדומה‬And when you have finished your incision and removed
all the chemosis, fill the eye with powdered salt or instil the red pow-
der…). The Hebrew term is a non-attested verbal noun from the root
‫זרה‬, to winnow, disperse (BM 1395–6). M translates the Arabic ‫ ذرور‬as
‫( אבק‬BIZ 26:4): ‫( אבק ידביק החתוך מן הסכין והסיף‬A powder which heals
a cut of a sword or knife).
‫ הטפה‬:‫ = הטפות‬Arab. ‫تنطيلات‬: ‘embrocations’; cf. II:37 (SP 214b; SL 309,
30–1): ‫ואחר כך לגמע במים קרים ולרפא מחוץ בהטפות ומבית בגרגורים עד שיבריא‬
(Then let him rinse his mouth with cold water and do you treat with
external embrocations and gargles within, till he is well). Hebrew ‫הטפה‬
55
‘scabs of the head and chronic foul pustules’: cf. SL: ‘chronic foul pustules
and scabs of the head’.
72
is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries, cf. BM 1070.

N translates Arab. ‫ تنطيل‬as ‫ יציקה‬and Z as ‫( נטילות‬MA 13:38). M (MZ
fol. 100b) translates the Arab. ‫( نطولات‬fomentations) (BZ 225, l. 1394)
as ‫טבילות‬.
‫ = הטפחה‬Arab. ‫نطول‬: ‘fomentation’; cf. IV:26 (SP fol. 237a; SL 797, 19–797,
21): ‫ואם לא ישוב במה שזכרתי ותהיה לשמיטה מעת שנתחדשה ימים רבים ראוי‬
‫( להשיב החולה במים חמין במרחץ ולהרגיל ההטפחה המרפה והמרככה‬If it [i.e. the
dislocation of the humerus] is not reduced by the means we have stated,
being a dislocation of many days’ standing, the patient should take a hot
bath and use relaxing and softening fomentations). Hebrew ‫ הטפחה‬is not
attested in a medical context in the current dictionaries. Ben Yehuda (BM
1070) adduces the term in the sense of ‘moistening’ in a quotation from
Kalonymus b. Kalonymus’ ‫ ;ס‘ הצמחים‬i.e. the Hebrew translation of Nico-
laus Damacenus’ De plantis which Kalonymus completed in the year
1314.56 N translates the Arab. ‫ نطولات‬as ‫ יציקות‬and Z as ‫( טיבולים‬MA:2,
42; 21:63), while M (MZ fol. 100b) has ‫טבילות‬. See as well entry ‫הטפיח‬.
‫ = המעדה‬Arab. ‫إزلاق‬: ‘fomentation’; cf. IV:27 (SP fol. 237b; SL 805, 19:
‫( המעדת הפרק‬the lubrication of the joint). Hebrew ‫ המעדה‬is not attested
in this sense in the current dictionaries, cf. BM 1117. Cf. the disease
called ‫ زلق‬or ‫ ;زلق الأمعاء‬i.e. lientery, which is translated by N as ‫המעדת‬
‫ המעיים‬or ‫מעידת המעיים‬, and by Z as ‫ המעדת המעיים‬or ‫חלקות המעיים‬
(MA 22:36; 23:80, 90, 93, 94), while M translates the Arabic as ‫הגרת‬
‫( המעים‬BMR 4:22). Cf. SG He 11.
‫ העדפה‬:‫ = העדפות‬Arab. ‫فضول‬: ‘superfluities’; cf. Introduction (SP fol. 202a;
SL13, 41): ‫( ומה שיזדמן בגופו מהתקבץ ההעדפות בו‬and from the formation
of a mass of superfluities in the body). The Hebrew term is attested
in Ben Yehuda (BM 1143), referring to Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew
translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun. The same Arabic term is translated
by N as ‫מותרות‬/‫ מותרים‬and by Z as ‫( ליחות‬MA passim); M (BIZ 17:4)
translates the Arab. term as ‫מותרות‬.
‫ השבה‬:‫ = השבת השברים‬Arab. ‫ج ْبر‬ َ : ‘setting of bones’; cf. Introduction
(SP 201a; SL 7, 50). The Hebrew term is not attested in the current
dictionaries. In addition to this term Shem Tov uses the term ‫ ;לחבש‬see
entry ‫חבש‬.
‫ = התלבדות‬Arab. ‫تل ّبد‬: ‘granulation’; cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 555, 39–557,
42): ‫והיא להסתכל ואם יהיה הגרגתני נכר קרוב ובמקום בטוח רחוק מפרק או מעצב‬
‫או מוריד או מגיד נח או אחד מן המקומות אשר זכרתי ראוי לבקעו על מה שקדם מן‬
‫ההתלבדות‬57 ‫( המלאכה ולהסיר מה שיש בו מן‬See if the fistula is obvious and
accessible, or in a harmless situation far removed from a joint58 or nerve
56
On this work traditionally ascribed to Aristotle cf. H.J. Drossaart-Lulofs
and E.L.J. Poortman, Nicolaus Damascenus. De plantis. Five translations (Amsterdam
1989).
57
‫ההתלבדות‬: emendation editor ‫ ההתלבדוד‬MS.
58
‘joint or nerve or vein or artery’: translation Bos. SL translate: ‘joint or vein
or artery or tendon’.
73
or vein or artery or any of the other places I have mentioned to you.

Then lay open the fistula by the method I have described and fetch out
of it all the granulations…). Hebrew ‫ התלבדות‬is not attested in the cur-
rent dictionaries. See ‫ לבד‬below.
‫ = התלהבות‬Arab. ‫التهاب‬: ‘inflammation’; cf. II:74 (SP 221a; SL 465, 8–10):
‫ראוי להתבונן ואם יהיה כאב הצמח בתחלתו חם עם דפיקה והתלהבות וקדחת ויהיה‬
‫( אדום אין ראוי למהר לדקרו‬You should inspect it, and if the pain of the
tumour is acute from the outset, with pulsation and inflammation and
fever, and it is red, then do not be in a hurry to open). As ‘inflamma-
tion’, a semantic borrowing from the Arabic ‫التهاب‬, the Hebrew term
is not attested in the current dictionaries; cf. MD 1232: ‘enthousiasm’.
N translates Arab. ‫ ملتهب‬as ‫ נלהב‬and Z as ‫( מתלהב‬MA 6:47). M translates
Arab. ‫ التهاب‬as ‫( התלהבות‬BIZ 12:1).
‫ = התפוצצות‬Arab. ‫تف ُّتت‬: ‘shattering’; cf. IV:15 (SP 235b; SL 2–3): ‫פלך‬
‫הארכובה לא יקרה בו שבר אלא על המעט אבל יקרה לו הריסוק ואם יקרה לו שבר‬
‫( אולם יהיה בקוע או התפוצצות‬You should know that the patella is rarely
fractured, but crushing often occurs. If a fracture does happen to it, it
will be either a splitting or a shattering). Hebrew ‫ התפוצצות‬is attested as
modern in EM 438 in the sense of ‘explosion’.
‫ = וריד‬Arab. ‫شريان‬: ‘artery’; cf. I:4 (SP 204a; SL 11–12): ‫ועתיד אני עוד להביא‬
‫( זכרון הנהגת הרעיפה אשר תקרה מן הוריד‬We shall later on mention a treat-
ment for accidental haemorrhage of the artery). The term ‫ וריד‬is attested
as ‘jugular vein’ in Rabbinic literature and as a synonym of ‫ גיד‬in Nathan
ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun (BM 1272).
See ‫ גיד‬above.
‫ = זיכום‬Arab. ‫زكام‬: ‘defluxion’. Cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225a; SL 553, 2–4): ‫ידוע‬
‫שכל חבורה או מורסא כשתתישן וארך זמנה ושבה שחין ולא הגלידה והיה יוצא ממנה‬
‫מוגלא תמיד בלי הפסד תקרא על הכלל גרגתני באיזה אבר שתהיה ואני קראתיה זיכום‬
(You should know that any wound or tumour, when it becomes old and
chronic, and turns into an ulcer, and does not heal over, but discharges
pus chronically and constantly, is generally called a fistula, in whatever
part of the body it may be; but we call it a defluxion). Hebrew ‫ זיכום‬is
a hebraised form not attested elsewhere. N transcribes the Arab. term
as ‫ זכאם‬and Z translates it as Romance ‫ קטרא‬and ‫( ריומא‬MA 19:35);
cf. SG Zayin 5.
‫ = זמורה‬Arab. ‫دالية‬: ‘varix’ (see UW 346–7, s.v. kirsóv: ‘Krampfader, Varize’);
cf. II:64 (SP fol. 220a; SL 439, 2–3): ‫הזמורה היא צמח נפתל קצת פיתול דומה‬
‫( לאשכול עם רפיון הבצים ותקשה על החולה התנועה והטיול וההליכה‬A varix is a
twisted tumour resembling a cluster of grapes, with relaxation of the
testicles, which makes movement and exercise and walking difficult for
the patient). Hebrew ‫ זמורה‬is not attested in this sense in the current
dictionaries, cf. BM 1349–51. See entry ‫ דליות‬above.
‫ זנב‬:‫ = זנב העין‬Arab. ‫ذنب العين‬: ‘the outer corner of the eye’; cf. I:13
(SP fol. 204b; SL 553,1):‫והרוצה להוסיף יוכל לכוות כויה אחת בכל צד מזנב העין‬
‫( על קצות גב העין במכוה קטן אשר זאת צורתו‬and, if you are compelled to add
more, one cauterization on the side of the outer corner of the eye at the
74
end of the eyebrow, with a small cautery). The Hebrew term is not
mentioned in the current dictionaries, but features in BIR as ‫זנב עינו‬
in an attestation from Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Bi}at ha-
Mikdash, Ch. 8, Halakhah 6 (BIR). In SG Zayin 8 the same Hebrew
term features for Arab. ‫ المأق الصغير‬i.e. ‘the outer angle of the eye’. See as
well ‫ ראש העין‬below.
‫ זקן‬:‫ = הזקן התחתון‬Arab. ‫العانة‬: ‘pubes’; cf. II:54 (SP fol. 217b; SL 383,
14, 385, 1–2): ‫ואחר כך להסתכל ואם יהיה התילד השקוי מצד המעי ראוי‬
‫ּלהרחיק הביקוע מן הטיבור שעור שלש אצבעות מלמטה עד למעלה מן הזקן‬
.‫( התחתון‬Then consider; and if the dropsy arises from the region of the
intestines then you should make an incision three fingers’ breath
directly below the umbilicus, above the pubes). For the Hebrew term
meaning ‘pubic hair’ and attested in Rabbinic literature see BM 1383;
N translates the Arab. ‫ عانة‬as ‫ ערוה‬or ‫ גב הערוה‬and Z as ‫ ערוה‬or ‫עצם הערוה‬
(MA 1:67; 3:2, 76; 16:12); see as well SG Zayin 11, and below s.v.
‫ חומש‬and ‫קיבה‬.
‫ = ִחבּוּש‬I. Arab. ‫ج ْبر‬
َ : ‘setting (of a fracture)’; cf. SP fol. 232a; SL 677, 1–2):
‫זה החלק גם כן גדול הצורך והתועלת במלאכה והוא חבוש השבר והשמיטה המתחדשים‬
‫( בעצמות‬This [third] part of the book, too, is an essential necessity in the
practice of medicine; it concerns the setting of the fracture or dislocation
occurring in bones); II. Arab. ‫علاج‬: ‘treatment’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233a;
SL 701, 22): ‫( וחבוש השבר הוא להסתכל בתחלה אל מקרי החולה‬As to the
treatment of the fracture: begin by paying attention to the patient’s
symptoms). ‫ ִחבּוּש‬is only attested as modern in EM 495 in the sense of
‘binding, bandaging’.
‫ חבל‬:‫ = חבל הזרוע‬Arab. ‫حبل لذراع‬: ‘cord of the arm’; i.e. the vena cephalica
pollicis and the vena cephalica antibrachii (cf. DKT 816) cf. II:95
(SP fol. 230a; SL 651, 244–5): ‫והקזת חבל הזרוע יוקז תמורת גיד האכחל‬
‫( והבאסליק כשלא ימצאו או כשיהיו נעלמים כי הוא מורכב מהם‬Section of the cord
of the arm: this is cut in place of the median and basilic veins when these
are not to be found or hidden; for this vein is composed of those two).
Hebrew ‫חבל הזרוע‬, a loan-translation of the Arab. ‫حبل لذراع‬, is not attested
in the current dictionaries.
‫ חבש‬:‫ = ִח ֵבּש‬Arab. ‫ج ْبر‬
َ : ‘repair’; cf. I:13 (SP fol. 232b; SL 693, 129–30): ‫וזאת‬
‫( התחבושת אין בה כח לחבש‬Now this plaster has no power of repair), and
ibid. (SL 693, 132): ‫( תאר תחבושת מחבשת העצמים הנשברים‬Description of
a plaster for the repair of a broken bone). Hebrew ‫ ִח ֵבּש‬is not attested in
this sense in the current dictionaries. In the Bible we find the term in
the sense of ‘to bind up (wound)’; cf. KB 289; BM 1439. See as well
entries ‫ מחבש‬and ‫השבה‬.
-: ‫ = התחבש‬Arab. ‫انجبر‬: ‘to mend’; cf. IV:12 (SP fol. 235b; SL 751, 45–6):
‫וידוע ששבר הזרוע יתחבש בשלשים יום או בשנים ושלשים על הרוב ואפשר שיחבש‬
‫( לפעמים בשמנה ועשרים יום‬You should know that this fracture of the arm
mends in thirty or thirty-two days, and sometimes in twenty-eight).
Hebrew ‫ התחבש‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries.
-: ‫נחבש‬: see previous entry.
75
‫ חוט‬:‫ = החוטים הנתלים‬Arab. ‫معلاق‬: ‘suspensor’ (see DKT 828: ‘suspenseur,

Canal déférent’, however, according to SL 426, n. 1 it is rather the sper-
matic cord); cf. II:63 (SP fol. 219b; SL 434, 12–16):‫וזה המין לפעמים יתכן‬
‫לבקע עליו ועל יתר מיני הבשר והוא לבקע עור הבצים ואחר כך למשוך הביצה למעלה‬
‫ולהוציאה מן הקרום הלבן ולהפריד החוטין הנתלין מן הכיסים ולקשור הכיסים ולחתך‬
‫( החוטין אחר הפרדם מכל צד מצדי הביצה‬It is sometimes possible to cut down
on this kind and also on the other fleshy tumours thus: make an incision
in the skin of the testicles; then draw the testicle upward and out of the
tunica albuginea, and free the suspensor from the vessels). See as well
II:69 (SP fol. 220b; SL 453, 11): ‫( החוטין הנתלין הבצים מהם‬the spermatic
cord). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries.
‫ = חומש‬Arab. ‫خاصرة‬: ‘hypochondrium’ (cf. L. 748: ‘flank, i.e. each of the
ilea’); cf. I:33 (SP fol. 206a; SL 99, 7–8):‫ואם תראינה הלחויות רבות והחולה‬
‫( סובל הכויה ראוי לכוותו על הזקן התחתון כויה אחת וכויה אחרת על כל חומש‬And
if you see that the humidities are superabundant, and the patient fit to
tolerate it, then make one cauterization over the groin and one over the
hypochondrium). The Hebrew term ‫ חומש‬features in the Bible (KB 331)
in the sense of ‘abdomen, belly’. In medieval medical literature we find
the Arabic ‫خاصرتان‬, i.e. ‘both the flanks’, translated as ‫ שני הכסלים‬by N
and as ‫ שתי החלצים‬by Z (MA 24:29). The Maäseh Tuviyyah by Tobias
Ben Moses Cohn (1652–1729) has ‫ ירכתי הבטן‬for the same bodily part
(following MD 370).
‫ = ָחח‬Arab. ‫صنّارة‬: ‘hook’ (see UD 67 s.v. ãgkistron (cf. LS 10: ‘fish-hook;
hook of a spindle; surgical instrument’): ‘Angelhaken’; cf. II:6 (SP fol. 209b;
SL 193, 11–12): ‫ואם יצא החצץ במלקחים טוב ואם לא צריך להשתדל להוציאו‬
‫( בחח דק כפוף מעט‬If it [i.e. something that has fallen in the ear] comes
out with the tweezers, good. But if not, try to extract it with a fine hook
slightly curved). Hebrew ‫ ָחח‬is attested in the Bible as 1. thorn, hook
(through nose or cheek of animals or captives to lead them away);
2. fibula. For its occurrence in Rabbinic literature in the same meaning(s)
see Ma}agarim. It is not attested in the sense of ‘hook’ as a surgical
instrument.
‫ חטה‬:‫ = שני החטים‬Arab. ‫اللوزتان‬: ‘tonsils’; cf. II:43 (SP fol. 215b; SL 337,
6–7):‫אבל אשר יש להם צמח חם בפה או בגרון או בשני החטים כשלא יהיה חולי‬
‫( בקנה מחייב לבקע השפוי כובע פחד החניקה‬But in those with an abscess
in the mouth, throat, or tonsils, and when there is no disease in the
windpipe itself, you must employ laryngotomy to avoid the mischief of
suffocation).The unattested Hebrew term ‫ חטים‬corresponds to Aramaic
‫חיטי‬, Sing. ‫חיטתא‬, the meaning of which is uncertain, but which is tra-
ditionally explained as ‘a cartilage on the trachea’; cf. SDA 453. The
regular Hebrew term for ‘tonsils’ is ‫( שקדים‬see II:36; SP fol. 214a;
SL 301, 4).
‫ חיק‬:‫ = חיק העין‬Arab. ‫شحمة العين‬: ‘orbit’; cf. II:93 (SP fol. 228a; SL 613,
42–3):‫( והוצאתי חץ אחר ליהורי שכבר נפל לו בחיק עינו תחת העפעף השפל‬Also I
extracted from a Jew another arrow that had pierced the orbit beneath the
lower eyelid). Hebrew ‫ חיק העין‬is not attested in the current dictionaries.
76
‫ חלב‬:‫( החלב המכסה את הקרב‬fol. 207b) or ‫( החלב אשר על הקרב‬fol. 217a) =

Arab. ‫( ثرب‬SL 135, 2; 377, 3): ‘omentum’; cf. I:45 (SP fol. 207b;
SL 135, 2: ‫כשיקרה בתק בעקרי הירכים ויתגללו קצת המעים או החלב המכסה את‬
‫( הקרב אל האשכים‬When a rupture occurs in the groin, and part of the
intestine and omentum comes down into the scrotum). The Hebrew
term is not attested in the current dictionaries. Both N and Z translate
the Arabic ‫ ثرب‬as ‫( חלב‬MA 1:54, 55, 60; 9:102).
‫ = חלוקה‬Arab. ‫لزوجة‬: ‘glutinous property’; cf. III:1 (SP fol. 232a; SL 679,
15): ‫וכשיתחיל העצם הנשבר להרפא ראוי ליזון במזונות זנין מזון עב שיש בו חלוקה‬
(When the broken bone has begun to mend, the patient should be
nourished with very nourishing food, fat, strong, having some glutinous
property). Hebrew ‫ חלוקה‬is not attested in this sense in the current
dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫ لزوجة‬as ‫ דבקות‬and Z as ‫ דבקות‬or ‫דבקות‬
‫( בלעז וויסקוזיטט‬MA 6:44; 7:13, 19; 9:75; 10:6, 23; 13:6; 15:52).
M (BIZ 20:2) likewise has ‫דבקות‬.
‫ חלחל‬:‫ = מתחלחל‬Arab. ‫متخلخل‬: ‘porous’; cf. II:96 (97 MS Paris BN héb. 1163)
(SP fol. 231a; SL 663, 68–70): ‫כי מי שיהיה רך הבשר מתחלחל הנקבים ראוי‬
‫( לשרטו שריטה אחת לא יותר פן יתבעבע המקום‬The person who is tender of
flesh and porous of skin you should scarify once only, not more, lest the
place ulcerate). Hebrew ‫ התחלחל‬is attested in JD 466 in the sense of
1. to be perforated, to be open, esp. to be permeated by poison; 2. to
tremble. N translates Arab. ‫( الأجسام المتخلخلة‬porous bodies) as ‫הגשמים‬
‫ הרפים והרכים‬and Z as ‫( הגופות הרכות והנרפות‬MA 3:6). Arab. ‫تخلخل‬
(to become porous) is translated by N as ‫ היה מחולחל‬and by Z as ‫ספג‬
(MA 7:12).
‫ חלל‬:‫ = חלל הזנב‬Arab. ‫عجز الذنب‬: ‘the last vertebra of the tail’ (cf. DKT 821,
s.v. ‫عاجز‬: ‘sacrum’); cf. I:47 (SP fol. 208a; SL 143, 11–14): ‫אמנם אם‬
‫הגדמות כבר נתפרסם על החולה ויראה ראייה מבוארת ראוי אז לכוותו אלו הכויות‬
‫וכויה אחת גדולה על העצה אצל חלל הזנב‬...‫( הנזכרות בראש‬If the elephantiasis
be widespread over the patient and appears obvious, you should give
him, as well as the cauterizations described for the head…a great one
over the coccyx by the last vertebra of the tail). The Hebrew term is not
attested in the current dictionaries.
‫ חלצים‬:‫ = תחת החלציים‬Arab. ‫تحت الشراسيف‬: ‘beneath the false ribs, i.e. hypo-
chondria’; II:76 (SP fol. 221b; SL 477, 13–14). The Hebrew term is not
attested in the current dictionaries. N translates the Arab. ‫ما دون الشراسيف‬
as ‫ למטה מן הכסלים‬or ‫ מה שתחת הכסלים‬or ‫ תחת צדי הכסלים‬or ‫מה שלמטה‬
‫ מצדי הכסלים‬and Z as ‫ למטה מהחלצים‬or ‫ מתחת החלצים‬or ‫ מתחת הצלעות‬or
‫( מה מתחת הצלעות‬MA passim).
‫ חלל‬:‫ = חלל העורף‬Arab. ‫نقرة القفا‬: ‘nape of the neck’; cf. I:47 (SP fol. 208a;
SL 143, 3–8):‫והרוצה לכוותו צריך להתבונן אם בתחלת הגדמות רפאוה במה שזכרתי‬
‫במאמר החלוקה ולא כהה הנגע ויש חשש על החולה שמא ישלוט ההפסד על כל מזגו‬
‫ראוי לכוותו על הראש חמש כויות האחת באמצע הראש המפורסמת והשנית למטה‬
‫ הנחת תפלין ושתי כויות על שני הקרנים ואחת מאחוריו‬59‫ממנה לעמת המצח במקום‬
59
.SL (Arabic text) ‫ عند نهاية الشعر‬:‫במקום הנחת תפלין‬
77
‫( בחלל העורף‬When you wish to use the cautery, first look, and if the
elephantiasis be in the early stage and you treat it with those remedies
advised in the section but it does not abate and is not arrested, and you
fear lest the corruption spread over the patient’s whole constitution, then
give him five cauterizations on the head: the well-known one in the mid-
dle of the head; the second one lower than that, toward the forehead,
where one places the Tefillin,60 and two at the temples; and one behind,
on the nape of the neck). The Hebrew term does not feature in the cur-
rent dictionaries; Cf. the Aramaic ‫ חללא דבי צואר‬below s.v. ‫פרק הצואר‬.
‫ = חללות‬Arab. ‫تقعير‬: ‘concavity’; cf. IV:31 (SP fol. 2238b; SL 821, 2.3): ‫פרק‬
‫כף הירך ופרק השכם אמנם תקרה להם השמיטה בלבד ולא יקרה להם מה שיקרה‬
‫( ליתר הפרקים מן ההסרה המעוטה והחללות‬A complete dislocation alone is
sustained by the hip and shoulder joints; they do not sustain the lesser
displacements with concavity [as do the other joints]. Hebrew ‫חללות‬
features as modern in EM 544 in the sense of ‘emptyness, hollowness’.
The common medieval term for ‘concavity’ was ‫( קערירות‬cf. BM 6051),
while the term ‫ חללות‬was also used by Z; thus he translates ‫( مق ّعر الكبد‬the
concave side of the liver) as ‫חללות הכבד‬, while N translates it as ‫מקוער‬
‫ הכבד‬or ‫ קערירות הכבד‬or ‫( קערורית הכבד‬MA 6. 57; 9. 70, 75; 10. 48;
11. 14; 25. 12).
‫ = חניקה‬Arab. ‫خوانيق‬: ‘quinsy’ (cf. UW 373, s.v. kunágxj: ‘Halsentzündung,
Bräune’; ibid., p. 654, s.v. sunágxj: ‘Halsentzündung, Diphtherie’);
cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a; SL 633, 84–5): ‫ושני הגידים אשר תחת הלשון תועלת‬
‫הקזתם אחר הקזת גיד הראש אל החניקה אשר תהיה בגרון וחלי ערלתו ותחלאי הפה‬
(The two veins under the tongue: their venesection is, after section of
the cephalic, of good effect in the quincy arising in the throat from dis-
ease of the uvula, and diseases of the mouth). Hebrew ‫ חניקה‬is not
attested in a medical sense in the current dictionaries; cf. BM 1652.
Arab. ‫ خوانيق‬is translated as ‫ מחנקים‬by N and as ‫ חנק הנקרא‬,‫ חנק‬,‫אסקיננציאה‬
‫ אשכוויננציאה‬by Z (MA 12:33; 22:20; 25:11).
‫ = ֲח ִריכוּת‬Arab. ‫حرقة‬: ‘burning’; cf. II:87 (SP fol. 226b; SL 579, 31–2): ‫ואני‬
‫מודיע בדמיון שקרה לאדם ברגלו זה המקרה בעצמו אשר אגיד וזה כי נתחדש ברגלו‬
‫( שחרות עם חריכות דומה לשרפת האש‬Now I shall relate to you an example;
what I am going to tell you is exactly what happened to a certain man’s
foot. He had a blackening of the foot, with a burning like that of fire).
Hebrew ‫ ֲח ִריכוּת‬is only attested once in Ma}agarim, namely in a YoÂer by
Khalaf Ibn Saïd (<29 ‫ אדוניה וקרוא‘ >ש‬:‫)יוצרות לשבתות השנה‬.
‫ = טיחה‬I. Arab. ‫لطوخ‬: ‘poultice’ (see WKAS II, 691–2): ‘medicine to
be rubbed in, oitment, paste, unguent, salve’; cf. II:20 (SP fol. 211b;
SL 247,4): ‫( ואחר לתת על העין טיחה עשויה מאקקיא ואילווא ולבונה וכרכום‬then
put to the eyes a poultice made of acacia and aloes and olibanum and
saffron)61; II. Arab. ‫‘ طلاء‬liniment’; cf. III:1 (SP fol. 232b; SL 685, 72).
60
The Arabic reads: ‫( عند نهاية الشعر‬about the hairline).
61
The Arabic reads: ‫( عنزروت‬sarcocolla).
78
The Hebrew term ‫ טיחה‬features as ‘plastering’ in the current dictionaries,

cf. JD 530; BM 1868. In SG Tet 6 it is mentioned as a synonym of
Arabic ‫طلاء‬. N translates Arabic ‫ لطوخ‬as ‫יציקה‬, Z as ‫( מישרה‬MA 9:18), and
M as ‫ ;טיחה‬cf. BIZ 18:4: ‫והנה אמר גליאה שתתרפא הבהרת אחר נקיון הגוף‬
‫בשיטוח המקום בסיד ויושם עליו אחר זה טיחה נעשית באנאקירד הוא בלאדור וקבשיא‬
‫( ואלואי ואקסייא וליטרגום וחומץ‬Galen has ordered to treat baraÒ once the
body has been cleansed by smearing quicklime on the spot. Then one
should apply a liniment that has been prepared from marsh-nut, pep-
perwort, aloe, acacia, litharge and vinegar).
‫ טפח‬:‫ = הטפיח‬Arab. ‫نطل‬: ‘to foment’; cf. II:1 (SP fol. 209a; SL 173, 18–19):
‫ואחר הבקיעה ראוי להוציא הלחות כלו ולהדק הבקיעות בבגדים וכלונסות ואחר‬
‫( להטפיחם ממעלה ביין ושמן עד היום החמישי‬After incising, draw out all the
humidity; then bind up the incisions with pads and bandages; and over
the bandages foment with wine and oil till the fifth day). Hebrew ‫הטפיח‬
is mentioned in the current dictionaries as featuring in Rabbinic litera-
ture in the sense of ‘to moisten, to wet’ (cf. JD 546; BM 1906). It is not
attested in a medical context in the sense of to ‘foment’ a part of the
body. N translates Arab. ‫ نطل‬as ‫יצק‬, Z as ‫ טבל‬or ‫( משח‬MA 9:6; 15:17),
and M (MZ fol. 98a) as ‫טבל‬. See as well entry ‫הטפחה‬.
‫ = טרפשה‬Arab. ‫حجاب‬: ‘pleura’ (see DKT 816: ‘diaphragme’); cf. II:92
(SP fol. 228a; SL 611, 26–7): ‫ואם יפול החץ על הטרפשה אשר בחזה יהיה‬
‫( קרוב מן הצלעות הקטנות‬But if the arrow strike the pleura then it will
be close to the small ribs). ‫טרפשה‬, Hebrew parallel to Aramaic ‫טרפשא‬
(cf. SDA 519: ‘membrane’; Low LIV: ‘diaphragma’), or to Hebrew ‫טרפש‬
(BM 1935) does not feature in the current dictionaries. It is attested
in BIR as featuring for the first time in the Teshuvot (Part 2, Yoreh
Deäh, Siman Îet, starting with: Katav ha-™ur) of Isaiah Ben Mali
Di Trani (c. 1200–before 1260). N translates ‫ حجاب‬as ,‫ טרפשא‬,‫טרפש‬
‫ מסך‬,‫ טרפשות‬,‫טרפשה‬, Z as, ‫ אל חגאב הוא‬,‫המסך המבדיל הנקרא דיאפרמה‬
‫ מסך‬,‫( דיאפרמא‬MA 1:2, 28–30; 3:40, 55, 98; 6:53; 9:85; 10:60; 12:29;
16:15, 16; 23:9a, 67; 24: 7), and M as ‫( המסך המבדיל‬MZ fol. 86a).
‫ ישן‬:‫ = התישן‬Arab. ‫أزمن‬: ‘to become chronic’; cf. II:81 (SP fol. 223b; SL 515,
31–2): ‫והפלחים יקרו הרבה מצד נגוב הצואה ואומץ המעים וכשיתישנו ולא יועיל בהם‬
‫( סם ראוי לגרדם בפי המסמר גרע‬Fissures often arise from dryness of the
faeces and from constipation. If they become chronic, and medical treat-
ment is unavailing, you should scrape them with the edge of a scalpel).
Hebrew ‫ התישן‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of
‘to be chronic’; cf. BM 2188. N translates Arab. ‫ أزمن‬as ‫ישן‬, and Z as
‫( האריך‬MA 9:123).
‫ = כד‬Arab. ‫‘ أفطس‬blunt’; cf. II:85 (SP fol. 224b; SL 539, 23–6): ‫וזאת צורת‬
‫הכלי יהיה קצהו האחד הכפוף חד והקצה האחר בלתי חד והקצה הדק לא יהיה בדקות‬
‫( מסמר הגרע אבל יהיה כד מעט‬This is the form of the instrument. The
curved side should be sharpened, but not the other; the slender extrem-
ity should not be as slender as a scalpel, but rather blunt). Hebrew ‫כד‬
is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘arched or rounded’
(JD 612). Cf. SG Kaf 30.
79
‫ = כווץ‬Arab. ‫تشنّج‬: ‘spasm’; cf. I:6 (SP fol. 204a: SL 31, 3–4): ‫וראוי להזהר שלא‬
‫( לכוות כלל הנטייה המתחדשת מן הנגוב וכווץ העצב‬But cauterization [of the
twisted mouth] is to be carefully avoided in that type which is due
to dryness or spasm of the tendon). Hebrew ‫ כווץ‬is derived from the root
KW∑ ‘to curl, shrink’ (JD 625; SDA 556) which features in Rabbinic
literature. The term features as ‫ קווץ‬in BM 5824 (cf. the synonym ‫קויצה‬
in BM 5826–7). N translates the Arab. ‫ تشنّج‬as ‫כויצה‬, Z as ‫ כווץ‬or ‫התכווץ‬
(MA passim), and M (BMR 4:18, 27) as ‫ ;קיווץ‬cf. KZ 65; SG Kaf 21.
‫ = כוליא‬Arab. ‫كلية‬: ‘kidney’; cf. I:37 (SP fol. 206b; SL 107, 2–4): ‫כשיתחדש‬
‫בכליות כאב מרוח עבה או קרירות ויחסר בסבתם המשגל ראוי לכוותו במתניו על עצם‬
‫( הכליות כויה אחת על כל כוליא וכוליא במכוה המסמרי אשר קדם זכרו‬When pain
strikes the kidneys from chill or heavy vapour, and the patient’s sexual
vigour is impaired thereby, you should burn him right over the kidneys,
once on each kidney, with the claviform cautery mentioned before). The
term ‫ כוליא‬is Aramaic for Hebrew ‫ ;כליה‬cf. Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch,
p. 365.62
‫ כיס‬:‫ = כיסים‬Arab. ‫أوعية‬: ‘vessels (i.e. blood vessels)’; cf. II:4 (SP fol. 209b;
SL 187, 22): ‫( הכיסים היורדים מן הראש אל העינים‬the vessels passing from
the head down toward the eyes). Hebrew ‫ כיס‬features in Rabbinic lit-
erature in the sense of ‘receptacle, pouch, bag, purse, fund’ (JD 633),
and ‘scrotum, crop (of a bird), cyst’ (Low LVI). It also features in medi-
eval medical literature as ‫( הכיס הקטן‬i.e. gall bladder) and ‫( הכיס הגדול‬i.e.
urinary bladder); cf. BM 2347. N translates Arab. ‫ أوعية‬as ‫ כלי‬or ‫כלים‬,
while Z translates it as ‫ גידים‬or ‫( כיסים‬MA 6:5, 91; 7:12; 10:40; 18:8;
23:1; 25:52).
-: ‫ = כיס מקוה המים‬Arab. ‫مثانة‬: ‘urinary bladder’; cf. I:38 (SP fol. 206a;
SL 109, 2–4): ‫כשיתחדש בכיס מקוה המים חולשה ורפיון מקרירות ולחויות עד שלא‬
‫יוכל להחזיק השתן ראוי לכוותו כויה אחת למטה מן הטיבור על הכיס במקום שיתחיל‬
‫( שער הזקן התחתון‬When there occurs in the urinary bladder a weakness
and relaxation due to chill and humidities, so that the patient cannot
retain his water, sear him once below his navel, on the bladder, where
the pubic hair begins). Hebrew ‫ כיס מקוה המים‬is not attested in the cur-
rent dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫ مثانة‬as ‫ מקוה‬and Z as ‫ שלפוחית‬or ‫הכיס‬
‫( של השתן‬MA 1:28, 63, 65, 66, 68, 69 and passim). M (MZ fol. 93a)
has ‫ מקוה‬just like N.
‫ כלונס‬:‫ = כלונסות‬Arab. ‫رفائد‬: ‘pads’; cf. Introduction (SP fol. 201b; SL 5,
25–7): ‫וראיתי אחר מתעסק בזאת המלאכה בכדי חייו אצל קצת קציני ארצותינו‬
‫ונתחדש לסריס שחור שנשבר שוקו קרוב מן הערקוב ונתחדשה בו חבורה ומהר הסכל‬
‫( בסכלותו והדק השבר על החבורה בכלונסות ובקשישים‬I saw another doctor
who had a regular salary from one of the high officers of our country.
There had occurred to a black boy of his a fracture of the leg near the
heel, together with a wound; the doctor rushed in, in his ignorance, and
62
J. Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch über die Targumim und einen grossen Theil
des Rabbinischen Schriftthums. Unveränderter Neudruck nach der Dritten Ausgabe
(Köln 1959).
80
bound up the fracture, over the wound, very tightly, with pads and
splints). The Hebrew term features in Rabbinic literature in the sense
of ‘poles’; cf. JD 640. Both N and Z translate the Arab. ‫ رفائد‬as ‫רפידות‬
(MA 15:65,69,70); cf. SG Kaf 24.
‫ כלי‬:‫ = כלי ברזל‬Arab. ‫حديد‬: ‘knife’; i.e. surgical knife; cf. II:74 (SP fol. 221a;
SL 465, 5–7): ‫וראוי לי שאזכור בזה המאמר הצמח החם אשר יקרה ברחם כשיהיה‬
‫( מן הצמחים המקבצים מוגלא איך תהיה דקירתו בכלי ברזל‬But now in this trea-
tise we must mention an inflamed tumour occurring in the uterus of the
kind where there is a collection of pus, and the manner of its opening
with the knife). Hebrew ‫כלי ברזל‬, lit., an iron instrument, is not attested
in the sense of ‘surgical knife’, a loan-translation from Arab. ‫حديد‬, in the
current dictionaries; cf. BM 2388–92.
-: ‫כלי נוקב‬: See ‫מקבת‬.
‫ כף‬:‫ = כף הירך‬I. Arab. ‫ورك‬: ‘hip joint’; cf. I:40 (fol. 203a; SL 113, 2–3):
‫( לפעמים תשתפכנה לחויות עבות אל כף הירך ותהיינה סבה לצאתו ממקומו‬Some-
times harmful humidities reach the hip joint and result in its coming out
of its place); II. Arab. ‫‘ ح ّق الورك‬the acetabulum of the femur’ (SP fol. 231b;
SL 667, 109). The Hebrew term ‫ כף הירך‬means ‘hip-socket’ and features
in the Bible and Rabbinic literature (BM 2480–1). The Arabic term is
translated by NZ (MA 12:29; 23:14), and M (BMH 6:2) as ‫ ;ירך‬see as
well SR 34.
‫ = כרכשה‬Arab. ‫مبعر‬: ‘rectum’; cf. II:80 (SP fol. 222b; SL 503, 5–6): ‫ועוד יהיה‬
‫( ממיני הגרגתני מין מפולש אל הכרכשה ואל המעי או בלתי מפולש‬These fistulae
may be perforating into the rectum or bowel, or non-perforating). Hebrew
‫ כרכשה‬coined after the Aramaic ‫‘ כרכשא‬large intestines’ (cf. SD 603) is
not mentioned in the current dictionaries; it features, however, in BIR
in an attestation from Sefer OrÌot Îayyim (‫הלכות אסורי מאכלות אות פד ד‘‘ה‬
‫)חלב הלב‬.
‫ = כשיל‬Arab. ‫فأس‬: ‘pickaxe’, i.e. a phlebotome (cf. SL 624, n.1); cf. II:95
(SP fol. 229a; SL 629, 45–7): ‫ואיכות הקזתו על מה שאגיד והוא להדק צואר‬
‫( החולה במצנפת עד שיראה הגיד ואחר לקחת הכלי הנקרא כשיל‬Now I shall relate
to you the method of cutting [of the vein in the forehead]: you bind the
patient’s neck until the vessel stands out; then you take the instrument
called the ‘pickaxe’). Hebrew ‫ כשיל‬features in the sense of ‘a carpenter’s
tool for chipping, axe’ in the Bible (KB 502) and Rabbinic literature
(JD 675f); it is not attested in the sense of a ‘phlebotome’. Cf. SG Kaf 31.
‫ לבד‬:‫ = מתלבד‬Arab. ‫متل ّبد‬: ‘compact’; cf. II:82 (SP fol. 223b; SL 517, 13–14):
‫( והנמלה היא גם כן גרגתני קטן מתלבד עב הגוף הולכת בעומק מאד‬A pimple is
also a little compact thick prominence on the skin surface, going deep).
Hebrew ‫מתלבד‬, a loan translation of the Arabic ‫متل ّبد‬, is not attested in
the current dictionaries; cf. JD 687, s.v. ‫לבד‬: ‘to full, to stamp' and
KA 5:6: ‘verbinden, befestigen, anschliessen’ (to connect, attach). See
‫ התלבדות‬above.
‫ = לטש‬Arab. ‫جلا‬: ‘to cleanse’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233b; SL 711, 105): ‫ובכלל‬
‫( ראוי להרגיל מהם כל סם לוטש בלתי עוקץ‬in short, in these cases use drugs
whose nature is cleansing not irritating). Hebrew ‫ לטש‬does not feature in
81
this sense in the current dictionaries; cf. EM 810; BM 2667. N translates

Arab. ‫ جلا‬as ‫ מירק‬or ‫צחצח‬, and Z as ‫ טיהר‬or ‫( ניקה‬MA 9:30, 70, 71; 14:1;
15:24, 57; 17:38; 22:69, 70; 25:8).
‫ = לכלך‬Arab. ‫لطخ‬: ‘to spread’ (see WKAS II, 684: ‘to rub, to smear, to
whitewash a th., to soil, dirty, stain a th.’); cf. II:13 (SP fol. 211a;
SL 223, 9–10): ‫ורטיית הדיאכילון נתכת עם מעט מן השמנים וללכלך בה הפתילה‬
‫( ולרפא בה‬and [employ] diachylon plaster which has been previously sof-
tened with one of the oils and spread on the packs; and treat it with this).
The Hebrew term means ‘to soil’; cf. BM 2678. In the sense of ‘to
spread’ it is a non-attested semantic borrowing from the Arabic. N trans-
lates the Arab. term as ‫ טח‬or ‫ יצק‬and Z as ‫ משח‬or ‫( שם‬MA 9:18; 22:2),
and M as ‫( משח‬BMR 4:12).
‫ לעוסה‬:‫ = לעוסות‬Arab. ‫مماضغ‬: ‘medicaments to chew’; cf. I:10 (SP fol. 204a;
SL SL 39, 5). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current diction-
aries; however, it is possible that the term should be emended as ,‫לעיסה‬
‫ לעיסות‬which features in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘chewing’
(cf. BM 2713–14).
‫ מגולל‬is 1. Arab. ‫مش ّرب‬: ‘soaked’; cf. I.16 (SP fol. 204b; SL 53, 25–6): ‫ולתת‬
‫( תחת העין צמר גפן מגולל בחלבון ביצה וראש החולה בחיק הרופא‬place also under
the eye cotton wool soaked in egg-white; the patient’s head being in your
lap); 2. Arab. ‫( مبلول‬damped); cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205a; SL 56, 5–6): ‫ואחרי‬
‫( כן לשית צמר גפן מגולל בחלבון ביצה או בריר שיליות על העין‬Then place on his
eyes cotton wool damped with egg-white or mucilage of psyllium seeds);
3. Arab. ‫مغموس‬: ‘soaked'; cf. I:22 (SP fol. 205b; SL 71, 8): ‫ולתת עליו צמר‬
‫( גפן מגולל בחמאה‬and apply cotton wool soaked in butter). The term is
possibly used by Shem Tov after Biblical ‫( ושמלה מגוללה בדמים‬Isa. 9:4).
Both N and Z translate the Arabic ‫ مبلول‬and likewise ‫ مغموس‬as ‫טבול‬
(MA 9:118; 15:45 and 15:65).
‫ = מגופה‬Arab. ‫غطاء‬: ‘lid’; cf. II:78 (SP fol. 222b; SL 497, 4): ‫ואם לא ראוי‬
‫לקחת קדרה ולהגיף אותה ולנקוב במגופה נקב ולתת בה העשבים הפותחים פי הרחם‬
(But if not, then take a pot, close it,63 pierce a hole in the lid, and put
in it herbs that will open the womb). Hebrew ‫ מגופה‬is only attested in
Rabbinic literature in the sense of 1. bung, stopper; 2. the clay used for
sealing wine vessels (JD 726–7).
‫ = ַמגְ זֵ ר‬Arab. ‫مقطع‬: ‘chisel’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233a; SL 703, 40–1): ‫וזה יהיה‬
‫ האופן האחד הוא לכרות העצם בתחלה במגזר דק‬.‫על אחד משני פנים מן המלאכה‬
‫ ואחר כך להרגיל מגזר אחר אחר זה המגזר יותר רחב ממנו‬.‫צר הפה אשר זאת צורתו‬
‫( מעט וזאת צורתו‬This [i.e. the trepanning and removal of the bone] may
be done in one of two ways. One way is to cut the bone with a fine-
bladed chisel, this being the figure of it. Then after this one employ
another chisel, a little broader). Hebrew ‫ מגזר‬is not attested in medical
literature (cf. BM 2781, and Aram. ‫ מגזרא‬DA 223). It features especially
in the combination ‫ מגזרי ברזל‬in Heykhalot literature; cf. Ma}agarim,
s.v. ‫מגזר‬.
63
‘close it’: missing in the Arabic text.
82
‫ ַמגְ זֵ ָרה‬:‫ = מגזרות‬Arab. ‫مقاطع‬: ‘chisels’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233a; SL 703, 44–6):
‫ומן הראוי להיות אצל הרופא מגזרות משתנות זאת מזאת וזה להיות קצתן יותר רחבות‬
‫( מקצתן וקצתן יותר קצרות מקצתן ולהיות פיותיהן בתכלית החדוד‬You should have
by you a number of different chisels, some broader than others and some
shorter than others, their tips should be exquisitely sharp). It is possible
that Shem Tov considered ‫ מגזרות‬as the plural of ‫ מגזר‬and not of ‫מגזרה‬
as he uses both ‫ מגזר‬and ‫ מגזרות‬but not ‫מגזרה‬. See previous entry and
Ma}agarim, s.v. ‫מגזרה‬.
‫ = מדחה‬Arab. ‫مدفع‬: ‘obturator’ (see L 892: ‘An instrument for impelling,
propelling, or repelling…; an instrument used by midwifes for protrud-
ing the foetus’); cf. II:6 (SP fol. 210a; SL 199, 60–1: ‫והרוצה להיות המדחה‬
‫( אשר בתוך השפופרת של נחשת עשוי בחכמה הרשות בידו‬If you wish, you may
make the obturator which goes in the cannula of strong bronze). The
Hebrew term is a loan translation from the Arabic, and is not attested in
this sense in the current dictionaries.
‫ = מזלג‬Arab. ‫نشل‬: ‘lancet’ (cf. SL p. 626, n. 3); cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a;
SL 635, 101–637, 103): ‫זה המזלג העשוי לבקע בו יש ממנו מין רחב ומין דק כפי‬
‫( רוחב הגידים וצרתם ותוקח ראיה מהם על זולתם והוא אצל הרופאים מפורסם‬This
is the lancet for making a slit. There are broad and narrow varieties of it
according to the breadth or narrowness of the vein. This one indicates
what the others are like; it is well known to surgeons). Hebrew ‫ מזלג‬is
attested as ‘(meat) fork (for taking meat out of the cauldron)’ (KB 565;
JD 755), and as an instrument for taking the child out of the womb
(forceps?) (BM 2885). Another term used for “lancet” is ‫;מסמר מזלגי‬
cf. s.v. ‫מסמר‬. See as well SG Mem 34.
‫ = ְמ ֵח ֵבּש‬Arab. ‫مج ّبر‬: ‘bone-setter’; cf. III:3 (SP fol. 233b; SL 713, 14–15):
‫וזכרו קצת המחבשים מן הראשונים לבלול הפתילות בחמאה ולהחליפן בכל יום ואין‬
‫( נכון אצלי לעשות כן‬Certain of the ancient bone-setters suggest that
you should soak the pads in butter and change them daily, but I do
not think so). Hebrew ‫ ְמ ֵח ֵבּש‬does not feature in the current dictionaries.
See entry ‫חבש‬.
‫ = מחבוא‬Arab. ٔ‫مخبا‬: ‘sinus’; cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583, 1): ‫ומהנה נתחיב‬
‫( לקראו מחבוא ולא נקרא גרגתני‬and hence it [i.e. the abscess] merits the name
of ‘sinus’ and is not called a fistula). The Hebrew term is not attested in
this sense in the current dictionaries. Arab. Plur. ‫ مخابئ‬is rendered by
Shem Tov as ‫ ;מחבואות‬cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583,1): ‫המורסות הנקראות‬
‫( מחבואות‬abscesses which are called ‘sinuses’ [trans. Bos]).
‫ מחפש‬is 1. Arab. ‫مدس‬ّ : ‘explorer’; cf. II:45 (SP fol. 216a; SL343, 10–11):
‫( וראוי למתחיל ברפואת האגודה לבדוק אותה ולחפשה בתחלה במחפש‬When
you come to treat the cyst, you should first sound it and examine it with
the instrument called the explorer); 2. Arab. ‫ ;مسبار‬cf. II:46 (SP 216a;
SL 347, 8): ‫( וזאת צורות מחפשים‬And this is the shape of the probes).
The Hebrew term does not feature in these meanings in the current
dictionaries.
‫ מים‬:‫ = לעשות מי רגלים‬Arab. ‫بال‬: ‘to pass water’; cf. IV:18 (SP fol. 236a;
SL 771, 6–7):‫וכשתרצה לעשות מי רגליה ראוי להסיר הצמר גפן בנחת ולהחזירו על‬
83
‫( הענין הנזכר‬and when she wants to pass water gently remove the cotton
wool so she may do so). Hebrew ‫ לעשות מי רגלים‬is not attested in the
current dictionaries. For Hebrew ‫מי רגלים‬, featuring in Rabbinic literature
as a euphemism for ‘urine’, cf. JD 775.
‫ = מימיות‬Arab. ‫مائية‬: ‘serum’; cf. II:96 (SP 231a; SL 663, 71–3): ‫ואם יהיה בדם‬
‫ ובשנית‬64‫עובי ראוי לשרטו שתי פעמים בפעם הראשונה לפתוח דרך לדם הדק ומימיותו‬
‫( לחטט אחר הוצאת הדם העב‬If there be a thickness of the blood he should
scarify twice; the first time to make a way out for the thinner blood and
serum; and the second time to complete the extraction of the thick
blood). The earliest attestation of Hebrew ‫ מימיות‬in the sense of ‘serum’
is from Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun
(cf. BM 2971).
‫ = מכוה‬Arab. ‫مكواة‬: ‘cautery’; cf. Introduction (SP fol. 202a; SL 15, 56–8):
‫והכויה בו יותר טובה ויותר חשובה מן הכויה בברזל כמו שאמרו אלא שהרופא כשיחמם‬
‫( מכוה הזהב לא תתבאר בו חמימותו על השעור המכוון‬Cauterization with it [i.e.
gold] is indeed better and more successful than with iron, as they have
stated; except that when you are heating the gold cautery in the fire you
are uncertain when it reaches the desired temperature). The Hebrew
term is not attested in the current dictionaries.
-: ‫ = מכוה סכיני‬Arab. ‫مكواة سكّين ّية‬: ‘knife-edged cautery’; cf. Introduction
(SP 219b; SL 429, 50–1):‫ויש שעושין רפואת זה האשך גם כן בכויה חלף מן‬
‫( הבקוע בכלי ברזל והוא לקחת מכוה סכיני דק ולבקע בו עור הבצים‬This rupture
may also be treated by cautery instead of surgery. This will mean taking
a knife-edged cautery and cutting with it the skin of the testicles). The
Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries.
‫ מכחול‬:‫ = מכחל‬Arab. ‫مرود‬: ‘probe’; cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205b; SL 77, 9–79, 1):
‫שעושין המכוה בעל שלשה שפודין ותהיה תבנית הכויה אז שש כויות ויהיו השפודין על‬
‫( דקות המכחל‬The cautery may be of three prongs and then the form of
the cauterization will be six burns. The prongs should be of the fineness
of a probe). Hebrew ‫ מכחול‬features in rabbinic literature in the sense of
‘staff used for painting the eye’ (JD 782). N uses Hebrew ‫ מכחול‬to render
Arab. ‫( ميل‬MA 9:27).
‫ מכסה‬:‫ = מכסה הבטן‬Arab. ‫ق البطن‬ ّ ‫مرا‬: ‘hypogastrium’; cf. II:62 (SP 219b;
SL 427, 40–429, 43):‫ולהכניס בפלחים צמר מן הגזה טבול בשמן זית או בשמן ורד‬
‫( ולתת מחוץ צמר אחר טבול ביין ושמן ולהשטיח על הבצים ומכסה הבטן‬and apply
to the incisions wool that has been soaked in olive-oil or oil of roses and
on that again more wool that has been soaked in wine and oil, and
spread that over the testicles and over the hypogastrium). Hebrew ‫מכסה‬
‫ הבטן‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. In Rabbinic literature we
find ‫ שיפולי המיעים‬which is translated as ‘the lower part of the abdomen’
(JD 1566), ‘groin, lower intestines, sexual organs’ (Low LXXXIV) or
‘hypogastricum’ (MD 370). MD (ibid.) also refers to ‫ חומש‬as a synonym
(see above).
64
.MS ‫ ומימיותיו‬emendation Bos :‫ומימיותו‬
84
‫ = מלקחים‬Arab. ‫كلاليب‬: ‘forceps’ (see D 481, s.v. ‫ ;)كلا ّب‬cf. II:77 (SP fol. 222a;
SL 487, 12–13): ‫תאר כלי אחר יותר נקל מזה ויותר דק עשוי מהבנים או מברוש‬
‫( על תבנית המלקחים‬Another instrument, but smaller and lighter. It is made
of ebony or boxwood in the shape of forceps). Hebrew ‫ מלקחים‬in the
sense of forceps is attested as ‘modern’ in EM 956.
‫ = מסמר‬Arab. ‫مسمار‬: ‘corn’; cf. II:82 (SP fol. 223b; SL 517, 3): ‫המסמר אמנם‬
‫( הוא דבר עגול על עין הגוף דומה לראש המסמר‬A corn is a round knob, the
same colour as the body and resembling the head of a nail). Hebrew
‫ מסמר‬is only attested in this sense as featuring in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s
Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun, and in Moses ibn Tib-
bon’s ‫חרוזי אבן סינא‬, i.e. the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s Ürguza fi
al-†ibb which Ibn Tibbon prepared in 126065; cf. BM 3127.
-: ‫ = מסמר הגרע‬Arab. ‫مبضع‬: ‘scalpel’; cf. I:3 (SP fol. 203b; SL 23, 7): ‫ואחר‬
‫( לבקע מקום הכאב מן הצדע במסמר הגרע‬then cut open the side of the pain
in the temple with a scalpel). The Hebrew term is attested in Rabbinic
literature in the sense of ‘a blood-letter’s pin’ (JD 809); cf. SG Mem 17.
-: ‫ = מסמר מזלגי‬Arab. ‫المبضع النشل‬: ‘lancet’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 2229b; SL 637,
113–14):‫ולקשור הזרוע ולבקע הגיד בקוע בנטיה במסמר המזלגי כמו שאמרתי‬
(Then bind the arm and cut the vein obliquely with the lancet as we
said). Hebrew ‫ מסמר מזלגי‬is not attested in secondary literature. See as
well s.v. ‫מזלג‬.
‫ מסרק‬:‫ = מסרק היד‬Arab. ‫مشط اليد‬: ‘metacarpus’; cf. I.44 (SP fol. 207b;
SL 133, 15–16):‫ואם ישארו מן המכאובים באצבעות ראוי לנקוד אותם על כל פרק‬
‫( ופרק נקודה אחת ועל מסרק היד‬If the pains remain in the fingers, pierce
them once over each joint and once on the metacarpus). The Hebrew
term is only attested in medieval medical literature in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s
Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb (cf. BM 3139;
MD 462; SR 26, n. 156).
-: ‫ = מסרק הרגל‬Arab. ‫مشط الرجل‬: ‘metatarsus’; cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b;
SL 563, 117–18):‫ואם יהיה ההפסד במסרק היד או במסרק הרגל רפואתו קשה מאד‬
(If the disease be in the metacarpus66 or metatarsus it is a very difficult
matter treating them). Hebrew ‫ מסרק הרגל‬is only attested as ‫מסרק כף הרגל‬
in BM 3139 as featuring in Älilot Devarim.
‫ מעבר‬:‫ = מעבר השתן‬Arab. ‫مجرى القضيب‬: ‘urethra’; cf. II:80 (SP fol. 220a;
SL 503, 8–9): ‫ולפעמים יהיה מהם טחורים כשיהיו בבית הפרשות מפולשים אל‬
‫( כיס מקוה המים ואל מעבר השתן‬Sometimes also there are fistulae occur-
ring in the perineum which penetrate to the urinary bladder and to the
urethra). Hebrew ‫מעבר השתן‬, lit. passage of the urine, for ‘urethra’ is
not mentioned in the current dictionaries, but features in BIR, a.o. in
an attestation form Sefer OrÌot Îayyim (‫דין מתגאה אות ד‘‘ה ד‘‘ה אסור‬
‫)להתגאות‬.
65
M. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die
Juden als Dolmetscher (Berlin 1893, repr. Graz 1956), p. 699.
66
‘metacarpus or metatarsus’: ‘carpus or tarsus’ SL.
85
‫ מעד‬:‫ = לחויות ממעידות‬Arab. ‫( رطوبات مزلّقة‬cf. D 1:600, s.v. zaliq: ‘glissant,

visqueux, gluant’): ‘synovial fluid’; cf. I:25 (SP fol. 205b; SL77, 2):
‫( כשישמט ראש פרק המרפק הנקרא בלשונם אל עצד בסבת לחויות ממעידות‬When
the head of the humerus is dislocated on account of the synovial fluid
[note: lit. ‘lubricating humidities’]). For the Hebrew term ‫ ממעיד‬in the
sense of ‘synovial’, possibly a semantic borrowing from the Arabic ‫زلق‬,
see BM 3146 with a quotation from Vidal Ben Lavi’s Sefer Gerem
ha-Maälot, i.e the Hebrew translation of a medico-botanical work com-
posed by Joshua ben Joseph ibn Vives Lorki (i.e. of Lorca), a Spanish
Jewish physician living around 1400. Cf. entry ‫המעדה‬.
‫ = מקבת‬Arab. ‫‘ مثقب‬drill’ (see D 1:160: ‘trépan, instrument de chirurgie’);
cf. II:94 (SP fol. 228a; SL 617, 89–92): ‫ואם לא יצא אחר ימים ראוי לנקוב‬
‫( סביב החץ בעצם עצמו מכל צד במקבת דקה כדי להרחיב לחץ ואחר למשכו‬But if
it [i.e. the arrow] will not come out after some days, you will have to drill
away the bone from all round with a fine drill so as to make room for
the arrow; then draw on it). Hebrew ‫מקבת‬, i.e. ‘hammer’ (cf. BM 3262)
is not attested in the sense of ‘drill’, a semantic borrowing from the
Arab. ‫مثقب‬, in the current dictionaries. In addition to ‫ מקבת‬Shem Tov
uses a non-attested ‫ כלי נוקב‬for Arab. ‘drill’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 332b;
SL 705, 57–8): ‫אמנם איכות הנקב סביב העצם הנשבר הוא לתת הכלי הנוקב על‬
‫( העצם ולסובבו עד שיודע שהעצם מפולש‬As to the manner of perforation
round the fractured bone, you apply the drill to the bone and revolve it
with your fingers until you know that the bone is pierced).
‫ = ַמקּוֹר‬Arab. ‫منقاش‬: ‘forceps’; cf. II:50 (SP fol. 217a; SL 373, 11): ‫ואם יהיה‬
‫( הצמח קטון ראוי לחפשו במקור ולחתכו מן השרש‬and if the tumour be small
take hold of it with the forceps and cut it away by the root). Hebrew
‫ מקור‬means ‘beak, a tool for whetting millstones’ (JD 830) and features
in Rabbinic literature. It is possible that the term was used by Shem
Tov in the sense of ‘forceps’ as a loan-translation of the Arabic ‫منقاش‬
which designates ‘an instrument with which variegated, or decorated
or embellished, work is done’ or ‘a kind of tweezers, an instrument
with which one extracts, or draws or pulls out or forth, thorns’ (L 2840),
but also ‘an instrument used for whetting millstones’ (DAS 3:252). Cf.
SG Mem 51.
‫ ְמ ֻר ַבּע‬:‫ = מרובע‬Arab. ‫متربّع‬: ‘crosslegged’; cf. IV:13 (SP fol. 235b; SL 753,
3–6): ‫וכשיקרה אל המסרק שבר או ריסוק ראוי להושיב החולה מרובע ולפניו כסא‬
‫( ולתת היד על הכסא פתוחה‬When a fracture or crushing of the metacarpus67
occurs the patient should sit crosslegged with a chair of the right height
in front of him, on which he should put his outstretched hand). Hebrew
‫ מרובע‬in the sense of ‘crosslegged’ is a non-attested semantic borrowing
from the Arabic ‫متربّع‬.
‫ ַמ ְש ֵרט‬:‫ = משרטים‬Arab. ‫مشارط‬: ‘scarifying scalpels’; cf. II:46 (SP fol. 216b;
SL 355, 41):‫ואלה הם המשרטים אשר יבוקעו ויופשטו בהם האגודות והצמחים והם‬
‫( שלשה מינים גדולים ואמצעים וקטנים‬these are the figures of the scarifying
67
‘metacarpus’: SL have ‘palm of the hand’ (‫كف‬
ّ ).
86
scalpels with which you incise and dissect away casts and tumours. They
are of three kinds: large, medium, and small). For the Hebrew term
which is not attested in the current dictionaries, cf. MD 643, s.v. ‫ ַמ ְש ֵרט‬:
‘scarificator’.
‫ נחרה‬:‫ = נחרת הגרון‬Arab. ‫بحوحة الصوت‬: ‘hoarseness’; cf. I:23 (SP 202a;
SL 73,1): ‫( שער כג‘ בכויה מנחרת הגרון וצרות הנשימה‬Chapter twenty-three.
On cauterization for hoarseness and for constriction of the breath).
Instead of the non-attested Hebrew term we find ‫ נחירות הקול‬in Moshe
Narboni’s OraÌ Îayyim (cf. BM 3602)68, while Arabic ‫ بحح‬is translated
by N as ‫ צרידות הקול‬and by Z as ‫( חסרון הקול‬MA 22:45).
‫ נטייה‬:‫ = נטיית הפה‬Arab. ‫لقوة‬: ‘twisted mouth’ (see WKAS 2:1134–6: ‘paraly-
sis of the facial nerve, facial paresis, paralysis of one side of the face,
crooked mouth’); cf. I:6 (SP 203b; SL 31, 1): .‫השער הששי בכוית נטיית הפה‬
‫הנטייה הראויה לרפאתה בכויה היא המתחדשת מן הלחה הלבנה על מה שזכרתי‬
‫( בחלוקות החליים‬Chapter six. Cauterization of the twisted mouth. The
twisting of the mouth which is curable with the cautery is that which
arises from phlegm, as we have already noticed in the sections on sick-
nesses). In addition to this unattested Hebrew term Shem Tov uses the
synonym ‫ עוות הפה‬in SG Äyin 31. This last term also features in Z while
N merely transcribes the Arabic term as ‫( לקוה‬MA 20:69), and M has
‫( ע)י(קום‬BMR 4:18, 27). See as well KZ 65.
‫ = נער‬Arab. ‫ص ّبي‬: ‘pupil (of the eye)’ (see L 1650: ‘A youth, boy, or male
child’…; also signifies ‘The pupil of the eye’); cf. II:23 (SP 212a;
SL 253, 11): ‫וראוי לתת שעור הכנסת המקדיח כעין שעור הרוחק אשר יהיה מן‬
‫( הנער אל סוף השחרות והוא עגול העין‬The depth the needle goes in should
measure as the distance from the pupil to the edge of the iris, which is
the corona of the eye). The Hebrew ‫ נער‬in the sense of ‘pupil of the eye’
is a non-attested semantic borrowing from the Arabic. Cf. entry ‫ראות‬
below.
‫ סוף‬:‫ = סוף הפרשות‬Arab. ‫عجز الذنب‬: ‘coccyx’ (SP fol. 222b; SL 503, 10).
Hebrew ‫ סוף הפרשות‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. In addition
to this term, Shem Tov uses the term ‫ עצה‬for ‘coccyx’ (see below).
‫ספוגי‬: See ‫עצם‬.
‫ עגול‬:‫ = עגול העין‬Arab. ‫اكليل‬: ‘corona’; cf. DKT 814: ‘Couronne. Région
ciliaire’; cf. II:23 (SP fol. 212a; SL 253, 7–8): ‫ואחר לשית פי המקדיח קרוב‬
‫( מעגול העין כעובי המכחל בלובן העין עצמו מצד זנבו‬Then put the tip of the
needle near the corona, about the thickness of a probe away, onto the
white of the eye itself, on the side of the lesser canthus); see as well pre-
vious entry. Hebrew ‫ עגול העין‬is not attested in the current dictionaries.
‫ = ָע ֶצה‬Arab. ‫‘ عصعص‬coccyx’; cf. 2:96 (SP fol. 230b; SL 661, 54–5): ‫והרבידא‬
‫האחת הנתנת על העצה תועיל מטחורי פי הטבעת ומן השחין השפל ר‘‘ל מן השחין‬
‫( אשר יהיה בירכים ולמטה‬The application of a single cupping-vessel to the
68
For Moshe Narboni and his medical encyclopaedia see Gerrit Bos, ‘R. Moshe
Narboni, Philosopher and Physician: A critical analysis of Sefer Orah Hayyim’,
Medieval Encounters, 2/1 (1995), 219–51.
87
coccyx is effective for haemorrhoids of the anus and ulcers of the lower
abdomen). Hebrew ‫ עצה‬is mentioned as featuring in the Bible in the
sense of ‘coccyx of the sheep’ (KB 866), and in Rabbinic literature and
medieval medical literature (a.o. Sefer Asaph) in the sense of ‘backbone,
spine’ (JD 1102, BM 4636). However, Bar-Sela and Hoff pointed out
that in Sefer Asaph the term apparently means ‘sacrum’69, while Singer-
Rabin (SR 41–2, 320) translate the term as it features in Vesalius, Tabu-
lae Anatomicae Sex, as ‘coccyx’. In addition to ‫עצה‬, Shem Tov uses the
term ‫ סוף הפרשות‬for ‘coccyx’ (see above).
‫ ִעצּוּם‬:‫ = עיצום‬Arab. ‫تزحر‬
ُّ : ‘bearing down’, i.e. contracting the abdominal mus-
cles; cf. II:75 (SP fol. 221b; SL 473, 45–8): ‫ואם לא יצא העובר תקח רגליה‬
‫ביחד ותנענעם בחזקה ואחר כך תסחוט למעלה מן החלציים מעט מעט עד שיעלה‬
‫העובר למעלה ואחר תכניס המילדת ידה ותשוה העובר מעט מעט ותצוה האשה‬
‫( שתרגיל העיצום עד שיצא‬and if the foetus does not come out then, take
both her feet and shake them violently; then press upon her costal mar-
gin until the foetus ascends; then let the midwife insert her hand and
put the foetus in the right position, very gently, and bid the woman bear
down, until the infant is born). Hebrew ‫ עיצום‬is only attested in Rabbinic
literature in the sense of 1. strength, and 2. surety (cf. JD 1073–4). See
as well entry ‫ בדק עצמו‬above.
‫ עצם‬:‫ = התעצם‬Arab. ‫تزحر‬
ّ : ‘to bear down’, i.e. to push, to contract the abdom-
inal muscles and diaphragm during childbirth; cf. II:75 (SP fol. 221b;
SL 473, 59): ‫( ואחר כך תצוה שתתעצם ותעטישנה בחנינא כי העובר יצא‬then bid
her bear down, and with ptarmica make her sneeze; then the foetus will
come forth). Hebrew ‫ התעצם‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the
sense of 1. to be closed; 2. to be headstrong towards one another; 3. to
fortify each other.
‫ עצם‬:‫ = העצמים הספוגיים‬Arab. ‫العظام المتخلخلة‬: ‘ethmoid bone’; cf. II:24
(SP fol. 212b; SL 259,14–15): ‫ואם לא יעבור הלחות על מה שראוי בידוע‬
‫ בעליון העצמים הספוגיים לא השיגו הכלי לחתכו‬70‫( שבתוכו בשר מת‬But if fluid
does not pass through it as it should, you may know that there is a
[polyp] within in the upper part of the ethmoid bone where the instru-
ment could not reach to make an incision). Hebrew ‫ העצמים הספוגיים‬is
not attested in the current dictionaries. For (‫‘ ספוגי)י‬porous’ cf. BM 4150.
‫ עקר‬:‫ = עיקרי הירכים‬Arab. ‫أرب ّية‬: ‘groin’; cf II: 65 (SP fol. 220a; SL 449, 2–3):
‫( לפעמים תקרה הפיתקא בעיקרי הירכים כמו שאמרתי ויבלוט המקום‬Sometimes
there occurs a rupture in the groin as we have said, and the part pro-
trudes). The Hebrew term is not mentioned in the current dictionaries,
but it features in BIR, a.o. in attestation from Sefer OrÌot Îayyim (‫הלכות‬
‫ המעי‬.‫ )טרפות אות ט‘ ד‘‘ה ט‬the same Arabic term is translated by N as
‫( אורבים‬Sing. ‫ארב‬, cf. BM 376) and by Z as ‫( אנגינלייא‬MA 15:48). See as
well ‫ראשי הירכים‬.
69
A. Bar-Sela and H.E. Hoff, ‘Asaf on Anatomy and Physiology’, Journal of the
History of Medicine 20 (1965), 358–89, p. 383.
.SL ‫ نابت‬:‫ מת‬70
88
‫ ע ֶֹקץ‬:‫ = עוקץ החוטם‬Arab. ‫طرف الأنف‬: ‘the end of the nose’ (see FAL 3218:149:
‘wing of the nose’); cf. I:47 (SP 208a; SL 143,11–13): ‫אמנם אם הגדמות‬
‫כבר נתפרסם על החולה ויראה ראייה מבוארת ראוי אז לכוותו אלו הכויות הנזכרות‬
‫( בראש וכויה אחת על עוקץ החוטם‬If the elephantiasis be widespread over
the patient and appears obvious, you should give him, as well as the
cauterizations described for the head: one at the end of the nose). The
Hebrew term is possibly coined by Shem Tov as a loan translation of the
Arabic; cf. SG Ayin 38. In addition to ‫ עוקץ החוטם‬we find the same
Arabic term translated as ‫ ;עוקץ האף‬cf. II:25 (SP 212b; SL 265, 1): ‫ביבלת‬
‫( הצומחת בעוקץ האף‬On warts growing on the end of the nose).
‫ = ערקה‬Arab. ‫علق‬: ‘leeches’; cf. II:97 (SP fol. 231b; SL 675, 2–3): ‫הערקה‬
‫( תורגל ברוב הענינים באברים אשר לא תתכן‬Leeches are mostly used on those
parts of the body to which application of cupping-vessels is impossible).
‫ ערקה‬is a non-attested Hebrew term coined after the Aramaic ‫ערקא‬
‘leech’; cf. SDA 883.
‫ = פדלקון‬Arab. ‫‘ محقن‬clyster’; cf. II:83 (SP fol. 223b; SL 521, 3): ‫ראוי לעשות‬
‫( הדלקון מכסף או מנחשת נתך‬A clyster may be made of silver or of cast
bronze);71 the term features often in the combination ‫ עשית הפדלקון‬for
Arab. ‫ ;حقن‬cf. II:59 (SP fol. 202b; SL 407,1): ‫באיכות עשית הפדלקון לכיס‬
‫( מקוה המים‬on the manner of irrigating the bladder). The term ‫פדלקון‬
which could not be identified features in SG Pe 36 as a synonym for
Arab. ‫( حقنة‬clyster) and Romance ‫ ;קלשטרי‬i.e. O.Occ. or O.Cat. clisteri
for ‘clyster’. N translates Arab. ‫ حقنة‬as ‫ חוקן‬and Z as ‫ =( קרישטרי‬O.Occ. or
O.Cat. cristeri, crestiri, cresteri and cristiri). M translates the Arab. ‫الحقن‬
‫ الحادّة‬as ‫( קלוחים חדים‬BIZ 13:5).
‫פדלקן‬: ‫ = לפדלקן‬Arab. ‫‘ حقن‬to irrigate’; cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583,
14–15): ‫ואחר לקחת ממנו כפי הצורך ולטרפו במים ודבש ולפדלקן בו המחבוא‬
(Then take as much as you need and dilute it with water and honey, and
with this irrigate the sinus). ‫ פדלקן‬could not be identified.
‫ פטר‬:‫ = הפטיר‬Arab. ‫‘ خلّص‬to free’; cf. II:94 (SP fol. 228b; SL 619, 106–
9):‫ואם יהיו לו אזנים ונאחז בהם ראוי להפטיר הבשר המתעכב בהם מכל צד בכל‬
‫ערמה שתתכן או להשתדל אם אין יכולת להפטיר הבשר לשבור האזנים ולפתול אותם‬
‫( עד שיפטרו‬And if it [i.e. the arrow] have two barbs by which it is held,
free them from the adherent flesh all round, in any way you can; if you
cannot free the tissues, try skillfully to break off the two barbs and twist
them about until the arrow comes free). Hebrew ‫ הפטיר‬is not attested in
this sense in the current dictionaries; cf. JD 1157: 1. to discard; 2. to
dismiss, adjourn a meeting; 3. to read the Haftarah.
‫ = פיתקא‬Arab. ‫فتوق‬: ‘hernia’; cf. I:45 (SP fol. fol. 202b; SL135, 1): ‫בכוית‬
‫( הפיתקא‬On the cauterization of hernia). ‫ פיתקא‬is Syriac for ‘rupture;
hernia’ (cf. BLS 618). N (MA 9:123) and M (MZ fol. 86a) translate
the Arabic term as ‫בקיעה‬, and Z as ‫טוּרא‬ ַ ‫( בקיעה בלטין ְק ְר ַפ‬MA 9:123);
cf. SG Pe 48; see as well entries ‫ אשך‬and ‫ ֶבּ ֶתק‬.
71
Cf. SL: ‘A clyster may be made of silver or Chinese alloy or of cast or ham-
mered bronze’.
89
‫ = ֶפּ ַלח‬Arab. ‫شقاق‬: ‘cleft; fissure’; cf. I:18 (SP fol. 205a; SL 61, 1–8): ‫שער‬
‫ יתחדש הרבה בשפה סדיקה תקרא השער וכל שכן בשפתי‬.‫יח‘ בכוית פלחי השפתים‬
‫ כשירפאו אלה הפלחים בסמים במה שזכרתי במאמר החלוקה ולא תצליח‬.‫הנערים‬
‫הרפואה ולא תשכיל ראוי לחמם מכוה קטן סכיני על זאת הצורה ולהיות גוף המכוה על‬
‫דקות הסכין ואחר כך לחממו מהרה ולכוות בו הפלח עד שתגיע הכויה אל עומקו ואחר‬
‫( כך לרפאו בקירוטי עד שיבריא‬Chapter eighteen. On cauterization of hare
lip. There often occur fissures in the lip which are given the name ‘hairs’;
they are particularly common in the lips of boys. When you ineffectually
treated these clefts with those things that we have mentioned in their
section, then heat a small edged cautery of this shape. The hollow should
be as sharp as a knife. Then quickly place it, hot, right on the fissure till
the burning has reached the depth of the lip. Then treat with wax plaster
till healed). The plural ‫ פלחים‬features for Arab. ‫ شقوق‬in the sense of ‘inci-
sions’ in, for instance, II:62 (SP fol. 219b; SL 429, 41). Hebrew ‫ֶפּ ַלח‬
features in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘segment, slice, millstone’
(JD 1178), while the plural ‫ פלחים‬is attested in Maimonides, Mishneh
Torah, Ma}akhalot Asurot 9:19 for ‘tears’ in unclean birds (cf. BM 4944).
M (MZ fol. 87a) translates Arab. ‫ شقاق‬as ‫בקיעה‬. N translates Arab. ‫شَ ٌّق‬
(incision) as ‫ שסוע‬and Z as ‫( הקזה‬MA 24:47).
‫ פלח‬:‫ = פלחי השפתים‬Arab. ‫شقاق الشفة‬: ‘hare lip’; cf. previous entry. The
Hebrew term is not attested in secondary literature. Masie has ‫שפה סדוקה‬
or ‫( שפת ארנב‬MD 338); the modern Hebrew term is ‫( שפה שסועה‬AD 75).
‫ פלך‬:‫ = פלך הארכובה‬Arab. ‫فلكة الركبة‬: ‘the patella of the knee’; cf. III:15
(SP fol. 235b; SL 761, 2):‫פלף הארכובה לא יקרה בו שבר אלא על המעט‬
(You should know that the patella is rarely fractured). ‫ פלך הארכובה‬is
not attested in secondary literature; we do find, however ‫( פיקה‬Tosefta
Ohalot 1:6; cf. Low LXXI, s.v. ‫ )פיקא‬and ‫ ;עין הארכובה‬cf. MD 551;
RS 26.
‫ פרונקא‬:‫( פרונקות‬Aram.: ‫ = )פרונקאות‬Arab. ‫خرق‬: ‘cloth’ (see L 729, s.v. ‫خرقة‬: ‘a
piece torn off, a rag, a ragged, patched, garment’); cf. II:10 (SP fol. 210b;
SL 209, 17; 211, 1):‫ואם לא יראה השרנאק בתחלת הביקוע ראוי להוסיף בביקוע‬
‫מעט בנחת עד שיבלוט ואחר למשכו כמו שאמרתי ולטבול אחרי כן פרונקות בחומץ‬
‫( ומים ולתתם על המקום ולהדקו בכלונסה‬If you do not see the hydatid at the
first incision, you must gently cut a little deeper, till it comes forth, then
draw it out as described. Then dip some cloth in vinegar and water,
apply it to the place and bind it up with pads). The Aramaic term ‫פרונקא‬
means ‘rag’ (SDA 929) and features in Rabbinic literature. cf. SG Pe 37.
N translates the Arabic ‫ خرق‬as ‫ בגדים‬and Z as ‫( חתיכות בגד‬MA 23:33).
‫ פרק‬:‫פרק היד‬: See ‫פרק קנה הזרוע הסמוך ליד‬.
-: ‫ = פרק המרפק‬Arab. ‫عضد‬: ‘humerus’; cf. III:11 (SP 235a; SL 741, 1–2):
‫ זה הפרק הוא בין המרפק אל ראש הכתף‬.‫( שער י“א בחבוש שבר המרפק‬Chapter
eleven. On setting a fracture of the humerus. The humerus is what
lies between the elbow and the head of the scapula). The Hebrew term,
literally meaning ‘the joint of the elbow’, does not feature in the sense
of ‘humerus’ in the current dictionaries. Both N and Z translate the
Arab. ‫ عضد‬as ‫( זרוע‬MA 15:62).
90
-: ‫ = פרק קנה הזרוע הסמוך ליד‬Arab. ‫معصم‬: ‘wrist’; cf. III:28 (SP fol. 237b;
SL 809, 1): ‫( שער כ“ח ברפואת שמיטת פרק קנה הזרוע הסמוך ליד‬On the treat-
ment of a dislocation of the wrist). Another translation for the same
Arab. term is ‫ ;פרק היד‬cf. III:28 (SP fol. 237b; SL 809, 2): ‫ישמט על הרב‬
‫( פרק היד והשבת שמיטתו קלה בחלוף יתר הפרקים‬The carpus of the hand is
often dislocated. Unlike other joints the reduction is easy). Both Hebrew
terms do not feature in the current dictionaries. Masie (MD 781) men-
tions ‫ שורש היד‬or ‫ רסג היד‬featuring in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew trans-
lation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb; for ‫ רסג‬see as well SR 25, 27.
‫ צבות‬:‫( צבות חמה‬fol. 209b) = ‫ورم حا ّر‬: ‘effusion, lit. hot swelling’; cf. II:4 (SP
209b; SL 187, 25–6): ‫ולשית עליו כלונסה טבולה ביין ושמן או חומץ ויין כדי שלא‬
‫( תתחדש צבות חמה‬Over all put a pad soaked in wine and oil, or vinegar
and oil, lest an effusion occur). The Arabic term is also translated as
‘abscess’ (II:6; SP fol. 209b; SL 193, 19). The Hebrew term ‫ צבות‬is
attested in medieval literature, cf. BM 5357. In addition to ‫צבות חמה‬
Shem Tov translates the Arabic as ‫( צמח חם‬SP fol. 210b; SL 211, 22)
N translates the Arabic ‫ ورم حا ّر‬as ‫ מורסא חמה‬and Z has ‫מורסה חמה‬
(MA passim); M has the same reading as N: ‫( מורסא חמה‬MZ fol. 139a).
See as well entry ‫ צמח‬below.
‫ = צלעות‬Arab. ‫عرج‬: ‘to be lame’; cf. IV:14 (SP fol. 235bb; SL 759, 34–5): ‫ואם‬
‫יחובש אחד מהם מבלי התחבר אליו השוק האחר על כל פנים יקרה לבעליו צלעות‬
‫( מתמיד‬whereas if the [femur] is set alone without binding the leg to it the
patient will inevitably be lame for always). Hebrew ‫צלעות‬, derived from
‫‘ צלע‬to limp’ (cf. BM 5501–2), is not attested in the current dictionaries.
‫ = צמח‬Arab. ‫خراج‬: ‘abscess’; cf. II:45 (SP 216a; SL 3–5): ‫ואומר כי הצמח יהיה‬
‫עמו חמימות וקדחת ומכאובים מקיפים אותו מפה ומפה עד שתשקוט רתיחת המותר‬
‫( ויגמר העפוש ואז תשקוט הקדחת והחמימות‬The abscess will be accompanied
by heat and fever and fearsome pain, until the boiling-up of the superflu-
ous matter settles down and the suppurating process is completed: then
the fever and intensity will subside). Hebrew ‫ צמח‬means 1. ‘growth,
sprout, plant’, and 2. ‘morbid growth, swelling, ulcer, eruption’ (JD 1287;
Low LXXIV s.v. ‫)צמחים‬. In the latter sense the term features in medieval
medical literature (cf. BM 5522); cf. SG Zade 1. The Arabic term ‫ خراج‬is
translated by N as ‫נגע‬,‫מורסה‬,‫ יציאה‬and by Z as ‫ יציאה‬or ‫( צמח‬MA passim),
and by M as ‫( יציאה‬BIZ 23:2).
-: ‫ = צמח חזירי‬Arab. ‫ورم خنزيري‬: ‘scrofulous tumor’; cf. Introduction
SP fol. 201b; (SL 5, 19–21): ‫וזה שראיתי רופא איש בער לא ידע וכסיל לא יבין‬
‫את זאת שבקע על צמח חזירי בצואר אשה וחתך בבערותו קצת ורידי הצואר והוא לא‬
‫( ידע והרעיף דם האשה עד שנפלה בין ידיו ומתה‬I saw an ignorant doctor incise
a scrofulous tumour in a woman’s neck; and he cut certain arteries in
the neck so that the woman bled until she fell dead before him). For ‫צמח‬
see previous entry; ‫‘ חזירי‬scrofulous’ is a non-attested adjective derived
from ‫‘ חזירים‬scrofula’, cf. BM 1485.
-: ‫צמח חם‬: cf. the entry ‫צבות‬.
‫ = צילחתא‬Arab. ‫شقيقة‬: ‘migraine’; cf. I:3 (SP fol. 203b; SL 23,1): ‫השער‬
‫( השלישי בכוית הצילחתא החדשה‬Chapter three: On the cauterization of
91
non-chronic migraine). Aramaic ‫ צילחתא‬means ‘hemicrania, migraine’

(SDA 960). N translates the Arab. ‫ شقيقة‬as ‫פלוח הראש‬, Z as ‫מגראניאה‬
(MA 6:35); cf. SG Zade 15.
‫ = צפורן‬Arab. ‫ظفرة‬: ‘ungula, i.e. pterygium’; cf. II:16 (SP fol. 211a; SL 231,
2–3): ‫הצפורן תהיה על שני מינים עצביית דומה לקרום דק או בלתי עצביית דומה‬
‫( ללחות קפוי לבן‬Ungula occurs in two forms: either the nervous, which
resembles a fine hard membrane; or the non-nervous, like a white
congealed humidity). The Hebrew term is attested by Ben Yehuda
(BM 5609; cf. KS 114) in medieval medical literature, e.g. in Nathan
ha-Me}ati’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, and recurs
in his translation of Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms (15.24; 23.70);
similarly in Z.
‫ קבס‬:‫ = נִ ְק ָבּס‬Arab. ‫( المتخوم‬Mss ABM) ‘someone suffering from indigestion’;
cf. II:95 (SP fol. 230a; SL 641, 157–8): ‫ואין ראוי להקיז הנקבס עד סור‬
‫( הקבסתו‬No one suffering from indigestion should be venesected until
the indigestion is over [trans. Bos]). Hebrew ‫נקבס‬, i.e. Part. Nif äl from
the root ‫( קבס‬cf. BM 5707) is not attested in the current dictionaries.
The term ‫הקבסתו‬, from ‫הקבסות‬, is also not attested. N translates Arab.
‫ المتخوم‬as ‫ בעל הקבסא‬and Z as ‫( הממולא‬MA 9:48).
‫ קיבה‬:‫ = קיבת האשה‬Arab. ‫فرج المرأة‬: ‘female pudenda’; cf. III:18; SP 236a;
SL 771, 1): ‫( שער י“ח בשבר קיבת האשה ועצם הזקן התחתון ואמת האיש‬Chapter
eighteen. On fracture of the female pudenda and of the pubic bone and
of the male organ). The Hebrew term is a synonym featuring in Rabbinic
literature for ‫‘ נקבות האשה‬the female genitals’ (JD 930). The Arabic term
is translated by N as ‫ ערוה‬and by Z as ‫פי הרחם‬/‫( ערוה‬MA 3:105; 16:18;
23:18, 96) and by M (MZ fol. 86a) as ‫כלי הערוה‬.
‫ קילור‬:‫ = קילורים‬Arab. ‫شيافات‬: ‘eye-lotions’; cf. II:15 (SP 211a; SL 229, 9–12):
‫ולהפריד בין העפעף והעין בפתילה של פשתן ולשית ממעלה על העין ספוג טבול‬
‫( בחלבוני בצים ואחר שלשה ימים ראוי להרגיל הקילורים המגלידים עד שיבריא‬Then
separate between the eye and the lid with a linen pad and put over the
eye a piece of wool moistened with white of egg; and after the third day
employ healing eye-lotions till it is better). Hebrew ‫ קילור‬means ‘eye-
salve, collyrium’ and is attested in Rabbinic literature (JD 1360; Low
LXXVII). See SG Qof 22.
‫ קליפה‬:‫ = קליפות‬Arab. ‫خشكريشة‬: ‘eschar’ (see UW 270, s.v. êsxára: ‘Wund-
schorf, Schorf’); cf. I:1 (fol. 208a; SL 155, 6–7): ‫ואחרי כן להשהותו שלשה‬
‫ימים ואחר לתת על המקומות הנכוים גפרית שחוק עם שמן זית עד שינתקו הקליפות‬
‫( כלן‬Then let be for three days, applying to the cauterized site sulphur
beaten up with oil, until the whole eschar comes away). The Hebrew
term is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries. N transcribes
the Arabic as ‫ ;כשכרישה‬Z describes it as ‫המקום בעצמו אשר שם כעין סובין‬
(MA 15:9), and M translates it as ‫( סנפירות‬BIZ 22:1).
‫ קרן‬:‫ = קרני הראש‬Arab. ‫قرنا الرأس‬: ‘the frontal prominences’ (see DKT 825,
s.v. ‫قرن الرأس‬: ‘Corne de la tête. Bosse frontale’); cf. I:2 (SP fol. 203a–b;
SL 21,11–12): ‫ועתיד אני לזכור עוד זאת הכויה במקומה וראוי להיות המכוה‬
‫שמכ>וים< בו קרני הראש ואחוריו יותר דק מן המכוה שמכוים בה אמצע הראש‬
92
(I shall describe this cauterization in its own place. The cautery for the
frontal prominences and occiput must be more slender than that for the
middle part). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries.
-: ‫ קרני הרחם‬or ‫ = קרנים‬Arab. ‫بظر‬: ‘clitoris’ (see DKT 815); cf. II:71
(SP fol. 220b; SL 457, 1–2): ‫שער ע“א בחתוך קרני הרחם הנקרא בלשונם אל‬
‫ הקרנים לפעמים יוסיף שעורם על המנהג הטבעי עד‬.‫בטר ובשר הבולט בקיבות הנשים‬
‫( שוב הרחם מכוער המראה‬Chapter seventy-one. On cutting the clitoris and
fleshy growths in the female genitalia. The clitoris may grow in size
above the order of nature so that it gets a horrible deformed appearance).
The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries.
‫ קשיש‬:‫ = קשישים‬Arab. ‫جبائر‬: ‘splints’. Cf. entry ‫ כלונס‬above. The Hebrew
term is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘splints put about
a fracture’ (JD 1431). See SG Quf 28. N translates the Arab. ‫ جبائر‬as
‫ חבישות‬and Z as ‫( דבקות‬MA 15:69).
‫ = קשקש‬Arab. ‫جبيرة‬: ‘splint’: cf. I:4 (SP fol. 234a; SL 717, 13–14): ‫ואחר לתת‬
‫על הלחי הנשבר הקירוטי ואחר כך לתת עליו בגד גס ולתת על הבגד קשקש גדול עשוי‬
‫( בחכמה‬then put wax upon the fractured mandible, and upon that a
double72 dressing, and upon the dressing a large and strong splint).
Hebrew ‫ קשקש‬is mentioned in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘splint’
(BM 6254). Cf. entry ‫ קשיש‬above.
‫ = ראות‬Arab. ‫ناظر‬: ‘pupil’; cf. II:23 (SP 212a; SL 253, 10–13): ‫וראוי לתת שעור‬
‫הכנסת המקדיח כעין שעור הרוחק אשר יהיה מן הנער אל סוף השחרות והוא עגול‬
‫( העין כי נחשת המקדיח יראה בעצם הראות היטב לזכות הקרום הקרני‬The depth
the needle goes in should measure as the distance from the pupil to the
edge of the iris, which is the corona of the eye; you will clearly see the
metal in the pupil itself because of the transparency of the corneal tunic).
The Hebrew term does not feature in this sense in the current dictionar-
ies. N translates the Arabic as ‫ רואה‬and Z as ‫( שומר‬MA 15.30). Cf. the
entry ‫ נער‬above.
‫ ראש‬:‫ = ראש העין‬Arab. ‫مأق العين‬: ‘[inner] angle of the eye’ (see MH 201);
cf. I:17 (SP fol. 201b; SL 57,1): ‫י“ז בכוית הגרגתני אשר יקרה בראש העין‬
(Chapter seventeen. On cauterization of a fistula in the angle of the eye).
The same Hebrew term features in SG Resh 23 for the Arabic ‫النأق الأكبر‬,
i.e. ‘the inner angle of the eye’. See as well the entry ‫ זנב העין‬above.
-: ‫ = ראשי הירכים‬Arab. ‫أرب ّية‬: ‘groin’; cf. II:40 (SP fol. 215a; SL 323, 33–4):
‫ויש מהם מה שצריך לבקעו בקוע בעל שלש זויות >ומה שצריך< לחתוך ממנו כתבנית‬
‫( עלה ההדס כמו צמח ראשי הירכים‬And there are some [i.e. swellings] that
should be incised triangularly; and others with an incision of myrtle-leaf
form; e.g. a tumour on the groin). The Hebrew term is a non-attested
variant to ‫ ;עיקרי הירכים‬see above s.v. ‫עקר‬.
‫ = רבידא‬Arab. ‫محجمة‬: ‘cupping-vessel’; cf. III:8 (SP fol. 234b; SL 731, 15):
‫( ואמרו קצתם שראוי לתת על המקום רבידא‬Some of them said a cupping ves-
sel should be applied to the place). ‫ רבידא‬is attested as ‫ריבדא‬, meaning
‘incision, scratch’ (JD 1439, SDA 1072) and features e.g. in bShab 129a
72
‘double dressing’: translated after SL ‫ ;خرقة مثن ّية‬Shem Tov has ‘coarse cloth’.
93
as: ‫‘ ריבדא דכוסילתא‬incision of a scalpel’. As a plural to ‫ רבידא‬Shem Tov

uses the Hebrew term ‫ ;רבידות‬cf. II:96 (SP fol. 230b; SL 657, 2–3):
‫( הרבידות נעשות מן הקרנות ומן העצים ומן הנחשת ומן הזכוכית‬Cupping-vessels
are made of horn, wood, bronze, or glass). N translates the Arab. ‫محاجم‬
as ‫קרני המציצה‬, Z as ‫( כוסות‬MA 3:85,106; 12:37,46; 16:11, 12), and M
as ‫( כלי המציצה‬MZ fol. 90a). Cf. SG Resh 20.
‫ = רגיל‬Arab. ‫حاذق‬: ‘having skill’, i.e. skilled; cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 561,
81–2): ‫ורפאוהו רבים מן הרופאים קרוב משתי שנים ולא היה בהם רגיל במלאכת היד‬
(A whole host of doctors had been treating it for a matter of two years,
not one of whom had any skill in the medical art). Hebrew ‫ רגיל‬is only
attested in the current dictionaries in the sense of ‘accustomed to, com-
mon, regular’; cf. BM 6409–11.
‫ רגל‬:‫ = הרגיל‬Arab. ‫استعمل‬: ‘to apply’; cf. I:3 (SP fol. 203b; SL 23, 2–4):
‫כשיתחדש בחצי הראש כאב חזק נמשך אל העין ראוי להריק החולה בסמים המנקים‬
‫( הראש ולהרגיל יתר הרפואות אשר זכרתי בחלוקות החליים‬When there occurs
strong73 pain in one side of the head and the pain extends to the eye;
one74 should clear the head of the patient with purging drugs and75 to
apply the other treatment that I have mentioned in the section on dis-
eases). The Hebrew term does not feature in this sense in the current
dictionaries. M translates the Arabic ‫ استعمل‬as ‫ עשה‬or ‫( לקח‬BMR 3:5,
7, 8), while N translates the Arabic ‫ استعمال‬as ‫עשיה‬, and Z as ‫ עשיה‬or ‫עשות‬
(MA 16:18, 30; 17:8).
‫ ִרסּוּק‬:‫ = ריסוק‬I. Arab. ‫وثء‬: ‘contusion’; cf. I:46 (SP fol. 207b; SL 141, 1):
‫( שער מו‘ בכוית הריסוק‬Chapter forty-six. On cauterization for contusion);
II. Arab. ‫رض‬
ّ : ‘bruising’; cf. II:89 (SP fol. 227a; SL 591, 19–593, 20):
‫ואם תקרה אל הצפורן מכה או ריסוק ונתחדש בה כאב חזק ראוי להקיז החולה בתחלה‬
(If a laceration or bruising happen to the nail, with violent pain, you
should first bleed the patient). Hebrew ‫ ִרסּוּק‬is attested in Rabbinic lit-
erature in the sense of ‘crushing, lesion’ and as ‫ ריסוקי איברים‬in the sense
of ‘lesion of vital organs, internal injury’ (JD 1475; BM 6626).
‫ = ריקות‬Arab. ‫فضاء‬: ‘perineum’ (see DKT 824); cf. II:70 (SP fol. 220b;
SL 455, 1–4): ‫ האנדרוגינוס יהיה בזכרים על שני‬.‫שער ע‘ ברפואת האנדרוגירוס‬
‫מינים האחד מהם שיראה במה שימשך אל הריקות או בעור הבצים במה שיש בין‬
‫( הבצים תבנית דומה לקיבת אשה יש בו שער‬Chapter seventy. On the treat-
ment of the hermaphrodite. There are two kinds of male hermaphrodite:
one has the appearance as of female pudenda with hair in the region of
the perineum; the other has the same in the skin of the scrotum between
the testes). Hebrew ‫ ריקות‬is only attested in medieval literature in the
sense of ‘vacuum’; cf. BM 6581. ‫ ריקות‬as ‘perineum’ is a semantic bor-
rowing from Arab. ‫فضاء‬. In addition to ‫ ריקות‬Shem Tov uses ‫בית הפרשות‬
to render the Arabic ‫ ;فضاء‬see above.
73
‘strong pain’: ‘pain with headache’ SL.
74
‘one should clear the head of the patient’: ‘and the patient has cleared his
head’ SL.
75
‘and to apply’: ‘and there has been applied’ SL.
94
‫ רעיפה‬:‫ = רעיפת הדם‬Arab. ‫نزف‬: ‘haemorrhage’; cf. II:55 (SP fol. 217b;
SL 391, 2–3): ‫ולהשמר בעת המלאכה מרעיפת הדם שהיא תקרה הרבה ואם תקרה‬
‫( ראוי להרגיל מה שיפסיקנו ולרפא החבורה עד שתבריא‬And beware, in your
operating, of haemorrhage, which often happens; meet it with styptics
and dress the wound until it heals). The Hebrew term is attested subse-
quently in medieval medical literature, a.o. in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s trans-
lation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb (cf. BM 6654). The same
Arabic term is translated by N a.o. as ‫ הזלת הדם‬and by Z as ‫הגרת הדם‬
(MA 15:13; 16:7, 15).
‫ רתע‬:‫ = הרתיע לאחור‬Arab. ‫ردع‬: ‘to suppress’; cf. II:87 (SP fol. 226b; SL 579,
37–8): ‫והשתדלתי להרתיע לאחור המותר ההוא במה שנתתי על היד מן הסמים אחר‬
‫( הרקת הגוף ולא נרתע לאחור המותר‬and I attempted to suppress the superflu-
ity with remedies that I applied to the hand, after purging his body, but
the superfluity was not to be suppressed). While Hebrew ‫ נרתע‬is not
attested in this sense in the current dictionaries, ‫ הרתיע‬is attested in a
medical context in BM 6771, as featuring in N (MA 3:110). Z (ibid.)
translates the Arab. ‫ ردع‬as ‫הזיר‬, and M (BIZ 14:3) translates ‫الأدوية التي‬
‫( تردع‬repelling remedies) as ‫הרפואות אשר ישככו‬.
‫ = שבבים‬Arab. ‫شظايا‬: ‘fragments’; cf. II:84 (SP fol. 224b; SL 535, 88–9): ‫ואם‬
‫( עשתה רושם בעצם וחתכה ממנו שבבים‬But if there has also been injury to
the bone, cutting out fragments from it…). Hebrew ‫ שבבים‬means ‘splin-
ters’; cf. KB 1382; BM 6820–1. It is not attested in medical literature.
See as well SG Shin 30. For singular Arab. ‫ شظية‬Shem Tov uses the
Aramaic term ‫( שיבא‬see below).
‫ שבלת‬:‫ = שבולת הזקן‬Arab. ‫ذقن‬: ‘chin’; cf. II:96 (SP fol. 231a; SL 661,
43):‫ונתינת הרבידות מתחת שבולת הזקן מועילות מן השחין הדק אשר בפה הנקרא‬
‫( בלשונם אל קלאע‬The application of cupping under the chin helps against
ulcers in the mouth). Hebrew ‫ שבולת הזקן‬is attested in BM 6849 in the
sense of ‘a tuft of beard hair’, and in the sense of ‘chin’ in the Sefer ha-
Îinnukh which was compiled at the end of the thirteenth century.76
‫ שדף‬:‫ = השתדף‬Arab. ‫ذبل‬: ‘to wither’; cf. II:64 (SP fol. 220a; SL 439, 15–17):
‫ואם תקרה הזמורה לכל הכיסים ראוי להוציא אחד מן הבצים מן הכיסים פן תעדר‬
‫( הביצה מזון מפני חתוך הכיסים ותשתדף ולא יהיה בה תועלת‬But if all the vessels
are varicose then you will have to remove one testicle with its vessels lest
the testicle be deprived of nourishment through cutting into the vessels;
for it will wither and be of no use). Hebrew ‫ השתדף‬is not attested in
the sense of ‘to wither’ in a medical context in the current dictionaries.
N translates the Arabic ‫‘ ذبل‬to suffer from marasmus’ as ‫ הצטמק‬and Z as
‫( ניתך ויבש‬MA 25:43).
‫ שחין‬:‫ = השחין הדק‬Arab. ‫بثور‬: ‘pustules’; cf. I:55 (SP fol. 208b; SL 161, 2–3):
‫( יתחדש בגוף שחין דק מכוער מחמרים קרים עבים נפסדים‬Foul pustules some-
times arise in the body, caused by heavy corrupt frigid matter). Hebrew
‫( השחין הדק‬lit. a thin ulcer) is not attested in the current dictionaries.
76
See Encyclopedia Judaica, vol. 7, cols. 1126–7, entry ‘Ha-Îinnukh’ (Shlomo
Zalman Havlin).
95
Arabic ‫ بثر‬is translated by N as ‫ צמח‬while Z transcribes it as ‫בתר‬

(MA 6:24). M translates it as ‫( שחין‬BIZ 8:4) and as ‫( אבעבעות‬BIZ 22:1).
‫ = שחפת‬Arab. ‫ل‬ ّ ‫س‬: ‘wasting’; cf. I:24 (SP fol. 205b; SL 75, 2–3): ‫כשיהיה‬
‫( השעול וחלי הריאה מלחויות קרות ולא תהיה אל החולה קדחת ולא שחפת‬When
the cough and pulmonary disease arise from cold humidities and the
patient suffers from no fever or wasting but the disease is chronic). The
Hebrew term is attested in the sense of ‘consumption’ in the Bible
(KB 1463) and medieval medical literature (Shabbetai Donnolo); cf.
BM 7028. N translates the Arabic ‫ س ّل‬as ‫ שדפון‬or ‫ הסל הוא טישי‬and Z as
‫ טיציש‬or ‫( טישיש‬phtysis) (MA 6:51; 8:58; 22:44, 70; 23:17); M has the
same term as N, namely ‫( שדפון‬MZ fol. 88a). Cf. SG Shin 36.
‫ = שטות‬Arab. ‫‘ مالنخوليا‬melancholy’; cf. I:11 (SP fol. 204a; SL 41, 1–3): ‫שער‬
‫ כשתהיה סבתו לחויות נפסדות ולחה לבנה עבה ראוי לכוותו הכויות‬.‫י “א בכוית השטות‬
‫( אשר זכרתי בבעל הפלג‬Chapter eleven. On cauterization for melancholy.
When the cause of the melancholy be corrupt humours and a thick
phlegm, burn him with those cauterizations mentioned in the case of the
paralytic). Hebrew ‫ שטות‬is attested in the sense of ‘madness; folly’ in
Rabbinic literature (JD 1553), and in medieval medical literature it is
used for the Arabic ‫‘ جنون‬madness; insanity’ by both N and Z (MA 6:3,
32; 16:38). See SG Shin 31.
‫ שטח‬:‫ = השטיח‬Arab. ‫‘ طلى‬to spread’; cf. I:49 (SP fol. 208a; SL 149, 4–6):
‫ואחרי כן לרפאתה בקמח עדשים עם שמן ורד ועלי לשון טלה ודם יונה ודם תחמס מכל‬
‫אחד חלק שוה ולערב את הכל ולהשטיחם על בגד ולתתו על המקום עד שיבריא‬
(Then treat [i.e. the leprosy] with lentil flour, oil of roses, arnoglossa leaves,
and pigeons’ or swallows’ blood, of each equal parts mixed all together
and spread on lint; let this stick to the place till healed). The same Hebrew
term is used for Arabic ‫‘ بسط‬to spread’; cf. IV: 9 (SP fol. 238b; SL 735,
11–12): ‫ואותות השמיטה הנשמטת לפנים שהחולה ישטיח שוקו שטיחה גמורה אלא‬
‫( שלא יוכל לקפלה מבלי כאב בארכובה‬The sign77 of an anterior dislocation
[of the hip] is that the patient can stretch his leg fully but cannot flex it
without feeling pain in the knee). Hebrew ‫ השטיח‬is not attested in a
medical context in secondary literature; cf. BM 7053 and Ma}agarim,
s.v. ‫שטח‬. Arab. ‫ طلى‬is translated by N as ‫ רטה‬or ‫ שם‬and by Z as ‫משח‬
(cf. MA 8:12; 9:20; 22:21, 24, 26, 70), and by M as ‫( טח‬BIZ 7:1), ‫משח‬
(BIZ 13:1), or ‫( חבש‬BIZ 13.8).
‫ = שיבא‬Arab. ‫‘ شظية‬splinter’; cf. III:6 (SP fol. 234b; SL 727, 15–16): ‫ואם‬
‫( יפרד מן העצם ִש ַיבּא ותהיה עוקצת מתחת העור ראוי לבקע עליה ולהסירה‬If a
splinter of bone protrudes and starts to prick under the skin, cut down
upon it and remove it). Aramaic ‫ שיבא‬is attested in Rabbinic literature
in the sense of ‘chip’ (cf. SDA 1131). For plural Arab. ‫ شظايا‬Shem Tov
uses ‫ ;שבבים‬see above.
‫ = שמיטה‬I. Arab. ‫‘ خَ ْلع‬dislocation’; cf. I:40 (SP fol. 206b; SL 113, 1–4): ‫שער‬
‫ לפעמים תשתפכנה לחויות עבות אל כף הירך ותהיינה סבה‬.‫מ‘ בכוית שמיטת הירך‬
‫ ואות השמיטה אורך השוק האחד על חברו כשיוקש אחד אל אחר‬.‫לצאתו ממקומו‬
77
‘sign’; lit. ‘signs’; cf. Arab. ‫علامة‬.
96
(Chapter forty. On cauterization of a dislocated hip. Sometimes harm-

ful humidities reach the hip joint and result in its coming out of place.
The symptom of this is that one leg is longer than the other when one
is measured against the other); II. ّ‫( فك‬SL 787,1; 789,1; 793,1; 795,1,
etc.): ‘dislocation’; cf. III:23 (SP fol. 237a; SL 787, 2): ‫השמיטה הוא צאת‬
‫( פרק מן הפרקים ממקומו‬A dislocation is a displacement of any of the
joints from its place). The Hebrew term features a.o. in Moses ibn
Tibbon’s ‫( חרוזי אבן סינא‬BM 7238), i.e. the Hebrew translation of
Ibn Sina’s Ürguza fi al-†ibb. N translates the Arabic ‫ خَ ْلع‬as ‫שמט‬, Z as
‫( השמטה‬MA 15:46), and M as ‫( הקעה‬BIZ 15:1). Arabic ّ‫ فك‬is translated
by M as ‫( רסוק‬BIZ 25:11).
‫ = שמיר‬I. Arab. ‫‘ الحديد الهندي‬Indian iron’; cf. II:19 (SP fol. 211b; SL 243,
7): ‫[ ויקרא‬illustration] ‫וכשיתגלה ויראה בו הפסד או שחרות ראוי לגרדו בכלי כזה‬
‫ הראש ראוי לעשותו משמיר‬78‫( העץ‬When bone is reached and you see
necrosis or blackness, scrape it with an instrument like this [illustration].
It is called ‘rough-head’79 and is made of Indian iron). The biblical
Hebrew ‫ שמיר‬is traditionally interpreted as a diamond, cf. KB 1562–3.
However, there may have been an ancient tradition related to the Latin
translation of the term as ‘adamas’, which can mean both diamond and
steel, according to which this term does not refer to a mineral but to a
metal, possibly steel; cf. Löw, Fauna und Mineralien der Juden, 254–6.80
‫ שקוי‬:‫ = השקוי הנאדי‬Arab. ‫الاستسقاء الزقّي‬: ‘ascites’; cf I:32 (SP fol. 206a;
SL 95, 2): ‫( הכויה ראויה בשקוי הנאדי בלבד‬The cautery is particularly effec-
tive in ascites). N translates the Arabic ‫ استسقاء النوع الزقّي‬as ‫השקוי הנואדי‬
and ‫ השקוי הנודיי‬and Z as ‫( ההדרוקן הנאדי‬MA 4:41; 15:36). Ben Yehuda
(BM 7422) mentions ‫ השקוי הנאדי‬as featuring in the Perush Ibn Rushd {al
Îaruzei Ibn Sina (Ibn Rushd’s commentary on Ibn Sina’s Ürguza in the
Hebrew translation prepared by Solomon Ibn Ayyub in the year 1261).
See as well SG Shin 32, s.v. ‫שקוי‬.
‫ = שקיעה‬I. Arab. ‫صر‬ ْ ‫ َع‬: ‘squeezing’; cf II:59 (SP fol. 218b; SL 409, 27–8):
‫ולעשות בה כמו שנעשה בכיס מקוה המים משקיעת היד עד שיגיע הלחות אל הכיס‬
(Then tie it to the instrument and do with it as with the [camel’s]
bladder, squeezing until the fluid reaches the bladder of the patient);
II. Arab. ‫‘ َك ْبس‬pressing’; cf. II:63 (SP fol. 219b; SL 435, 11–12): ‫אמנם‬
‫אשר יהיה מצבות הגידים הנחים לא יתפזר ממנו מאומה בעת שקיעת האצבע עליו‬
(The sort arising from a swelling of the vein will not disperse when
you press upon it with your fingers); III. Arab. ‫‘ شَ ًّد‬to apply pressure’;
cf. II:59 (SP fol. 218b; SL 409, 22–3: ‫ולהשקיע הכיס ביד על הלחות שקיעה‬
‫( בחכמה עד שירגיש החולה שהלחות ההוא כבר הגיע אל הכיס‬Then apply strong
pressure to the bladder containing the fluid until the patient can feel
the fluid has entered his own bladder); IV. Arab. ‫‘ َغ ْمز‬pressing’; cf. II:95
.SL ‫ الخشنة‬:(‫ העץ )= الخشب‬78

79
Translation based on the Arabic ‫ ;الخشنة الرأس‬the Hebrew has ‘wood-head’.
80
I. Löw, Fauna und Mineralien der Juden, Repr. with an introduction by
A. Schreiber (Hildesheim 1969).
97
(SP fol. 230a; SL 667, 203–4): ‫ויתחדש הרבה צבות ובליטה בעת הקזת הבאסליק‬
‫וראוי אז לתת עליו היד ואם ימצא מתפשט בעת שקיעת היד עליו בידוע שהבליטה ההיא‬
‫( רעה‬Often in section of the basilic vein there occurs tumour and swell-
ing. Put your hand upon it, and if you find that it sinks when pressed
then it is a harmful swelling). IV. Hebrew ‫ שקיעה‬does not feature in these
meanings in the current dictionaries See as well entry ‫שקע‬.
‫ שקע‬:‫ = השקיע‬I. Arab. ‫أمعن‬: ‘to press’; cf II:45 (SP fol. 216a; SL 343, 14–
15): ‫( ואחר להשקיע היד על הצמח כפי גדלו‬then press it in proportionately
to the size of the tumour); II. Arab. ‫‘ كبس‬to exert pressure’; cf. II:52
(SP fol. 217a; SL 377, 8): ‫( וכשיושקע עליו באצבע יתעלם‬And it will disap-
pear on digital pressure); III. Arab. ‫‘ ش ّد‬to apply pressure’; cf. II:59
(SP fol. 218b; SL 409, 22–3: ‫ולהשקיע הכיס ביד על הלחות שקיעה בחכמה עד‬
‫( שירגיש החולה שהלחות ההוא כבר הגיע אל הכיס‬Then apply strong pressure
to the bladder containing the fluid until the patient can feel the fluid has
entered his own bladder); IV. Arab. ‫‘ غمز‬to press’; II:95 (SP fol. 230b;
SL 649, 235–7): ‫ואין ראוי כשיש רצון להתיר הקזת הזרוע להוציא מן הדם פעם‬
‫שנית וכבר נסתם פי הגיד ותקשה יציאת הדם להשקיע עליו בחזקה ביד ולפתול אותו‬
‫( בכח‬If you wish to loosen the arm and let blood a second time and you
find that the opening of the vein is now closed up and the outflow of
blood is difficult, you should not press hard upon it nor twist the arm
violently). Hebrew ‫ שקע‬does not feature in these meanings in the current
dictionaries. See as well entry ‫שקיעה‬.
‫ = תונבא‬Arab. ‫خدر‬: ‘numbness’; cf. I:48 (SP fol. 208a; SL 147, 1): ‫שער מ“ח‬
‫( בכוית התונבא והיא סור חוש אבר או איברין מן הגוף‬Chapter forty-eight.
On the cauterization of numbness, that is the lack of feeling in a part of
the body).81 Aramaic ‫ תונבא‬means ‘stupor, type of spirit; loss of sensation;
numbness’ and features in Rabbinic literature (JD 1654; SDA 1198).
N translates the Arab. ‫ خدر‬as ‫ תרדמת האיברים‬or ‫תרדמת החוש‬, Z as ‫ביטול‬
(MA 7:66; 22:38, 43; 23:22, 23), and M as ‫ תרדמה‬or ‫תרדמת האיברים‬
(BIZ 9:2; 17:2). Cf. SG Tav 15.
‫ תלולית‬:‫ = תלוליות של בשר‬Arab. ‫سلع‬: ‘cysts’; cf. II:42 (SP fol. 215b; SL 333,
4–6): ‫ויהיה אשר יקרה מהם בצואר אחד או רבים ויתילדו קצתם מקצתם וכל חזיר‬
‫מהם יהיה בתוך קרום מיוחד לו כמו שיהיה בתלוליות של בשר וצמחי הראש כמו‬
‫( שזכרתי‬Those [i.e. tumours] occurring in the neck are sometimes single
and sometimes multiple, one arising from another; and each scrofula is
contained in a capsule of its own, like the cysts and tumours of the head
that we have described). Hebrew ‫ תלולית‬is not attested in this sense in
secondary literature, cf. BM 7771, and above s.v. ‫אגודות הבשר‬.
‫ תער‬:‫ = תער הגלבים‬Arab. ‫موسى‬: ‘(razor)’; cf. I:1 (fol. 203b; SL 6–8): ‫וצורת‬
‫הכויה להריק החולה בתחלה בסם משלשל מנקה הראש שלש לילות או ארבע כפי חיוב‬
‫( כחו ושניו ומנהגו ואחר להעביר שער ראשו בתער הגלבים‬The manner of per-
forming this operation [i.e. the single cauterization of the head] is first
to bid the patient open the bowels with an evacuant which will also clear
81
‘that is the lack of feeling in a part of the body’: addition Shem Tov.
98
his head, for three or four nights, according to the strength, age, and
habits of the patient. Then tell him to have his head shaved…). The
Hebrew term features in Ezek. 5:1 (KB 1771). For further attestations
cf. Ma}agarim (a.o.: Sefer ha-Mitswot le-Levi, Leke† Dinim 6:2: ‫תער הגלבים‬
‫)אשר שמו מוס‬.
‫ תפירה‬:‫ = תפירות‬Arab. ‫خياطات‬: ‘sutures’; cf. II:1 (SP fol. 209a; SL 171,
11–173, 17): ‫ואם יהיה הלחות מתחת העצם ואותותיו הראות תפירות הראש‬
‫פתוחות מכל צד והמים נשפכים לתוך הראש כשיוסחטו ביד וזה דבר בלתי נעלם מן‬
‫( הרופא צריך לבקע באמצע הראש שלש בקיעות על זאת הצורה‬But if the humid-
ity is beneath the bone — and the sign of that is that you will see three
sutures of the skull gaping on all sides, the water manifestly yielding
when you press in with your fingers — you should make three incisions
in the middle of the head). The Hebrew term ‫ תפירה‬is only attested in
this sense as modern in AD 158. Vesalius’ Tabulae calls the sutures
‫מחוברים‬, the Fabrica ‫שלבים‬, while the Hebrew translations of Ibn Sina’s
K. al-Qanun have ‫ חוליות‬or ‫ ;שלבים‬cf. SR 38.
Address for correspondence: Gerrit.Bos@web.de
ABBREVIATIONS
AD The Academy of the Hebrew Language. Dictionary of Medical Terms.

English-Hebrew. Hebrew-English. (Jerusalem 1999)
BIR Bar Ilan Responsa Project
BIZ Bos, G., Ibn al-Jazzar, Zad al-musafir, bk. 7; chs. 7–30. Critical edition
of the Arabic text and Hebrew translation by Moses Ibn Tibbon (forthcom-
ing)
BLS Brockelmann, C., Lexicon Syriacum, Editio secunda aucta et emendate.
(Halle 1928)
BM Ben Yehuda, Eliezer, Millon ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit. Thesaurus Totius
Hebraitatis et Veteris et Recentioris. 17 vols. (Berlin-Tel Aviv 1910–59.
Repr. Tel Aviv 1948–59)
BMH Bos, G., Maimonides, On Hemorrhoids, Critical edition of the Arabic text
and Hebrew translations (forthcoming)
BMR Bos, G., Maimonides, On the Regimen of Health, Critical edition of the
Arabic text and Hebrew translations (forthcoming)
BZ Bos, G., Ibn al-Jazzar on Sexual Diseases: A critical edition, English trans-
lation and introduction of Bk. 6 of Zad al-musafir wa-qut al-Ìadir
(Provisions for the Traveller and the Nourishment of the Settled) (London
1997)
D Dozy, R.P.A., Supplément aux Dictionnaires arabes 2. 2 vols. (Paris-Leiden
1927)
DA Dalman, G., Aramäisch-neuhebräisches Handwörterbuch zu Targum, Tal-
mud und Midrasch. (2nd rev.ed. Frankfurt a. Main 1922)
DAS = Dalman, G., Arbeit und Sitte in Palästina, 8 vols. (Repr. Hildesheim
1964–87, Berlin 2001)
DKT De Koning, Pieter, Trois traités d’anatomie arabes. Nachdruck der Aus-
gabe Leiden 1903, hrsg. von Fuat Sezgin, Frankfurt am Main, Institut
99
für Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften an der Johann

Wolfgang Goethe-Universität, 1986
EM Abraham Even-Shoshan, Ha-Millon he-Îadash, repr. in 5 vols. (Jerusa-
lem 2000)
FAL Fonahn, A., Arabic and Latin Anatomical Terminology. Chiefly from the
Middle Ages. (Kristiania 1922)
FEW Wartburg, W. von, Französisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch. (Bonn,
Leipzig, Tübingen, Basilea, 1922 seqq.)
JD Jastrow, M., A dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Bavli and
Yerushalmi, and the midrashic literature, repr. 2 vols. (New York 1950)
KA Kohut, A., Arukh shalem. Aruch Completum, and Krauss, Tosefet he-Arukh.
Additamenta. Repr. in 9 vols. (Tel Aviv 1970)
KB Koehler, L. and W. Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon
of the Old Testament. Subsequently revised by W. Baumgartner and
J.J. Stamm. With assistance from B. Hartmann, Z. Ben-Hayyim,
E.Y. Kutscher, Ph. Reymond. Translated and edited under the supervi-
sion of M.E.J. Richardson, 5 vols. (Leiden, Boston, Köln 1994–2000)
KG Krauss, S., Griechische und Lateinische Lehnwörter im Talmud, Midrasch
und Targum. Mit Bemerkungen von Immanuel Löw, 2 vols. (Berlin
1898–9)
KS David Kaufmann, Die Sinne: Beiträge zur Geschichte der Physiologie und
Psychologie im Mittelalter aus hebräischen und arabischen Quellen. (Buda-
pest 1884)
KZ Kroner, H., Zur Terminologie der arabischen Medizin und zu ihrem zeit-
genössischen hebräischen Ausdrucke. An der Hand dreier medizinischer
Abhandlungen des Maimonides. (Berlin 1921)
L Lane, E.W., Arabic-English Lexicon, I, 1–8. (London 1863–79)
Low Lowinger, Adolph, ‘Register of Hebrew and Aramaic terms, translated
and edited by S. Paley’, in J. Preuss, Biblisch-talmudische Medizin. Bei-
träge zur Geschichte der Heilkunde und der Kultur überhaupt. (Repr. New
York 1971)
LS Liddell, H.G. and R. Scott, A Greek English Lexicon. Revised and aug-
mented throughout by H.S. Jones a.o. With a supplement 1968, repr.
(Oxford 1989)
LW Levy, Jacob, Wörterbuch über die Talmudim und Midraschim. Nebst Bei-
trägen von H. Leberecht Fleischer. Zweite Aufl. mit Nachträgen und
Berichtigungen von L. Goldschmidt. I–IV. (Berlin-Vienna 1924)
M Moses Ibn Tibbon.
Ma}agarim Mif ¨ al ha-Millon ha-Histori la-Lashon ha-Ivrit: http://hebrew-treasures.
huji.ac.il/
MA Maimonides. Medical Aphorisms, see N and Z.
MD Masie, A.M., Dictionary of Medicine and Allied Sciences. Latin-English-
Hebrew. Edited by S. Tchernichowsky. (Jerusalem 1934)
MH Meyerhof, M., The Book of the Ten Treatises on the Eye ascribed to Hunain
Ibn Ishâq (809–877 A.D.). (Cairo 1928)
MZ Moses Ibn Tibbon, Åedat ha-Derakhim (translation of Ibn al-Jazzar, Zad
al-musafir), bk. 6, MS Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preussischer Kulturbesitz,
Qu 835
N Nathan ha-Me}ati, Hebrew translation of Maimonides’ Medical Apho-
risms; edition of the medical terminology as part of a glossary of the
100
Arabic terminology and the Hebrew translations by Gerrit Bos (forth-

coming)
SDA Sokoloff, M., A Dictionary of Jewish Babylonian Aramaic of the Talmudic
and Geonic Periods. (Ramat Gan 2002)
SG Gerrit Bos-Guido Mensching and Martina Hussein-Frank Savelsberg
(eds), Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush. Bk. 29, Glossary one
(forthcoming)
SIN Mensching, Guido, La Sinonima delos nonbres delas medeçinas griegos e
latynos e arauigos. (Madrid 1994)
SL Albucasis. On Surgery and Instruments. A definitive edition of the Ara-
bic text with English translation and commentary by M.S. Spink and
G.L. Lewis. (London 1973)
SR Charles Singer and C. Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science: Being a Discus-
sion of the History Sources and Circumstances of the ‘Tabulae Anatomicae
Sex’ of Vesalius. (Cambridge 1946)
SP Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, MS Paris, BN héb. 1163.
UW Ullmann, M., Wörterbuch zu den griechisch-arabischen Übersetzungen des
neunten Jahrhunderts. (Wiesbaden, 2002)
VL Vullers, I.A., Lexicon Persico-Latinum Etymologicum, 2 vols. (Bonn 1855–
64, repr. Graz 1962)
WKAS Wörterbuch der klassischen arabischen Sprache. Hrsg. durch die Deutsche
Morgenländische Gesellschaft. In Verbindung mit A. Spitaler bearb.
v. Jörg Krämer u. Helmut Gätje (ab Lief. 3 bearb. von M. Ullmann).
(Wiesbaden 1957ff)
Z ZeraÌyah ben Isaac ben She}altiel Îen, Hebrew translation of Maimo-
nides’ Medical Aphorisms (see N).
101
THE DEVELOPMENT OF
THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE AND
AN INDONESIAN PARALLEL
AARON D. RUBIN
PENN STATE UNIVERSITY
Abstract
The definite articles of Amharic and some other Ethiopian languages

derive from possessives rather than demonstratives, and the origin of
these articles has never been convincingly explained. The development
of a possessive into a definite article in Indonesian provides a clue to
the origin of the definite articles in Ethiopic.
In a previous work, I set out to prove that the definite articles of the
Central Semitic languages (Hebrew ha-, Aramaic -a, Arabic (}a)l-,
Sabaic -(h)n, etc.) can all be derived from demonstratives.1 In the
course of my argument, I gave examples from other language fami-
lies in order to show that definite articles can nearly always be
proven to have derived via grammaticalization from demonstratives.
However, in Amharic and several other South Ethiopian languages,
this seems not to be the case; it is on these languages that this paper
will focus.
1. Ethiopic Data
In Amharic there is a suffixed definite article, which has the following

basic forms:2
Versions of this paper were read at the 218th Annual Meeting of the American
Oriental Society in Chicago, March 14, 2008, and at the 3rd Meeting of the Inter-
national Association for Comparative Semitics in Turin, October 3, 2008.
1
Rubin (2005: 65–90).
2
See Leslau (1995: 155–9) for discussion of forms and syntax. A nice overview
of the various definite articles in Modern Ethiopian Semitic, including discussion
of their syntax, can also be found in Appleyard (2005), a study of which I became
aware only after completing my own.
103
THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE
m.sg. -u
f.sg. -wa, -itu, or -it wa (used interchangeably)
c.pl. -u
The m.sg. article is identical in form to the 3rd m.sg. possessive
suffix, so for example, Amharic bet-u can mean either ‘the house’ or
‘his house’. The f.sg. article -wa is identical to the 3rd f.sg. possessive
suffix, while the variant -itu is composed of a feminine suffix -it plus
the 3rd m.sg. possessive -u, and the variant -it wa is a combination
the feminine marker -it and the 3rd f. sg. possessive suffix -wa. The
plural article -u has been taken over from the masculine singular.
Additional examples are färäs-u ‘the/his horse’, lam-wa ‘the/her cow’,
and n¢gusocc-u ‘the/his kings’.
There are parallels to the Amharic article in several other South
Ethiopian languages. For example, the closely related Argobba has the
definite articles -u (m. and pl.) and -wa (f. sg.), which are also iden-
tical to the third person singular possessive suffixes, e.g., bed-u ‘the/
his house’, lam-wa ‘the/her cow’.3 In Gafat, which is now extinct, the
3rd m.sg. possessive suffix -s was used as a common definite article,
e.g., abäb¢-s ‘the/his flower’, täkul-s ‘the/his garden’.4 In Chaha,
one of the so-called Gurage languages, definiteness is not regularly
expressed, but the third person possessive suffixes -(ä)ta (m.sg.),
-(ä)çta (f.sg.), -(ä) wxna (m.pl.), and -(ä)xnäma (f.pl.) can all be used
as definite articles when needed, e.g., mädär-äta ‘the/his place’,
¢ng wäd-äwxna ‘the/their others’ (more on this below).5 In Harari,
definiteness is also often left unexpressed, but can be made explicit
with the addition of the 3rd m.sg. possessive suffix -zo, e.g. gar-zo
‘the/his house’.6 Similar use of the third person possessive suffixes are
occasionally found in other South Ethiopic languages, e.g., Mäsqän.7
Because the Amharic forms -u and -wa are identical to the
3rd m.sg. and 3rd f.sg. possessive suffixes, respectively, and because
we know from comparative Semitic evidence that the possessive func-
tion is the original one, it is undoubtedly the case that their use as
articles derives from their use as possessives. This claim is widely,
3
Leslau (1997: 12).
4
Leslau (1945: §44).
5
Leslau (1950: 17). I have modified Leslau’s transcription slightly; he used x
for [ç] and a barred k for [x]. Leslau says that the article can be used when the noun
has been previously mentioned, but this is not totally accurate; see the discussion
below in Section 3. Rose (2007: 421–2) gives slightly different forms for the articles,
and she only discusses the use of the singular possessives as articles.
6
Cerulli (1936: 171–2); Wagner (1997: 492).
7
Hetzron (1977: 56).
104
but not universally, accepted. For example, W. Vycichl had a differ-

ent interpretation, namely that the Amharic article derives not from
possessives, but rather from demonstrative pronouns.8 However, the
parallels from several other South Ethiopic languages and the forms
of the individual morphemes make it clear that the article and the
possessive suffixes are, historically, one and the same. Exactly how a
possessive has come to indicate definiteness has never been explained.
It has long been recognized that there are Geëz precursors to the
use of the third person possessive suffixes as a definite article.9 Geëz
itself has no articles, but it is not rare to find constructions of the
Amharic type.10 Some examples are:
Ìalamku kal¢}a Ì¢lma wa-kama-z¢ Ì¢lmu
‘I dreamt another dream and such was the dream’ (Gen. 37:9)
wa-maÒa}k¢mu wa-qomk¢mu taÌta dabr wa-y¢nadd¢d dabru
‘you came and stood under the mountain, and the mountain burned’
(Deut. 4:11)
wa-waradku }¢m¢nna dabr wa-dabru-ssa y¢nadd¢d
‘I came down from the mountain, and the mountain was burning’
(Deut. 9:15)
g¢baru m¢rfaqata la-sab} … wa-rafaqu ¨¢dawihomu
‘make the people places to sit … and the men sat down’ (John 6:10)
Dillmann writes, or at least implies, that this use of the possessive

suffix as an article occurs only upon second mention of a noun. This
is not true, as evidenced by the final example above, though admit-
tedly, sab} ‘people’ and ¨¢daw ‘men’ are synonyms referring to the
same group.
In summary, the third person possessive suffixes have developed
into a definite article in several South Ethiopian languages — the
most important of which is Amharic — and evidence of this develop-
ment can be found already in Geëz. This information has been long
recognized and accepted by Semitists, and so the real task at hand is
to explain exactly how a third person possessive suffix was reinter-
preted as a definite article, especially since this is an unusual type of
grammaticalization from a cross-linguistic perspective. A clue to
answering this question lies in the parallel development of the definite
article in Indonesian and several other Malayo-Polynesian languages,
and it is to these languages that we now turn.
8
Vycichl (1957: 169–70).
9
Cf. Praetorius (1879: 199–201).
10
Dillmann (1907: §172b); Tropper (2002: §52.21c).
105
2. Indonesian Data
Indonesian normally does not make use of articles, whether indefinite
or definite, as illustrated by the following sentences:11
Kita mau sewa kamar.
We want rent room
‘We want to rent a room.’
Ada kunci?
Have key
‘Do you have the key?’
However, there are two means by which definiteness can be expressed
in Indonesian. The first way is with the demonstrative adjective itu
‘that’, as in:
nasi itu ‘that rice’ or ‘the rice’
negeri itu ‘that country’ or ‘the country’
The second method of expressing definiteness is through the addition
of the suffix -nya, the basic function of which is a third person pos-
sessive or object pronoun.12 Examples of this are:13
Orangnya tinggi.
person.3POSS tall
‘The person is tall.’
Kamarnya sudah terkunci.
room.3POSS already locked
‘The room is already locked.’
Based on these simple examples, which are taken out of context, it
would seem that we are dealing with two synonymous constructions
for expressing definiteness. But, in fact, the two methods of indicating
definiteness in Indonesian have some interesting restrictions to their
usage, and these go a long way towards shedding light on the origins
of the respective constructions. When a noun has been previously
mentioned, it is the demonstrative itu that can be used as the definite
article. However, when the reference is not explicit, but is only under-
stood, then the suffix -nya is used.14 Consider the following examples:15
11
These examples are taken from Oey (1993: 45).
12
On the various functions of the suffix -nya, see Sneddon (1996: §2.44, §2.50,
§2.73; 2006: 34–43) and Englebretson (2003: 153–86).
13
These examples are taken from Oey (1993: 45, 131).
14
Sneddon (1996: 150–1).
15
These examples are taken from Sneddon (1996: 151), who in turn took them
(with minor modification) from McGarry (1974: 42).
106
Ibu sudah memasak nasi. Nasi itu di lemari.

Mother already cook rice rice that in pantry
‘Mother has cooked rice. The rice is in the pantry.
Kalau mau makan nasinya di lemari.
If want eat rice.3POSS in pantry
‘If you want to eat, the rice is in the pantry.’
In the first example, ‘rice’ is mentioned once, and upon its repetition
the demonstrative itu refers back to this initial mention: ‘Mother has
cooked rice, and that rice [that I just mentioned] is in the pantry’. In
the second example, however, rice is not explicitly mentioned in the
first clause, but food is implied in the offer made to the addressee.
Therefore, the suffix -nya is used in this context as the definite article.
Following is another example of this use of -nya:16
Saya mau ke kantor pos tapi tidak tahu jalannya.
I want to office post but not know way.3POSS
‘I want to go to the post office, but I don’t know the way.’
In this example, the way to the post office has not been mentioned
before, but the fact that the post office exists implies that there is a
way to get there. More so than the previous example, this example
makes it very clear how the possessive pronoun is functioning; if we
had translated the second half of this sentence as ‘I don’t know its
way’, the English would sound somewhat awkward, but the reference
to the post office would still be understood. Another example, this
time from Colloquial Jakartan Indonesian, will illustrate this as well:17
Kemaren gua nonton film Bone Collector … Gua takut naik taksi …
Yesterday I watch film I afraid get.in taxi
Karena emang penjahatnya nyetir taksi.
Because indeed criminal.3POSS drive taxi
‘Yesterday I watched the film Bone Collector … (and now) I am afraid
to get in a taxi … because the criminal was a taxi driver.’
In this example, one could translate penjahatnya as ‘its criminal’ and
it would still be evident that this meant ‘the movie’s criminal’. In
other examples, the implied possessor comes later in conversation
than the suffix:
Hawanya panas sekali sore ini.
weather.3POSS hot very evening this
‘The weather is very hot this evening.’
16
Sneddon (1996: 151).
17
Sneddon (2006: 37).
107
Sopirnya sudah menunggu di mobil.

driver.3POSS already wait in car
‘The driver waited in the car.’
In the first example, the suffix on hawa ‘weather’ refers to the evening,
i.e., ‘its (the evening’s) weather’. In the second example, the suffix on
sopir ‘driver’ refers to the car, i.e., ‘its (the car’s) driver’.
Finally, we can even cite examples in which -nya refers to some-
thing that has not been mentioned at all:
Bagaimana kabarnya?
What news.3POSS
‘What’s the news?’
All of these examples from Indonesian show how the possessive suffix
-nya functions as a definite article in contexts where the definite noun
has not been previously mentioned.
Before moving on to additional analysis, it should be pointed out
that the development of the third person possessive marker into a
definite article has parallels in several other Malayo-Polynesian rela-
tives of Indonesian, including Sundanese (-na),18 Madurese (-na),19
Balinese (-ne), Malagasy (ny),20 and Biak (various forms).21 In some
of these languages (e.g., Madurese), the use of the definite article
seems to be even more widespread than in Indonesian, but it is Indo-
nesian for which the most data and analysis is available.
3. Analysis
The Indonesian definite article -nya provides a nice parallel to the

Amharic definite articles -u and -wa, as all can formally be analysed
as markers of the third person possessive. But how did a possessive
18
Müller-Gotama (2001: 25–6). An example is buku-na ‘his/her book’ or ‘the
book’. The suffix -na has the form -ana after a word ending in a consonant.
19
Davies (1999: 15–16). An example is ghuru-na ‘his/her teacher’ or ‘the
teacher’. The suffix -na has the form -a after a word ending in a consonant, and, in
the western dialect, the form -¢ng or -k after a glottal stop.
20
Rasoloson and Rubino (2005: 466–7). The Malagasy article precedes the
noun, though it has the same form as the suffixed possessive pronoun of the third
person, e.g. ny boky ‘the book’, but bokiny ‘his/her/their book’.
21
Steinhauer (2005: 797–9). The third person possessive pronoun in Biak (and
hence the definite article) has a singular, dual, trial, plural animate, and plural
inanimate form. In addition, each suffix, with the exception of the inanimate plural,
varies slightly depending on whether or not it occurs clause medially or clause
finally. Examples are the clause-final forms rum-i ‘the house’, rum-sui ‘the two
houses’, rum-skoi ‘the three houses’, and rum-na ‘the houses’.
108
become an article? The vast majority of the world’s definite articles

have arisen from anaphoric demonstratives.22 Anaphoric demonstra-
tives are co-referential with a noun or noun phrase used in previous
discourse,23 as exemplified by the following English example:
We studied linguistics. That subject is very important.
Such an anaphoric demonstrative can take on a general meaning of
definiteness, with the result that the demonstrative can come to
indicate definiteness even when not used anaphorically. In the case
of Indonesian discussed above, the demonstrative itu is used ana-
phorically to indicate definiteness, but cannot indicate definiteness
generally. If the noun has not been explicitly mentioned before,
then the third person possessive suffix (-nya) is used to indicate
definiteness. The resulting situation is that there are two ways to
express definiteness in Indonesian, each with syntactic restrictions.
However, in Colloquial Jakartan Indonesian, it seems that the
domain of -nya is spreading, as it sometimes occurs in contexts
where one expects itu, for example:24
A: Jadi gua ntar ketemu dia langsung di salon.
So I soon meet her direct in salon
‘So I’m going to meet her directly at the salon.’
B: Salonnya di deket rumah?
salon.3POSS in near house
‘Is the salon near your house?’
In this example, one would expect Speaker B to say salon itu, since
Speaker A has already mentioned the salon. This shows how -nya is
taking over the domain of itu in the colloquial language, and is thus
becoming a true definite article. That is, it is not the anaphoric that
has come to indicate definiteness generally, but the possessive.
I would suggest that at some point in the history of Ethiopic, the
third person possessive suffixes served a similar function as in Indo-
nesian. In some Ethiopian languages, as in Colloquial Indonesian, a
re-analysis took place which led to their spread as true definite arti-
cles. The following five examples from Chaha provide a striking
parallel to the use of the articles in (Formal) Indonesian:25
22
Diessel (1999: 128).
23
Diessel (1999: 95).
24
Sneddon (2006: 38).
25
Leslau (1950: 76, 79).
109
wugat-¢m yano säb y¢wägwan mädär-äta

pain in the side-as for who-have people (that) pains.3ms place-its
bä-q¢b. n¢q-qar y¢mwasi
with-butter big-thing one rubs
‘People who have pain in the side, rub the place that pains with butter.’
anqäfqä bä-qän y¢säwkwci ¢ngwäd-äwxna ¢nn¢m yä-säxra ro.
Spoons with-horn makes.3ms others-their all of-clay are
‘The spoons are made (one makes) of horn; the other things of clay.’
muky¢r bä-xwet enät y¢sägi. at-äta yä-dängya muky¢r, at-äta
bonfire in-two kinds one divides one-its of-children bonfire one-its
yä-gämya muky¢r.
of-adults bonfire
‘The bonfire is divided into two kinds. The one is the children’s
bonfire; the other is the adults’ bonfire.’
yancän bäxärä yä-sägwåre yarlä. sägwårä xuta
it does not leave CONDIT. to-sorcerer one goes for him sorcerer he/that
y¢b¢r…
says
‘if it (the sickness) does not leave him, they go for him to the sorcerer.
The sorcerer says…’
bä-gäf wärä y¢täkso x¢no arämäne ro … arämäne x¢no
in-public (who) kindle it they pagans are pagans they/those
bä-mäsä b-as¢r sat muk y¢r-äwxna y¢täkso.
in-evening at-ten hours bonfire-their they kindle it
‘The ones who kindle it (the bonfire) in public are pagans. The pagans
kindle their bonfire at the tenth hour of the night (= 4 a.m.).’
In the first two examples from Chaha, neither of the nouns with the
article (mädär ‘place’ and ¢ngwäd ‘others’) have been explicitly men-
tioned previously, but instead are implied in the context of the story.
In the first sentence, there is mention of a pain in the side, implying
a specific place where the pain is located. The second sentence, in
context, follows a list of kitchen items (pitchers, plates, and spoons).
So in the example sentence above, ‘the others’ refers to these kitchen
items minus the spoon. Therefore, in these two, the third person
possessive is used to express definiteness. In the third Chaha example,
it is the word ‘one’ that is being made definite with the possessive
suffixes, but the possessive clearly refers back to the word bonfire. I
translated ‘the one is the children’s’ and ‘the one is the adults’, but if
I had translated ‘its one’, the meaning would still be clear. This is
exactly like what we saw above with Indonesian examples jalannya
‘its/the way’ and penjahatnya ‘its/the criminal’.
110
In Chaha, the third person pronoun/demonstrative can also be

used to indicate definiteness. In the texts I examined, it is used mainly
when the noun has already been mentioned, just as in Indonesian. So
in the fourth Chaha example, we find sägwårä xuta ‘the sorcerer’
where xuta is the third person pronoun being used as an anaphoric
demonstrative (like Hebrew or Aramaic hu), because the word for
‘sorcerer’ has already been mentioned. Similarly, in the final example,
we get arämäne x¢no ‘the pagans’, where x¢no is the third masculine
plural pronoun used here to indicate definitess, since the ‘pagans’
have already been explicitly mentioned.
So, the expression of definiteness in Chaha, whether with the pos-
sessive suffixes or with the independent pronoun/demonstrative,
shows the same syntactic restrictions found in Formal Indonesian.
We saw in the first three Chaha sentences how the possessive suffix
is used when the noun has not explicitly been mentioned previously,
and we see the use of the anaphoric demonstrative (which in Chaha
is the same as the independent pronoun) in cases where the noun has
already been introduced into the discourse. We may find these syn-
tactic restrictions in Chaha, but in some other South Ethiopic lan-
guages, including Amharic, the use of the definite article has become
much more widespread and unrestricted in its usage. This seems to
be what is happening in Colloquial Indonesian, where -nya is taking
over the functions of itu, as discussed above.
A final parallel between Ethiopic and Indonesian should be noted,
namely the competing definite constructions in Geëz. In addition to
the occasional use of the third person possessive suffixes as definite
articles in Geëz, we also find the demonstratives used in this way.
There are several demonstratives that can behave this way, but the
most common is w¢}¢tu ‘that’, as in the following examples:26
wa-talaäla w¢}¢tu b¢}si
and-became.great that man
‘and the man became great’ (Gen. 26:13)
wa-w¢}¢tu qal s¢ga kona
and-that word flesh became.3ms
‘and the Word became flesh’ (John 1:14)
So in Indonesian we find demonstrative itu vs. possessive -nya and in
Geëz we find demonstrative w¢}¢tu vs. the various possessive suffixes,
although it must be emphasized that Geëz does not show the same
syntactic restrictions found in Indonesian. This is perhaps because the
26
Dillmann (1907: §172a); Tropper (2002: §52.21b).
111
use of the possessive suffixes to indicate definiteness was a South

Ethiopian feature that crept into the written language, and not a
native development within Geëz. It is interesting that in Tigrinya,
one of the two other North Ethiopian languages, it is the demonstra-
tive }¢tu that is developing into a real definite article.27
Finally, for the sake of thoroughness, we should include here the
third (and by far most common) way of expressing definiteness in
Geëz, namely the use of the so-called qatalo la-n¢gus and betu la-n¢gus
constructions.28 When a noun is the object of a verb, definiteness is
made explicit by a proleptic object suffix on the verb and the pre-
fixation of the particle la- to the noun, e.g. qatalo la-n¢gus ‘he killed
the king’, literally ‘he killed him, la-king’ (vs. qatala n¢gusa ‘he killed
a/the king’). The same construction is used to make definiteness
explicit for the second member of a genitive chain, e.g. betu la-n¢gus
‘the house of the king’, literally ‘his house, la-king’ (vs. beta n¢gus
‘the house of a/the king’). I bring up here this method of indicating
definiteness in order to note that this particular construction is likely
the source of the definite article in another Ethiopian language, Tigré,
as I have suggested elsewhere.29 Kapeliuk (1994: 3–5) believes that
the possessive suffix used with the first noun of the Geëz betu la-n¢gus
construction is the source of the Amharic definite article.30 While her
theory is certainly logical, it is problematic for at least two reasons.
First, I do not think that we can assume Geëz to be the representative
of the ancestor of Amharic, as Kapeliuk does. Second, the parallel use
of the various possessive suffixes in other South Ethiopian languages
and the restrictions on the article found in Chaha support the theory
advanced in the present work.
In summary, Indonesian shows us how a possessive construction
can originate as a marker of definiteness in certain contexts, and we
find an exact parallel in Chaha. Further, Colloquial Indonesian
shows us how this construction has been reanalysed and become a
true definite article; something similar must have happened in the
history of Amharic (and Argobba, Gafat, etc.). Thus the history of
the definite articles in most South Ethiopian languages appears to
parallel the situation in the history of Indonesian.31
27
See Rubin (2005: 88).
28
Dillmann (1907: §172c); Tropper (2002: §52.21d, e).
29
Rubin (2005: 89). This is also suggested, with some hesitation, by Appleyard
(2005: 59).
30
Kapeliuk (1994: 3–5).
31
I was delighted to learn from Prof. Christian Lehmann (Erfurt) that the
expression of definiteness in Yucatec Mayan mirrors the situation in Indonesian and
112
4. Addendum
In some Semitic languages, we find a third person possessive used to

indicate definiteness in a very restricted set of words, all having to do
with time. One such example is Akkadian inumisu ‘at that time;
then’. In Muher, another South Ethiopian language, the definite
article, if expressed at all, is normally -we (e.g., säb-we ‘the people’).
However, with words related to time the third person possessive
suffixes are used instead. For example, yämännag-¢ wxta ‘the next
morning’, bä-sost känä-wxta ‘on the third day’, yäsamm¢t-¢ wxta ‘for the
week’.32 Geëz qadamihu ‘the beginning’ (e.g., John 1:1) also falls into
this category.
The function of the possessive in these time words is no different
from the function of the possessive as a definite article in Amharic,
Indonesian, etc., and so the origin of these time words is no different.
However, I simply add that the possessive is used in Akkadian and
Muher in a far more restricted way than in Chaha or (Formal) Indo-
nesian.
Address for correspondence: adr10@psu.edu

221 Weaver Building, Penn State University, University Park, PA, 16802, USA
REFERENCES
Appleyard, David L. 2005. ‘Definite Markers in Modern Ethiopian Semitic Lan-

guages’, in Geoffrey Khan (ed.), Semitic Studies in Honour of Edward Ullendorff
(Leiden). 51–61
Cerulli, Enrico. 1936. Studi Etiopici I. La lingua e la storia di Harar. (Rome)
Davies, William. 1999. Madurese. (Munich)
Diessel, Holger. 1999. Demonstratives: Form, Function, and Grammaticalization.
(Amsterdam and Philadelphia)
Dillmann, August. 1907 (1974). Ethiopic Grammar. 2d edn. Revised and edited by
Carl Bezold. Translated by James A. Crichton. (Amsterdam)
Englebretson, Robert. 2003. Searching for Structure: The Problem of Complementa-
tion in Colloquial Indonesian Conversation. (Amsterdam and Philadelphia)
Hetzron, Robert. 1977. The Gunnän-Gurage Languages. (Naples)
Kapeliuk, Olga. 1994. Syntax of the Noun in Amharic. (Wiesbaden)
Leslau, Wolf. 1945. Gafat Documents: Records of a South-Ethiopic Language. (New
Haven, CT)
Chaha; that is, the third person possessive is used as a marker of definiteness when
the noun has not previously been mentioned. That this restriction is found in both
Mayan and Indonesian, as well as in Chaha, only strengthens the argument that this
restricted use of the possessive suffix is the origin of the Amharic definite article.
32
Leslau (1981: 10).
113
— 1950. Ethiopic Documents: Gurage. (New York)

— 1981. Ethiopians Speak. Studies in Cultural Background, Part IV: Muher.
(Wiesbaden)
— 1995. Reference Grammar of Amharic. (Wiesbaden)
— 1997. Ethiopic Documents: Argobba, Grammar and Dictionary. (Wiesbaden)
McGarry, J.D. and Sumaryono. 1974. Learn Indonesian: Book Three. (Chatswood,
Australia)
Müller-Gotama, Franz. 2001. Sundanese. (Munich)
Oey, Thomas. 1993. Everyday Indonesian: A Basic Introduction to the Indonesian
Language & Culture. (Lincolnwood, IL)
Praetorius, Franz. 1879. Die amharische Sprache. (Halle)
Rasoloson, Janie, and Carl Rubino. 2005. Malagasy, in Alexander Adelaar and
Nikolaus P. Himmelmann (eds), The Austronesian Languages of Asia and Mada-
gascar (London and New York). 456–88
Rose, Sharon. 2007. Chaha (Gurage) Morphology, in Alan S. Kaye (ed.), Morphologies
of Asia and Africa, vol. 1 (Winona Lake, IN). 403–27
Rubin, Aaron. 2005. Studies in Semitic Grammaticalization. (Winona Lake, IN)
Sneddon, James Neil. 1996. Indonesian: A Comprehensive Grammar. (London and
New York)
— 2006. Colloquial Jakartan Indonesian. (Canberra)
Steinhauer, Hein. 2005. Biak, in Alexander Adelaar and Nikolaus P. Himmelmann
(eds), The Austronesian Languages of Asia and Madagascar (London and New
York). 793–823
Tropper, Josef. 2002. Altäthiopisch: Grammatik des Geëz mit Übungstexten und
Glossar. (Münster)
Vycichl, Werner. 1957. ‘Trois notes de linguistique amharique’, Annales d’Éthiopie 2,
167–70
Wagner, Ewald. 1997. Harari, in Robert Hetzron (ed.), The Semitic Languages
(London and New York). 486–508
114
IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR
CHIEF EDITOR OF AL-TASAMOH JOURNAL
Abstract
The Iba∂i siyar literature can be considered a classical archive for

Omani history and Iba∂i thought. Its conception and basic identifi-
cation are still obscure and ambiguously interpreted. However, there
is an increasing interest in the study of Omani siyar as historical and
theological documents. The concept of siyar will be analysed from
two main perspectives: linguistic form and content, both of which
aim to convey a better understanding of its specific meanings. This
article focuses on three aspects of Omani siyar: 1) it provides a theo-
retical framework for examining the content of Omani siyar in the
context of Arabic literature. Through a survey of existing theoretical
scholarship, this article establishes the history and origins of this
genre, tracing its development in earlier Arabic literature and its
introduction into Oman. 2). This survey provides an opportunity to
reassess these early stages of the genre and to introduce observations
about the content of the siyar. And 3) the variables in the chrono-
logical development of the siyar literature are analysed in order to
illustrate the way in which the texts developed in the context of
Omani history.
As soon as a researcher starts reading through Omani historical

sources, it is apparent that the primary historical sources of Oman
are the Omani siyar. These siyar, which were written at different
times by various writers, constitute a unique source of historical data
unparalleled in any other country. These documents reflect the polit-
ical and social situation in Oman as well as the scholars’ ideologies.
They also prompt us to look with greater care at the geography of
Oman, which has shaped the history of the country. These aspects
have influenced the Omani personality and scholarship and have
given this part of the Arabian Peninsula a unique character through-
out history. This study is designed as a simple introduction to the
Iba∂i/Omani siyar, in order to understand the position of this genre
in classical Arabic literature, in place and time, and the various forms
the siyar take, from the point of view of subject and chronology,
clarifying the most important underlying influences in the formation
115
of this genre, and tracing the manner in which the siyar developed,
with the aim of facilitating their interpretation as historical docu-
ments.
I Omani Siyar: History, Origins, and Description
The sira is a fundamental source in classical Arabic literature,

particularly when it is understood to be connected with the life of
the Prophet MuÌammad.1 In Arabic, the term siyar (essentially:
biographies) has several meanings.2 First, it is derived from the verb
meaning to walk or travel, thus, it has the sense of narrating stories
of travel, and hence journeying through life. Second, it also means
the sunna, conduct, which itself means a way of living. Third, it is
also connected to the idea of origin. This sense is found in the Qur}
an 20 (™aha ):18, which reads: sanu}iduha sirataha al-ula, ‘We will
restore it to its first state’.3 There, the word sira is used to mean
appearance, and the meaning of the verse is that God shall retain
His original nature. Fourth, the word has another meaning denot-
ing narration of tales of the older generations. Conventionally, the
word has been used to mean going to battles (maghazi ), as was
pointed out by M. Hinds,4 and as one sees it in such books as Abu
IsÌaq al-Fazari’s K. al-Siyar.
The Omani siyar take the meaning of the term sira to a new level,
whereby it comes to denote political-religious correspondence. The
Omani siyar usually consist of around twenty to thirty pages each,5
and are considered to be among the most important historical and
intellectual sources for both Omani political history and Iba∂i theo-
logical thought, and that for four main reasons. First, they address
specific ideational topics, i.e. the points of view of the {ulama’ (reli-
gious scholars) who wrote them. Second, they represent exchanges
between several parties about certain issues, theological and social,
1
EI 2, s.v. ‘sira’.
2
MuÌammad b. ManÂur, Lisan al-ärab (Beirut, 1955), 4:384; Ismaïl b. Îammad
al-Jawhari, al-∑iÌaÌ fi al-lugha, ed. AÌmad Äbd al-Ghafur Ä††ar (Cairo 1957), 2:691;
MaÌmud b. Ümar al-Zamakhshari, Asas al-balagha, ed. Äbd al-RaÌim MaÌmud
(Cairo 1953), 226; al-Firuzabadi, al-Qamus al-muÌi† (Cairo 1911), 2:54.
3
Qur}an, ™aha 20:18.
4
Martin Hinds, ‘Maghazi and Sira in Early Islamic Scholarship’, in Toufiq
Fahd (ed.), La vie du Prophete Mahomet: Colloque de Strasbourg, 1980 (Paris 1983),
57–66.
5
Faruq Ümar, Muqaddima fi maÒadir al-tarikh al-ümani (Baghdad 1979), 55.
116
which emerged at that time and needed to be discussed. Third, they

usually include legal edicts, or fatwas, which by themselves reveal
prevailing attitudes or opinions about specific issues. Fourth, they
often include information about famous people (imams or ‘ulama’ ).
On the origins of the Omani siyar. Crone and Zimmermann wrote:
Most siras in the Omani sense of doctrinal epistles are pulpit manifestos
(much as St. Paul’s epistles will have been), i.e. they are letters written
to a congregation setting out what we should or should not believe or
do, to be read aloud by a preacher. The sermons with which such siras
begin, often quite long, reflect their original Sitz im Leben. The name
under which they came to be known in Oman has its roots in the later
Umayyad period, when sira seems to have been used in the sense of
‘doctrinal position’ or ‘stance’.6
The siyar also developed the term sira’s traditional Arabic sense of
conduct or position. In a famous poem, the Murji} i poet Thabit
Qu†na (d. 110/728) said: ‘Oh Hind, listen to me, our sira is that we
worship God without giving Him a partner. We suspend judgment
on things when they are doubtful’.7 Here, in setting out the basic
tenets of Murji}ism, sira means doctrinal position.8 Also, when the
Murji}i rebel al-Îarith b. Surayj was fighting against NaÒr b. Sayyar
in Khurasan, he ordered his secretary Jahm b. ∑afwan to read publicly
‘kitab sayyara lahu [bihi?] sirat al-Îarith (a tract in which he put
forward/propagated the sira of al-IsÌaq)’. Al-Îarith had written his
sira and it was read aloud in the streets and mosques of Marw, as
another version has it, and, according to another, he ordered Jahm
to read aloud to the people his sira and what he was propagating.9
Again Crone and Zimmermann set out al-Îarith’s position in
implicit or explicit contrast with that of the governor NaÒr. The tract
in which the sira was recorded was composed for delivery to the
public in a mosque.10 Likewise, Ridwan al-Sayyid through his research
on the Zaydi epistles and monographs in Yemen found out that
there is a convergence in using the term of sira between the Iba∂is
in Oman and the Zaydis in Yemen in his discussion of the sira by
MuÌammad al-Nafs al-Zakiya and he made a similar deduction to
6
Patricia Crone and Fritz Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan
(Oxford 2001), 23.
7
Abu al-Faraj al-IÒfahani, al-Aghani (Cairo 1927–79), 14:270.
8
Crone and Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 23.
9
Ibn Khaldun, Tarikh (Beirut, n.d), 3:248.
10
117
Crone and Zimmerman as regards the sira’s root.11 Al-™abari also

mentions that the term of sira was used by the imam Zayd b. Äli and
his son YaÌya.12
The term sira, although it invokes a mutual understanding among
Omani Iba∂is to refer to a particular genre, has a different meaning
and function when used by non-Omani Iba∂i groups, such as those
in North Africa. Examples of these non-Omani siyar are al-Siyar wa-
akhbar al-a}imma, known as Tarikh Abi Zakariya, by Abu Zakariya
YaÌya b. Abi Bakr (d. c. 471/1078);13 Siyar mashayikh Jabal Naffusa,
by Muqriyn b. MuÌammad al-Bagh†uri (sixth/twelfth century);14 Siyar
al-Wisyani, by Abu al-Rabi ¨ Sulayman b. Äbd al-Salam al-Wisyani
(sixth/twelfth century);15 K. ™abaqat al-mashayikh, by Abu al-Äbbas
AÌmad b. Saïd al-Darjini (d. c. 670/1271);16 K. al-Jawahir al-muntaqat
fi ma akhalla bihi Kitab al-™abaqat, by Abu al-Qasim al-Barradi
(d. second half eighth/fourteenth century);17 and K. al-Siyar by AÌmad
b. Saïd al-Shammakhi (d. 928/1522).18 All these authors used the
term sira to denote biography or biographical dictionary. Al-Barradi,
however, gives a list19 of Eastern Mashriqi Iba∂i books that includes
some of the Omani siyar. In 1970, Ennami gave a description of
some early Iba∂i correspondence which is similar to the early Omani
siyar.20
11
Ri∂wan al-Sayyid, al-Mujtama{ wa-al-umma wa-al-Òul†a1, (Beirut 1997), 167–
206.
12
™abari, History (Leiden, 1879–1901), 2: 1687–8.
13
Abu Zakariya YaÌya b. Abi Bakr al-Warjalani, al-Siyar wa-akhbar al-a}imma,
ed. al-Ärabi Ismaïl (Algeria 1979); trans. E. Masqueray, Chronique d’Abou Zakaria
(Algeria 1878); trans. R. Le Tourneau, ‘La chronique’ d’Abu Zakriyya} al-Warjlani},
Revue Africaine 104 (1960): 99–176, 322–90.
14
Tadeusez Lewicki, ‘La Repartition geographique des groupements Ibadites’,
Rocznik Orientalistyczny 21 (1957), 309–43; Ä. Ennami, ‘A Description of New
Ibadi Manuscripts from North Africa’, JSS 15 (1970), 63–87.
15
Ennami, ‘A Description of New Ibadi Manuscripts from North Africa’, 85.
16
Abu al-Äbbas Ahmad b. Saïd al-Darjini, Kitab †abaqat al-mashayikh, ed. by
™alay Ibrahim. (Constantine 1979).
17
Abu al-Qasim al-Barradi, K. al-Jawahir al-muntaqat fi ma akhalla bihi Kitab
al-™abaqat (Cairo 1302/1885); Roberto Rubinacci, ‘Kitab al-Gawahir di al-Barradi’,
Annali Istituto Orientale di Napoli 4 (1952), 95–110.
18
AÌmad b. Saïd al-Shammakhi, al-Siyar, 1st ed. (Cairo 1301/1884); 2nd ed.
(Muscat 1984).
19
Abu al-Qasim al-Barradi, Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina: Dirasa fi tarikh
al-iba∂iya, ed. M. Äzab and Äwa∂ (Cairo, 1994). Based on a manuscript in Dar
al-Kutub al-MiÒriya, no. 21791.B.
20
Ennami, ‘A Description of New Ibadi Manuscripts from North Africa’, 65.
118
Michael Cook tried to assign distinctive features to mainstream

religious epistles in Arabic literature,21 and proposed a method which
might help to further delimit this genre. As far as the early Iba∂i
tradition is concerned, he says:
[T]he Iba∂ites seem to have left Iraq before Arabic literature was
seriously affected by what one might loosely describe as the onset of
belles lettres. The Iba∂i tradition is thus a relatively unembroidered one.
The proliferation of worthless correspondence from Ümar II to all and
sundry, which we find in the Sunni tradition is not paralleled in the
Iba∂i record figures of equivalent stature. But by the same token, Iba∂i
archaism carries its cost for us. It is here that the tradition of religious
epistle stayed alive longest with the implication that the art of epistolary
forgery probably did so too.22
When did these siyar start to be collected in volumes and who adopted
and collected them? Salim al-Îarithi argues that Abu al-Îasan Äli
b. al-Îasan al-Bisyawi (fl. end of fourth/tenth–beginning of fifth/
eleventh century) was the first one to collect the siyar.23 On the other
hand, Sayyida Kashif claims that they were first collected by Abu
Bakr AÌmad b. Äbd Allah b. Musa al-Kindi (d. c. 557/1161), who
wrote K. al-Ihtida} and K. al-Jawhar al-muqtaÒir, and who made use
of several siyar.24 It could be argued that the siyar were collected after
the third/ninth century on the orders of the Rustaq school, since both
al-Bisyawi and al-Kindi were acolytes of this school. Another, theo-
retical, possibility is that Abu al-Îawari started to collect them at the
beginning of the fourth/tenth century, since we have found a certain
sira by Abu al-Mu}thir, which had been examined by Abu al-Îawari.25
But this would be a premature conclusion, since a detailed inspection
of the siyar, as we shall show, indicates that many of them were writ-
ten before the third/ninth century and, thus, before the formation of
the Rustaq school. In addition, siyar continued to be written until the
eleventh/seventeenth century.
Before we analyse the Omani siyar, it is useful to determine the
specific period in which siyar developed and relate them to Iba∂i
thought in Oman. The period that we will cover is the first/seventh–
eleventh/seventeenth centuries, for the following reasons:
21
For further details, see Michael Cook, Early Muslim Dogma (Cambridge 1981),
52.
22
Ibid.
23
Salim al-Îarithi, al-Üqud al-fi∂∂iya fi tarikh al-iba∂iya (Beirut 1974), 145.
24
Al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, ed. Sayyida Kashif Ismaïl (Muscat 1984), 1:9.
25
Al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, 1:149.
119
1. The seminal biography of the Imam NaÒir b. Murshid al-Ya¨rubi,

the Imam of Oman (from 1034/1624 until 1059/1649), written
by Äbd Allah b. Khalfan b. QayÒar26 did not come into existence
until the eleventh/seventeenth century. This sira is considered to
be the first biography in Omani literature and the work which
developed the idea of sira as biography.
2. The style of Omani historical compilations during this period was
developing in new directions.
3. The development of the siyar was complete by the end of this
period, and much of the work composed thereafter adds little
more than embellishment and elaboration on the same themes.
In addition, Omani historical works after the eleventh/seven-
teenth century ceased to use the sira form because it rarely suited
their purposes.
In the nineteenth century, Îumayd b. MuÌammad b. Ruzayq
(d. 1291/1873) wrote a biography of Sultan Saïd b. Sul†an (1804–
56), entitled al-Badr al-tamam fi sirat al-Sayyid al-Humam Saïd
b. Sul†an. He included it in his book al-FatÌ al-mubin fi sirat al-Sadat
al-Bu Saïdiyin,27 which is divided into three sections. The first sec-
tion deals with the tribe of al-Azd28 and their genealogy until the Bu
Saïdiyin. In the second section, he gives some biographical details
about the imams of Oman, and in the third, a narrative of the Bu
Saïdiyin from 1741 until 1856. Furthermore, Abu MuÌammad Äbd
Allah b. Îumayd al-Salimi (1866–1913) wrote the biography of his
teacher ∑aliÌ b. Äli al-Îarithi in his al-Îaqq al-jali fi sirat al-Shaykh
∑aliÌ b. Äli.29 Like Ibn Ruzayq, he used the sira as a historical prin-
ciple in his book TuÌfat al-aÿan bi-sirat ahl Üman, in which he says:
‘The influence of the Prophet and his Companions in Oman can be
seen more than in any other country. My soul longed to write that
which could tell the history of prominent leaders so that their history
is known to the ignorant and that young scholars may see these as
26
Ibn QayÒar, Sirat al-Imam NaÒir b. Murshid, ed. Äbd al-Majid al-Qaysi
(Muscat 1977).
27
Îumayd b. MuÌammad b. Ruzayq, al-FatÌ al-mubin fi sirat al-sada al-Bu
Saïdiyin (Muscat 1977); trans. Rev. G.P. Badger: Salil Ibn Ruzayq, History of the
Imams and Seyyids of Oman (London 1871).
28
Al-Azd are of three types: Azd Shanu}a, Azd al-Surat, and Azd Üman. See
details in Salama b. Muslim al-Äwtabi, Ansab al-ärab (Muscat, 1981–4), 1:43; Abu
al-Äbbas al-Qalqashandi, Nihayat al-arab fi ma¨rifat ansab al-ärab (n.d.), 90; EI 2,
s.v. ‘Azd’.
29
Including ∑aliÌ b. Äli al-Îarithi, Äyn al-maÒaliÌ fi jawabat al-Shaykh al-∑aliÌ
(Damascus n.d).
120
leaders, despite the lack of material [about them] in this area’.30

Because of the diversity in Iba∂i thought in Oman, he adds: ‘As a
result you do not normally find an integrated biography or compre-
hensive history about them [i.e. prominent leaders]’. He says that he
searched as much as he could in the books of history and wrote what
he could about the history of Oman.31
From this we can conclude that, although the earliest biography
written in Oman was thought to have been written in the eleventh/
seventeenth century, the first sira, which recorded the history and
death of the imams and ‘ulama’ of Oman, was in fact written in the
early ninth/fifteenth century by MuÌammad b. Äbd Allah b. Maddad.
This sira is considered a milestone in the development of the sira
in Oman and is a remarkable biography. Nevertheless, the siyar had
been pronounced as primary sources in the classic writings of Omani
historians, such as al-Ansab (fifth/eleventh century) by A. al-Mundhir
al-Äwtabi,32 Kashf al-ghumma: al-Jami¨ li akhbar al-umma (eleventh/
seventeenth) attributed to SirÌan b. Saïd al-Izkawi,33 al-shuä ¨ al-Sha}i¨
bi }l-lumän fi dhikr a}immat Üman34 by Îumayd b. MuÌammad b.
Ruzayq (d. 1875) and TuÌfat al-aÿan bi sirat ahl Üman by Nur al-
Din Äbdullah al-Salimi (1866–1914).
II Introductory Remarks about the Context of the Omani Siyar
Before identifying the siyar that have survived, we must take into
account several factors:
1. The Omani siyar were issued as individual manuscripts in Oman;
there was no collection or collation of them until the eleventh/
seventeenth century. This is the period which witnessed the first
of the Omani siyar collections in a book entitled K. al-Siyar
al-ümaniya or al-Siyar al-iba∂iya. Some of these siyar are still in
manuscript form, and were written in different times and places.
2. Collections of Omani siyar were made at different times.
30
Äbd Allah al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan bi-sirat ahl Üman, ed. A. IsÌaq A†fayyish
(Cairo 1380/1961).
31
Ibid., 1:4.
32
Al-Äwtabi, Ansab.
33
SirÌan, ‘Annals of Oman’, trans. E.C. Ross, The Journal of the Asiatic Society
of Bengal 1, no. 2 (1874).
34
Îumayd b. MuÌammad b. Ruzayq, al-Shuä¨ al-sha}i¨ bi-al-lumän fi dhikr
a}immat Üman (Muscat 1978). Based on a manuscript in the Cambridge University
Library, which consists of 184 lines of poetry on the imams preceding the Bu Saïds.
121
3. Some of the siyar which have been included in these differently

dated collections are not Omani or Iba∂i but general Islamic litera-
ture, like the Sirat al-nabi ila al-Äla} b. al-Îa∂rami or Risalat Abi
Bakr ila Ümar b. al-Kha††ab. They have been included in these
collections because they give indirect support to the Iba∂i sect.
4. Most of the siyar have clear aims, and are similar to what we might
now refer to as monographs. These siyar fall generally into four main
categories in terms of the manner by which they are identified: first,
by name of the author, as in the Sira of Salim b. Dhakwan (second/
eighth century), and the Sira of Khalaf b. Ziyad al-BaÌrani (second/
eighth century); second by name of writer and the people to whom
the letter is addressed, as in the Sira of Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar
(226–37/841–51) to Muädh b. Îarb, and the Sira of MuÌammad
b. MaÌbub to Abu Ziyad Khalaf b. Üdhra.; third by the subject
with which they are concerned, as in the Sira of Abu al-Mundhir
Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (third/ninth century) Fi al-Ìadath
al-waqi¨ bi-Üman, about the events that took place in Oman, and
Sirat al-su}al by Abu al-Îasan Äli b. MuÌammad al-Bisyawi (late
fourth/tenth–early fifth/eleventh century); fourth is by topical title,
as in K. al-AÌdath wa-al-Òifat and K. al-Muwazana.
5. Some siyar deal with more than one topic and, when this is so,
additions are made to the second topic by copyists.35 In other
35
Wilkinson suggests that the problems of identifying the Omani primary
sources are:
First, the conventions followed by the ‘ulama’ when citing their sources. The
following basic rules seem to apply:
(a) they usually quote sources when opinions or attitudes are involved;
(b) they frequently quote a source when it contributes something of special impor-
tance;
(c) they quote when their source is not generally known by scholars or it is ques-
tionable;
(d) conversely, when the material seems to be generally accepted, the sources are
not normally given. This, therefore, leaves a major area of unsupported state-
ments, which probably can never be identified.
Second, there is a problem of identifying the shorthand of the quoted source,
e.g. ‘Abu Sa¨ id says…’ or ‘in the MuÒannaf I have found….’ This is relatively easy
to overcome if the student is prepared to immerse himself in the scholarly tradition
of the Iba∂i ‘ulama’. Thus, one soon learns that Abu Saïd is MuÌammad b. Sa¨ id
al-Kudami, and one will not confuse him with MuÌammad b. Saïd al-Qalhati.
Third, there is the bibliographical problem of establishing the work that an
author wrote, what has survived, and whether a direct quotation is in fact from the
original source or from a version preserved in some other work.
See: John Wilkinson, “Bio-bibliographical Background to the Crisis Period in
the Iba∂i Imamate of Oman,” Arabian Studies 3 (1976): 139.
122
words, the copyists thought it useful to add their own comments

about some subject that is dealt with in the sira. An example can
be found in the Sira of Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis.
In investigating the Omani siyar, it was found that a number
of manuscripts had been grouped in collections:
1. The copy from the Ministry of National Heritage and Culture
(MNHC) in Muscat. Kitab al-Siyar was written in 1299/1881
and collected in three volumes. (MS 1).
2. The copy from the al-Salimi library in Biddiya. It was written in
1120/1708 and collected in one volume entitled Kitab al-Siyar.
(MS 2).
3. The copy from the collected manuscripts of AÌmad b. NaÒir al-
Sayfi in Nizwa. It was written in 1141/1728 and collected in
three volumes entitled al-Siyar al-iba∂iya. (MS 3).
4. Kitab Taqyid by Abu MuÌammad Äbd Allah b. Baraka (fourth/
tenth century). It is kept in the al-Salimi library in Biddiya, and
was written in 972/1564. (MS 4).
5. Al-Sira al-kalawiya. There are two manuscript copies belonging
to MNHC. The acquisition numbers of these two manuscripts
are 138 and 1409. (MS 5).
6. The microfilm manuscript of al-Siyar in the Cambridge Univer-
sity Library, Or.1402. The date of this manuscript is unknown.36
(Mc. 1).
7. The microfilm manuscript of al-Siyar in the Wilkinson Archive
at Exeter University Library. This came from the University of
Lwow, and was used by Lewicki in the Encyclopaedia of Islam.37
(Mc. 2)
Published Works Consulted:

1. K. al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, edited by Sayyida Kashif Isma¨ il in
1984. This manuscript is in the library of MNHC, and the orig-
inal manuscript is said by the editor to be dated 7 Jumada I 1009
(13 November 1600). (Pub. 1).38
2. TuÌfat al-aÿan bi-sirat ahl Üman, by Äbd Allah b. Îumayd al-
Salimi (1284–1332/1875–1913). (Pub. 2).
36
This microfilm was used by Michael Cook in Early Muslim Dogma and Crone
and Zimmermann in The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan.
37
EI 2, s.v. “Iba∂iyya.”
38
Al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, 1:17.
123
3. ItÌaf al-aÿan fi tarikh ba¨∂ ‘ulama’ Üman, by Sayf b. Îammud

b. Îamid al-Ba††ashi. (Pub. 3).39
4. K. Fawakih al-ülum fi †aät al-Îayy al-Qayyum, by Saïd b. AÌmad
al-Kharassini (late eleventh/seventeenth–early twelfth/eighteenth
century). (Pub. 4).40
For convenience, the Omani siyar will be studied according to three
criteria:
I- Chronology
II- Subject
III- Form
Background debates concerning the authenticity of the siyar through a
detailed examination of their contents will be explored and developed.
III Chronology and Subject of the Siyar
The First Period

This period extends from the beginning of Islam until the first Ima-
mate in Oman (131/748). It is divided into six stages:
1A. The first stage covers siyar that were written by neither Iba∂i nor
Omani writers, consisting in fact of letters from the Prophet or his
Companions. Only the Omani writers have collated these letters as
siyar, possibly because there are parallels and similarities between
them and the siyar penned by Omani writers. They appear under the
rubric siyar only in the collection of al-Sayfi in the city of Nizwa
(MS 3), and are arranged under the following topics:
I A sira from the Prophet MuÌammad to al-{Ala} b. al-Îarith; the
Prophet had appointed the latter governor of Bahrain. Sources reckon
that this sira was written in the year 4 /625.41
39
Sayf al-Ba††ashi, ItÌaf al-aÿan fi tarikh ba¨∂ ‘ulama’ Üman (Muscat, 1st ed.
1992, 2nd ed. 1998).
40
Saïd al-Kharasini, Fawakih al-ülum fi †aät al-Îayy al-Qayyum (Muscat 1996).
41
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2. In fact, there are some who doubt the
authenticity of this sira, because the Prophet began to send his missionaries in the
year 8/629; the end of the sira says ‘stamped by the ring of the Prophet’, whereas
the Prophet used the ring only after the year 6/627. Moreover, the sira mentions
Muäwiyah b. Abi Sufyan among the witnesses, although he only embraced Islam
in 8/629. We can also find this sira in the Iba∂i tradition of North Africa by al-Ji†ali
(sixth/twelfth century), Qana†ir al-khayrat (Muscat, 1989), 3:296. Wilkinson adds
that, according to the text, this sira could have been quoted by Abu IsÌaq al-Îa∂rami
124
II A sira in the form of a letter from the caliph Abu Bakr to Äli
b. Abi ™alib.42
III A sira in the form of a letter from Ümar b. al-Kha††ab to Äli
b. Abi ™alib.43
IV A sira in the form of a letter from Äli b. Abi ™alib to Abu
Übayda Ämir b. al-JarraÌ.44
V A sira in the form of a sermon given by Äli b. Abi ™alib on the
day Abu Bakr died.45
VI A sira in the form of a statement by Abu Bakr addressed to
Ümar b. al-Kha††ab.46
1B. The second stage covers siyar that reflect important events
occurring after the crisis resulting from the assassination of the caliph
Üthman b. Äffan. The following siyar deal with the events of the
period 35–45/656–65:
VII An anonymous summary of the accomplishments of Üthman
b. Äffan during his caliphate, known as MukhtaÒar min kitab Òifat
aÌdath Üthman b. Äffan. Al-Barradi includes it among the first of
the Eastern Iba∂i compilations that were written in the second/eighth
century.47
VIII A letter from Äli b. Abi ™alib to the people of Nahrawan.48
IX A letter from the Muslims of Nahrawan to Äli b. Abi ™alib.49
X A sira in the form of a debate between the Muslims of Nah-
rawan and Äbd Allah b. al-Äbbas.50
in The Imamate Tradition of Oman (Cambridge 1987), 167, 342; Abu Bakr al-
Kindi, al-Ihtida}, ed. Sayyida Kashif Ismaïl (Muscat 1986), 240–9.
42
MS 3.
43
MS 3.
44
MS 3.
45
MS 3.
46
MS 3. Ibn al-Athir, al-Kamil, edited by Äbd al-Wahhab al-Najar. (Cairo,
1348/1930–1349/1931), 1:8.
47
MS 3; Mc. 1. Al-Barradi mentions this sira; Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina, 53.
This sira raises questions about its authenticity. Crone and Zimmermann comment:
‘It cites information from the Kufan Shiïte al-A¨mash (d. 148/765) and gives verba-
tim extracts from Ibn IsÌaq (d. about 150/767), mostly without acknowledgement,
though it does name him on one occasion. The work is unlikely to have been written
much before the 150s/770s’. The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 190.
48
MS 3. See also Ibn al-Athir, al-Kamil, 3:171.
49
MS 3; Mc. 2.
50
MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1. Cf. M. Kafafi, ‘The Rise of Kharijism according to
Abu Sa¨ id MuÌammad b. Saïd al-Azdi al-Qalhati’, Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts
(Cairo) 14 (1952), 29–48.
125
XI A letter from Äli b. Abi ™alib to Äbd Allah b. Äbbas, when

the latter was accused of embezzeling money from Basra when he left
from the Hijaz.51
XII A sira that includes letters written by Äli b. Abi ™alib to Äbd
Allah b. Äbbas.52
XIII An anonymous sira known as Sira fi al-radd äla ahl al-shakk.
This sira was composed in response to those who harboured doubts
about the people of Nahrawan, and attempts to explain why the
latter had rejected the arbitration between Äli and Muäwiya.53
1C. The third stage is a collection of siyar which reflect the organi-
zation of the Iba∂i movement and the communications between its
centre in Basra and several other groups of Iba∂is. It also presents
political, theological and legal issues among Islamic sects. The third
stage includes the following siyar:
XIV A sira from Äbd Allah b. Iba∂ (the eponym of the Iba∂iya)
to Äbd al-Malik b. Marwan.54 The first of two, it is specifically about
Üthman and Muäwiya. As such, it is a well-known correspondence
and is considered to be one of the first Iba∂i works that clarifies Iba∂i
thought as it stood in the first/seventh century.55
51
MS 3; Mc. 1. See Ibn Khaldun, Tarikh, 2:1131.
52
MS 3; Mc. 1.
53
MS 3; Mc. 1.
54
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:325.
55
Michael Cook devotes a chapter to discussing the authenticity of the letters
of Äbd Allah b. Iba∂ to Äbd al-Malik b. Marwan. Ibn Iba∂’s first letter is about
Üthman and Muäwiya, and his second one concerns Äli and his son al-Îasan.
Cook believes that one cannot accept the first letter as a genuine composition of
Ibn Iba∂. It is probably a copy of a letter from Jabir b. Zayd to some of his students
at the end of the second/eighth century. Cook adds that if we accept the authentic-
ity of the letter, we would consider that the letter is actually from Jabir b. Zayd
to Äbd al-Malik b. al-Muhallab b. Abi ∑ufra. He states that the form of the first
letter is characteristic of letters dating to the end of the Umayyad period. Cook
tries in his arguments to cast some doubts on the existence of Ibn Iba∂. Cook,
Early Muslim Dogma, 51–67. See also Carl Brockelmann, Geschichte der arabischen
Literatur Supplementband (Leiden 1936–42), 1:104; L. Sachau, ‘Über die religiösen
Anschauungen der Ibaditischen Muhammedaner in Oman und Ostafrika’, Mitt-
heilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen 4 (1898), 61–82; Josef van Ess,
Anfänge muslimischer Theologie (Beirut 1977), 7, 12, 151; R. Rubinacci, ‘Il califfo
Äbd al-Malik b. Marwan egli Ibadite’, Annali dell’ Istituto Universitario Orientale
di Napoli 5 (1953), 106–21; van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft, (Berlin and New
York 1992–7), 2:187–90.
126
XV A sira by Jabir b. Zayd (d. c. 93/711).56 Jabir is considered to

be the first Iba∂i leader in Basra. This sira is mentioned only by the
author of Jami¨ Ibn Ja¨far and has not yet been found.57
XVI A sira which records the sayings of Jabir b. Zayd. This sira is
known only from a quotation in the aforementioned Jami¨ Ibn
Ja¨far.58
XVII A sira by Abu Übayda Muslim b. Abi Karima (d. c. 158/
775)59 and Abu Ayyub Wa}il b. Ayyub al-Îa∂rami.60 Abu Übayda
was the second Iba∂i imam who organized the Iba∂i movement in
Basra after Jabir b. Zayd. Abu Übayda and Abu Ayyub, who were
originally from the Îa∂ramawt, were regarded as third- and fourth-
generation Iba∂is respectively. This sira talks about the nature of those
human beings who insist on committing sins; as such it is considered
to be the first Iba∂i theological tract. The sira explains the concept of
reward and punishment earned by human actions, pointing out that,
while the performance of good deeds leads to paradise, people who
insist on committing sins will reside permanently in hellfire.61
XVIII A sira by Abu Übayda Muslim b. Abi Karima and Abu
Mawdud Îajib b. Mawdud al-™a}i to al-Fa∂l b. Kathir. Abu Mawdud
died in Basra between 136/753 and 148/764, and certainly before
Abu Übayda.62 He was also considered as a second-generation Iba∂i
and one of the political organizers of the movement in Basra. This
sira discusses Iba∂i opinions on the theological issue of free will and
predestination.63
XIX A sira by Abu Übayda Muslim b. Abi Karima. This sira
consists of advice given to the followers of the Iba∂i sect, encouraging
them to continue their work and activities in a more discrete way.64
XX A sira in the form of a letter from Abu Mawdud to Abu
al-Îurr b. al-Îusayn. Abu al-Îurr, regarded as second-generation,
was a member of the Iba∂i delegation that went to the Caliph Ümar
56
EI 2, s.v. ‘Djabir b. Zayd’; van Ess, TG, 2:190.
57
Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨, MNHC, (Muscat 1981), 1:158.
58
Ibid., 1:93.
59
EI 2, s.v. ‘Iba∂iyya’; van Ess, TG, 2:193. Abu Übayda seems to have died
after 150/760, because Abu Übayda ordered the killing of Ma¨n b. Za}idah al-
Shaybani after Ma¨n killed Zajir al-Îa∂rami. Ma¨n was killed in Sistan in 150/760.
Al-Shammakhi, al-Siyar, 1:107.
60
Al-Darjini, ™abaqat al-mashayikh, 2:278.
61
MS 3; Mc. 1.
62
Van Ess, TG, 2:196.
63
MS 3.
64
MS 3; Mc. 1.
127
b. Äbd al-Äziz (99–101/717–720). This sira sheds light on the

events which caused its author to leave Basra, and records the prob-
lems that he encountered, such as fear and expulsion.65
XXI A sira by Imam Äbd Allah b. YaÌya ™alib al-Îaqq (d. 131/
748). ™alib al-Îaqq was the Iba∂i leader of Yemen and Îa∂ramawt
who revolted against the Umayyads in 129/746. This sira has been
mentioned by al-Barradi, but has not yet come to light.66 It is, per-
haps, the sermon given by ™alib al-Îaqq when he occupied Yemen.67
XXII A sira from MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil68 to Imam Äbd Allah
b. YaÌya ™alib al-Îaqq. This sira was written when ™alib al-Îaqq
rebelled in Yemen. It is recorded by al-Darjini.69
XXIII A sira by Abu Mawdud Îajib b. Abi Mawdud al-™a}i. This
sira is in the form of an invitation to the Iba∂i people to organize
themselves for jihad and revolution in order to establish the Imamate.
As such, it illustrates the fundamental principles of Iba∂i political
thought: equality among the people and the principle of consultation
(shura ).70
XXIV A sira by Abu Ayyub Wa}il b. Ayyub al-Îa∂rami. This sira,
for which the author has chosen the title Nasab al-islam (The Gene-
alogy of Islam), is a summary of the main Islamic teachings. It also
illustrates the Iba∂i position on the doctrine of divine unity (tawÌid ),
refuting both anthropomorphism and the notion of the vision of God
on the Day of Resurrection. The sira supports the idea that Islam
consists of both faith and deeds.71
XXV A sira by Salim b. Dhakwan al-Hilali. Ibn Dhakwan was
a member of the Iba∂i delegation which went to the Caliph Ümar
b. Äbd al-Äziz (reg. 99–101/717–20). This sira is considered to be
the most important Iba∂i document of the first half of the second/
eighth century. Cook argues that it could be dated between 72/680 and
73/681,72 while Crone and Zimmermann suggest a date in the range
of 133–77/750–93.73 This sira discusses several ways in which Iba∂i
beliefs might be maintained. Additionally, it clarifies the differences
65
MS 3.
66
Al-Barradi, Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina, 61.
67
IÒfahani, al-Aghani, 23:236.
68
EI2, s.v. ‘MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil’; van Ess, TG, 2:201.
69
Al-Darjini, ™abaqat al-mashayikh, 2:279; al-Barradi, Risala fi taqyid kutub
aÒÌabina, 56.
70
MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1.
71
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub, 2:46.
72
Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 20, 89, 103.
73
128
in theological opinion between the Iba∂is and other Islamic sects,

specifically the Murji}a. The sira rejects all Khariji opinions of the
Azariqa, the Najdiya and the ∑ufriya, and their followers Ä†iya
b. Ämir, Abu Dawud and Abu Fudayk. It also expresses opinions
on the issue of predestination, divine decree, and free will.74
XXVI A sira from Abu Übayda and Abu Mawdud Îajib to the
people of the Maghrib (North Africa). This is in the form of a letter
to the Iba∂i people of Tripoli (Libya), advising them to remain united
and to eschew division and sectarianism.75 A secondary aim of this
sira was to interpret three fundamental principles of Islamic dogma
(uÒul al-din) held by the Iba∂is, namely association (walaya), disso-
ciation (bara}a), and suspended judgment (wuquf ). The authors
advise the Iba∂is to adopt the principle of wuquf with regard to the
murder of Üthman.76
XXVII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu Übayda Muslim
b. Abi Karima and Abu Mawdud Îajib al-™a}i to the people of
Oman. The date is unknown. This sira was written and sent in order
to quell the sedition in Oman caused by Qutaybah b. Dirham and
Sadus b. Yusuf, who were responsible for buying a free man from
Thabit b. Juhri and enslaving him. This led the Iba∂i {ulama’ to
proclaim dissociation (bara}a) from what they had done. This crisis
demonstrated a lack of control in the internal affairs of Oman on
the part of the authorities, and also led to confusion among scholars
and some tribes at that time. Internal evidence in the sira points to
its having been penned after the imamate of al-Julanda b. Masüd
in 134/750.77
74
MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1. This sira is translated and studied by Crone and Zim-
mermann in The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan. It is also studied by Cook in Early
Muslim Dogma. Also see Ä. K. Ennami, ‘Studies in Iba∂ism’ (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of
Cambridge, 1971); van Ess, TG, 1:174; 2:661.
75
The year 132/748 witnessed the murder of al-Îarith b. Talid al-Îa∂rami and
Äbd al-Jabbar b. Qays al-Murradi. The people found the corpses of Äbd al-Jabbar
and al-Îarith, each with the other’s sword in his body. Some blamed their deaths
on Äbd al-RaÌman b. Îabib, who was the Abbasid governor (wali) of North Africa,
claiming that he murdered them because he was afraid of the gradual extension
of Iba∂i influence into North Africa. The murders were not connected with
the attempt to establish the first Iba∂i Imamate in North Africa (140–4/758–62)
by Abu al-Kha††ab Äbd al-A¨la b. al-SamÌ al-Maäfiri. Cf. MuÌammad Khalifat,
Nash}a† al-Ìaraka al-iba∂iya (Amman 1978), 139–42; Werner Schwartz, Die
Anfänge der Ibadin in Nordafrika (Wiesbaden 1983), 129–36; Ulrich Rebstock, Die
Ibaditen im Magrib (2/8-4/10) (Berlin 1983), 53.
76
MS 3.
77
MS 3.
129
XXVIII A sira from Abu Übayda al-Maghribi to Imam Äbd al-

Wahhab b. Äbd al-RaÌman, the second Rustamid Imam of Tahart
(168–208/784–823), whose accession to power sparked the Nukkar
schism. This letter, which concerns the imam’s election, should be
treated cautiously: if genuine, it provides a new terminus a quo for
Abu Übayda’s death.78 At the end of the document there are several
passages on Quranic exegesis. In fact, as it is well known that Abu
Übayda’s death was in the 150s/770s, there are doubts concerning
the sira’s authenticity. In this regard, compare this work with the sira
from al-Rabi¨ b. Îabib to the people of the Maghrib (XXXIII).79
XXIX A sira by Hilal b. Ä†iya al-Khurasani (d. 134/751). Hilal was
a judge in the service of Imam al-Julanda b. Masüd (132–4/749–51),
hailing originally from Khurasan. This sira has yet to be found.80
XXX A sira by Khalaf b. Ziyad al-BaÌrani (second/eighth century).
Khalaf was among the companions of Imam al-Julanda b. Masüd.
He was originally from Bahrain before going to Oman and joining
al-Shurat, meaning the people who follow the idea of ‘selling’ oneself
in God’s cause. He later became one of the leaders of al-Shurat.
His sira outlines the underlying structure of al-Shurat and illustrates
Iba∂i political and theological thought as it stood in the first half of
the second/eighth century. The particular issue discussed in this sira
is the unity of words and deeds. It also includes a response to the
Khawarij, whom the author considers dissenters on account of the
fact that they arrogated to themselves the authority to kill and take
the property of any Muslim who disagreed with their ideas.81
XXXI A sira by Shabib b. Ä†iyah al-Khurasani. Shabib was one
of the army commanders of Imam al-Julanda b. Masüd during the
latter’s fight against the Abbasids in 134/752. He was among the
migrants from Khurasan, although Ibn Baraka identifies him as an
Omani.82 He later lived in Oman, where he was known as a market
78
Wilkinson, ‘The Fiqh and other Early Manuscripts in the Muscat Collection’,
Arabian Studies 4 (1978), 191–207. However, al-Baruni claims that this sira was
a letter from Abu Übayda Muslim to Imam Äbd al-Wahhab. See Sulayman
al-Baruni, al-Azhar al-riya∂iya (Cairo 1324/1905), 2:611. On the other hand, Äli
Dabbuz argues that this sira could be attributed to Abu Übayda Äbd al-Îamid
al-Jinawani, who was a scholar from Jabal Naffusa at the end of the second/eighth
century. Äli Dabbuz, Tarikh al-maghrib al-kabir (Cairo 1963), 3:181. On al-Jinawani,
see EI 2, s.v. ‘Djanawani’; al-Darjini, ™abaqat al-mashayikh, 2:291.
79
MS 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:320.
80
Pub. 1, 1:300; Pub. 4, 3:241.
81
MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1.
82
Pub. 1, 2:313.
130
inspector (muÌtasib), and he collected taxes. He continued this work

after the death of al-Julanda up until shortly before the establishment
of the imamate of MuÌammad b. Äbd Allah b. Abi Äffan (177–
9/793–5). Shabib wrote this sira after the death of Imam al-Julanda.
We could consider this sira to stem from the period 140–65/756–81.
The sira talks about a very important issue, namely that faith includes
a combination of both words and deeds. The writer also calls for
jihad in order to affect a revolution designed to re-establish the prin-
ciples of early Islam, namely justice, equality, and shura.83
XXXII A sira by Shabib b. Ä†iya to Äbd al-Salam, a replication
of al-Shakkak min al-murji}a (those who had doubted the righteous-
ness of the people of Nahrawan). This sira was probably written in
the 160s/780s, because Shabib died before the establishment of Imam
MuÌammad b. Äbd Allah b. Abi Äffan in 177/793.84 The sira shows
the different theological positions taken in debates at that time among
the various Islamic sects. This sira is a response to the Murji}i stance
on the definition of faith as a combination of words and deeds. It also
includes a reply to al-Shakkak, which claimed that Üthman, Äli
b. Abi ™alib, and Muäwiya had made mistakes.85
XXXIII A sira from al-Rabi¨ b. Îabib (75–175/694–792)86 to the
people of the Maghrib. This sira takes the form of a letter from Imam
al-Rabi¨ to the Iba∂is of Tahart, in southern Algeria, after they fell
into disagreement and schism over Imam Äbd al-Wahhab b. Äbd
al-RaÌman b. Rustam (171–208/788–824), the second Rustamid
imam. Al-Rabi¨ had supported the imamate of Äbd al-Wahhab; how-
ever, a conflict arose at that time among the Iba∂is, spearheaded by
Yazid b. Fandin and his followers, who were known as al-Nukkar
(the deniers) as a result of their rejection of Imam Äbd al-Wahhab.87
Van Ess, however, does not accept that al-Rabi¨ had a role in this
schism.88
XXXIV A sira by Musa b. Abi Jabir (d. 181/797). He was one of
four people who were Ìamalat al-ïlm (missionaries) from Basra to
Oman. He was also one of the most influential people in the imamate
of MuÌammad b. Äbd Allah b. Abi Äffan al-YaÌmadi (177–9/793–5)
83
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:346. See also the comments on
this sira by Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 57, 179.
84
Al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan, 1:111.
85
MS 3; Mc. 1. Al-Barradi mentions it as among the early Eastern Iba∂i com-
positions. See Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina, 54.
86
Cook suggests that Rabi¨ died after 200 AH. Early Muslim Dogma, 56, 179.
87
MS 1.
88
Van Ess, TG, 2:198.
131
in Oman. Musa was mufti of Oman after Imam al-Julanda b. Masüd

until Imam Ghassan b. Äbd Allah al-FajÌi (192–207/808–23). This
sira is a political statement explaining the reasons behind the removal
of Imam MuÌammad b. Äbd Allah b. Abi Äffan from the Imamate.
One of these reasons was his severity in running the country’s affairs.89
1D. The fourth stage covers the siyar that were written during
the imamates of Ghassan b. Äbd Allah al-FajÌi (192–207/808–23)
and Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd (208–26/823–41). The Imamate in
Oman during their time was stronger because the Omanis succeeded
in restoring it.
XXXV The sira of Abu Mawdud Îabib b. ÎafÒ al-Hilali. He is
believed to have been an Iba∂i scholar operating in Oman in the
second/eighth century. This sira is in the form of a letter of advice to
Imam Ghassan b. Äbd Allah al-FajÌi upon the latter’s accession to
the Imamate. The author recommends that the imam strengthen
the Imamate in Oman by promoting justice and equality among the
people.90
XXXVI A sira from Munir b. al-Nayyir al-Riyami al-Ja¨lani 91 to
Imam Ghassan b. Äbd Allah. Munir was one of the aforementioned
quartet of missionaries (Ìamalat al-ïlm) sent from Basra to Oman
to help in the establishment of the Imamate in Oman after Imam
al-Julanda was overthrown. This sira, like the preceding one, lauds
the righteousness of the previous imams and the Iba∂i {ulama’. The
author informs Imam Ghassan about a band of pirates who were
attacking ships in the Gulf and the Indian Ocean. The pirates’ latest
89
MS 3; Mc. 1.
90
MS 3; Mc. 1.
91
Al-Ba††ashi gives an account of his genealogy as Munir b. al-Nayyir b. Äbd
al-Malik b. Wassar b. Wahab b. Übayd b. ∑alt b. YaÌya b. Îa∂rami b. Riyam
al-Riyami; Pub. 3, 1:171. However, there is a debate about the date of his death
and about whether they were one or two persons, because he has been mentioned
twice. First, he is mentioned among the Ìamalat al-ïlm from Basra to Oman. See
Al-Salimi, al-Lumä al-mur∂iya min ashi¨ät al-iba∂iya (Muscat 1983), 12. Second,
he is mentioned as having been killed in 280/893 at Dama. See Al-Salimi, TuÌfat
al-aÿan, 1:260. Thus his existence is unclear. Cf. Crone and Zimmermann, The
Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 341. It can be deduced that there is only one figure
named Munir b. al-Nayyir (d.c. 220s) and this deduction emerges for two reasons:
1. Munir is not mentioned in Omani Iba∂i tradtion since 220s, 2. he was not among
the scholars who elected the Imamate in Oman since the Imam Äbd al-Malik b.
Îumayd. See further Äbd al-Rahman al-Salimi, Ishkalat tawthiq al-shakhsiyat
al-Ümaniya al-mubakira: Munir b. al-Nayyir al-namudhaja, Nizwa magazine,
Muscat, v44.
132
atrocity was the slaughter of more than fifty people in the region
between Basra and western Oman. No one had been able to capture
them. Consequently, the Imam built the first fleet in Oman to
destroy them. This mission was completed successfully during the
imamate of Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd (208–26/823–41). This in
turn led to the expansion of the Imamate outside the Indian Ocean
and helped to spread Iba∂i thought in Asia and East Africa. As such,
this is an extremely significant event in the history of Oman, signal-
ling the achievement of independence for Oman from the Abbasid
caliphate.92
XXXVII A sira from Hashim b. Ghaylan al-Sijani to Imam Äbd
al-Malik b. Îumayd (208–26/823–41). Hashim was a powerful mem-
ber of the {ulama’ during the imamate of Äbd al-Malik. In this sira,
he answers some questions posed by the imam about the battle of
∑iffin, Äli, Muäwiya, and the people of Nahrawan.93
XXXVIII A sira from Hashim b. Ghaylan al-Sijani to Imam Äbd
al-Malik b. Îumayd. This sira concerns the Qadariya and the Murji}a,
whose missionaries had established footholds in the cities of Sohar
and Tuwam.94 At this time, theological debates between the various
Islamic sects was on the rise. Oman had become a main centre for
the influx of new theological ideas, since it was in close contact with
the Abbasid capital of Baghdad. Iba∂i thought comes into greater
focus after the establishment of the Imamate in Oman and its inde-
pendence from the Abbasid caliphate.95
XXXIX A sira addressed to Imam Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd from
Hashim b. Ghaylan, MuÌammad b. Musa, al-Azhar b. Äli, al-Äbbas
b. al-Azhar, Musa b. MuÌammad, Musa b. Äli, MuÌammad b. Äli,
and Saïd b. Ja¨far. All of these third/ninth century scholars hailed
from Izki.96 This sira is in the form of a letter of advice to the imam
concerning some of the people around him.97
XL A sira addressed to Imam Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd from
Musa b. Äli and Hashim b. Ghaylan and the people of Izki. This sira
92
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Pub. 1, 1:229.
93
MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Pub, 1:36.
94
Shams al-Din al-Muqaddasi, AÌsan al-taqasim fi ma¨rifat al-aqalim, ed. M.J. de
Goeje (Leiden 1906), 93. Tuwam is present-day Buraymi.
95
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3.
96
Local tradition has it that Izki (in pre-Islamic times, Jurnan, from the name
of the idol worshipped there) is the oldest settlement in Oman, pre-dating Nizwa
by fifty years. See J. Wilkinson, ‘The Origins of the Aflaj of Oman’, Journal of
Oman Studies 6 (1978), 177–94.
97
MS 3; Mc. 1.
133
is very similar to the preceding one, consisting of advice to the imam

on the necessity of adherence to Islamic jurisprudence.98
XLI A sira from Musa b. Äli b. Üzra (177–230/784–845) to
Imam Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd. This sira is a reply to the imam
concerning the issue of jihad. Musa was the grandson of Musa b. Abi
Jabir and a student of Hashim b. Ghaylan. He was a powerful figure
in Oman at the end of the imamate of Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd
whom some of the Iba∂i scholars wanted to remove from the Imamate
because of his failure to run the affairs of the country successfully,
and on account of his advancing years. Musa, however, was against
the idea of isolating the imam. His role increased in importance dur-
ing the imamate of Muhanna b. Jayfar al-FajÌi (226–37/841–51),
because he was considered among the ahl al-Ìall wa-al-äqd (those
who loosen and bind, i.e. the decision-makers).99
XLII A sira from Musa b. Äli to Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd. In
this sira, Musa advises the imam not to appoint certain men to his
government. As such, it demonstrates the role of the ‘ulama’ in the
first Imamate of Oman.100
XLIII A sira from Musa b. Äli to the ‘ulama’ and al-Shurat. In this
sira, Musa divides people into three groups: unbelievers, Muslims,
and ingrates (kuffar al-niäm). The relationship between the Iba∂is
and the non-Iba∂is is clarified, and the concepts of walaya and bara}a
are discussed.101
1E. The fifth stage covers the siyar which appeared during the ima-
mate of Muhanna b. Jayfar al-FajÌi (226–37/841–51). The Iba∂i
movement had at this point succeeded in extending the Islamic state.
The Imamate of the Rustamids in North Africa was in a stronger
position, especially after having established trade routes through the
Sahara. The two also exchanged opinions on theological issues such
as the creation of the Qur}an. The siyar of this stage are:
XLIV A sira from Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar (226–37/841–51) to
Muädh b. Îarb. Originally this was a letter from the imam designed
as a response to some fatwas. Ibn Ja¨far notes that this sira was written
by the judge to Imam Abu Äli Musa b. Äli (d. 237/851).102 The imam
discusses issues related to various theological and legal positions held
98
MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2.
99
MS 3; Mc. 1.
100
MS 3.
101
MS 3.
102
Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨, 2:46.
134
by the Iba∂is. All of the responses outlined in this document reflect

the basic differences which existed then between the Iba∂is and the
other Sunnis, and which still exist today. These differences are: rejec-
tion of the notion of God as a corporeal entity or thing; opposition
to the idea of man’s ability to see God on the Day of Resurrection;
rejection of the practice of raising the hands when commencing
prayer and clasping the hands over the abdomen during prayer, a
practice known as sadal or isbal; and rejection of the idea that the
name of God in surat al-FatiÌa (Qur}an, ch.1) is not a part of it.
There are also opinions included in this sira that relate to the qunut
during the prayer and the issue of truncated prayers during a journey.
The imam was also advised, according to Iba∂i ethics, to forbid slav-
ery. The only reason to allow slavery, it was claimed, was to invite
the slave to Islam; otherwise, slavery was prohibited.103
XLV A sira from Abu Sufyan MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil to Imam
Muhanna b. Jayfar about Harun b. al-Yaman.104 The author was the
last Iba∂i leader in Basra, and died at the beginning of the third/ninth
century.
XLVI A sira from Abu Sufyan MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil to the people
of Îa∂ramawt concerning Harun b. al-Yaman.105
XLVII A sira from Harun b. al-Yaman to Imam Muhanna b. Jay-
far regarding MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil.106
The three siyar cited above help to explain Iba∂i thought on Islamic
theological issues such as anthropomorphism, the vision of God on
the Day of Resurrection, and the definition of faith whether or not it
is combination of words and deeds. These siyar are of great importance
to those studying the dynamics of interaction between the various
Islamic sects. The author of TuÌfat al-aÿan107 gives more information
on these issues, stating that the people of Oman and Îa∂ramawt
followed MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil while the people of Yemen followed
Harun b. al-Yaman, who was also a member of the Shuäybiya sect.108
103
MS 3; Mc. 1.
104
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:273.
105
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:305.
106
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:323.
107
Al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan, 1:157-158; Crone and Zimmermann, The Epistle
of Salim b. Dhakwan, 309–15.
108
Abu IsÌaq A†fayyish (the editor of TuÌfat al-aÿan) says that the founder of
this sect (al-Shuäybiya) was Shuäyb b. MuÌammad, who followed the Äjarida of
the Khawarij. This sub-sect had similar views to the Qadariya on predestination.
See TuÌfat al-aÿan, 1:157–8; Saïd al-Qalhati, al-Kashf wa-al-bayan, ed. Sayyida
Kashif Ismaïl (Muscat 1980), 2:233; al-Shahrastani, al-Milal wa-al-niÌal, 1:204.
135
In contrast, al-Ba††ashi argues that the dispute between Harun and

MaÌbub took place during the reign of Ghassan b. Äbd Allah (192–
207/808–23).109
XLVIII The sira of Da¨wa. The author is unknown, and the sira
is known only from a quotation in Ibn Ja¨far’s Jami¨.110 It is possible
to argue that the sira was written at the end of third/ninth century,
since it mentions the issue of MaÌbub and Harun.
1F. The sixth stage covers those siyar dating from the imamate of
al-∑alt b. Malik al-KharuÒi (237–72/851–86). At this time, MuÌam-
mad b. MaÌbub (d. 260/874), son of the aforementioned MaÌbub
b. al-RaÌil, had arrived in Oman. The centre of Iba∂i thought in Iraq
had come to an end, causing the Iba∂is in general to split into two
schools: the Mashariqa, or Eastern Iba∂is (in Oman, Yemen, and East
Africa) and the Maghariba, or North African Iba∂is (in Libya, Tunis,
and Algeria). The siyar of this stage are:
XLIX A sira from MuÌammad b. MaÌbub to Abu Ziyad Khalaf
b. Üdhra. This is in the form of a legal fatwa, based on Iba∂i opin-
ions concerning Üthman, Äli, Muäwiya, and the Nahrawan issue.111
L A sira from Imam al-∑alt b. Malik and MuÌammad b. MaÌbub
to AÌmad b. Sulayman, the imam of the Îa∂ramawt. This sira was
addressed to the Iba∂i people of Îa∂ramawt who had fallen into
dissent and schism, resulting in opposition on the part of some of
them to the rule of the imam. From this letter it appears that the root
cause of the problem was the fact that the imam of Îa∂ramawt had
abandoned jihad, the Friday prayer, and had sold some military
equipment.112
LI A sira from MuÌammad b. MaÌbub to the people of the
Maghrib. MuÌammad wrote this sira in response to questions posed
by the North Africans concerning zakat (the fourth pillar of Islam),
particularly whether zakat should be paid to a government that offers
them no protection. MuÌammad advises them not to pay zakat to
any government or person unless the conditions of protection are
fulfilled. This sira was intended only for the Iba∂i people of Tripoli
(Libya), because at that time the Imamate of the Rustamids was
established (171–297/788–909) in Tahart. Not without justification
can this sira be considered tantamount to an invitation to the people
109
Pub. 3, 2: 217–19. Also see further M. al-Kindi, Bayan al-shar}, (Muscat 1988),
28: 83–5, 140; 68: 307.
110
Ibn Ja¨far, Jami ¨, 1:226.
111
MS 3.
112
MS 2; MS 3.
136
to rise up in rebellion against the central government. The sira also

outlines reasons for rejecting belief in anthropomorphism.113
LII A sira from the people of the Maghrib to Imam al-∑alt b. Malik.
This is a letter defining the relationship of the Iba∂is with other
Islamic sects and with non-Muslims as well, especially with regard to
the concepts of association (walaya), dissociation (bara}a) and sus-
pended judgment (wuquf ).114
LIII A sira by Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. Others, however, attribute
authorship of this sira to MuÌammad b. MaÌbub.115 This sira is in
the form of a proclamation to the Omani army, despatched to the
island of Socotra to wage a jihad against the Ethiopian Christians
who had occupied it in the third/ninth century. The sira outlines the
Iba∂i ethics of jihad. The imam writes on correct conduct in warfare,
and advises his army on how they should treat others, regardless of
whether they are Muslim or Christian. In addition, this sira docu-
ments the powerful role of the Imamate of Oman in the Indian
Ocean.116
LIV A sira from Imam al-∑alt b. Malik to Ghassan b. Khulayd,
advising the latter, who was governor of the city of Rustaq, on certain
points of state policy. It also includes guidelines on how Iba∂is should
treat non-Iba∂i Muslims, the People of the Book, and non-Muslims.117
LV A sira by Äzzan b. al-∑aqar al-YaÌmadi (d. 268/882) on the
creation of the Qur}an. Äzzan is considered to have been the first
Iba∂i scholar (älim) from the Banu KharuÒ, and was among the stu-
dents of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. This sira is arguably the oldest
surviving Islamic theological monograph dealing with the issue of
the created or uncreated nature of the Qur}an, written in refutation
of those who held that the Qur}an was created in time. This led to a
long debate among the Eastern Iba∂is who, in the eighth/fourteenth
century, eventually adopted the belief that the Qur}an was created.118
The Iba∂i scholars of the Maghrib had already accepted this position.
In principle, the Iba∂i creed advocates neither anthropomorphism
nor the uncreatedness of the Qur}an, holding that belief in the latter
113
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3.
114
MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2.
115
Al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari, Jami¨ (Muscat 1985), 3:207; al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan,
1:186.
116
MS 2; Pub. 2, 1:168.
117
Pub. 2, 1:184.
118
Cf. al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan, 1:156; Nur al-Din al-Salimi, Raw∂ al-bayan
äla fay∂ al-mannan fi al-radd äla man iddaä qidam al-Qur}an, ed. Äbd al-RaÌman
al-Salimi (Muscat 1994).
137
is to accept another entity as co-eternal with God. It is the belief of

al-Salimi, however, that when this issue arrived in Oman during the
reign of Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar, the Iba∂i scholars took the posi-
tion that they did because they were afraid that the opinions of the
Jahmiya on this issue would cause unnecessary conflict among them.
Compare this issue with sira XXXVIII.119
LVI A sira from Imam Abu al-YaqÂan MuÌammad b. AflaÌ, the
fourth Rustamid imam in Tahart (208–58/823–71), to the people of
Oman. In this sira, the imam attempts to settle the issue of the nature
of the Qur}an among the Maghrib school once and for all. The sira
also illustrates the exchange of knowledge between Iba∂i schools. In
particular, this sira formalizes the opinions of Iba∂i theological thought
on divine unity. This issue caused a schism among the Islamic sects
known as the fitnat khalq al-Qur}an between 198/813 and 232/847.120
LVII A sira known as K. al-Ra∂if wa-Ìuduth al-älam by Abu al-
Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (d. 278/887). He studied
with his father, MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. The author has been consid-
ered to be among the earliest Iba∂i scholars who wrote on the funda-
mentals of Islamic jurisprudence (uÒul al-fiqh). Some scholars call this
Sirat al-Musta}naf. Resembling a monograph on Islamic theology, this
sira survives as the oldest Omani compilation of its type. It includes a
complete account of Mashariqa Iba∂i theological opinions on divine
unity. There are seven chapters: 1) on creation and causality, 2) on
divine unity, 3) on the rules of the Qur}an, 4) on the divine names
and attributes, 5) on the sunna, 6) on the duty to establish the Ima-
mate, and 7) on dar al-islam and dar al-Ìarb121 and their rules.122
LVIII A sira entitled K. al-MuÌaraba (Book of Warfare) by Abu
al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. This monograph deals
with the defensive war of jihad, and includes three chapters: 1) the
kinds of people who have the obligation to fight, 2) the concept of
commanding right and forbidding wrong, and 3) the fight against
oppressors. This sira reveals two things about Omani history. First, it
clarifies the relationship between the central power of the Iba∂is in
Oman with other Muslims and non-Muslims; second, it shows a
change towards greater sophistication on the part of sira writers when
dealing with the state.123
119
MS 2; MS 3.
120
MS 3.
121
Referring to three elements: place of Muslims, place of kuffar, and place of
mediation. See EI 2, s.v. ‘Dar al-Islam’; ‘Dar al-Îarb’; ‘Dar al-Ähd’.
122
MS 2.
123
MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2.
138
The Second Period

The second period of Omani siyar contains those documents com-
posed during the civil war. In 272/886, Imam al-∑alt b. Malik was
removed from the Imamate, and Rashid b. al-NaÂar al-FajÌi was
installed in his place (272–7/886–90), with support from Musa
b. Musa (the son of Musa b. Äli) and al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari. This
episode destroyed the monolithic structure of the Omani community
and the Iba∂i movement after the end of the second and third gen-
eration of Iba∂i scholars. This is seen by historians as something of
a disaster in Omani history, with three major effects. First came the
overthrow of Rashid b. al-NaÂar and the appointment of Äzzan
b. Tamim al-KharuÒi to the Imamate (277–80/890–3). This led to a
civil war between the Arab clans of Nizar and QaÌ†an, bringing in
its wake five major battles and the deaths of Musa b. Musa, al-Fa∂l
b. al-Îawari, and Rashid b. al-NaÂar. Second, the first Imamate in
Oman was destroyed by MuÌammad b. Nur (Ibn Bur or Thur?), the
Abbasid governor of Bahrain, when he killed Imam Äzzan b. Tamim
in 280/893. Consequently, the Abbasids gained dominance over
Oman; they were followed by the Carmathians and then the Buyids.
This heralded the start of a long period of foreign involvement in the
internal affairs of the country. Thirdly, a schism occurred amongst
the Omani Iba∂i scholars, causing them to split along political and
theological lines, resulting eventually in the foundation of three
schools of political thought:
1 The Rustaq School. This faction supported Imam al-∑alt b. Malik
and attacked those revolutionaries who were the root cause of
him being removed from the Imamate. Additionally, they were
involved in fundamental discussions on the nature of the Iba∂i
Imamate. This school played a more active role in the second
Imamate of Oman.
2 The Nizwa School. This faction dissociated itself from the con-
frontation between Imam al-∑alt and the opposition. Scholars of
this school tried to achieve a balance between all the different
opinions on this issue.
3 The revolutionary faction, whose views were expressed in argu-
ments forwarded by individuals such as Musa b. Musa and al-Fa∂l
b. al-Îawari to oppose Imam al-∑alt.
This stage heralds a new approach in the style and method
adopted by the writers of the siyar and other works. The designation
siyar is still used, but some of these works have individual titles. In
addition, there are basically four formats of the siyar in this stage:
139
letters between scholars, monographs, statements or proclamations,

and fatwas. The later siyar display the conflicting arguments among
all three parties about the aftermath of the overthrow of Imam al-∑alt
b. Malik. These siyar cannot be limited to the second Imamate of
Oman, because scholars continued to investigate and verify the opin-
ions on this matter until the seventh/thirteenth century. The siyar are
divided into three groups, which correspond to the three aforemen-
tioned factions.124
2A. The Rustaq School
LIX K. al-AÌdath wa-al-Òifat by Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis
al-KharuÒi (d. 280s/890s), who had been a student of MuÌammad
b. MaÌbub, and who established the Rustaq school. This document
is one of the earliest examples of the development of the sira style
towards the monograph format. In it, the author attempts to defend
Imam al-∑alt against the criticisms of his opponents. The importance
of this sira is that it provides a comprehensive outline of the Imamate
system and the essential qualities that an imam ought to have.125
LX K. al-Bayan wa-al-burhan fi al-radd äla man qala bi-al-
shahidayn by Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis al-KharuÒi. It is clear
that the author wrote this sira after K. al-AÌdath wa-al-Òifat because
of the references he makes to it. The sira deals with the defects and
mistakes of the opposition, and the fundamental error they are deemed
to have made in championing Rashid b. al-NaÂar as the future imam.
He discusses only one argument of those two witnesses (shahidayn)
who elected the imam. The author lists the points of his opponents
and refutes them in turn. In this sira, the dogma of Iba∂i theology
shows that it is consonant with the general theology and politics of
Islamic thought.126
LXI A sira by Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis al-KharuÒi. This
sira, which was written in the early part of the second half of the third/
ninth century, includes Iba∂i positions on theological issues that were
current at the time, as well as insights into Iba∂i opinions on other
Islamic sects. It also reveals the opinions of the Mashariqa Iba∂is. It
comprises eleven chapters: 1) on the Jahmiya and the Jabriya, 2) on the
Qadariya, 3) on divine unity, 4) on divine decree and determination
124
These schools are described in more detail in al-Kudami, al-Istiqama (Muscat
1984); Abu Bakr al-Kindi, al-Ihtida}; al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan, 1:197; Wilkinson,
The Imamate Tradition of Oman, 166.
125
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:21.
126
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:149.
140
(qa∂a} wa-qadar), 5) on the unity of the divine names and attributes,

6) on fighting dissenters, 7) on the diversity of the Prophet’s Compan-
ions, 8) on the Islamic sects, 9) on the imams among the Prophet’s
Companions and those who came after them, 10) on obedience to
those in authority and the unlawfulness of disobedience, and 11) on
association and dissociation. This sira includes the opinions of Abu
Malik Ghassan b. al-Kha∂ar, who succeeded Abu al-Mu}thir in the
same school. One should exercise caution when citing these opinions,
for many writers have added the opinions of other scholars, resulting
in some confusion about the identities of the scholars and the attribu-
tions of their opinions.127
LXII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt
b. Khamis to Abu Jabir MuÌammad b. Ja¨far (third/ninth century),
a powerful figure in the Nizwa school. Both of them were taught by
MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. In this missive, Abu al-Mu}thir castigates
his friend for supporting the opposition and advises him to eschew
dissent. This sira clearly reflects the influence of Omani political
thought among the scholarly class during the aftermath of the over-
throw of Imam al-∑alt.128
LXIII A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub
(d. 273/887) entitled Fi al-Ìadath al-waqi¨ bi-Üman. Bashir was the
son of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub, and also contributed to the field
of fundamentals of Islamic jurisprudence (uÒul al-fiqh) with works
such as al-Bustan, al-Ra∂if wa-Ìuduth al-älam (on divine unity, LVII)
and the 70-volume K. al-Khizana. Abu al-Mundhir was somewhat
less fanatical in his disagreement with the opposition than Abu
al-Mu}thir. In this sira, he attempts to respond to the arguments and
opinions of the revolutionary faction, and also endeavours to evaluate
the causes of the civil war in Oman.129
LXIV A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌ-
bub. This sira is a short fatwa encapsulating his opinion on the civil
war.130
LXV A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub,
consisting of an abridgement of a book of his that remains otherwise
unknown. The sira is in the form of a fatwa produced in response
to questions concerning the downfall of Imam al-∑alt. It adopts a
narrative style, outlining the story of the imam’s fall from power, and
127
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Pub. 1, 2:269–317.
128
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:251–72.
129
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2.
130
MS 3; Mc. 2.
141
the accession of his replacement, Rashid b. al-NaÂar. Bashir was able

to adopt a comfortable, credible narrative style on account of the fact
that he was a contemporary of those who deposed Imam al-∑alt.131
LXVI A sira by Abu QaÌ†an Khalid b. QaÌ†an. Abu QaÌ†an was
one of the Iba∂ite scholars operating in the first half of the fourth/
tenth century. He wrote Jami¨ Abi QaÌ†an, most of which has been
lost. This sira has numerous references to the Omani history of that
time. The author, after rejecting the opinions of the opposition, and
especially those of Musa b. Musa, introduces two topics. First, he deals
with the internal conflicts in Oman after the civil war and the invasion
of MuÌammad b. Nur. Second, he looks at the imams who took power
during the confrontation in Oman, concentrating in particular on the
rule of the Carmathians. The sira also includes a quotation from
a letter written by Imam al-∑alt b. Malik to MuÌammad b. Sinjah,
in which he explains the opposition’s plans to depose him from the
Imamate.132
LXVII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu QaÌ†an Khalid
b. QaÌ†an to al-Azhar b. MuÌammad b. Ja¨far, who succeeded his
father in the Nizwa School. This fourth/tenth-century sira is a missive
from the leader of one dogmatic school to another, and as such is
similar in style and format to sira LXII. It differs, however, in that
Abu QaÌ†an gives the opinions of some scholars of the Rustaq school
in addition to those of his father.133
LXVIII A sira in the form of a letter from Malik b. Ghassan
b. Khulayd to Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. RawÌ (first half of the
fourth/tenth century). The author recounts the news of the civil war
and the aftermath of the overthrow of Imam al-∑alt, and records some
of the opinions of Omani scholars on the civil war. It is clear from
the information in this sira that Abu al-Îawari al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari
supported Rashid b. al-NaÂar and Musa b. Musa, and that he died in
battle against Imam Äzzan b. Tamim, although this sira reveals dif-
ferent opinions from those of Abu al-Îawari, which are very similar
to those of the Rustaq school.134
LXIX A sira by Abu MuÌammad Äbd Allah b. Baraka (fourth/
tenth century). Ibn Baraka was one of the famous jurists and expo-
nents of the fundamentals of Islamic law, and his book, Jami¨ Ibn
Baraka, is one of the earliest important books on this subject in the
131
MS 3.
132
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Pub. 1, 1:81–148.
133
MS 2.
134
MS 3.
142
Mashariqa school.135 His teachers were Imam Saïd b. Äbd Allah

b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub and Abu Malik Ghassan b. al-Kha∂ar.
This school had a greater role in the second Imamate of Oman. Ibn
Barakah also authored many other works, including al-Taqyid,
al-Taäruf, al-Mubtada}, and al-Iqlid.136 During Ibn Baraka’s time,
Abu Saïd MuÌammad b. Saïd al-Kudami (305–55/917–66) appeared
from the Nizwa school and was called by eastern Omani scholars
Imam al-Madhhab. Although both men were jurists of equal stand-
ing, they disagreed about the ousting of Imam al-∑alt, and both
founded schools and sought logical evidence with which to refute
other rival schools. Abu Saïd al-Kudami also attempted to conciliate
divergent opinions on this issue, and he had greater success in finding
a solution to satisfy all concerned parties in his book K. al-Istiqama.
This sira is a reply to an anonymous petitioner who had asked for
advice on this issue. The author confirms the logical evidence for
rejecting the Nizwa school. Ibn Baraka sent this sira to his friend to
refute Abu Saïd’s opinions.137
LXX A sira entitled K. al-Muwazana (Equilibrium) by Ibn Baraka.
This sira is in the form of a monograph in which the author tries to
balance all the points on this issue, hence the title, but in which he
is unable to hide the fanaticism inherent in his party. The distinctive
thing about this sira is that it illustrates the author’s excellence in the
fundamentals of jurisprudence.138
LXXI A sira by Ibn Baraka. This sira is a fatwa that reveals
the scholarly opinions of Ibn Baraka’s teacher, Abu Malik Ghassan
b. al-Kha∂ar, on Imam al-∑alt.139
LXXII A sira entitled al-Su}al fi al-Ìadath al-waqi¨ bi-Üman,
or, alternatively, Sirat Ìujjah äla man ab†ala al-su}al fi al-Ìadath
al-waqi¨ bi-Üman by Abu al-Îasan Äli b. al-Îasan al-Bisyawi (al-
Bisyani) (end of the fourth/tenth century). Abu al-Îasan was a student
of Ibn Baraka and was greatly influenced by the opinions of his teacher.
He wrote many books, the most famous being Jami¨ Abi al-Îasan
al-Bisyawi, summarized as MukhtaÒar al-Bisyawi.140 The author con-
siders the critical approach to be the basic principle in studying the
creed; only then should one attempt to seek the truth. This is because
135
EI 2, s.v. ‘Ibn Baraka’.
136
Al-Salimi, Lumä, 23.
137
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2.
138
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2.
139
MS 3; Pub. 1, 2:384.
140
143
the truth does not come without searching for it and linking it to
analytical endeavours.141
LXXIII A sira by Abu Îasan al-Bisyawi in the form of a reply
to one MuÌammad b. Saïd, most probably Abu Saïd MuÌammad
b. Sa¨ id al-Kudami (fourth/tenth century). It would appear that this
sira was written at the order of his teacher Ibn Baraka because of the
rivalry and conflict among the schools.142
LXXIV A sira by an anonymous author, written in the form of a
letter to one Abu Äli. Internal evidence suggests that it was written
after the sira of Abu al-Îasan al-Bisyawi, and probably at the end
of the fifth/eleventh century. The recipient appears to be Abu Äli
al-Îasan b. AÌmad al-Hijari (d. 502/1108). The author of the sira
advises Abu Äli to retain his allegiance to his school and stay firm in
his opinions on the issue.143
LXXV A sira in the form of a fatwa. Both author and recipient(s)
are unknown. The edict was written in response to questions submit-
ted concerning the opinions and views of the Rustaq school.144
2B) Nizwa School
LXXVI A sira by al-Azhar b. MuÌammad b. Ja¨far (end of the
third/ninth beginning of the fourth/tenth century). Al-Azhar was the
son of Ibn Ja¨far, author of the seminal legal work, Jami¨ Ibn Ja¨far,
one of the earliest compilations to reach us from the school of the
Mashariqa Iba∂is. Ibn Ja¨far was among the scholars who established
the Nizwa school, and he became the most powerful figure in it,
Al-Azhar succeeding his father. This sira is a statement issued by al-
Azhar advising the Omani people to remain calm and to stay neutral
with regard to the debate concerning the removal from the Imamate
of Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. The beginning of the sira includes the
opinions on this issue of Omani scholars such as the author’s father
and Abu al-Mu}thir.145
LXXVII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu Äbd Allah
MuÌammad b. RawÌ b. Ärabi (end of the third/ninth century) to
Abu MuÌammad Äbd Allah b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (a member
of the Rustaq school and father of Imam Sa¨ id b. Äbd Allah). Both
141
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:62.
142
MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2.
143
MS 1; MS 3.
144
MS 1; Pub. 1, 1:373.
145
MS 3.
144
author and recipient are considered first generation scholars of their

respective schools. This sira was written after the death in battle
of Imam Äzzan b. Tamim in 280/893, and describes the reaction of
powerful figures to the imam’s demise. This sira is significant because
Ibn RawÌ collected the opinions of all the people who participated
in the discussions and sought a reasonable explanation for the imam’s
overthrow.146
LXXVIII A sira from Abu Äbd Allah b. MuÌammad b. RawÌ
to Ümar b. MuÌammad b. Ümar. This document is a fatwa dealing
with the concepts of association (walaya) and dissociation (bara}a).147
LXXIX A sira by Abu Äbd Allah b. MuÌammad b. RawÌ. This is
a fatwa on the removal from office of Imam al-∑alt. Ibn RawÌ stresses
the idea that the root of the creed must be based on knowledge,
which is the only way to the truth.148
LXXX A sira from Abu al-Îasan MuÌammad b. Abi al-Îasan to
MuÌammad b. Sinja (end of the third/ninth century). This sira is a
fatwa, in which Abu al-Îasan explains that removing Imam al-∑alt
should not be considered a theological matter but mainly as a matter
of public opinion.149
2C. The ‘Revolutionary Faction’, namely those in support of Imam
Rashid b. al-NaÂar and Musa b. Musa
LXXXI A sira attributed to al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawwari (third/ninth
century), who is considered to be one of the scholars who caused
the civil war in Oman. He was also a member of the influential
{ulama’, the ahl al-Ìall wa-al-äqd. In this sira, he expresses his ideas
about supporting the imamate of Rashid b. al-NaÂar, and the rea-
sons for removing Imam al-∑alt b. Malik and opposing Imam Äzzan
b. Tamim.150
LXXXII A sira in letter form from al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari to Rashid
b. al-NaÂar. This sira attempts to prove that the recipient was elected
to the Imamate through proper procedures. It also documents the
reasons for ousting Imam al-∑alt b. Malik.151
146
MS 2; MS 3.
147
MS 2.
148
MS 2.
149
MS 2; MS 3.
150
MS 2.
151
MS 2.
145
The Third Period

The third period of the Omani siyar includes those texts that were
written between the years 320/923 and 549/1154, during the period
of the second Imamate of Oman. The distinctive characteristics of
this period of Omani history are:
1 The interference of foreign forces in Oman. First came the
Abbasid Caliphate (280–320/893–922), then Carmathians, who
dispatched armed expeditions to seize and occupy Oman on three
occasions. The first invasion, headed by Abu Saïd al-Jinnabi,
came in 294/905–6, the second in 305/917, and the third and
largest campaign, spearheaded by Abu ™ahir al-Jinnabi, occurred
in 318/930; this occupation continued until 375/985. During the
57 years of the third Carmathian occupation, the Buyids also sent
three expeditions: the first in 354/965, the second a year later,
and the third in 363/973, after the revolution and election of the
new imam in Oman. The final foreign invasion was that of the
Saljuqs in the fifth/eleventh century. They remained in Oman for
almost 80 years. However, these foreign invasions gained only
partial control over Oman, essentially the coast.
2 Maritime trade in Oman grew and the merchants flourished. The
Omani cities thrived and attracted vital commercial trade. Sohar
(∑uÌar) was described at that time in the following terms: ‘The
capital is Sohar which is on the sea; here reside many sea mer-
chants who trade in ships with other countries. It is the most
popular and wealthy town in Oman and it is not possible to find
on the shore of the Persian Sea nor in all the land of Islam a city
more rich in fine buildings and foreign wares than Sohar’.152
Oman produced several commodities that were significant in tra-
ditional Asian trade: dates and dried fruits, horses, copper from
the mountains, and ambergris from the seashore. Sohar’s impor-
tance stemmed principally from its role in the trade of luxuries
and spices between the Far East and India on the one hand and
the Near East and Europe on the other.153 Other ports on the
Omani coast, such as Dama,154 Sur, and Qalhat,155 had particular
152
Andrew Williamson, Sohar and Omani Seafaring in the Indian Ocean (Lon-
don 1973), 3.
153
Ibid., 3.
154
Dama was the main centre on the lower Ba†ina in medieval times, and was
a pre-Islamic suq al-ärab, today represented by Seeb City. See Yaqut, Mu¨jam al-
buldan, (Beirut 1961), 3:461.
155
EI 2, s.v. ‘Ëalhat’.
146
roles to play in this trade. Certainly, the trade influenced Omani

community life through interaction with the outside world and
other civilizations overseas.
3 The Imamate in Oman was weakened by conflict within the
country, and was not able to regain the strength it enjoyed dur-
ing the previous Imamate. Consequently, most of the imams
employed the policy of difa¨ (defence) rather than Âuhur (open
manifestation).
Significantly, there was also flexibility with regard to the commu-
nity as a whole. Masalik al-din, or the ways (or stages) of religion,
refers to the four possible relationships between the Iba∂is, the rest
of the Islamic lands, and the world as a whole, which were allowed
to exist under virtually any circumstances. These were: 1) Âuhur,
open manifestation of the Imamate, 2) difa¨, militarily defensive and
restricted Imamate, 3) shira}, literally “selling” oneself in Allah’s cause,
in open opposition to tyranny, and 4) kitman, concealment, or lapse
of the Imamate under impossible conditions.
The siyar documented below show that the Rustaq and Nizwa
schools continued in the same style among the Omani scholars dur-
ing this time. The Rustaq school had greater influence in appointing
imams. At times, the rival schools appointed different imams at the
same time, causing conflicts and occasional wars between the numer-
ous imams and their supporting scholars. The siyar of this third
period are divided into further smaller periods.
3A) The period between the imamate of Abu al-Qasim Saïd b. Äbd
Allah (320–8/932–40) and the imamate of al-Khalil b. Shadhan
(407–25/1016–33).
LXXXIII A sira from Abu Ibrahim MuÌammad b. Saïd b. Abi
Bakr al-Azkawi to al-Îawari b. Üthman. I have not found a biogra-
phy for the author, but al-Îawari was a figure of the Omani {ulama’
who lived at the end of third/ninth century and the beginning of the
fourth/tenth century.156
LXXXIV A sira in letter form from Abu al-Îawwari MuÌammad
b. al-Îawari b. Üthman (end of the third/ninth beginning of the
fourth/tenth century) to Abu Äbd Allah, Abu Ämir, Abu Yusuf
MuÌammad b. Äbd Allah, AÌmad b. Sulayman, MuÌammad
b. Ümar, Äbd al-RaÌman b. Yusuf, and the people of the Îa∂ramawt.
Abu al-Îawwari is regarded as one of the most famous Omani authors
156
Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨, 1:177.
147
at the end of the third/ninth century. He wrote Tafsir khamsimi}at aya,

an exegesis of five hundred legal verses from the Qur}an, and Jami¨
Abi al-Îawari. This sira is a response to questions about the legality
of action against the Julandanis (the royal family in Oman),157 who
revolted against Imam Äbd al-Malik b. Îumayd and Imam al-Muhanna
b. Jayfar, as well as to questions about the wealth of oppressors.158
LXXXV A sira from Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. al-Îasan to
Abu al-Qasim Ümar b. al-Qasim b. al-Yaman. Ibn Ja¨far has preserved
it in part. The sira appears to be a legal edict, written in response to
questions posed by Abu al-Qasim.159
LXXXVI A sira in letter form from Imam Abu al-Qasim Saïd
b. Äbd Allah (320–8/931–40), grandson of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub,
to Yusuf b. Wajih, the amir of Oman. In it, the imam writes about
Iba∂i war ethics. When the imam had gained a victory in Nizwa,
a soldier looted the padlock on Yusuf b. Wajih’s door. The imam
had the soldier arrested and forced him to return the padlock to
Ibn Wajih, on the grounds that it is prohibited to take any Muslim
property.160
LXXXVII A sira from Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. Za}ida
(or Ziyad?) (first half of the fourth/tenth century) to Abu Ibrahim
MuÌammad b. Saïd b. Abi Bakr al-Azkawi. The author was among
those scholars who elected Imam Abu al-Qasim Saïd b. Äbd Allah.161
LXXXVIII A sira by Abu al-Îasan al-Bisyawi concerning Imam
ÎafÒ b. Rashid’s war with al-Mu†ahhar b. Äbd Allah. Al-Mu†ahhar was
the leader of a Buyid military campaign to Oman, which, according to
Ibn al-Athir, had been sent by Ä∂ud al-Dawla in the year 363/974.162
Imam ÎafÒ b. Rashid (455–72/1063–79) is not mentioned in the
Omani sources of the time;163 according to al-Salimi, it is possible that
he was a son of Imam Rashid b. Saïd (425–55/1033–63). This sira
brings out three points. First, Imam ÎafÒ b. Rashid came to the
Imamate after the Nizwan Imam Rashid b. al-Walid (328–42/940–
54) and is evidence of the continued Imamate at this time, for Abu
al-Îasan al-Bisyawi was a contemporary of Imam ÎafÒ b. Rashid in
157
John.C. Wilkinson, ‘The Julanda of Oman’, Journal of Oman Studies 1
(1975), 97–108.
158
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2.
159
Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨,1:206.
160
Pub. 2, 1:289.
161
Not found nor consulted by the author, but it is mentioned in Pub. 1,
1:380; Pub. 3, 1:435.
162
Ibn al-Athir, al-Kamil, 7:57.
163
Al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan, 1:315.
148
the fourth/tenth century. Second, ÎafÒ b. Rashid was appointed to

the Imamate twice, and Abu al-Îasan seems to throw doubt on the
validity of ÎafÒ b. Rashid’s first Imamate. Third, the Omanis opposed
the Buyids from the start. This sira is valuable because it records
the period between Imam Rashid b. al-Walid and Imam al-Khalil
b. Shadhan (407–25/1016–33).164
LXXXIX A sira entitled Fi al-tawÌid wa-al-imama kayfa hiya
(On Divine Unity and the Imamate: A Commentary), by Abu al-
Îasan al-Bisyawi (end of the fourth/tenth century). This sira is a
treatise on the creeds and dogmas of the various Islamic sects. It also
alludes to the differences between the Iba∂i creed and the creed of
other Muslim groups such as the Khawarij, Murji}a, Qadariya, and
Mushabbiha (anthropomorphists).165
XC A sira from Abu al-Îasan al-Bisyawi to an unknown mission-
ary in the Îa∂ramawt. In it, Abu al-Îasan offers his opinion to the
people of the Îa∂ramawt concerning their inquiry about pawning
property. It also reveals that the Imamate in Îa∂ramawt was in a
state of difa¨ (defence).166
3B) In 407/1016, the Imamate of Âuhur (manifest Imamate) appeared
in Oman upon the accession of al-Khalil b. Shadhan, who was the
grandson of Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. The Imamate was powerful,
expanding overseas on account of the thriving maritime commerce of
Oman at that time. This improvement in fortune had spread to other
Iba∂i groups, especially those in East Africa, on the Indian coastline,
in the Îa∂ramawt, and in Yemen. This became obvious during the
imamate of Rashid b. Saïd al-YaÌmadi.
XCI A sira from Musa b. AÌmad, AÌmad b. MuÌammad, al-
Îasan b. AÌmad, Ümar b. MuÌammad, and Rashid b. MuÌammad
to Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. ∑ulham (the vizier for Imam al-
Khalil b. Shadhan). In this sira, a group of Omani scholars complain
to the vizier about the corruption of some of the imam’s governors,
who are unnamed.167
XCII A sira in the form of a letter written by Abu al-Îasan
b. AÌmad (a judge for Imam al-Khalil b. Shadhan), addressed to an
unknown person. Internal evidence suggests that the judge penned
this sira in response to the above letter of complaint (XCI).168
164
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:5–9.
165
MS 2.
166
MS 2.
167
Pub. 2, 1:300.
168
Pub. 2, 1:302.
149
XCIII A sira to the people of Khwarazm. This sira, written in the

fourth/tenth century, is a letter from the people of Oman to their
co-religionists in Khwarazm, explaining the Omani opinions on cer-
tain theological issues, especially on wilaya (association) and bara}a
(dissociation).169
XCIV A sira to the people of Khurasan. This is a letter written by
a group of Omani scholars in the fourth–fifth/tenth–eleventh cen-
tury, including an exposition of the general principles of the Islamic
faith.170
XCV A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Salama b. Muslim al-Äwtabi
(late fifth/eleventh–early sixth/twelfth century). Salama has been con-
sidered primarily an Omani historian, although he also wrote the
24-volume al-Δiya} on Islamic jurisprudence, al-Ansab on genealogy,
and al-Ibana on the Arabic language. This sira constitutes a commen-
tary on Takalif al-shariä.171
XCVI A sira from Abu al-Mundhir Salma b. Muslim al-Äwtabi
to Äli b. Äli and his brother, al-Îasan b. Äli, after the conflict
between them in Kilwa (a city on the East African coast) had esca-
lated. This sira sheds some light on the role of Omani scholars in
East Africa.172
XCVII A sira bearing the title al-Su}al fi al-wilaya wa-al-bara}a
(Questions Concerning Association and Dissociation), by an unknown
writer. This sira was probably written in the fifth/eleventh century,
and appears in some sources as K. al-∑ulÌ. The sira reviews opinions
concerning the caliphs Üthman b. Äffan, Muäwiya b. Abi Sufyan,
and Yazid b. Muäwiya, among others. It also discusses the causes of
dissociation (bara}a) in Islam.173
XCVIII An untitled sira by an anonymous writer. Based on the
style and tenor of the sira, it seems to have been written in the fifth/
eleventh century, most likely by an author from the Rustaq school.
The significance of the sira lies in its coverage of the events of the
civil war, and its lucid attempt to define the concepts of association
and dissociation.174
XCIX A sira entitled al-Wilaya wa-al-bara}a (Association and
Dissociation). This treatise was written in 512/1118 by Yusuf b. Saïd
169
MS 4.
170
MS 4.
171
MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:39.
172
MS 5.
173
MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:373–80.
174
MS 2; Pub. 1, 1:393.
150
b. Yusuf al-Ümani, probably for the Nizwa school. In the sira, the
author calls for unity and harmony among them to avoid the kinds
of disputes that led to the civil war.175
C A sira by Imam Rashid b. Saïd al-YaÌmadi concerning Imam
al-∑alt b. Malik, Musa b. Musa, and Rashid b. al-NaÂar. This sira
comes in the form of a manifesto, issued by the imam and a group
of influential people after they had convened in the village of Suny
(present-day al-Äwabi) on Thursday 14 Shawwal 443 (17 March
1052). This sira represents the most important attempt to find a solu-
tion to the splits and differences of opinion responsible for causing
the civil war. Unanimously, the signatories to the manifesto declare
in no uncertain terms that the absolute blame for the civil war lies
with Musa b. Musa, who supported the overthrow of al-∑alt b. Malik.
The signatories listed are: Abu Äli Musa b. AÌmad b. MuÌammad
b. Äli, Abu Al-Îasan Äli b. Ümar, Abu Bakr AÌmad b. MuÌam-
mad, Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. Khalid, Abu Äli al-Îasan
b. Saïd b. Quraysh, Abu Îamza al-Mukhtar b. Ïsa, Abu Äbd Allah
MuÌammad b. Tamam, and Abu al-NaÂar Rashid b. al-Qasim.176
CI A collection of three siyar177 from Imam Rashid b. Saïd to his
governors:
1 Abu al-Maäli MuÌammad b. QaÌ†an b. al-Qasim, on the occasion
of his election to the governorate of Sohar.
2 Abu MuÌammad Äbd Allah b. Saïd, on his election to the gov-
ernorate of ManaÌ (a town in the interior of Oman).
3 Musa b. Nijad, on the occasion of his election to the governorate
of ManaÌ, Adam, and Sinaw.
These siyar are basically statements outlining the administrative
policies of the Imamate, including the imam’s special orders to his
governors always to be on their best behaviour, to foster equality
among the people under their jurisdiction, and to refrain from injus-
tice and cruelty. They are, therefore, predominantly ethical in tone.
CII A sira from Imam Rashid b. Saïd al-YaÌmadi to the people
of ManÒura, the capital of Sind, written to enlighten its recipients
with regard to Iba∂i opinions on various issues of Islamic theology.
This sira mentions the Iba∂i scholars in ManÒura: Abu al-Äbbas
b. Murayj, al-Muhannad b. Sadha, and Abu Äbd Allah b. MuÌam-
mad b. Baruzan. It is valuable because it adds to our information on
175
MS 2; Mc. 2.
176
Pub. 2, 1:312.
177
Pub. 2, 1:308–12.
151
the evolution of Iba∂i thought in South Asia. It also sheds light on

the role of the second Omani Imamate in the Indian Ocean.178
CIII A sira entitled Tawba (Repentance), written on behalf of
Imam Rashid b. Äli (471–513/1078–1119) by his judge Abu Äli
al-Îasan b. AÌmad b. NaÒr al-Hijari (472/1079). It was written on
11 Rabi¨ II 472 (10 October 1079). In it, the imam expresses regret
for the behaviour of his governor, Musa b. Nijad al-ManaÌi. The sira
carries the signatures of the following witnesses: Abu Bakr AÌmad b.
Ümar b. Abi Jabir, Abu Jabir MuÌammad b. Ümar, Äli b. Dawud,
and Äbd Allah b. IsÌaq al-Minqali.179
CIV A sira from Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. Ïsa al-Sirri to
Imam Rashid b. Äli. In this sira, Abu Äbd Allah replies to the imam
after being asked about his repentance in 501/1107. This work dis-
cusses at length the link between repentance and the right way, high-
lighting the need for consistency between repentance and deeds.180
CV A sira composed by Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. Ïsa al-
Sirri for Imam Rashid b. Äli. This sira advises the imam about vari-
ous issues in Islamic ethics, including the duties and responsibilities
of the imam, the relationship between the imam and those whom he
rules based on shura, and the circumstances in which the imam is
justified in resorting to military action inside the country.181
CVI A sira entitled Fi al-farq bayna al-imam al-älim wa-ghayr
al-älim (The Difference between the Learned Imam and the
Unlearned Imam), by Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. Ïsa al-Sirri
(d. 472/1079). It appears that this sira was written after the appear-
ance of imams who were intellectually weaker than their predecessors.
However, the document has an overtly political flavour, being for the
most part a set of guidelines for potential governors in the Islamic
state. Three main topics are addressed: the status of the imam if his
position is in doubt or suspicion, the characteristics required of an
imam, and the manner in which an imam ought to discharge his
judicial and legislative duties.182
CVII A sira from Abu Zakariya YaÌya b. Saïd b. Quraysh al-
Hijari (d. 502/1108) to Äbd Allah b. MuÌammad b. ™alut. Abu
Zakariya is among the most famous Iba∂i scholars and writers of
the fifth/eleventh century. His magnum opus is the 5-volume work of
178
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2.
179
MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:423.
180
MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:427.
181
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:413.
182
MS 1; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:399.
152
jurisprudence, K. al-I∂aÌ fi al-aÌkam, although he also wrote K. al-

Imama on the office of the Imamate. This sira refutes Ibn ™alut’s
criticisms of the Imamate. It is not clear in the sira who the imam
was at the time, although it was possibly written during the imamate
of either ÎafÒ b. Rashid (455–72/1054–79) or Rashid b. Äli (472–
513/1079–1119). The end of the sira is missing.183
CVIII A sira from Abu Zakariya YaÌya b. Saïd b. AÌmad
(d. 472/1079) to Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad and Abu Bakr AÌmad,
the sons of al-Nu¨man b. MuÌammad, and the people of Îa∂ramawt.
From the contents of this sira, it appears that the people of the
Îa∂ramawt had encountered certain problems with other sects at
the end of the fifth/eleventh century, when Iba∂i thought in the
Îa∂ramawt had started to decline. The Iba∂is of the Îa∂ramawt
thus wanted advice on how to save their sect. The significance of this
particular sira lies in the fact that the author counsels the people of
Îa∂ramawt to have recourse to dissimulation (taqiya) whenever they
are afraid for their sect — a remarkable piece of advice, given the fact
that the practice of dissimulation had never before been specifically
encouraged in Iba∂i thought.184
CIX A sira by Abu Bakr AÌmad b. Ümar al-ManaÌi (d. 496/
1103). This sira is a fatwa concerning the issue of election to the
Imamate. Its main thrust is that if a candidate for leadership already
enjoys the informal acceptance and support of the people, he does
not need to be elected formally to the Imamate. In all of the collec-
tions, this sira is found immediately after sira LXXXVIII. Al-Salimi
believes that this fatwa pertains to the election to the Imamate of
ÎafÒ b. Rashid.185
CX A sira by Nijad b. Musa b. Nijad al-ManaÌi (d. 513/1119),
who was the son of Musa b. Nijad and the grandfather of Imam
Musa b. Abi al-Maäli b. Musa b. Nijad (594–7/1197–1200). This
family played a prominent role in the Rustaq school. Musa wrote
K. al-Akilla fi Ìaqa}iq al-adilla. The sira is a theological monograph
written to refute Risalat al-isti¨dad fi ma la yasa¨ al-mukallaf jahlahu
by Ibn al-Taj, a treatise of Ashäri dogma. The Iba∂i scholars at the
time were concerned with the theological debates taking place among
the various Islamic theological groups.186
183
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub, 2:30.
184
MS 2; MS 3.
185
MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-aÿan, 1:315–17.
186
MS 1.
153
CXI A sira in the form of an athar (tradition) and letters from

the spokesman of the people of Nizwa, Abu MuÌammad b. al-Îasan
b. al-Walid (sixth/twelfth century). The Nizwan provenance of this
sira seems assured, since all the fatwas included therein are from the
Nizwa school, most of these being extracts and citations from other
siyar, such as the sira of MuÌammad b. RawÌ mentioned above
(LXXVII, LXXVIII, or LXXIX).187
CXII A sira entitled K. al-TakhÒiÒ, by Abu Bakr AÌmad b. Äbd
Allah b. Musa al-Kindi (d. 557/1162). Abu Bakr al-Kindi is a very
famous Omani writer of the sixth/twelfth century. He wrote al-MuÒan-
naf, an encyclopaedic work of Islamic jurisprudence in 42 volumes,
Jawhar al-muqtaÒar, on the elements, al-Ihtida}, al-Dhakhira, on theol-
ogy, and various other books.188 Al-Kindi’s family produced many
other scholars and writers, especially in the fifth–sixth/eleventh–twelfth
centuries, including MuÌammad b. Ibrahim al-Kindi, author of the
72-volume Bayan al-Shar¨, and MuÌammad b. Musa al-Kindi, who
wrote al-Kifaya in 51 volumes. Abu Bakr was from the Rustaq school,
which appeared in the fifth and sixth/eleventh and twelfth centuries.
In this sira, the author attempts to expound the concepts of wilaya
and bara}a. Attributed to Abu Bakr is the method of interpreting
Quranic verses through logical analogy in order to derive both par-
ticular and universal proofs.189
CXIII A sira entitled Fi ida¨ al-mutawalli li}l-wilaya, on the con-
cepts of wilaya and bara}a. This dates from the sixth/twelfth century,
but the writer, who is clearly affiliated with the Nizwa school, is
unknown. It seems to be an excerpt of a longer work and is without
either an introduction or a conclusion.190
CXIV A sira from Imam MuÌammad b. Abi Ghassan advising the
people of al-Äqar.191 The Omani writers regard this sira as an epic,
because, as far as the contents are concerned, it is more of an artistic and
literary work than a religious treatise. Initially, it appeared from our
study of the sources that this sira was actually written in 576/1181 by
MuÌammad b. Malik192 to advise Imam Musa b. Abi al-Maäli b. Musa
b. Nijad before war broke out in 579/1184. However, the history of this
period is too chaotic to enable us to identify the author with certainty.193
187
MS 2.
188
189
MS 2.
190
MS 2; Pub. 1, 2:113.
191
MS 1; Mc. 2.
192
MS 2; Pub. 2, 1:343.
193
For more details, see Pub. 3, 1:298.
154
CXV A sira from MuÌammad b. Malik b. Shadhan (the amir or

imam mentioned above?) to Saïd b. Rashid b. Äli, who was probably
the son of Imam Rashid b. Äli (first half of the sixth/twelfth century).
The writer of the sira reproaches its recipient for his deeds, describing
him as mendacious. Such invective reflects the divisions existing in
the feudal system of Oman at that time between the amirs and the
imams.194
CXVI A sira by Abu Bakr AÌmad b. MuÌammad b. ∑aliÌ (d. 546/
1151). The scholars of Abu Bakr’s family had significant influence
in the Nizwa school; he himself was the teacher of the author of
al-MuÒannaf. This sira presents the author’s opinions about Imam
MuÌammad b. Abi Ghassan, who had fought his way into the
Nizwan village of al-Äqar when the villagers opposed him. Here the
author opposes the imam’s action. This sira includes some quotations
from the sira of Abu al-Îawari, the sira of Abu Äbd Allah al-Sirri
and the discourse of Abu Îamza al-Shari.195
CXVII A sira by Abu Bakr Äbd Allah b. Musa al-Kindi, written
to refute his teacher’s sira. (CXVI) The author rejects his teacher’s
opinions about the imam’s fight against the people of al-Äqar and
castigates him for writing the above sira. On the whole, this sira
reflects the Iba∂i stance on jihad and warfare.196
CXVIII A sira in the form of a statement issued by the people
of al-Ba†ina (a region in northeastern Oman) in support of the pre-
ceding sira. In it, the imam’s actions are defended and his approach
praised.197
CXIX A sira from Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. Khalid to the
people of ManaÌ. It is in the form of a fatwa on the civil war and the
opposition of Musa b. Musa and Rashid b. al-NaÂar. The author
appears to be affiliated with the Rustaq school, since he includes
quotations from Rustaq scholars about the issue.198
CXX A sira by an unknown writer, addressed to the people of the
Îa∂ramawt. It was recorded by Ibn al-NaÂar who lived in the sixth/
twelfth century. The author is anonymous but is clearly from the
Rustaq school. He discusses various topics and advises his readers to
be more objective and responsible to the Imamate.199
194
Pub. 3, 1:296; al-Kindi, al-Ihtida }, 187–9.
195
MS 2; MS 3; al-Kindi, al-Ihtida}, 190–5.
196
MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; al-Kindi, al-Ihtida}, 195–234.
197
MS 2; Pub. 2, 1:339.
198
MS 2.
199
MS 2.
155
CXXI A sira that discusses the concepts of wilaya and bara}a and
their classifications. The author is unknown, as is the date, although
the writer appears to be aware of the Nizwa school.200
CXXII A sira by Abu al-Maäli Kahlan b. Musa b. Nijad (first
half of the sixth/twelfth century). Kahlan was the father of Imam
Musa b. Abi al-Maäli (594–7/1197–1200). The subject of this sira
is repentance.201
The Fourth Period

4A) The fourth period of Omani siyar covers the Nabhani state
(549–1034/1154–1624). There is a general consensus among histo-
rians that this state spanned five centuries in Oman, with the dynas-
ty’s rule divided into two distinct stages. The first stage is known as
the Early Nabhanis, whose rule began after the death of Imam Abu
Jabir Musa b. Abi al-Maäli in 549/1154 and ended after Sulayman
b. Sulayman al-Nabhani was expelled in 906/1500. The second stage,
known as the Later Nabhanis, continued from 906/1500 to 1034/
1624,202 and was witness to the Portuguese invasion of the eastern
coast of the Arabian Peninsula. Another distinguishing characteristic
of this period is the atmosphere of conflict between scholars and
governors on political issues. However, the period as a whole remains
largely unexplored by scholars, and it is the task of Omani historians
to discover the reasons for the collapse of both Omani overseas trade
and Oman as an important maritime power. The siyar from this
period are the following:
CXXIII A sira entitled al-Sira al-Kilwiya, by Abu Saïd MuÌammad
b. Saïd al-Qalhati (late sixth/twelfth early seventh/thirteenth century).
Al-Qalhati is among the most famous Omani writers of his time,
noted for his distinguished prose style in works such as al-Kashf
wa-al-bayan, a treatise on Islamic sects and dogmas. This particular
sira reflects the beginning of a new stage in the art of the composition
of siyar, for now we see the appearance of siyar in the form of the
maqama. In this sira, the author tells the story of an earlier mission
to Kilwa in East Africa, where extremist Shiï propaganda was being
preached on how the Kilwans were brought back into the fold. The
formalized art of the maqama represents a turning point in the writ-
ing of the Omani siyar. This sira was glossed by Rashid b. Ümar
200
MS 2.
201
MS 2; Mc. 2.
202
Oman in History (London 1995), 165.
156
b. AÌmad b. Abi al-Îasan b. Äbd Allah b. AÌmad b. al-NaÂar

towards the end of the seventh/thirteenth century.203
CXXIV A sira from Ward b. AÌmad to Imam Abu al-Îasan
b. MuÌammad b. Khamis b. Ämir (839–46/1436–43). It is a letter
from Ward to the imam advising him to remain firm and to endeav-
our not to be overthrown from the Imamate following the rebellion
of Banu al-∑alt al-KharuÒi.204
CXXV A sira by Abu Äbd Allah MuÌammad b. Sulayman
b. AÌmad b. Mufarraj, a judge and mufti for the imam. It is a legal
declaration, ordered by Imam Ümar b. al-Kha††ab al-KharuÒi (885–
94/1480–8) and issued in order to confiscate the property of the
Nabhani family. The sira was written on 7 Jumada II 887 (23 July
1482). The declaration closes with a statement of approval signed by
the judicial committee.205
CXXVI A sira by Imam MuÌammad b. Ismaïl (906–24/1500–
18). It is also a legal edict issued by the imam in 909/1503. Again,
the edict was issued in order to confiscate property, this time belong-
ing to the Banu RawaÌa, who had given help and support to Sultan
Sulayman b. Sulayman al-Nabhani.206
CXXVII A sira by Imam MuÌammad b. Ismaïl (906–24/1500–
18). It comprises a legal ruling issued by the imam for the confisca-
tion of the property of the Nabhani family on a Friday in 917/1511.
The document ends with the signatures of the judicial committee.207
CXXVIII A sira by MuÌammad b. Äbd Allah b. Maddad (d. 917/
1511). The Maddad family enjoyed considerable influence with the
Mufarraj family at the end of the Nabhani state. This is the first
Omani sira to be written about the Omani imams and {ulama’ that
goes into such depth and detail concerning their lives and works. It
is at this stage, then, that the Omani siyar begin to expand their
coverage to include biography and bibliography.208
203
MS 5. Also see further studies on this text by John C. Wilkinson, ‘The Omani
and Ibadi background to the Kilwa Sira: the Demise of Oman as a Political and
Religious Force in the Indian Ocean in the 6th/12th Century’, in A.K. Irvine,
R.B. Serjeant and G.R. Smith (eds), A Miscellany of Middle Eastern Articles in Memo-
riam Thomas Muir Johnstone 1924–1983 (London 1989). ‘Oman and East Africa:
New Light on Early Kilwan History from the Omani Sources’, International Journal
of African Historical Studies, v.6 (1981).
204
Pub. 3, 2:119.
205
Pub. 2, 1:372; Pub. 3, 2:13.
206
Pub. 2, 1:379; Pub. 3, 2:71.
207
Pub. 2, 1:373; Pub. 3, 2:16.
208
MS 3; Mc. 2.
157
CXXIX A sira by Imam MuÌammad b. Ismaïl in the form of a

statement concerning the practice of optional sale (bay¨ al-khiyar). It
is dated Wednesday 6 Jumada II 918 (18 August 1512). The Omani
scholars unanimously supported the resolution to prohibit the prac-
tice of optional sale and to consider it usurious.209
CXXX A sira by AÌmad b. MuÌammad b. Maddad concerning
Imam MuÌammad b. Ismaïl (906–24/1500–18) and his son Barakat
b. MuÌammad b. Ismaïl. In this sira, Ibn Maddad proclaims disso-
ciation from the imam and his son. This was to be expected, since the
imams were collecting the zakat from the people without protecting
them.210
CXXXI A sira by Äbd Allah b. Ümar b. Ziyad b. AÌmad (980s/
1570s), a contemporary of Imam MuÌammad b. Ismaïl and his son
Barakat. The sira seems to have been written in the 950s/1540s for
Imam Barakat when he was about to prepare the falaj (irrigation
channel)211 of Maytha in the city of Bahla. This sira discusses the
construction of this channel.212
4B) This period of siyar starts at the beginning of the Yaäribi period
(1034/1624). It marks the beginning of modern Oman: power had
shifted from the dynasty to the imams and the state of Oman had
begun to flourish. It is possible to argue that only those siyar that
were written in the first Imamate of Yaäribah until the death of
Imam NaÒir b. Murshid in 1059/1649 should be considered. Yet it
can be argued that this period should be extended until the end of
the first half of the eleventh/seventeenth century, when Äbd Allah
b. Khalfan b. Sulayman, who was known as Ibn QayÒar, wrote the
first biography in Omani literature, the sira of Imam NaÒir b. Mur-
shid. The style of writing demonstrated in the Omani siyar of this
period clearly exhibits the dominant style of writing common among
the Arabs in general at this time. It is a style replete with rhetorical
devices, embellishment, and ornamentation. The siyar from this
period are the following:
CXXXII A sira from an unknown writer among the people of
Nafusa (a region in Libya). This sira is essentially a monograph on
divinity, translated from the original Berber; however, it is unclear
209
Pub. 2, 1:381; Pub. 3, 2:74.
210
MS 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 2, 1:384; Pub. 3, 2:78.
211
Cf. Wilkinson, Water and Tribal Settlement in South-East Arabia: A Study of
the Aflaj of Oman (Oxford 1977).
212
Pub. 3, 2:198.
158
whether it was translated in Oman or in Nafusa before the Iba∂is sent

it to Oman. It was basically written to teach the fundamentals of
Islamic faith and Iba∂i dogma to the Berber people.213
CXXXIII A sira attributed to Sulayman b. al-Qasim al-Maghribi,
written to the Mashariqa Omanis. This sira was probably written
prior to, or at, the beginning of the imamate of NaÒir b. Murshid
(1034–59/1624–49), because the writer mentions scholars of that
time but does not name Imam NaÒir. The sira sheds some light on
the situation of the Iba∂is in the Maghrib, especially concerning the
problems between the people of Naffusa and Mizab.214
CXXXIV A sira from MuÌammad b. AÌmad al-Kharassini to
Sulayman b. Abi al-Qasim and the people of the Maghrib and Nafusa.
This sira is a reply to the preceding one, written at the behest of
Imam NaÒir b. Murshid. The imam invites those addressed by the
document to unite with others and to be more pragmatic about their
problems.215
CXXXV A sira from Khamis b. Saïd al-ShaqÒi to the Banu MuÒäb
(Mizab) in southern Algeria. Khamis b. Saïd was the powerful figure
behind the appointment of Imam NaÒir, who was his son-in-law. He
is also the author of one of the most famous jurisprudential works
of this period in Oman, Manhaj al-†alibin. Like the preceding sira, this
sira was written on the orders of Imam NaÒir b. Murshid. It appears
that the imam attempted to use his prestige in Oman to encourage the
Iba∂is of North Africa to settle their differences and live in harmony.216
CXXXVI A sira by Saïd b. AÌmad b. MuÌammad al-Kharassini.
This sira is a monograph, similar in style and content to Ämir b. Äli
al-Shammakhi’s (d. 792/1389) Risalat al-diyanat.217 The author of
this sira gives a brief description of the Iba∂i movement and its creed.
It is noteworthy that he includes a whole chapter on taqlid (emula-
tion) and those sects that allow it. The last chapter in the sira is a
biographical index of Iba∂i and Omani scholars.218
The final four siyar 219 come in the form of orders and counsels of
advice from Imam NaÒir b. Murshid (First Ya}rubi Imam 1624–49)
to his governors concerning the correct way of conducting political
affairs.
213
Pub. 4, 1:189–97.
214
Pub. 4, 1:198–202.
215
Pub. 4, 1:203–12.
216
Pub. 4, 1:213–19.
217
Ennami, ‘Studies in Iba∂ism’, 249.
218
Pub. 4, 1:220–48.
219
Pub. 3, 2:24–34; Pub. 4, 1:256–65.
159
CXXXVII A sira to Abu al-Îasan Äli b. AÌmad b. Üthman,

governor of Liwa, Îatta, Diyar al-Îuddan, al-Jaww, Buraimi oasis
area, Najiran and Dima, written in Dhu al-Îijja 1050/April 1641.
CXXXVIII A sira to ∑aliÌ b. Saïd al-Ma¨mari, governor of Sur
and Ibra in eastern Oman.
CXXXIX A sira to Abu Äbd Allah Sulayman b. Rashid b. Äbd
Allah al-Kindi, governor of al-∑ir (also known as Julfar or present-day
Ra’s al-Khaymah).
CXL A sira to Sul†an b. Sayf al-Ya¨rubi, written after the latter had
excused himself from the duties of the Imamate. He had been gover-
nor of the Bahla area. He succeeded Nasir as Imam in 1649 and ruled
until 1680.
Conclusions
In the above, the Omani siyar have been presented as a cultural and
intellectual phenomenon in classical Arabic literature, rather than
merely as a large number of epistles and letters scattered throughout
numerous Omani compilations. As such, they form an archive of pri-
mary sources for twelve-hundred years of Omani history. The study
also adds a new dimension to the conventional definition of sira. This
point allows us to make two conclusions. First, the Omani siyar consist
of various expressions that reflect the periods in which each sira was
written. Therefore, one cannot find a consistent theme for all Omani
siyar. Second, the appearance of sub-divisions of Omani siyar is related
to the progressive development of the Iba∂i intellectual movement in
the East and the internal events of Omani history up to the eleventh/
seventeenth century. So, it is clear that the siyar first appeared in the
Iba∂i centre in Basra and were written by the Iba∂i leaders. Later, how-
ever, the writers were Omanis, who adopted this kind of writing style.
On a constructive level, this approach permits one to draw the con-
clusion that the Omani siyar have been shaped by three factors. First,
all the siyar express and are formed by Iba∂i ideology. At the beginning,
as Wilkinson says about the siyar, Ïba∂i theological literature really
came into existence when personal communication was difficult. At
one level they constitute what is little more than fragmentary corre-
spondence, inter-scholarly and inter-community opinions and advice
offered individually or collectively to imams and other {ulama’.’220
220
John. C. Wilkinson, ‘Iba∂i Theological Literature’, in M. Young, J. Latham,
and R.B Serjeant (eds), Religion, Learning and Science in the Äbbasid Period (Cam-
bridge 1992), 2:35.
160
Therefore, is it beneficial to use the siyar to study Iba∂i intellectual

and theological opinions and their development within the Iba∂i
movement. Afterwards, the siyar changed to express the ideology of
the Mashariqa Iba∂is in Oman. Second, the siyar are connected espe-
cially with Oman as their origin and historical context. Third, the
variation and development in Omani policy prompted the recording
and writing of the siyar. Thus it is necessary when Omani history is
divided into periods that it be noted how these correspond to similar
stages or periods in the siyar.
The evolving needs of the Omani community throughout the peri-
ods of its history influenced the style and content of the siyar that the
community’s scholars composed. In the first period, most of the siyar
were epistles containing the Iba∂i scholars’ opinions. In the second
period, there was an exchange of letters between the rival Rustaq and
Nizwa schools, especially about their chief concern, namely the nature
of the Imamate. During this period, the siyar started to take a specifi-
cally Omani form, and it can be said that this period has shaped the
style of Omani writers. In the third period, most of the siyar were
monographs and fatwas, which deal with the internal politics of Oman
rather than with Iba∂i ideological opinions. The Omani writers of
the third period were influenced by the style of Arabic literature
outside Oman, like the sira of Nijad b. Musa al-ManaÌi that refutes
Ibn al-Taj’s Risalat al-isti¨dad fi ma la yasa¨ al-mukallaf jahluhu, and
the epic sira of Imam MuÌammad b. Abi Ghassan to the people of
al-Äqar. In the fourth period, the maqama and the judgment mani-
festo became part of the sira genre. At the beginning of the Yaäriba
state, it was fashionable to use rhymed prose in their writings. This
development took a clear line of greater specialization, reflecting the
increased consciousness of Omani communities. The sira had devel-
oped into an extremely adaptable and flexible form.
To sum up, the sira as a style of writing adopted by the Iba∂i
{ulama’ was at first restricted to doctrinal polemics, and then became
used for wider concerns in Oman. One cannot find writers of siyar
who could be specifically described as being Omani poets like Ibn
Durayd, al-Sitali or al-Kidhawi, or writers who adopted Iba∂i ideol-
ogy like al-Khalil b. AÌmad221 and Abu Übayda Ma¨mar b. al-Muth-
anna.222 These siyar are primarily concerned with the doctrine of
Iba∂ism. This point leads us to conclude that, although the formula-
tion of these siyar is based on the framework of the äqida (creed)
221
Yaqut, Mu¨jam al-udaba} (Cairo, n.d), 11:72.
222
Ibid., 19:156.
161
form, they are significant as sources for the history of Iba∂i doctrine
and also of Oman. The recording of Omani history was greatly influ-
enced by Omani siyar, since these were written by religious scholars.
Some researchers have believed that some events in Omani history
may have been ignored, in particular the {ulama’ focused mainly on
writing about their ideology, while considering other literature as
merely the evil state of jababira, the oppressors.223 In their opinion,
the {ulama’ have tended, therefore, to overlook the historical events
and figures in Oman that are not directly relevant to their ideology,
such as the rule of the Banu Makram, the Banu Wajih and the Nab-
hanis, who were Omanis, or foreign powers such as the Carmathians
and the Buyids. Addressing this point, one could make the following
observations. First, all the Omani historical compilations that have
survived were written after the twelfth/seventeenth century, and their
compilers wrote about Oman as an independent state, whereas it
appears that Oman was a semi-independent state in the early days of
Islam, and became an independent state only after the establishment
of the imamate of al-Julanda b. Masüd in 132/749. This could be
the reason why the Omani historians regarded the other states as
imperialistic foreign states, and why they ignored them. For example,
Yaqut (seventeenth/thirteenth century) refers to the city of Sohar as
‘the greatest city in the Chinese sea’, and Sohar was well known to
be under the rule of the Imamate and yet Omani historians did not
record anything about it. Second, the non-Iba∂i Omani writers did
not record their history, so we do not hear of non-Iba∂i people. As a
result, Oman’s history is largely Iba∂i history. Third, as Wilkinson
has noted, ‘a complete study of the background to this period (the
early Imamate history) must involve use of the external as well as the
internal sources because without them the general historical frame-
work cannot be reconstructed’.224 Overall, the Omani siyar can be
described as a phenomenon that is the archive of the early history of
Oman and is a distinctive feature both of early Iba∂is and Omani
historical writing.
Address for Correspondence:

P.O. Box 4, Code 421, Bidiyah, Sultanate of Oman
223
See Faruq, Muqaddima fi maÒadir, 16; Oman in History, 265.
224
Wilkinson, ‘Sources for the Early History of Oman’, in Studies in the History
of Arabia, (Riyadh 1979), 91.
162
RHYTHM AND BEAT:
RE-EVALUATING ARABIC PROSODY
IN THE LIGHT OF MAHRI ORAL POETRY
SAM LIEBHABER
MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE
Abstract
This article attempts to resolve ambiguities that surround the prosody

of bedouin vernacular poetry by analysing poetic performance amongst
the Mahra of Southeast Yemen. As speakers of one of the few, remain-
ing indigenous languages of the Arabian Peninsula, the Mahra have
preserved an oral poetic practice that is free from the influence of liter-
ate Arabic poetics, including its prescriptive metrical rules. At the same
time, Mahri poetry bears close thematic similarities to Arabic naba†i
poetry, indicating an overlapping history with shared pre-historic roots.
Based on fieldwork conducted in al-Mahra between 2003 and 2004,
this article revisits the question whether bedouin vernacular poetry
follows a qualitative or a quantitative metric and explores what this
binary conception of prosody reveals about the performance of early
historic Arabic poetry.
The question whether the prosody of Bedouin, vernacular poetry is

quantitative or qualitative has generated considerable discussion yet
the issue still seems unsatisfactorily resolved since a key ingredient, the
influence of a literate practice, cannot be isolated from the analysis of
Arabic oral poetics. Any oral performance in the Arabic language, even
if it falls under the rubric of the ‘popular’, unwritten praxis, will draw
on an awareness of the common literary tradition, if not on the liter-
ary tradition itself.1 The question of what pre-literate Arabic poetry
would have sounded like is even more problematic; the written texts
of early Arabic poetry provide a distorted record of a poetic practice
1
Distinguishing between vernacular genres of Arabic poetry (such as Ìumayni
poetry in Yemen or naba†i poetry in the Najd) and literary genres (such as Ìakami
poetry or the qaÒida) on the basis of theme, topic or narrative structure is fraught
with difficulty. Both registers are appreciated by all audiences and their themes
and topics frequently overlap. Crossover is a fact of their production and per-
formance.
163
RHYTHM AND BEAT
that was once exclusively oral in composition, performance and trans-

mission.
Standing outside the Arabic linguistic domain and yet a native
part of Arabia, the Mahra of Southeast Yemen retain one of the last
vestiges of purely oral, Arabian poetry. As one of the few remaining,
unwritten languages of the Middle East, the Mahri language is demon-
strably free from the influence of literary guidelines and prescriptive
rules to which Arabic poetic prosody is beholden. The oral traditions
of the Mahra provide a window into an era of Arabic poetry that
predates the advent of classical philology, written texts and canonical
metrical rules, all of which exerted a profound pull on the produc-
tion, transmission and performance of oral poetry. This article revisits
one topic of scholarly discussion concerning Bedouin oral poetry,
meter and prosody, and re-evaluates it in light of recent fieldwork on
Mahri poetry.2
Historical and Linguistic Background
Mahri is the most widely spoken Modern South Arabian language

today with approximately 187,000 speakers.3 Although it once
belonged to an unbroken swath of South Semitic languages that
extended along the periphery of Southern Arabia into East Africa, the
2
This article is based on research carried out in Yemen in 2003–4 with the
support of a Fulbright-Hays DDRA fellowship and a fellowship from the American
Institute for Yemeni Studies (AIYS). I would like to thank the Centre Français
d’Archéologie et de Sciences Sociales de Sanaa (CEFAS) and the Yemen Center for
Studies and Research (YCSR) for their generous logistical support. In addition,
I would like to thank MuÌammad Äkkush, Îajj Dakon, Christopher Edens,
Äskari Îujayran, MuÌammad Salim al-Qumayri and Alexander Sima for their
kind support in bringing this project to fruition. This article is based on an appen-
dix to my dissertation: ‘Bedouins Without Arabic: Language, Poetry and the
Mahra of Southeast Yemen’ (University of California, Berkeley 2007). All Mahri
poems cited in this article were recorded by myself and all translations into English
are my own.
3
It is difficult to derive an actual figure for the number of Mahri speakers.
Îasan Maqbul al-Ahdal cites a census from 1999 that puts the number of inhabitants
of al-Mahra at 183,000, although this figure does not distinguish between Mahri
speakers and non-Mahri residents of al-Mahra (al-Ahdal 1999: 10). Assuming that
the administrative capital of al-Mahra, al-Ghaydha, is largely made up of non-Mahri
speaking Yemenis, then al-Ghaydha’s population of 38,000 (based on the same
1999 census) can be subtracted from the total population figure and the result
multiplied by a growth rate of 3.6% (Qumayri 2000: 30), to yield an approximate
figure of 187,000 Mahri speakers.
164
RHYTHM AND BEAT
Mahri language is currently limited to the Governorate of al-Mahra

in Eastern Yemen and to Dhufar in Oman. Since Mahri is the least
isolated of the Modern South Arabian languages (a group that includes
Soqo†ri, Jibbali, Hobyot, Îarsusi and Ba†Ìari), Mahri is also the most
transparently related to Arabic and appears to be converging towards
it in terms of phonology and vocabulary.
Although the Mahri language is explicitly mentioned in Arabic
sources as early as the tenth century CE, actual linguistic specimens in
Arabic-language scholarship were not available until very recently.4
In western scholarship, the Modern South Arabian languages first
appeared in the mid-nineteenth century and abundant linguistic
specimens were published shortly thereafter by members of the
Südarabische Expedition (Hein 1909, Jahn 1902, Müller 1902, 1905
and 1907).5
Mahri poetry remains an under-studied phenomenon and its
potential as a testing ground for theories concerning the practice of
contemporary vernacular and pre-literate Arabic poetry has been
overlooked. Even if we take into account the material published by
the Südarabische Expedition, there have not yet been any systematic
studies of Mahri poetry and certainly not of Mahri prosody. The
chief question that this article addresses is whether Mahri prosody is
qualitative, quantitative or a combination of the two. In asking this
question, we are embarking into territory well mapped out for ver-
nacular Arabic poetry in the Arabian Peninsula.
4
One of the earliest texts to point out the linguistic anomaly of al-Mahra is Abu
MuÌammad al-Hamdani’s (d. ~ 945 CE) ∑ifat Jazirat al-ärab, in which the Mahra
are said to speak ‘gibberish’ (ghutm) and so resemble foreigners (al-äjam) in their
speech (al-Hamdani 1974: 277). There are only two books in Arabic exclusively
devoted to the Mahri language: Äli MuÌsin Al ÎafiÂ’s Min lahajat ‘Mahra’ wa-
adabiha (1987) and Ädil Masüd Murikh’s al-Ärabiyya al-qadima wa-lahajatuha
(2000). In neither book is the Mahri language presented as an independent language
in its own right; rather, the authors view Mahri as a dialect of ‘ancient Arabic’. Four
books deal with the Mahri language in passing: Îasan Maqbul al-Ahdal’s MuÌa-
faÂat al-Mahra: Ìaqa}iq wa}l-arqam (2000), Äli Saïd Bakrit’s al-Mahra: al-ar∂ wa}
l-sukkan (1999) and Salim Qumayri’s al-Mahra: bawabat al-Yaman al-sharqiyya
(2000) and al-Mahra: al-qabila wa}l-lugha (2003). Jibbali/SÌeri, a linguistic relative
of Mahri, is treated by Äli AÌmad al-ShaÌri in Åufar: kitabatuha wa-nuqushuha
al-qadima (1994) and in Lughat Äd (2000), where it is likewise viewed as ‘ancient
Arabic’ and not as a member of a distinct, linguistic sub-family.
5
Lexical data for the MSA languages first appeared in 1835 when Lieutenant
James Reynold Wellsted of the British Army visited Soqo†ra on his way to India
and collected 250 words in the Soqo†ri language (Wellsted 1835: 220–9). In 1840,
Wellsted published another 37 words in the Mahri language (Wellsted 1840: 26–7).
165
RHYTHM AND BEAT
The Debate: Qualitative Versus Quantitative Prosody
Two ‘schools’ of thought on the prosody of Bedouin poetry are delin-

eated by scholarly discourse: the qualitative ‘school’ and the quantita-
tive ‘school.’ For the most part, the boundary between qualitative
accent and quantitative metrics is viewed as an impermeable one,
perhaps due to the success of al-Khalil b. AÌmad’s (d. 791 CE) rigor-
ously schematic analysis of literate Arabic prosody.
Representing the first ‘school’, Clinton Bailey asserts that the pro-
sodic system of Bedouin poetry from the Sinai and Negev is accentual
and based on the opposition of stressed and non-stressed syllables.
Moreover, he proposes that any accentual patterns are irregular and
subordinate to the rhythmic exigencies of accompanying melody. The
only constraint in a line of Bedouin poetry, other than rhyme, is that
the number of stressed syllables must remain constant throughout.6
I would add my own observations in support of Bailey’s conclusion:
stress patterns in declamatory recitals of Mahri poetry are clearly
audible and the number of stressed syllables per line is a key factor of
Mahri poetic prosody.7 Indeed, stress was the first, salient quality of
Mahri poetry that struck my ears. This is not my impression alone.
∑aliÌ al-Din al-Dakkak, a cultural reporter for the Yemeni cultural
magazine al-Thaqafiyya, reported a similar impression of overpower-
ing rhythm in Mahri-language poetry:
I didn’t trouble myself very much to search for the meaning of the lines
written in the Mahri language; suffice it to say, the rhythm [al-iqa¨]
made quite an impression on me [shaddani än naÌwin ma]. The ten-
dency for rhythm to triumph over meaning [taghlib al-iqa¨ äla }l-ma¨na]
is the basis for the modern theory of poetry that states: ‘In the begin-
ning, poetry was pure rhythm [iqa¨]…a chant that took after the chant
of camel drovers.’
(al-Dakkak 2003: 11)
6
‘Although the sung verses of the above poems could ignore the natural stress
and bend any of their component words to the dictates of the tune, they were not
devoid of scansion. Both the bida¨ and the imweli, when sung, comprised three
stressed syllables to a hemistich, six to a line. Even bida¨ poems not composed to
music…are generally careful to keep to a six-foot line, despite their not being
sheltered by the tune of a song to relieve them of the need to accent the poem’s
words naturally. The composition of a non-sung bida¨, like its sung counterpart, is
none the less facilitated in composition by the device of irregular metre’ (Bailey
2002: 387).
7
This is also Palva’s impression for poetry composed by speakers of an atrochaic,
Arabic dialect: ‘[The] scansion leaves the impression that it is based on a number of
accents’ (Palva 1993: 83).
166
RHYTHM AND BEAT
The importance of accentual stress in recitation is demonstrated by a

short lyric poem (Mhr. naÒÒ ÈÒidet [‘story qaÒida’]) composed by the
Mahri poet, Îajj Dakon: SawÈ (‘Desire’). In this poem, nearly every
syllable is heavy (CV:, CVC, CV:C, CVCC), making quantitative
analysis all but impossible:8
Ìa †0† ∂-hal4È // siw3† b¢-l2f | – –¬ || – –¬ | // | – –¬ || ˇ –¬ |
hoh Òábri támm // w¢-Ì3li sf2f | – –¬ || – –¬ | // | ˇ –¬ || – –¬ |
Like a dry palm frond with fire on its fibres
My patience is finished and my condition is weak
The meter of these lines is expressed through expiratory stress on
alternating syllables. This pattern is consistent throughout the entire
poem: four syllables per hemistich and every other syllable is stressed.
However, since seven of the eight syllables are heavy, any quantitative
metrics must be augmented by stress.
Additionally, the light syllable [CV], including the coordinating
conjunction w¢- and personal verbal prefixes, will occasionally receive
stress while neighbouring heavy syllables do not. For example, the
following lines of a praise-poem for a young girl (a genre called
semret in Mahri) by the Mahri poetess, Raghbon birt Saïd, exhibit
a pattern of six-syllables per hemistich with an alternating stress
pattern:
3) ∂¢-m0ken b2s ¢rÌ2m // l-ad †ˇéyres t1 ysus3f
4) È¢nát¢s biŕt Ì¢m1d // b¢-lá†¢f w¢ˆˆ-terh3f
She has abundant beauty // no one exceeds her in description
Birt Îmed raised her // with gentleness and grace
In line 4, the coordinate conjunction w¢- (‘and’) receives the penul-
timate stress of the line while the neighbouring heavy syllables, /-†¢f/
and /ter-/ do not. The same non-quantitative, accentual scansion can
be demonstrated in a line of collectively performed couplets (regzit
meydani):
gáyber séttal k¢ˆ-n¢b1} // w¢ˆ-s¢n1g ∂¢-h1h äd2d // r3keb w¢ˆ-g¢z1 Ì¢m4l
The guests packed up and went with the news // people of dear rela-
tions // the traveller has brought [his] kin
8
Following the lead established by Albert Socin and by nearly every specialist
in Arabian ethnopoetics since, I have inserted an anaptyctic vowel /¢/ wherever the
original recitation provided one to justify a consistent syllable count or to resolve a
consonant cluster. As Heikki Palva points out, the insertion of a short vowel is not
just ‘a biased theoretical reconstruction’ but is a typical linguistic feature of the
Najdi Arabic (Palva 1993: 76).
167
RHYTHM AND BEAT
In this couplet, the preposition k¢- (‘with’) and the conjunction w¢-
receive stress twice, although surrounding heavy syllables do not. In
the chanted performance that I recorded for this exchange of cou-
plets, the stress pattern is clearly audible even when the ictus falls on
a light syllable.
Yet Mahri, like Arabic, distinguishes between long and short vow-
els and we should therefore expect quantity to play a role in Mahri
prosody. Two Mahri-language poets, Îajj Dakon and Äli NaÒir
BalÌaf, insisted that Mahri prosody followed Arabic patterns of syllabic
quantity (buÌur). In an interview with al-Thaqafiyya, Îajj contends
that Mahri poetry is richer than Arabic poetry in metrical patterns,
(although in the same interview Îajj states that Mahri has both metri-
cal patterns [buÌur] and rhythms [iqaät]).9 Both Îajj and Äli NaÒir
demonstrated specific meters for specific genres of poem, each of which
also has its own, characteristic melody. For example, the poem Writ
∂-Baris (‘The Moon of Paris’) by Îajj is meant to be sung to a melody
known by its refrain, ya s0ma¨2 sam¨2 (‘O listener, hark!’), while
collectively performed couplets, regzit meydani, are always chanted (or
sung) to the same, characteristic melody.10 Secondly, my informants
suggested a metrical system of prosody that is independent of melody.
For instance, Îajj sang the poem }Aser seh driyet la according to two
different melodies: the ‘night time’ melody (lawli) and the melody
customarily used for tribal odes (}odi w¢-krem krem). In each case, the
meter was preserved intact although Îajj averred that instrumentation
might distort the regularity of the metrical pattern.
The interplay of meter and accent, subject to a near infinite variety
of possible combinations, is demonstrated through J.A. al-Dafari’s
analysis of the prosody of Arabic, vernacular poetry in Southern Ara-
bia. In an unpublished dissertation, al-Dafari argues for a rhythmic
effect in the performance of humayni poetry that is achieved by
manipulating internal pauses. To wit, ‘the vitality in Ìumaini is
derived from the contrast between the metrical scheme of the poem
and its rhythmical pattern as largely determined by the natural flow
9
‘Mahri poetry is just like Arabic poetry with respect to its metrical patterns
[buÌur] since it branches out into the same patterns [buÌur] as Arabic poetry, approx-
imately, and with the added consideration that Mahri poetry has its own rhythms
[}iqaätahu] which differ from the rhythms of other types of poetry’ (al-Dakkak
2003: 11).
10
We can contrast the syllabic length of g0bem g3li le}ass3È // w-legt2r men
¢kemméth (‘Leave my darling to her heart’s desire and let her speak from her mind’)
— 7 syllables per hemistich — and †a† wét f¢†áwn // gw1 ∂-l¢†3f (‘When one remem-
bers his passion for gentle women’) — 4 syllables per hemistich.
168
RHYTHM AND BEAT
of the language’. Al-Dafari thus raises the possibility that the prosody
of South Arabian Ìumayni poetry can be both qualitative and quan-
titative in the same poem, even during in the same performance
(Wagner 2004: 42–3).11
This brings us to the position of David Semah, Saad Sowayan,
Marcel Kurpershoek and Steve Caton. All four apply classical Arabic
metrical schemes (vowel or syllabic length), to contemporary, ver-
nacular, Arabian poetry. For one, Semah critiques Bailey’s characteri-
zation of Bedouin prosody as accent-based (Semah 1991: 187–200).
Sowayan is no less emphatic in demonstrating the quantitative metrics
of naba†i poetry; indeed, he finds 51 quantitative patterns (Sowayan
1985: 159).12 Caton likewise derives a series of quantitative patterns
for Yemeni poetry from Khawlan; fundamental to his argument, how-
ever, is the optional segmentation of a word-final monosyllable CV:C
into two syllables: CV: + C(V). Thus, ‘Ìawlan’ is scanned as Ìaw
la n(V) {| – – ˆ |}, ‘allah’ as }al la h(V) {| – – ˆ |} and ‘ÒalaÌ’ as Òa
la Ì(V) {| ˆ – ˆ |} (Caton 1990: 279–81). Caton’s addendum to
the prosody of the Yemeni zamil closely mirrors Semah’s critique of
Bailey’s analysis of Bedouin metrics. Like Caton, Semah finds regular
quantitative meters by breaking apart overlong, final syllables. For
instance, Semah rightly points out that ‘kull ÒaÌib’ should be scanned
as kull(i) ÒaÌib {| – ˆ – – |}, and not {| – – – |} as Bailey scans it
(Semah 1991: 190–1).
The position advocated by Semah, Sowayan, Caton and others is
amply supported by Heikki Palva, who adduces a linguistic proof for
the presence of anaptyctic vowels in Bedouin poetry and provides
empirical support for the theory of quantitative meters. Palva divides
North Arabian Bedouin dialects into a trochaic group, in which over-
long syllables are broken in two by the insertion of a short vowel, and
an atrochaic group, which permits overlong vowels and is thus char-
acterized by a low frequency of short vowels. This has critical impli-
cations for the prosody of Bedouin oral poetry since poetry of the
trochaic group will be based on quantitative metrics whereas poetry
of the atrochaic group will tend towards accentual rhythms (Palva
1993: 87). Palva’s work is an important contribution to the field of
11
Ja¨far Äbduh al-Dafari’s dissertation, ‘Îumaini Poetry in South Arabia’
(School of Oriental and African Studies 1966), was unavailable to me at the time
this article was written. The quoted material has been taken from Mark Wagner’s
dissertation, ‘The Poetics of Îumayni Verse: Language and Meaning in the Arab
and Jewish Vernacular Poetry of Yemen’ (New York University 2004).
12
Kurpershoek’s metrical analysis of najdi (i.e. naba†i ) poetry is based on
Sowayan’s work (Kurpershoek 1994: 86–90).
169
RHYTHM AND BEAT
oral Arabic prosody. However, Palva maintains an ‘either/or’ position:

either the prosody of a poem is quantitative or accentual depending
on which geographical region of the Arabian Peninsula it derives from.
The introduction of anaptyctic vowels à la Caton, Palva, Semah
and Sowayan is tailor-made for Mahri poetics. Unlike Arabic, there
are no dictionary forms of Mahri words against which deviations can
be measured. As a result, the syllabification of individual words can
vary greatly, particularly when dialectal differences are brought into
consideration. As we have already seen, short helping vowels such as
/¢/ and /e/ are regularly introduced to resolve consonantal clusters or
to ‘fix’ syllable counts. Provided that these alterations are minor, they
do not violate any rules of the language since there are no normative
vocalizations in Mahri to begin with, nor is there a single, exemplary
dialect of the Mahri language.13
We can use lines 12 and 13 from the poem SawÈ by Îajj Dakon
to illustrate this principle:
leyw0 ÒwaÈ0r // fr1r w-ay2f
w-b3Òer w-b0r // men ¢ˆmÌayf2f
O little falcon! Go quickly! Fly!
Go at dusk, travel all night from MÌayfif
In the second hemistich of the second line, an anaptyctic vowel has
been affixed to MÌayfif. In poetic recitation, the hemistich is ren-
dered: m(¢) ném Ìey f2f, with the reduction of the preposition men
(‘from’) to a quasi-syllabic m(¢). The re-syllabification and vocalization
of this village’s name is thus completely subordinate to prosodic
needs; at the same time, there is no sense that the integrity of this
name has been compromised.
Quantitative analysis of Mahri prosody is further supported by the
fact that the word final syllable CVC, elsewhere considered heavy, is
treated as a short syllable in spoken Mahri.14 This enables us to scan
Mahri poetry according to quantitative metrics with some regularity.
If we take a look at another semret by Raghbon birt Saïd, Gguten ber
13
The Mahri language is broken into a number of dialectal groups, some of
which are nearly distinct languages. Of the dialects that have been surveyed thus far,
the western dialect of Qishn and the eastern Mahri dialects of Îawf and Oman are
the most represented; the Mahri dialects of the inland steppe and Wadi Masila
remain virtual terrae incognitae.
14
The rules of stress in Mahri are summarized as follows: ‘L’accent tombe sur
la (dernière) syllable longue {CVC(C), CV:(C)} ou, si toutes les syllables sont brèves
{CV}, sur la première (CVC en fin de mot compte pour brève)’ (Lonnet and Simeone-
Senelle 1997: 354; my italics).
170
RHYTHM AND BEAT
trok faÌret (‘The Girls Have Forsaken Their Pride’), and scan it with
this principle in mind, some patterns begin to emerge. In the first
three lines, we find the following:
1) g¢|g4|ten ber t¢|r3k // faÌ|r1t w¢ l-äd ä|k3f
| ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | // | – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |
2) man h0s äÈ|rot †¢|m0¨ // ä∂ méd|Ìes ber s¢|l3f
| – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | // | – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |
3) ∂¢-m0|ken bis ¢r|Ì2m // l-ad †ˇéy|res te-y|su|s3f
| ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | // | – | – | ˇ | / | – | – | – |
1) The girls have abandoned their pride // and no longer gather their
hair in a bun
2) Since ™ma¨ has grown up // her praise has already preceded [her]
3) She has abundant beauty // no one exceeds her in description
For one, we notice that the initial hemistich of each line follows a
pattern, {| ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, that consists of two feet, {| ˇ | – | ˇ |}
and {| – | ˇ | – |}, with one exception in line 2: {| – | – | ˇ |}. The
second hemistichs of each line follow a slightly different pattern,
{| – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, consisting of two feet, {| – | – | ˇ |} and
{| – | ˇ | – |}, with an exception in line 3: {| – | – | – |}. The pattern
of the initial hemistich, {| ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, is precisely repeated
in four lines and with one syllable altered in another five lines for
a total of nine out of thirteen lines in this poem. The initial hemis-
tichs of the remaining four lines consistently follow another pattern:
{| – | – | – | / | – | ˇ | – |}. The pattern for the second hemistich,
{| – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, is precisely repeated in six lines and with
one syllable altered in another four lines; the remaining three lines
are problematic.
It is safe to say that Mahri poetry follows a qualitative metric since
scanning it according to syllable length does reveal a general repetition
of patterns. I am certain that any inconsistencies in my scansion derive
from the fact that I transcribed this poem with the help of an inform-
ant from Qishn in western al-Mahra, whereas the poet herself, Ragh-
bon, hails from the eastern district of Îawf on the Omani-Yemeni
border. This was no inconsiderable problem; in addition to differences
in stress and intonation, there are also significant phonological and
lexical differences between eastern and western Mahri dialects.15
15
The presence of äyin in the dialects of the hinterlands of Îawf is one such
obstacle to scansion since äyin was generally omitted by Îajj Dakon, a speaker of
the äyin-less Qishn dialect of Mahri. Thus, ba¨l(i) (‘God’) {| – ˇ |} in the dialect of
Raghbon would be related to me as bal {| – |} by Îajj.
171
RHYTHM AND BEAT
Despite some clear evidence, I think that Semah errs in insisting on

the exclusivity of their quantitative analysis; I disagree with Semah’s
suggestion that ‘the theory of accentual metre expounded [by Bailey]
has little relevance to the poetry of the Bedouin with which we are
dealing’ (Semah 1991: 192). This statement does not agree with my
own experience; as pointed out earlier, the accentual metrics of Mahri
poetry in recitation is clearly audible. How do we reconcile these two
opposing views when personal experience indicates that both are valid?
For a solution to this inconsistency, we can turn to an observa-
tion made by Carlo Landberg. While attempting to resolve metrical
and phonological discrepancies in his transcriptions of Îa∂rami
oral poetry, Landberg reports making the following statement to his
informants: ‘But you pronounce the words in an entirely different
way while chanting’. To this, he received the ‘significant’ response:
‘This is because chanting is something other than reciting’ (Landberg
1905: 117).16 Landberg’s observation is noted by Caton and Sowayan,
yet I would like to take their conclusions even further (Caton 1990:
280–1; Sowayan 1985: 152). The response of Landberg’s informants
indicates that different systems of prosody are used for different modes
of performance. In melodic or chanted performances, a quantitative
system prosody comes to the fore and restores the short vowels that
were elided in recitation. Conversely, in a non-chanted, non-sung
recitation of poetry, (generally the performance of a single, unaccom-
panied individual), accentual rhythm takes precedence. The critical
element of difference is melody: in the absence of it, accent becomes
the structuring principle behind verse while quantitative patterns go
hand-in-hand with the presence of melody.17 Thus, Bedouin metrics
is both quantitative and accentual, depending on the mode of per-
formance.
16
Elsewhere, Landberg states: ‘There are many examples of this in my work.
The form gìt, with a short “i”, is much rarer than gä:t. I asked my Datini [inform-
ants] why they do not say gä:t. “It doesn’t work here,” they responded, and yet they
all chanted gä:t! This is explained by the rhythmic accent of this syllable: “i” often
becomes becomes “ä” in chanting and the vowel is elongated under the accent.
When I asked them to chant the second verse and to substitute gä:t for git, they
began: “la-ga˙}te-ge ” but then immediately stopped and said: “Look! It doesn’t
work.” I repeat that these people do not know what a “meter” is and were com-
pletely ignorant of why I always had them chant “recited poetry” (les poésies dictées)’
(Landberg 1905: 134).
17
This is easily demonstrable in recordings in which I solicited recitations and
sung performances of the same poem. One such recording was made for a semret
poem composed by MuÌammad AÌmad Za¨banot that was both recited and sung
by him (January 12, 2004).
172
RHYTHM AND BEAT
The importance of performance in determining which system of

prosody is used can be demonstrated through the Mahri lexicon. My
fieldwork indicates that the Mahri verb ‘rwo/yrey’ (and its derived
substantive ‘riwi ’) points to a recited, accentual declamation of poetry
as opposed to other performance types that are guided by melody and
therefore follow a quantitative metric. This became clear to me when
the Mahri poet, Îajj Dakon, explained Mahri ‘riwi ’ as ‘shi¨r nathari ’
in Arabic. Although the meaning of ‘nathari ’ can be ambiguous in
the context of vernacular Arabic poetry, Îajj must have meant a non-
melodic recitation of poetry since his contrasting category, ‘shi¨r
ghina}i ’, unambiguously indicates ‘sung-poetry’.
The interpretation of rwo/yrewy as a recited, (non-melodized) per-
formance is borne out in a poem that I collected from Ïsa KedÌeyt,
a retired judge from the district of Îawf. As a judge, Ïsa KedÌayt
was called upon to relate (‘rwoh’ < riwi ) his judgment in a case
brought to him by Äbdallah son of LeddeÌ:
1) lawb gáwnes Ìy3m // w-h3la Èf3d // w¢-gs3h b-rehd2d 18
2) l-äbdálleh ¢redd // ¢b2r ledd1Ì ˛ // ∂¢-äÒfeh g2d 19
3) äm3rem rw3h // w-r3keb gr3y // w¢-bh1l habd2d 20
1) O Sun, you have set // the shadow of evening has descended // and
encircled the expanse of the land.
2) I’ll respond to Äbdallah // the son of LaddeÌ // of good repute
3) They said: ‘Tell [us]! // arrange your speech // in a number of
words’.
The word ‘rwoh’ in the third line must be an invitation for Ïsa to
speak (or recite) his judgment as a poem and not to chant or sing it.21
Indeed, it is impossible to imagine Ïsa actually singing or chanting
his legal judgments, although whether they might be melodicized
afterwards is another issue entirely.
18
gawnes < G.N.¨.: ‘g¢no, g¢not/t¢gona: to be nearly set (sun)’ (Johnstone 1987:
121); hola < H.L.¨: ‘hola}/hila’: shade, shadow; reflection…moving shadow in a
valley (poet.)’ (Johnstone 1987: 156); gsuh < G.S.[V].: Ar. ghasa: to cover, envelop,
conceal; rehdid: plot of land, Ar. masaÌat al-ar∂, < R.D.Y.: ‘ridit: field, fertile area’
(Johnstone 1987: 315).
19
}aÒfeh < W.∑.F.: ‘m¢yÒáyf, m¢wÒ¢fut: fine-looking, famed, famous’ (Johnstone
1987: 431).
20
bhel < B.H.L.: ‘b¢hlit/b¢hel: word’ (Johnstone 1987: 45); habdid < B.D.D.: a
group, collection, Ar. kammiya, majmuä.
21
The rendition of legal judgements in verse is meant to aid the oral transmis-
sion of the courts’ rulings. In the fiqh culture of Northern Yemen, scholarship and
poetry went hand-in-hand (Messick 1993: 48).
173
RHYTHM AND BEAT
For the Mahra, the basic distinction in poetry is not between

formal genres but between performance types. However, due to a
reliance on literate models of ‘word-art’ in which formal distinctions
in genre, not performance, define the basic categories, the meaning
of riwi has been lost to Arabic and Western scholarship. For instance,
MuÌsin Al ÎafiÂ contrasts riwi poetry with regzit poetry on formal,
thematic grounds (bipartite thematic poetry versus tripartite occa-
sional poetry [Al ÎafiÂ 1987: 71]), and adds that riwi is the less
prestigious of the two poetic types. In fact, regzit can be performed
as a riwi poem if it is stripped of the melody that usually accompa-
nies it. Al ÎafiÂ is correct in asserting that riwi is less prestigious
than regzit; however, this is due to the fact that a non-chanted per-
formance does not require the social coordination that a communal
performance of regzit does.
The meaning of the root R.W.Y. in Mahri is confused by
T.M. Johnstone as well, who lists ‘to sing’ amongst its meanings
(Johnstone 1987: 333–4). This appears to directly contradict my own
data in which ‘riwi ’ indicates anything but sung poetry. These mis-
conceptions can be explained in light of Îajj’s binary organization
of Mahri poetry into ‘nathtari’ versus ‘ghina}i ’, an oral conception of
the Mahri poetic system that was likely valid for Arabic poetry as long
as its practice remained entirely oral. However, this distinction ceased
to be valid for Arabic poetry once it moved into a literate practice
where the distinction became one of ‘prose’ versus ‘poetry’. Al ÎafiÂ
projects this literary distinction onto Mahri poetry and therefore
views ‘riwi’ as a formal category and not as a mode of performance.
Using Mahri data to resolve an Arabic ambiguity, I suggest that ‘nathr’
in Arabic once indicated the non-melodic mode of performance
(cf. Mahri riwi), whereas ‘shi¨r’ indicated everything else, both chanted
and sung. Once Arabic developed a literate poetic praxis, ‘nathr’ took
on the meaning of prose to designate this relatively new, un-sung and
un-chanted literary genre.
The question remains why some field researchers hear stress (such
as Bailey and myself ), while others (Sowayan, Caton, et al.) hear
quantity in Arabian vernacular poetry. The answer to this is related
to the purpose that lies behind data collection and the techniques
used to collect it. Bailey recorded performances by individual bedouin
in order to capture an ‘original’ text of the poem. This involved writ-
ing an oral poem down in Arabic characters and circulating it amongst
the tribal ruwah (‘transmitters’), who then weighed in with their
emendations. The poets or ruwah were aware that they were com-
mending a text to an abstract and de-contextualized posterity. Under
174
RHYTHM AND BEAT
these circumstances, melody, dance and collective performance were

unnecessary to the process of recording a fixed text and could therefore
be dispensed with. This yielded poetry in spoken recitation, neither
chanted nor sung, that lacked the regular quantitative meter noted by
Landberg, Socin, Sowayan and many others.
My own methods of poetry collection were similar to Bailey’s.
When I asked an informant to provide a poem, the informant delved
into his or her memory and retrieved a previously memorized poem
that was often the work of another poet. This suited the setting: I
would organize an ‘official’ session, arrive with a tape recorder and
microphone and work alone with the informant or with a limited
number of friends or family. Melody and dancing, so intrinsic to the
production of Mahri poetry, were almost always absent. Chanting or
singing, without the accompaniment of the poet’s peers or a social
event to frame the performance, would have been completely incongru-
ous and even impossible to re-create. A recited performance emerged
as is typical when a poem is casually delivered to a small audience.
Although spoken recitation may lack the cultural and social sig-
nificance of a collective performance, it compensates for this lack of
social relevance through sheer frequency. These were the perform-
ances that I primarily recorded and observed and like al-Dakkak and
Bailey, I was struck by the regularity of accentual stress patterns.
A different set of conditions and interests obtained for Caton’s and
Sowayan’s collections of Arabic vernacular poetry. Caton’s interests lie
in the enactment of social conflict and resolution through Yemeni tribal
poetry. This naturally led him to emphasize the two, extemporized gen-
res of collective poetry, the balah and the zamil. As a result, Caton’s data
were gathered in the context of chanting and the swaying, rhythmic
dances of Khawlani tribesmen; in this ‘melody forward’ environment,
accentual stress was doubtless subordinate to quantitative metrics.
Sowayan has a different approach to Arabian poetics and yet arrives
at the same conclusion. In my view, this is the result of two principles.
The first, as is made clear in Sowayan (1985), is his treatment of the
long, mono-rhymed texts of naba†i poetry within the referential frame-
work of the pre-Islamic qaÒida, which followed quantitative meters.22
22
‘The roots of [modern vernacular poetry] can be unmistakably traced back to
[classical Arabic poetry], and the divergences that distinguish the two traditions from
one another do not imply any categorical difference between them…Employing
the same formal principles and compositional devices of their ancient predecessors,
vernacular poets continued to discover new themes and explore new compositional
techniques without interrupting the continuity between their poetry and that of the
ancients’ (Sowayan 1985: 167).
175
RHYTHM AND BEAT
Sowayan emphasizes the quantitative component of naba†i prosody

since it harmonizes with the classical lineage of naba†i poetry. Sec-
ondly, in a way that neither myself nor any of the aforementioned
researchers can claim, Sowayan grew up in the milieu of his data and
no doubt heard much of the poetry presented in Naba†i Poetry (1985)
performed in a variety of different modes: sung, chanted and recited,
collectively and individually.23 Since these tunes were effectively in his
ears from his childhood on, Sowayan could restore a latent melody to
a straight recitation without resorting to singing or chanting. The
fifty-one quantitative patterns analyzed by Sowayan may have been
clear to him even in spoken recitations of poetry, whereas to other
researchers such as Bailey and myself, only stress patterns would be
audible for the same performance.
Conclusion
The rule for vernacular Arabian prosody can be summarized as follows:

a de-contextualized, non-melodic performance by a single individual
will follow an accentual rhythm whereas a collectively chanted or
sung performance will feature quantitative meters. This is the case
for both Mahri poetry and for vernacular poetry in Arabic. The
question remains whether this double-layered prosodic system was
true for vernacular Arabic poetry prior to the increased ‘literacization’
of Arabic poetics from the Umayyad period and onwards. In the light
of evidence presented in this article, I suspect there was once a greater
role for stress in the declamation of early Arabic poetry. This leads us
to the conclusion that the record of performance of Arabic poetry is
half complete since recited performances, rather than qualitative,
chanted performances, never made it into the record.
There are some brief remarks in the classical record that support
this position. According to al-JaÌiÂ (d. 981 CE), partisans of the
shuübiyya movement were fond of pointing out the Arab predilec-
tion for using a staff (akhdh al-mikhÒara) while engaged in oratory,
23
‘I have been effectively exposed to Naba†i poetry since my childhood. I have
heard it quoted or recited almost every day of my life at home or elsewhere. My home-
town, Ünaizah, is famous for its outstanding Naba†i poets, some of whom I know
personally. However, I owe my early introduction to Naba†i poetry chiefly to my
maternal grandfather, MÌammad as-Sleman aÒ-∑wayyan, an excellent raconteur of
anecdotes and a gifted reciter of poetry. His polished style and elegant delivery have
fascinated me and captured my imagination since I was a small boy; it was he, more
than anyone, who opened my eyes to the rich field of this poetry’ (Sowayan 1985: 11).
176
RHYTHM AND BEAT
presumably to emphasize stressed syllables.24 I question the conven-

tional understanding of this passage as a reference to speechmaking
or saj¨, but prefer a broader understanding that includes the perform-
ance of poetry as well.25 While the meter and rhyme (mawzun,
muqaffa) mentioned in the passage could equally be applied to saj¨, it
is twice linked to ‘manthur’ (i.e. exhibiting the traits of nathr). In the
light of the Mahri translation of Arabic ‘nathr’ as non-sung, recited
poetry, I would raise the possibility that the partisans of the shuübiyya
were describing the performance of poetry accompanied by the met-
ronymic beat of a staff in addition to the aforementioned saj¨ and
oratory. Though the link is tenuous, it would suggest that the pro-
sodic rules of classical Arabic poetry were not as unambiguously
quantitative as al-Khalil b. AÌmad’s metric analysis would later make
them out to be. In short, thanks to oral data provided by the Mahra,
we can begin to interrogate some fairly basic assumptions about early
Arabic poetry and its contemporary, vernacular offspring.
Complete Text of Mahri Poems
I: SawÈ (‘Desire’) by Îajj Dakon

(published in The Diwan of Îajj Dakon [AIYS, forthcoming])
1) r2 w¢-fwod // ymoh ∂-irfif
2) bar mel}am sawÈ // w-b}ar getlif 26
3) l-äd witÌem la} // men zawl w¢-∂lif 27
4) w¢-mbeyn l¸ila} // ∂-yehhargif
5) är sefh sawÈ // Ì†eyr w¢-klif
6) äm bar metkun // w-Ìell b¢-gwif
7) yesdud nefset // w¢-tlobed tlif
8) w¢-tkun maÌses // s}of w¢-Ìfif 28
9) Ìa †a† ∂-haluÈ // siwo† b-lif 29
24
Al-JaÌiÂ 1998, III: 3.
25
‘The Arabian habit of gesticulating with a stick in hand while speaking, and
other linguistic and non-linguistic habits of speech, served only to expose the empti-
ness of the Arabian claim to eloquence’ (Enderwitz 1997: 515).
26
getlif (sing. getlef, transitive: egelfek, egolef) < G.L.F.: to be filled with fluid vs.
ketlif < K.L.F.: to be filled with a solid.
27
witÌem (witÌek, witeÌ) < W.T.Î.: to settle down, to quiet.
28
maÌses (Ìatsek, pres. aÌsos) < Î.S.S.: to be tense, angry, < ‘Ìesyos: having all the
bones smashed’ (Johnstone 1987: 191); s}of (set}afk, yestof) < S.¨.F.: to get angry very
quickly; Ìfif < Î.F.F.: ‘Ìátt¢f: to be easily angered…Ì¢fáyf: easily angered’ (ibid.,
168).
29
haluÈ < ¨.L.Ë.: a dry palm frond used a kindling for a fire, ‘haloÈ/y¢haloÈ: to
light, kindle’ (ibid., 21); lif < L.Y.F.: ‘layf: coconut hair, fibre’ (ibid., 259).
177
RHYTHM AND BEAT
10) hoh Òabri temm // w-Ìoli sfif 30

11) w¢-mhawgesi kell // mni ∂-nessif 31
12) leywa} ÒwoÈar // frer w-ayif 32
13) w-boÒer w-bar // men ¢mÌeyfif 33
14) w-het Ìatfo†ˇ // Èa} hini wkif 34
15) w-menbad ¢sslom // m∂ebbel rdif
16) }amer badis // Ìa hoh mhaÒrif
1) My lungs and heart // today are fluttering
2) Desire has filled them // they have been filled to the brim.
3) They haven’t yet settled down // from anxiety and excitement.
4) Between my ribs // they are shivering.
5) I’ve seen that desire // is dangerous and troublesome
6) If it becomes rooted // and settles in its cavities,
7) It blocks the breathing // and you become a wreck.
8) You are agitated // quick to anger and impatient
9) Like a dry palm frond // with fire on its fibres.
10) My patience has finished // and my condition is weak,
11) All my emotions // have been torn to shreds.
12) O little falcon! // Go quickly! Fly!
13) Go at dusk, travel all night // from MÌayfif,
14) Keep my order in mind // and act faithfully in my stead.
15) After the greetings // have been exchanged twice-over
16) Say: ‘After you // I’m like a man all used up’.
II. Semret by Raghbon birt Saïd

1) gg4ten ber tr3k // faÌr1t we-l-äd äk3f 35
2) men has äÈrot †m0} // ä∂ médÌes ber sl3f 36
3) ∂-m0ken bis ¢rÌ2m // l-ad †ˇéyres te ysuÒof 37
4) Ènéts birt Ìm1d // b-lá†f w-terh3f 38
30
sfif (setfek, settef) < S.F.F.: to be weakened, Ar. naÌif.
31
nessif (nesfek, nsuf) < N.S.F.: to shred, Ar. mansuf.
32
ayif (ayfut, pres. tayif) < ’.Y.F.: to take to wing, to fly, Ar. jannaÌa.
33
boÒer < B.∑.R.: ‘aboÒ¢r: to go in the twilight, evening’ (ibid., 55); bar < B.¨.R.:
‘bar/y¢bor: to go by night, be out at night’ (ibid., 41).
34
wkif < W.K.F.: a support, an equal (colleague), ‘h¢wkuf/hewkefk: to let s.o. ill
rest on your breast; to set up (a stone)’ (ibid., 425).
35
}akof < ¨.K.F.: Yem. Ar. ‘äkfa/ükfa, pl. äkaf: coiffure’ (Landberg 1920–42, III:
2317).
36
}aÈrot < ¨.Ë.R.: ‘}aÈáwr/yáwÈ¢r: to be, become big, grow up’ (Johnstone 1987:
20).
37
ysuÒof < W.∑.F.: to describe sth. or so.
38
Ènets (3rd fem. sing. + d.o. suffix) < Ë.N.N.: verbal derivative from ‘È¢nnáwn,
È¢nnét: child; little, young’ (ibid., 232); terhof < R.}.F.: Ar. ra}uf, ‘En Öman,
}arhafa est devenir pauvre…= tarayhaf ’ (Landberg 1920–42, II: 1485).
178
RHYTHM AND BEAT
5) b¢-nh2r tÌáwl¸ef h2s // wel }aÒer tsuk3f 39

6) nÌáts his hr1 // w¢-tbéts ÌarÈ¢f3t 40
7) w-f0m el seh ganÒéyt // w¢-bd1n mhagd¢l3t 41
8) legr1d †ma} teÈm1r // men h0l ∂-äsot naÌg3t 42
9) men m1t Ìaddut Ìlát // w-b3Èi hans¢l3t 43
10) w-w4d}am bis dw1l // w-kéll ber sehem Òf3t
11) är bír }arman Ìl0 // w¢-mlátya ber br3k44
12) haÈh3b äsrin bk4r // w-mén †Ìob gz3f 45
13) reyt térÌam horem s1h // w¢-mg3 kteb haml3k46
39
tÌawl¸ef < Î.L¸.F.: ‘Ì¢zzáwf/y¢Ì¢zzáwf: to sit cross legged’ (Johnstone 1987:
199); }aÒer < ¨.∑.R.: ‘}aÒ¢r/}aÒor, }aÒáwr: night’ (Johnstone 1987: 31); tsukof < W.K.F.:
‘s¢wkuf/y¢s¢wkuf: to sleep, go to sleep, lie down’ (Johnstone 1987: 426). A verb
derived from the same stem, h¢wkuf/h¢wkéfk, means ‘to let so. ill rest on your breast’
(Johnstone 1987: 425). This latter meaning forms a nice pair with the first hemis-
tich: during the day, she sits in her mother’s crossed lap and at night, she rests her
head on her mother’s breast.
40
nÌats < Ar. N.Î.T.: to fashion, hew (in equal proportions). I would have
expected to find /-s/ as the object suffix for this verb and the following verb and not
the personal, 2nd fem. suffix /-s/, which we find here. Translated according to the
latter, these two verbs would be addressed directly to the mother of ™ma. ÎarÈ¢fot
< R.Ë.F.: (Jibbali) ‘Ìorqofot: waist’ (Nakano 1986: 8).
41
fam < F.¨.M.: ‘fem, fawm: foot, leg’ (Johnstone 1987: 87); ganÒeyt < G.N.∑.:
‘gáyn¢Ò/y¢gnoÒ: to be bent, twisted’ (Johnstone 1987: 139); mhagd¢lot < G.D.L.:
tresses, Yem. Ar. ‘jaddala: to plait o.’s hair [tresser les cheveux]’ (Landberg 1920–42,
I: 271). The translation ‘well-arranged’ is the closest possible fit I could find as a
modifier for ‘her body’ (bden); the fact that the two rest uneasily with each other
leads me to suspect that ‘bden’ may be a mistake in the transmission.
42
legred: in order to, < Ar. li-ghara∂: for the purpose (of); teÈmer < Ë.M.R.: ‘È¢mur/
y¢Èáwm¢r: to beat in a game, win; to surpass’ (Johnstone 1987: 231); asot < ¨.S.S.: ‘}¢s/
yasos: to rise, get up’ (Johnstone 1987: 31); naÌgot < N.Î.G.: ‘n¢Ìag/y¢noÌ¢g: (women)
to dance, (men) to be at leisure, (children) to play’ (Johnstone 1987: 291).
43
Ìaddut < Î.D.D.: [dancing] area, Yem. Ar. ‘sha¨ruha murkha äla al-thara
li-khaddi }aqdam: her unbound hair [fell] onto the ground in the space before her
feet…floor, earth, ground [sol, terre, terroir]’ (Landberg 1920–42, I: 566); Ìlat <
Î.L.[W]: ‘xáyli, x¢lyut: to be empty’ (Johnstone 1987: 442); hans¢lot < N.S.L.:
‘n¢sul: (unfastened clothes) to fall down…to feel completely exhausted…h¢nsul: to
lower slowly’ (Johnstone 1987: 300).
44
Ìla < Î.L.W.: ‘x¢láy, x¢láyy¢t: unmarried, bereaved’ (Johnstone 1987: 443);
mlatya < L.W.Y.: to turn towards s.o., to wend o.’s way, ‘látwi/y¢ltuwi: to get bent,
bend’ (Johnstone 1987: 258).
45
haÈhob < Ë.H.B.: ‘h¢Èhub: to bring the animals back at midday out of the sun’
(Johnstone 1987: 226); †Ìob < ™.Î.B.: ‘†¢Ìob: herd (of about 100 camels)’ (John-
stone 1987: 408); gzof: he took, < G.Z.F.: ‘gazfun signifies the taking of a thing…
or the taking largely, or copiously and it is [from] a Persian word’ (Lane 1955, II: 420).
46
terÌam < R.Î.M.: ‘r¢Ìam: to be kind to so.’ (Johnstone 1987: 321); horem <
}.R.M.: ‘wor¢m, def. Ìor¢m/Ìayrem (f.): road; way to obtain satisfaction’ (Johnstone
1987: 7); hamlok < M.L.K.: ‘h¢mluk/y¢h¢mluk: to give legal possession of a wife in
a marriage contract’ (Johnstone 1987: 266).
179
RHYTHM AND BEAT
1) The girls have abandoned their pride and no longer gather their hair
in a bun
2) Since ™ma¨ has grown up, her praise has already preceded [her]
3) She has abundant beauty, no one exceeds her in description.
4) Birt Îmed raised her with gentleness and grace
5) During the day, she kept her in her lap and at night stayed up for her
6) [Birt Îmed] made her head round and made sure her hips grew evenly
and solid
7) Her legs are not at all crooked and her body is kept well arranged
8) So that ™ma¨ could be the winner whenever she gets up to dance.
9) At that time the [dancing] ground is left empty, and as for the other
girls, she leaves them standing off to the side
10) Every country knows of her and of all the ways they have of describing
her.
11) But now the son of Ärman is unmarried and turned [towards her] with
hobbled camels [for a dowry]
12) He brings 20 un-bred female camels that he has taken from his ample
herds.
13) Would that they keep the roads open for him and that Fate give her to
him!
III. Regzit meydani

a) Family of the bride, (composed by Sadeyn b. Ali b. Arbaïn Kalshat):
1. b0li †elbéyya t1k // ∂ed yÈáwder w-yehm4m // w¢-hd0} leÈ0} Òf1} 47
2. w-neÒw1l men ¢mw0g // wet néggem l2n leb4d // b-s3n ∂-hább¢z1} 48
b) Family of the groom, (poet unknown):
1. gáyber has tenÈáwf // b¢-l¸h2r ∂-abr3t // tedÌ2Ìen hayy¢r1m49
2. ¢tteh Òr3ma ÌawÒáwl // b¢-mdinet ¢Ìnob // hal késb w¢-gl1 [*kr1m] 50
47
yehmum < H.M.M.: ‘h¢m/y¢hmom/y¢hmem: to be able (to do s.th.)’ (Johnstone
1987: 157); leÈa} < W.Ë.¨.: ‘wiÈa/y¢woÈa/yaÈa: to be, become’ (Johnstone 1987: 426).
48
neÒwel < N.∑.L.: ‘to withdraw, take away [retirer]’ (Landberg 1920–42, III:
2776); lebud < L.B.D.: ‘¢wbud/y¢lub¢d/y¢wbed: to shoot, strike; make, knock together’
(Johnstone 1987: 250); son: sea storm, uncertain etymology; habb¢ze} (< habze):
the East Wind < }.Z.Y.B.: ‘}azyab: North Wind’ (Landberg 1920–42, I: 76).
49
gayber < G.B.R.: ‘g¢bor/y¢gawber/y¢gber vn. gáyb¢r: to meet, come to meet’
(Johnstone 1987: 131), used here in the sense of ‘all of a sudden’; tenÈawf < Ë.F.Y.:
to set out, to lift (baggage) over one’s head, ‘aÈofi/yaÈáyf¢n/yaÈofi: to go away;
to turn o.’s back…Ì¢Èfu: to finish st., put st. behind one; to throw st. backwards
over o.’s head…to take o.’s family behind the mountain’ (Johnstone 1987: 226),
also Ar. ‘iqtafa }atharahu [to follow s.o.’s tracks]’ (Ibn ManÂur 2005, VI: 166);
tedÌiÌen: to travel down (a road), < D.Î.Î.: Ar. ‘al-dakhdakha: to pick up the
pace…to pass by quickly’ (Ibn ManÂur 2005, III: 227); hayy¢rem < }.R.M.: ‘worem
(def.) Ìor¢m/Ìayrem: road; way to obtain satisfaction’ (Johnstone 1987: 7).
50
¢Ìnob < N.W.B.: ‘nob/n¢yob: big’ (Johnstone 1987: 306).
180
RHYTHM AND BEAT
c) Guests, (poet unknown):

1. géyber séttel k¢-nb1} // we-sn1g ∂-heh äd2d // r3keb w¢-gz1 Ìm4l 51
2. w-ly1h mtémm¢n2n // yl¸éy†em ¢rg¢Ì0t // w¢-Ìm4l l-b3h my4l 52
a) Family of the bride:
1. Lord, I ask you // He who is able and capable [of performing any
deed] // and makes [the weather] calm and clear
2. He quiets down the waves // when the rain-stars are triggered for us //
with a sea-storm on the East Wind.
b) Family of the groom:
1. Unexpected news, you load up // on the back of pack-animals // and
travel down the roads
2. Until arriving just now // at the large town // where there is profit
and gain [*generosity].
c) Guests:
1. The guests packed up and went with the news // people of dear rela-
tions // the traveller has brought [his] kin
2. To those who are precious // and take the grosser weight // that tips
the scales to this very place.
Address for correspondence: slieb@middlebury.edu

205 Farrell House, Middlebury College, Middlebury, VT, 05753, USA
REFERENCES
Al-Ahdal, Îasan Maqbul. 2000. MuÌafaÂat al-Mahra: Ìaqa}iq wa}l-arqam (Sana}a)

Al ÎafiÂ, Äli MuÌsin. 1987. Min lahajat “Mahra” wa-adabiha. (Muscat)
Al-AnÒari, Ibn ManÂur. 2005. Lisan al-ärab. (Beirut)
Bailey, Clinton. 2002. Bedouin Poetry from Sinai and the Negev. (London)
Bakrit, Äli Sa¨ id. 1999. al-Mahra: al-ar∂ wa¨l-sukkan. (Aden)
Caton, Steve. 1990. Peaks of Yemen I Summon: Poetry as Cultural Practice in a North
Yemeni Tribe. (Berkeley)
Al-Dakkak, ∑alaÌ al-Din. 2003. ‘al-Mahra: shurukh fi}l-baÌr wa shurukh fi}l-qalb’,
al-Thaqafiyya 217, 4–11
Enderwitz, S. 1997. ‘al-Shuübiyya’, EI IX, 515
Al-Hamdani, Abu MuÌammad. 1974. ∑ifat jazirat al-ärab. (Riyadh)
Hein, Wilhelm. 1909. Mehri- und Îa∂rami-Texte. (Vienna)
Al-JaÌiÂ, Abu Üthman. 1998. al-Bayan wa}l-tabyin. (Beirut)
Jahn, Alfred. 1902. Die Mehri-Sprache in Südarabien. (Vienna)
Johnstone, Thomas. 1987. Mahri Lexicon and English-Mehri Word-List. (London)
Kurpershoek, Marcel. 1994. Oral Poetry and Narratives from Central Arabia I: The
Poetry of ad-Dindan, A Bedouin Bard in Southern Najd. (Leiden)
51
settel < S.L.L.: ‘sáttel/y¢st¢lul/y¢st¢l: to transhume, migrate, move o.’s home’
(Johnstone 1987: 379); sneg: relationship, kinship, Ar. nasb; ädid < ¨.D.D.: con-
siderable, dear, Ar. ghali, < Ar. ädid? gze: tribe, people, kin, Ar. qawm.
52
yl¸ay†em < L¸.B.™.: ‘za†/y¢zo†/y¢záy†¢n: to take’ (Johnstone 1987: 472).
181
RHYTHM AND BEAT
Landberg, Carlo. 1920–42. Glossaire Datînois. 3 vols (Leiden)

—— 1905. Études sur les dialects de l’Arabie méridionale. (Leiden)
Lane, Edward. 1955. Arabic-English Lexicon. (New York)
Lonnet, Antoine and Marie-Claude Simeone-Senelle. 1997. ‘La Phonologie des
langues sudarabiques modernes’, in Alan Kaye (ed.), Phonologies of Asia and
Africa I (Winona Lake). 337–72
Messick, Brinkley. 1993. The Calligraphic State: Textual Domination and History in
a Muslim Society. (Berkeley)
Müller, David. 1907. Die Mehri- und Soqo†ri-Sprache III. (Vienna)
—— 1905. Die Mehri- und Soqo†ri-Sprache II. (Vienna)
—— 1902. Die Mehri- und Soqo†ri-Sprache I. (Vienna)
Murikh, Ädil Masüd. 2000. al-Ärabiyya al-qadima wa-lahajatuha. (Abu Dhabi)
Nakano, Aki}o. 1986. Comparative Vocabulary of Southern Arabic – Mahri, Gibbali
and Soqotri. (Tokyo)
Palva, Heikki. 1993. ‘Metrical Problems of the Contemporary Bedouin Qasida: A
Linguistic Approach’, Asian Folklore Studies 52, 75–92
Al-Qumayri, Salim LuÌaymir. 2003. al-Mahra: al-qabila wa}l-lugha. (Sana}a)
—— 2000. al-Mahra: bawabat al-Yaman al-sharqiyya. (Sana}a)
Semah, David. 1991. ‘On the Metre of Bedouin Poetry’, Asian and African Studies
25, 187–200
Al-ShaÌri, Äli AÌmad. 2000. Lughat Äd. (Abu Dhabi)
—— 1994. Åufar: kitabatuha wa-nuqushuha al-qadima. (Dubai)
Sowayan, Saad. 1985. Naba†i Poetry: The Oral Poetry of Arabia. (Berkeley)
Taminian, Lucine. 2001. ‘Playing With Words: The Enthnography of Poetic Genres
in Yemen’. Unpublished thesis, University of Michigan
Wagner, Mark. 2004. ‘The Poetics of Îumayni Verse: Language and Meaning in
the Arab and Jewish Vernacular Poetry of Yemen’. Unpublished thesis, New
York University
Wellsted, James Reynold. 1840. Travels to the City of the Caliphs. (London)
—— 1835. ‘Memoir on the Island of Socotra’, Journal of the Royal Geographical
Society 5, 220–9
182
THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN:
PART ONE
SADOK MASLIYAH
DEFENSE LANGUAGE INSTITUTE, MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA
Abstract
The folk songs of Iraqi children have been passed from one young
generation to the next. Iraqi children acquired the lion’s share of these
songs from one another. As a result, the tunes retained unique styles
of speech and venerable lexical items that sharply reflected the per-
spectives of the youth of the day. Although song lyrics were ever-
changing along with slight variations in melody, over the course of
time the substance and the spirit of these songs remained unchanged
and the songs continued to reflect the way Iraqi children looked at
themselves and their surroundings. I have collected these songs from
different sources, including journals, books and periodicals. This col-
lection contains songs of religious occasions (20 songs), the sun, the
moon and the rain, (15 songs), animals, birds and insects (37 songs)
and teasing and taunting (32 songs).
Introduction
This paper examines a collection of published folk songs of Iraqi

children some of which the children sing when they play games and
dance. The majority of these songs were part of an oral tradition
before appearing in print. It is hard to determine their origin, mainly
because they were considered for centuries too insignificant to be
written down, published or recorded. However, Îusayn Qadduri col-
lected these songs from various provinces of Iraq and published them
in three volumes with their musical notes, and attempted to explain
ambiguous words. He culled the majority of these songs from children
whose ages ranged between five and fourteen and obtained the rest
from adults who remembered the songs and their tunes from their
own childhoods. Äbd al-La†if Dulayshi also published an important
collection of well-known children’s folk songs in Basra, and other
writers published several songs in various local magazines, journals,
and newspapers. I have made use of them too.
183
THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN
Today most of these folk songs are fast dying out, mainly because
children are using computers, listening to recorded music, and/or
watching movies and television. The increase in number of Iraqi chil-
dren in villages and small towns attending schools contributed to the
decline in the number of those participating in playing games accom-
panied with singing. In fact, only a few new such songs have been
introduced during the last 50 years.
The folk songs of Iraqi children (as well as those of other countries)
have been constantly shaped and passed from one young generation
to the next, a process that added a unique flavour. The Iraqi children
did not acquire the majority of these songs through their parents or
teachers, but from other children and, as a result, the tunes retained
old words and speech that were specific only to young people at
a certain time. In the course of time many words were added and
omitted with slight variations in melody, but most importantly, the
substance and the spirit of these songs remained unchanged and the
songs continued to serve as a window through which Iraqi children
look at themselves and their surroundings.
Improvisation was also essential to the survival of these songs. Iraqi
children (like those in other countries) would create unique words
or verses and combine parts of different songs into one song. It is no
wonder then, that there are various rhyme schemes in a single song.
The rhythmic vitality of the songs facilitated the process of improvisa-
tion as it gave a solid foundation on which to build. In some cases, the
same songs have various names in different parts of Iraq and are per-
formed in a slightly different fashion from one province to another.
It is evident that the majority of these folk songs reflect rural society
and that a considerable number of songs contain recollections of local
events, customs, and beliefs and that allusions have generally been lost
in many songs, and hence the remaining references are for the most
part indirect and veiled in ambiguity.
The Iraqi children’s folk songs cover a multitude of subjects,
including Rama∂an (the month of fasting), the Feast of Immolation
(Ïd al-A∂Ìa) and the Feast of Breaking the Rama∂an Fast (Ïd
al-Fi†r). The Iraqi children also embrace whatever attracts them,
including old men who are married to more than one woman, horse
carriage drivers, relatives, beggars, schoolmates, playmates, and even
the children themselves and a few domestic animals, the sun, and
the moon.
Exact age level is difficult to determine for any of these songs
because local village and city customs varied greatly, though it is
believed that children would sing these songs primarily between the
184
years 5 and 14. Often, children in one neighbourhood will play cer-
tain games that might only be done by younger children in another
neighbourhood. Segregation between boys and girls meant that only
a few tunes would be performed by both genders. Several versions of
these songs are known in other Arab states, especially in nearby Kuwait
and the United Arab Emirates.
Prior to a game, the children would assign the role of the lead
singer to the player considered to have the most beautiful voice,
or to the oldest person among them. Otherwise, they would resort
to casting lots. A participant rarely wants to play the role of a bad
character, thus to decide the issue, a race might be conducted
to a designated spot. The last player to arrive there would play that
role.
Simple language is but one feature among many that characterize
these special folk songs, including diminutive proper nouns for endear-
ment and children’s speech. In some of these songs, the children clap
and sing while sitting or standing at home, or outside in the orchards,
or even en route to and from school. When playing games and danc-
ing they sing too. Usually they stand and hold hands in a circle while
one child remains in the centre of the circle or just outside it.
No musical instrument accompanies their singing, but when
needed, the children would use pans, trays, and pots for banging,
or imitating animal sounds. Most of the melodies are composed of
two measures repeated many times, albeit with various pauses. The
same song might be performed with different melodies and rhythms
depending on the region of Iraq. Only a small number of songs
are performed individually, and only a few songs use dialogues and
refrains.
I have sorted the songs into five groups according to their subject
matter: Part A includes songs for religious occasions and others per-
taining to Iraqi customs and beliefs. Part B includes songs about
nature, the sun, the moon, and the rain. Part C contains songs about
domestic animals, while Part D provides taunting and teasing songs.
Part E introduces a few cumulative songs and many miscellaneous
songs about the children themselves, as well as their friends, family,
and surroundings. (Parts D and E will be published in JSS 2010/2).
In several cases I have presented more than one variant of a song,
especially when dialectical and lexical differences exist. The linguistic
and lexical items are explained in the notes following the end of all
songs. Frequent sources of the songs are abbreviated and mentioned
before the text of the songs as follows:
185
Q 1, 2, 3 = Îusayn Qadduri, Luäb wa-Aghani al-A†fal al-Sha¨biyyah

fi al-Ïraq. Hajj. 1–7 = Jasim al-Îajjiyyah, Baghdadiyyat, I–VII; D=
Äbd al-La†if al-Dulayshi, al-Aläb al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-BaÒrah (Baghdad
1968). Other abbreviations used: are Ar. = Arabic; Arm.= Aramaic;
CA= Classical Arabic; Heb.= Hebrew; IA= Iraqi Arabic; JB=Baghdadi
Jews; Pers.= Persian; Tur. = Turkish.
The transcription scheme in this article reflects the Muslim pres-
tigious dialect of Baghdad, unless otherwise indicated. The use of /}/
as a symbol of the glottal stop in initial position is dropped. The
sound /çi /, voiceless palatal affricative is similar to the first sound of
the English word church. Pausal ta} marbu†ah, /h/, is used when refer-
ence is made to Classical Arabic (CA), but omitted in Iraqi Arabic
unless it is changed to /t/ due to suffixing (qaläh- qalätuhu). /l/
stands for the voiced alveo-dental lateral, velarized, similar to the
English /l/ in mill. /gh/ is the transcription of the voiced velar spirant,
similar to the French /r/. /dh/ is a voiced interdental spirant; similar
to the English /th/ as in than. The voiceless glottal spirant similar to
the English /h/ in home is transcribed as /h/ and the voiceless inter-
dental spirant similar to the English /th/ as in thank is /th/. /∂/ is the
voiceless interdental, spirant, velarized (no equivalent in English).
Other Arabic sounds that have no equivalents in English are tran-
scribed as follows: /q/ is the voiceless uvular stop, /¨/ is the voiced
pharyngeal spirant; /†/ stands for the dental stop, velarized, and /Ò/
stands for the voiceless dental spirant, velarized. The voiceless pharyn-
geal spirant and the voiceless velar spirant (similar to the German ch in
Bach) are transcribed as /Ì/ and kh/ respectively. In Iraqi Arabic (IA)
the sound /Â/ merges with /∂/. The definite article is transcribed as
/al/ in CA regardless whether it is attached to a word beginning with
a sun or a moon letter. Final /a/, /i/, /u/ in IA are transcribed as /a/,
/i/, and /u/ respectively since they are pronounced as short vowels in
a final pause. Short and long vowels are transcribed as a/a, i/i, u/u,
o/o, and e/e. The sound of the vowel in face is transcribed as /ay/. The
contrast e: i noted for some speakers of IA is ignored here. No attempt
is made to mark stress since in the majority of cases it falls on the first
vowel of words having two syllables; otherwise it is placed on the
vowel which precedes the last V or CC.
It should be mentioned that there are ethnic and geographical dif-
ferences among the socio-religious communities of Iraq. The Chris-
tians and the Jews of Baghdad speak dialects different from that of
the Muslims and the Jews mix certain Hebrew lexical items in their
everyday speech. Additionally, the rural sedentary dialect differs from
the urban Muslim dialect of Baghdad and some other cities. There
186
also exist dialectal differences within Baghdad due to classification and

a continuous flow of a greater number of non-Baghdadi speakers into
the city of Baghdad (Blanc 1964: 182, n. 2 and al-Toma 1969: 6).
Part A: Songs for Religious Occasions
(Songs 1–20)
This part presents folk songs and songs for games chanted by Iraqi
children during Rama∂an, on the eve of and during the two Muslim
feasts, and the months of Sha¨ban, ∑afar, and MuÌarram, as well as
other songs that reflect local customs and beliefs.
Song 1: Majina Majina/il-majina Majina Majina/il-majina

Baghdad, Q 1:145–6
Majina is a children’s holiday, similar to Halloween observed during
the month of Rama∂an. It is a very popular in all of Iraq. In the
centre of Iraq children call this song, Majina and in Basra — Girgiän.
This song is well known in Kuwait,1 but it contains various different
lexical items than that in Basra.
Groups of boys and girls take to the streets after the evening
prayers during Rama∂an and go from house to house asking for a
treat, or a small gift, or money. At the doorsteps of the houses, they
clap and chant. In the hot summer nights, Iraqis sleep on the rooftops,
and hence the children address the people there.
Ma-jina Ma-jina Majina Majina
Îillu-ç-çis wun†una Untie the pouch and give us
Tin†una lo nintikum Give us or we’ll give you
Bayt makkah 2 nwaddikum To the House of Mecca we’ll take you
™in†una kulma jina! Give us whenever we come!
Ya ahl is-su†uÌ! O people of the rooftops!
Tin†una lo nruÌ Give us otherwise we’ll go
Tintuna lo nitkarbas Give us, or we’ll fall
Yahl il-su†uÌ! O people of the rooftops!
Tin†una lo nruÌ Give us, or we’ll go
Tin†una lo [I]nfiÌ il-jifah Give us, or otherwise we’ll spread the stink
In another version (Q 1:147), the following lines are added after the
first two rhymes:
1
Al-Îanafi 1964: 312 and al-Maghribi 1966: 293.
2
Bayt Makkah is the Ka¨bah, the sacred house in Mecca, Saudi Arabia.
187
Bab ash-shaykh wul-riÿan Bab ash-Shaykh and the shepherds

Zaynah zaynah … Are beautiful, beautiful …
Digg il-Ìajar brijlayna Bang the stones with our legs
Brijlaynah With our legs
WaÌid †ubag laylu One platter of pearls
WaÌid †ubag mirjan One platter of corals
™ubag mirjan One platter of corals
Yi∂wi älas-sul†an Shines on the sultan
Yidwi äla-s-sul†an Shines on the sultan
Sarbas äla sarbas A wheel with buckets of water on top of
a wheel with buckets of water
Song 2: Girgi än3 Girgiän

Basra, Q 3:116
Girls sing this song during the second half of Rama∂an to the end
of the feast that follows Rama∂an. Girgiän is a mixture of peanuts,
raisons, chickpeas, watermelon seeds, and raisons put in a bag and
given to children as a treat.
Girgiän u-girgiän Girgiän and girgiän
Kull-is-sanah wul-liän4 All year long and every year
A¬¬ah yi††ikum5 May God give you [more]
In†una a¬¬ah yi††ikum Give us [a treat]. God will give you [more]
Bayt makkah ywaddikum To the House of Mecca He will take you
Ya makkah yal-ma¨murah! O Mecca, O inhabited Mecca!
Yamm6 idh-dhahab wun-nurah [Built] with cement and lime
Then they would wait for a short while and add:

Ahl-is-su†uÌ tin†una lo-nruÌ! O people of the rooftops give us, otherwise
we’ll go!
If the children get gifts they sing:

A¬¬ah yikhalli raï-l-bayt! 7 May God protect the owner of the house!
3
For details about the celebration of this event in Basra, see al-Dulayshi 1968:
40–4.
4
Liän is a distortion of kull ämm, ‘every year’.
5
Yi††ikum < yin†ikum, ‘He will give you’, the nun of yin†ikum is assimilated with
the /†/ of the verb.
6
Yamm is a contraction of ya and umm, (lit. ‘the mother of’). About the various
meanings of umm, see my article, Maliyah 1998: 113–29.
7
Ra ï-l-bayt (lit. ‘the shepherd of the house’), i.e. ‘the bread winner’, ‘the father’.
188
If they get nothing, they sing:

Il-Wawi yilhashkum May the jackle eat you
A¬¬ah 8 y†ayyir barkatkum May God make your bliss fly away
In a variant from Basra (D: 41–2), this line is added before the last
one:
Il-yiraydi †aÌ ibhalthatkum May the mouse fall in your jar
Song 3: Hayyam Irshad! Come on, Irshad’s mom!

Dhi-Qar, Q 1:131
Girls chant this song during Rama∂an.
Hayyam 9 irshad! Come on, Irshad’s mother!
Hayya! Come on!
∑ayim Rama∂an [He] is fasting in Rama∂an
Hayya! Come on!
Ugüd 10 u-shuf Get up and look
Hayya! Come on!
Shuf Aminah Look at Aminah
Hayya! Come on!
[i]Tdugg makinah11 She works hard on the sewing machine
Hayya! Come on!
Shuf rzuqi 12 Look at Rzuqi
Hayya! Come on!
Yidugg bil-buqi He is blowing the trumpet
Hayya! Come on!
Song 4: il-Ma Yi†la¨ Hal-laylah He Who Doesn’t Go Out Tonight

Basra, D: 35
At the end of breaking the fast in Rama∂an, children take to the
streets and sing the following verses:13
8
yi†ayyir, lit. may he ‘make fly’.
9
Hayyam is a contraction of hayyah, (CA) ‘let us’+ umm, ‘mother’.
10
Ugüd admits two meanings, ‘to sit down’ and ‘to get up’, referring to the son,
Irshad.
11
it-Dugg makinah, ‘She strikes the [sewing] machine’ (lit.), where i†-†ugg >
iddugg, /†/ > /d/.
12
Rzuqi, dim. of Razzaq
13
For more details about celebrating this occasion in Basra, see al-Dulayshi
1968: 7–9 and 35.
189
il-ma yi†la¨ hal-laylah He who doesn’t go [outside] tonight

Ummah ityib iÿaylah14 May his mother give birth to a colt
Wul- iÿaylah gharrah And the colt is white-spotted
Tiläb bil-majrah Playing with the rope
U-ana gaïd biz-zuliyyah15 While I am sitting on the carpet
Wasma¨ dabuç il-Ìaramiyyah Hearing the thieves’ dancing and singing
La adri ägrab Not knowing [if] it is a scorpion [crawling]
La adri Ìayyah Or a snake [creeping]
La adri äshrah Neither knowing [if] there are ten
La adri miyyah Nor knowing [if ] there are one-hundred
Ya sibyan iltammu! iltammu! O boys. get together! Get together!
Song 5: Ya Naymin il-layl, Ya Kuffarah!

O Those Who Sleep Tonight, O Heretics!
Diwaniyyah, Q 3:245
Children chant this song in the late night hours of the middle of the
Muslim month of Sha¨ban. An Iraqi legend relates that the gates of
heaven are wide open on this night and that God fulfills the wishes
of Muslims who stay up all night and make a wish. Al-Älawchi says
that this practice at night, which is known as Laylat al-MuÌayya,16 is
a remnant of an old custom from the thirteenth century.
Ya naymin il-layl ya kuffarah! O those who sleep tonight! O heretics!
Intu shiba¨tu nom17 wuÌna sahharah You slept a lot
While we are staying up all night long
14
Ityib, people in southern Basra, often pronounce /j/ as /y/, hence, itjib > ityib,
‘she gives birth’ and i¨jaylah > iÿaylah, ‘colt’. More features of the dialect in Basra are:
a. /q/ > /j/, as in qadir, ‘able’ > jadir; qarib, ‘near’ > jarib.
b. Less common than (a.) and as in the Baghdadi dialect /q/ > /g/, as in qal, ‘he
said’ > gal and qa∂i, ‘judge’> ga∂i. Seldom /gh / > /q/, as in ghafur, ‘forgiven’ >
qafur and ghaym, ‘clouds’> qaym.
c. Rarely /q/ > k/, as in maqtul,‘killed’ > maktul and qabqab, ‘wood slipper’> kabkab.
d. /k/>/ç/, as in yikwi, ‘it burns’> yiçwi and Ìarrik, ‘move’! (tran.) > Ìarriç!
e. /dh/ > /d/, as in dhaq, ‘he tasted’>∂aq and dhra¨, ‘arm’> dra¨.
f. Seldom ¨ > n, as in yi¨†i, ‘he gives’> yin†i and ä†iyyah, ‘a gift’ > ni†iyyah. This
change exists in Mosul and Baghdad too.
g. The change of gh > kh of a few words exists in Basra, as well as in Mosul and
Baghdad, maghsul, ‘washed’ makhsul. The same may be said about the sibilants
/Â/, /Ò/ and /s/ in those three cities as far as the interchangibilty of these silibants.
Examples: sa†Ì, Òa†Ì, ‘rooftop’; sakhi > Òakhi, lazik, laziq, and laÒiq, ‘he glues’.
See al-Samarra’i 1968: 235–7 and al-Dulayshi 1968: 7–9.
15
Biz-zuliyyah, a few Iraqi children misuse prepositions in their speech, hence
biz-zuliyyah, ‘in the carpet’, instead of äz-zuliyyah’, ‘on the carpet’.
16
About this night see al-Älawchi 1966: 97–100.
17
Shiba¨tu nom, ‘You satisfied yourselves with sleep’ (lit.).
190
Another song celebrating the night of Laylat al-MuÌayya is Gham-

miçi, ‘Open Your Eyes’ (f.). It comes from Najaf and Karbala’,
(Q 3:246):
Ghammiçi älayya yal-naymah! O the one (f.) who is sleeping, open your
eyes!
Hiyyah fard hal laylah It’s only this night [up]
Îijjah liÒ-ÒubuÌ ma anam It is (an excuse) for me to stay up until
morning
Biÿuni miliÌ ma nam [As if] salt is in my eyes and I [can’t]
sleep
Song 6: Dalluna! Dalluna! Guide Us! Guide Us!

Karbala}, Q 3:343
The ceremonies of al-Äshurah commemorating the death of al-
Îusayn (d. 680), the son of the Caliph Äli, and his comrades are
held during the first ten days of the Muslim month of MuÌarram in
the southern Shiïte cities. Following these ceremonies, children there
stand by the thresholds of houses and chant this song expecting a
small gift from the residents.
Dalluna dalluna! Guide us! Guide us!
Äla-}l-qimah dalluna! To the fried meat, guide us!
RaÌ il-ïd wuhlalu The feast and the crescent passed
WuÌna jogat 18 Ìaffay We are a bare-footed group
Nimshi wundawwir çay Walking and looking for tea
Äla-}l-qima dalluna! To the fried meat, guide us!
∑arinna 19 sab¨ snin Seven years we’ve been
Nakul khubuz tamwin Eating bread with rations
Äla-}l-qimah dalluna! To the fried meat, guide us!
Song 7: Ashwi Ashwi I grill, I grill

Ämarah, Q 3:290
Girls form two parallel lines. In each of the two lines five girls stand
singing with or without clapping and moving their heads left and
right. The song is performed in the month of MuÌarram (in Äshurah).
18
Joqat, Joqah, ‘group’ borrowed from the Turkish, çok, ‘a lot’, ‘very’, jawq,
(CA).
19
∑arinna is a contraction of Òar+il+na, lit. ‘it became to us (lit.)’.
191
Ashwi ashwi I grill, I grill

Liyyah liçin20 Fat for you (f.p.)
Ummi itfarji¨ 21 My mum boils the fat
Wana an†için And I give you (f.p.)
Song 8: RaÌ ∑ufar ∑afar is Over

Najaf and Karbala}, Q 3:240
The word Òufar is derived from the verb Òafura, ‘to be empty of ’,
referring to the month in which the Muslims in the past used to leave
their homes and carry out raids.22
Some Iraqi Muslim women believe that the two Muslim months
of ∑afar and MuÌarram may bring misfortune to their families, so they
hold celebrations if none of their relatives falls sick or is harmed dur-
ing these months. It is related in a Ìadith (tradition) attributed to the
Prophet MuÌammad, ‘man bashsharni binsilaqat Òafar wa-muÌarram
bashshartuhu jannati ’,23 ‘whoever tells me good tidings that the
months of ∑afar and MuÌarram have passed, I’ll tell him the good
tidings that he will enter Paradise’.
Here are two variants of the song RaÌ ∑ufar from Baghdad (Q 3:240).
RaÌ Òufar [The month of] ∑afar passed
Jana rabi ¨ Spring came to us
Ya MuÌammadaya shafi ¨! O Prophet MuÌammad, O interceder!
And:
™ila¨ Òufar ∑afar passed
WuÌna salamat And we are safe and sound
Song 9: Ya Zakariyya! O Zakariyya!

Baghdad, Q 1:103
This song is known mainly in the south of Iraq. When celebrating
the fulfillment of a vow, the Iraqi women who took the vow invite
friends and relatives for a small party held at the end of the last day
of fasting in Rama∂an. A platter with treats and colourful candles is
placed in the middle of the room. Al-Hajjiyyah says that this small
celebration takes place in the first Sunday of the Muslim month of
20
The use of the suffix nun (nun al-niswah) in liçin, ‘for you’ (f.p.) and an†için,
‘I’ll give you’ in IA suggests that the origin of the song is Bedouin.
21
itfargi¨, ‘to burst’ (CA).
22
Al-Maghribi 1996: 312.
23
See al-∑arraf year 5: 466 and 470.
192
Sha¨ban in which a few women fast from morning until evening.

Other women, who desire to take a vow, go to the celebrant’s home
and light candles there.24 Al-Älawchi believes that this celebration
goes back to a legend,25 which reminds us of the Biblical story of
Abraham and Sarah, (Genesis 4:8) that when Zakariyya, the saint,
was ninety-two years old and his wife ninety-eight, he pleaded to God
to bless her with a male child. God answered his wish.
Ya zakariyya! O Zakariyya!
Üdi 26 älayya Come back to me!
Kull sana u-kull ämm Every year and year
Nishïl Òiniyyah We light [candles on] the platter
Song 10: Jidyah Begging

NaÒiriyyah, Q 3:255
Girls go to the Shiïte neighbourhoods asking for treats and sing to a
woman celebrating the fulfillment of an oath by giving birth to a boy:
I††una-}l-khatir 27 il-Äbbas Give us in the honour of al-Äbbas
Middi }idiç middi idiç! Stretch your hand (f.s.), stretch your
hand [to your pouch]!
Wa¬¬ah iykhalli wlaydiç 28 May God protect your little son
Middi idiç nobtayn! Stretch your hand [there] twice!
A¬¬ah (i)ykhallil-ithnayn May God protect the two [the father and
the new born boy]
Middi idiç lil-Ìwas! Stretch your hand to [your] clothes!
Wa¬¬ah iykhalli }id-dawwas 29 May God protect the head of the house
Song 11: A¬¬ah yiÒabbuÌkum bi}l-khayr Ya}l-ämmarah

Good Morning, O Kind People
Basra, D:126–7
It is customary in Iraq to ask for the hand of a girl during the feasts
and the end of Rama∂an. This song alludes to this custom. Two groups
of girls/boys stand in separate lines facing each other. Every time the
24
Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 97–8; 1973, III: 145, and al-∑arraf year 6: 31.
25
Al-Älawchi 1966: 41–3, esp. 42.
26
The imperative üdi, f.s. refers to the implied sanah, ‘year’. Some Iraqi woman
believe that by fasting on this day God will prolong the life of their children.
27
I††una < in†una where the initial nun of the verb ni†a ‘he gave’ in the imper-
ative is assimilated with the second root radical /™/ of the verb ni†a.
28
Wlaidiç, is dim. of walad, ‘son’, ‘boy’.
29
Dawwas, lit. ‘lion’.
193
first group advances towards the second group, the latter retreats. The
advancing team sings one line while the retreating team sings the next
line until the end of the song.30
Gr.1: A¬¬ah yiÒabbuÌkum Good morning to you,
bi}l-khayr ya}l ämmarah! 31 O kind people!
Gr. 2: A¬¬ah yimassikum32 Good evening,
bi}l-khayr ya}l-ämmarah! O kind people!
Gr. 1: Jina äla babkum We came to your door and
wunkassir shababikum we will shutter your windows
Wish-shami¨ [ib]diwankum The wax is [in] your guestroom and
u-jina nakhudh bitkum we came to ask for your daughter’s hand
Gr. 1: Hya bit il-takhdhun? Who is the girl you are asking for her hand?
Hya bit il-takhdhun? Who is the girl you are asking for her hand?
Nakhudh flanah il-ärus We are asking for the hand of so and so,
the bride [to be]
Song 12: Baçir Ïd Wunäyyid

Tomorrow is a Feast and We will Exchange Good Wishes
Baghdad, Q 1:133
On the eve of the two Muslim feasts, Ïd al-Fi†r, ‘the Feast of Break-
ing the Rama∂an Fast’ and Ïd al-A∂Ìa, ‘the Feast of Immolation’,
groups of children take to the streets clapping and singing:
Baçir ïd wunäyyid Tomorrow is a feast and we will exchange
good wishes
Wunkharrib bayt abu saäyyid 33 And destroy the house of Abu Saäyyid
U-saäyyid grabatna And Saäyyid is our relative
U-nidhbaÌ-lah dajajatna And we’ll slaughter our hen for him
Song 13: Jani-il-Ïd The Feast Came to Me

Basra, D: 50
In the following song a child complains about his/her parents who
did not buy him/her new clothes for the feast:
30
For a variant of this song, see Q 1: 277–8.
31
Ämmarah, (lit. ‘builders’). Lines 5 and 6 imply that if the children’s demand
is not met, they will do so and so.
32
This greeting indicates that the visitors stayed in the bride’s house until the
evening in order to get a positive answer.
33
Saäyyid, dim. of Saïd (proper noun).
194
Jani }l-ïd u-ana ibtarg 34 The feast came but I am wearing my

thobi }l-khalig worn-out clothes
U-idi mÌannayah wakhu∂ My hands are dyed with henna but I am
bil-marag stirring the soup
Song 14: Ya}l-Äydah! O Feast!

Basra, D: 49–50
Walking in alleys on the eve of the feasts, girls chant this song together.
The refrain ya äydu is sung by all the participants except one girl who
also sings the rest of the lines. Girls may also chant this song when
they ride swings during the two feasts Ïd al-Fi†r, ‘the Feast of Break-
ing the Rama∂an Fast’ and Ïd al-A∂Ìa, ‘the Feast of Immolation’. The
words äydah 35 and äydu in children’s language stand for ïd, ‘feast’.
Ya-ïd! O feast!
Baçir il-ïd Tomorrow is the feast
Wun-nagish ha}l-laylah And the decorating is tonight
Ya äydu! O feast!
U-niswan ämmi And my uncle’s wives
∑affat inkhaylah36 [braided their hair] like small palm tree fronds
Yaäydu! O feast!
The following is a variant song from Mosul37 (Q 3:144).
34
Ib†arig, lit. ‘alone, ‘by itself’, ‘just’, as in shiftha b-†arig il-libas, ‘I saw her in just
her pants’. Woodhead and Beene 1967, I: 289 and ’ani sakin b-†arig ruÌi, ‘I live alone’.
35
Äydah and äydu are alternates for ïd, ‘feast’ in children’s speech. About this
celebration in Basra, see al-Dulayshi 1968: 45–6.
36
∑affat, lit. ‘she arranged/ set’; inkhailah, dim. of nakhlah, ‘palm tree’. Al-
Daywachi explains that some of the expressions in this song are used by Bedouins
who settled in Mosul, see al-Daywachi 1966, I: 20.
37
A few characteristics of the Arabic dialect of Mosul are:
a. /r/ as gh, like the Christian and Jews in Baghdad and Mosul. See al-MallaÌ 1928:
349–53. For more about the dialect of Mosul, see al-Samarra’i 1968 and al-
Dabbagh 1956, I: 8–16.
b. ∑ad > sin, Òaqi’ ‘frost’, for saqi’.
c. Sin > Òad, satÌ, ‘rooftop’ > Òa†Ì, jaras, ‘bell’ for jaraÒ.
d. t > †, †ghab, ‘dust’/ turab, tirrahat, ‘nonsense’ > †irrahat.
e. th > z, dayyuth > dayyuz.
f. k to ç, çidhib for kidhib.
g. ‘ >’ , ähirah, ‘whore’ >}ahirah.
h. Another feature of the Mosul dialect is imalah, i.e., the pronunciation of a
shaded toward e.
There are a few sounds which change to another sound in some words, but main-
tain their sounds in other words. These are: dal/dhal, qaf/ghayn, as in qasha¨ and
gasha¨, ‘to see’; qal and gal ‘to say’; b/m, as in mismar and bismar, ‘a nail’; Òad /sin
and z, as in laÒaq/lazaq/lasaq, ‘to glue’.
195
During the two Muslim feasts boys and girls go from house to
house wishing a long life to the woman of the house and that she
celebrate the next feasts, in the hope she will give them a small gift.
The leading girl sings the refrain Ya}l-Äydah, and the other girls sing
the rest of the verses.
Ya}l-äydah ya}l-äydah! O feast! O feast!
Bab-iç-çibir bab-iç-çibir 38 The big gate, the big gate
Ämudkum fi∂∂ah Your pillar[s] are of silver
U-dayirkum Ìarir And around you is silk
Ya}l-äydah! O Feast!
Jina äla abu-dhnun 39 We came to Abu Dhnun (Yunus)
ÄyÒalli äyÒalli 40 While he was praying, while he was praying
Jidr-iç-çibir jidr-iç-çibir [His] big pot, [his] big pot
Mäshshi-}l-üÒmalli Fed dinner to the Ottoman [army]
il-ÜÒmalli The Ottoman [army]
Khatunat-in-niswan! 41 O the most respectful women!
Yam girdanah girdanah! O the wearer of a necklace, a necklace!
Gumi l-Ìayliç wun†ina Get up and give us
Ha}l-änah ha}l-änah 42 This änah this änah
Ya}l-äydah! O Feast!
Song 15: Ïdi My Feast
Basra, D: 49
Children chant this song while riding swings during the sunny days
in the middle of Rama∂an until the end of the feast. They praise the
person who set up the swings and swings them.
Ïdi u-ya äydi u-ya äydi! My feast, O my feast, O my feast!
Ya äydu! O feast!
Ümrak †awil ya }n-naÒib May you live long, O the one who
il-maryuÌah! 43 set up the swing!
38
A big gate signifies generosity, because a wide opening enables the camels and
their loads to enter the tent. It also faces the desert to welcome the nomads.
39
Abu Dhnun is an epithet for the proper noun Yunus.
40
Äysalli The use of /¨/ with the imperfect verb to indicate a progressive action
in the present tense is surprising here. It is likely that the children used it for joking
instead of da before the imperfect verb. It is, however, possible that /¨/ is a remnant
of the old word qaïd used as a marker like da and sometime qa before the imperfect
to indicate a progressive action.
41
Khatun, and girdanah are borrowed in IA from the Persian khatun ‘lady’ and
gerdaneh, ‘necklace’ respectively.
42
Änah, an Indian coin used in Iraq equal to 4 fils.
43
Maryuha < marjuhah, ‘swing’.
196
U-ya äydu! O feast!

MuÌaÒÒan yabu MaÌmud! May you be protected, O Mahmud’s father!
U-ya äydu! O feast!
Song 16: Hayyus Hayyus
Basra, Q 3:130
After fasting in Rama∂an and during al-A∂Ìa Feast, children go to
parks and ride swings while singing. They sing the refrain and the man
who pushes the swings sings the rest. The swings are like hammocks
made of palm tree fronds.
In a different area, children alter a few words and sing this song
when they lose money (part E:43).
Hayla ya mali! Come on, my money!
Hayyus Hayyus
Wul-mal mu mali! The money is not mine!
Hayyus Hayyus
Wa¬¬ah mu mali! By God it’s not mine!
Hayyus Hayyus
Hayla ya mali! Come on, O my money!
Hayyus Hayyus
Song 17: Sho† Sho† Ïdah Up and down, do it again!

Children sing the following two songs when they are on swings.
The first one comes from Baghdad and the second from Basra.
Q3: 127.
Sho† Sho† ïdah! 44 Up and down swing again!
U-Ìammilah u-zidah Load it [the swing] and add to it
Wuçfih[a] äla-}l-munkhal And turn it over the sieve
Shankhul shankhul bi}l-munkhul What shall I sift, what shall I sift in the
sieve?
Wu-çlaybna45 warana While our puppy is behind us
Wi-laglig min il-ga¨ Licking from the ground
Îbayb ir-rumman The pomegranates’ kernels
Wunfargah äl-jiran We’ll distribute them to the neigh-
bours
44
Sho† (IA), shaw† (CA), ‘round’, which is ‘up and down’ when speaking of
swings.
45
Çlaib and Ìbaib are dim. of çalib, ‘dog’ and Ìabb, ‘seeds’ respectively.
197
Kulman Ìabbah Ìabbah One kernel, one kernel to everyone

Wu}l-baqi tars-id-dabbah And [with] the rest we’ll fill the jar
The children sing the following song occasionally when they ride the
swings.
Basra, D: 142–3
Sho† sho† ïdi! Up and down, swing again!
Waçamlah wazidi And I’ll fill it and add more
Marat abuya-s-saÌÌarah My stepmother the witch
TisÌar äla}l-makkarah She bewitches the camels’ drivers
Wuçlaybhah waraha While her puppy is behind her
Yiga††i¨ min faraha Plucking from her fur
}U-faraha zingi zingi And her fur is black, black
il-Farangi bidah rishah The foreigner is holding a feather in
his hand
This type of song may also include praise to family members for their
virtues, like generosity, courage, and love for others (D: 49–50).
Below is an example from Basra praising two courageous men:
Khalid u-Ìamid min farid çitayah Khalid and Îamid are of the same stock
Itännaw äla Ìiss il-rÒaÒ ïnayah They followed the sound of bullets quickly
And a song as a tribute to a certain woman follows:
Lagat äla-l-maÌbub She met the beloved dressed
Dishdashah46 mawi dishdashah mawi A blue robe, a blue robe
U-min †abbatah lis-sug 47 And when she enters
tizhi-}l-gahawi the market the cafés shine
U-min †abbatah lis-sug And when she enters
tizhi-}l-gahawi the market
Tizhi-}l-gahawi The cafés shine
46
Dishdashah is a standard dress for children and adults not wearing western
clothing. It is an ankle-length robe with a buttoned opening halfway down the
front. About types of this garment see al-Îajjiyyah 1981 IV, 1981: 106.
47
Note the double objects in u-min †abbatha lis-sug… The first object is a pro-
nominal suffix -ha attached to the verb †abbat, ‘she entered’, and the second one
is the noun itself sug, ‘market’ preceded by the Aramaic object marker li (lit. ‘and
when she entered it, the market’). This construction is a regular one in BJ (Baghdadi
Jewish), in Mosul, and in the Bedouin dialects of Iraq. See Mansour 1991: 44.
Examples: akhadhu l-ibnu, ‘he took his son’, (lit. ‘he took him, his son’); al-Karmili
2003: 153, u-gamat galatah la-buha, ‘and then she began to tell her father’, (lit. ‘and
she began to tell him, to her father’); qaÒaÒu l-ebnu l-ekbigh, ‘he punished his eldest
son’, (lit. ‘he punished him, his old son’); Abu-Îai∂ar 1991: 99; kisruha lil-jarrah,
‘they broke the jar’ (lit. ‘they broke it, the jar’), al-Dabbagh 1956: 15.
198
Song 18: Ya Ïd Yabu Nimnimah!

O Feast, O the Wearer of a Dress with Tiny Beads!
Ämarah, Q 3:149
Walking in the alleys on the eve of the two feasts, and riding horse
carriages and swings during the feasts, Iraqi children chant this song
together. Some Iraqi children wear dresses decorated with very tiny
beads (nimnim), hence the expression yabu nimnimah, (lit. ‘the one
who wears beads’):
Ya ¨ id yabu nimnimah! O feast, [in which we wear dresses] with
tiny beads!
Khudhna wyak li}s-sinima! Take us with you to the cinema!
Ya ïd yabu mrayah! O feast, [in which] we wear [dresses] with
shiny beads (lit. ‘mirrors’)!
Khudhna wyak mashshayah 48 Take us with you walking
Song 19: Ya ™ayr Ghanni Ghanni! O Bird, Sing, Sing!

Children sing the following song and clap after the words ashrab
mayy, akul tin, kull mayrid and baba yrid 49 when they sit on the
ground or on the swings, or strolling together:
Karbala, Q 2:117
Ya tayr ghanni ghanni! Sing, sing, O bird!
Äla jnaÌak †ayyirni On your wing[s] fly me
Waddini li}l-basatin50 Take me to the orchards
Ashrab mayy }akul tin To drink water and eat figs
Ashrab mayy }akul tin To drink water and eat figs
FarriÌni farÌat il-ïd Make me joyous in the feast
Labbisni thobi-}l-jidid Put my new dress on me
Kull mayrid baba yrid Whatever my dad wants, he wants
Kull mayrid baba yrid Whatever my dad wants, he wants
48
Mashshayah admits of two meanings, ‘those who go to ask a girl’s hand’ and
‘those who walk’.
49
This song and many other Iraqi children’s songs are recorded on the internet:
www.Iraqiart.com.
50
Basatin, pl. of bistan < bustan, (Per.) ‘garden’ which is a compound of the
Persian bu, ‘smell’ and stan, ‘place’. Iraqis use bistan to mean ‘orchard’, see al-Çalabi
1960: 171.
199
Song 20: RaÌ il-Ïd The Feast Has Gone

The following are two farewell songs to the feast, which differ slightly
from each other. Children sing them in the last evening of the feast.
Ämarah, Q3:155
RaÌ il-ïd wuhlalu The feast and the crescent passed away
U-kilman radd äla jlalu51 Then everyone wore his shabby clothes
again
RaÌ il-ïd wamrightah The feast and the nice clothes passed away
U-kilman rija¨ likhrightah Then everyone wore his rags again
Mosul, al-Übaydi, 155–6 52

GhaÌ il-ïd wuhlalu The feast and the crescent passed away
RaÌ il-ïd u-murraqu The feast and the nice clothes passed too.
U-kilman radd äla khiraqqu Then everyone wore his shabby clothes
again
Part B: Sun, Moon, and Rain (Songs 1–15)
The triad sun god, moon god, and Äshtar the god of irrigation were
worshipped by Babylonians among other gods.
The sun god brings light, enlightenment and wisdom. Shamash,
the sun-god in ancient Mesopotamia was considered a god of oracles
and diviners, a warrior, the god closest to Gilgamesh in the Gilgamesh
Epic. Hammourabi called him the great judge of heaven and earth,
source of laws and order.53
It is surprising, however, that there are only a few childrens’ songs
that allude to ancient Babylonian customs or rituals concerning the
moon, the sun, and inducing rain.
Iraqi children, especially those who live in the villages, are observ-
ant of the changes in nature. In the cold winter, when the sun rises
they go outside to play and enjoy the warm weather. When it rains
after a drought, they sing and play, and when the moon appears in
the summer nights they go to the rooftops of their homes and observe
the sky, the stars and the moonlight.
51
Jlal, lit, ‘backsaddle’, for a donkey. This verse became a proverb, said about
a person who is in dire need after having abundance. See al-Îanafi 1962, I:
186.
52
Al-Übaydi 1989: 155–6.
53
See Jones (ed.), Encyclopedia of Religion2 2004, VI: 3618; Leick 1991: 148,
and Shawqi 1978: 91–113.
200
Sun
Song 1: ™il ät ish-Shummaysah The Sun Has Risen
Baghdad,54 Îajj 1:164–5

™ilät ish-shummaysah 55 The sun has risen
Äla gubbat äyshah On the room of Ä}ishah
Äyshah bit-il-bashah 56 Ä}ishah, the daughter of the Pasha
Tiläb bi}l-khirkhasha She is playing with the poppyseed rattle
∑aÌ-id-diç bi}l-bistan The rooster crowed in the orchard
A¬¬ah yunÒur-is-sultan! May God make the Sultan victorious!
Ya mullatna Òurfina! O, our teacher (f.), dismiss us!
RaÌ–il-wagit älayna We lost [a lot] of time
Wu-shmusa ghabat And our sun disappeared
Wu-rwaÌna dhabat And our souls melted
™ila¨nah li-barrah We went outside
Shifna Îabiba¬¬ah We saw Îabiballah
Bidah qadam fu∂∂ah [Holding] a silver foot in his hand
Yiktub kitab a¬¬ah Writing the Book of God
Ya fatmah bint-in-nabi O Fatmah, the Prophet’s daughter
U-khdhi kitab il-munazzal 57 Take the revealed Book [from]
Äla Òadr MuÌammad il-äliyy The chest of MuÌammad the Magnificent
54
This song in Basra (D:144) contains fewer verses than that in Baghdad. It
also differs from it in the employment of a few lexical items. See also an abridged
version of this song in Ibrahim al-Samarra’i 1975: 242.
55
Shummaysah, dim. of shams, ‘sun’. So is Äyshah for Ä’ishah (proper noun).
When the sun shines in the morning, some children sing this song. Occasionally
the children sing it also to urge the Mullayah, or the religious teacher (f.), to dismiss
them from class.
56
B/Pashah A Turkish word borrowed from the Persian padishah. Sarkis says
that it came from the Ottoman Turkish bashqaq, ‘a high official title used after the
first name. See Sarkis date? I: 122 n. 1.
57
Kitab il-munazzal. The absence of the definite article in the noun of this noun
+adjective construction is rare in the Muslim Iraqi dialect, but it is a common
feature in the Bahghdadi Jewish dialect (as well as in Mishnaic Hebrew). See exam-
ples in the Judaeo-Arabic translation of the Passover story or Haggadah (the story
of the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt), baiyad il-shididah, ‘with a mighty hand’
and bi-rah†an il-qalil, ‘with a few persons’ and note the nunation in birah†an. See
Mansour 1965: 28. The -an in birah†an is probably a link between the indefinite
noun rah† and the qualifier qalil. Such omission of the definite article was noted in
medieval Judeo-Arabic by Baneth (1950: 88, n. 72).
201
Song 2: Îishshaykah Ya Îimsayyi O Chickpea[s] Get close

Mosul, Q 3:171
On sunny winter days, children go outside their houses and sit close
to each other near warm walls, almost like chickpeas stuck to each
other.
Hishshaykah Ìu!msayi! O chickpea get close!
Danäl abu-l-qi††ayi 58 May the father of the cat be cursed
Qi††ayi jabat walad A cat gave birth to a boy
Semmitu Qunbar Äli She named him Qunbar Äli
Kin-ja abu-Ò-Òuwani Then the platters’ vendor came
Natash minnu Òiniyyi He snatched one platter from him
In another version from Mosul (Q 3:200) the following verses are
added:
Qi††ayi lozi lozi A cat [as small as] an almond [as small as
an almond]
Danäl abu glozi May the father of Glozi be cursed
Glozi hadha il-miskin This poor Glozi
Ündu komat bzayzin He has a group of cats
WiÌdi tiqa††¨ rishtah59 One cuts the dough cooked with lentils
Wullekh itbuq il-äjin And the other one steals the dough
Ha rishtah ha rishta †bakhna! Ha, we cooked dough with lentils!
Ha, we cooked dough with lentils!
Song 3: il-Wagif äla Shamsi

He Who Stands in the Way of My Sunshine
Samarra}, Q: 1:165
Usually boys and girls chant this song in the streets and alleys during
sunny winter days. They stand there forming a ring and holding
hands. When another child blocks the sun from one of them, they
sing:
Il-Wagif äla shamsi He who stands in the way of my sunshine
La-yÒabbiÌ wala yimmasi 60 May he not wake up in the morning and
may he not last until evening
B-laylat il-jumäh On Friday night
58
Qi††ayi, dim. of qa†a, ‘cat’ (CA).
59
Rishtah/rashtah (Per.), ‘dough’ cut into small thin pieces and cooked with
lentils. See Fraihah 1996: 64, and al-Bakri 1972: 30.
60
The verse la-yÒabbiÌ… is a curse, where inshallah, ‘God willing’ is implied.
202
Ummah itkhasillah61 May his mother wash him

Wabuh içafinlah And his father shroud him
Mayy u-miliÌ äs-saddah 62 Water and salt are on the dam
Mayy u-miliÌ äs-saddah Water and salt are on the dam
Song 4: Hak Sin il-Jihhal Take the Kid’s Tooth

The following two versions come from Baghdad. They reflect a wide-
spread custom in Iraq and in the other Arab countries.63 When chil-
dren lose a baby tooth, they throw it at the sun and sing:
Baghdad, Îajj 1:60

Haç sinn il-jihhal 64 Take the tooth of kids
Wun†ini sin il-ghazal And give me the tooth of the gazelle
Song 5: Shams u-Ma†agh äl Ghabi ¨ Sun and Rain in the Spring
Mosul, Q 2:261
In sunny days women spinners used to work in the courtyards of
their houses and sing with the children. They equate the expert
spinner to a beautiful gazelle:
Shams u-ma†agh äl ghabi ¨ Sun and rain [came] in the spring
Ghazzalah tughzul wutbi ¨ A spinner spins and sells
Wutqul ghazli gifi ¨ And says, ‘My spinning is thin’
Shams u-ma†agh äl ghabi ¨ Sun and rain came in the spring
Ghazzalah tughzul wutbi ¨ A spinner spins and sells
Wutbi ¨ wazni ip-parah 65 She sells one wazni for one parah
U-timtili-}l-kawwarah And the jar is filled
61
itkhassil, the pronunciation g > kh by some IA speakers is common.
62
Mayy u-miliÌ, This expression denotes a lack of abundance of food, and it
seems that it is out of place. See al-Ma¨dadi date?: 70.
63
This custom prevails in several Arab countries. In Egypt, the children sing,
‘ya shams ya shammusa, kho∂i sinnit ig-gamusa u-hati sinnit il-ärusah, see Ammar
1954: 104. In Libya, ‘ya shams ya ‘awaynat il-¨rusah khidhi sin Ìmar wa¨†ini sin
ghazal, ‘O sun, O glasses of the bride, take the tooth of the donkey and give me the
tooth of the gazelle’. In Lebanon, ‘ya shams ya shammusi waÌyat ämmi Musi, khaydi
sinn il-Ìmar a¨tayni sinn il-ghazali’, ‘O sun, O my little sun, by the life of my uncle
Musi, take the tooth of the donkey and give the tooth of the gazelle’.
64
Jihhal, ‘kids’ (lit. ‘ignorant’, sing. jahil ) in IA.
65
Wazni < waznah, is a unit of weight roughly equal to one hundredth of a
kilogram, and parah (lit. ‘piece’) is an Indian coin of small value.
203
Moon
In earlier times the appearance of the new crescent moon was often
greeted with joy as a return of the moon from the dead. The waning
and eclipse of the moon were a cause of anxiety and fear. In religion
and mythology the moon plays a variety of roles. Whether male or
female divinity, the moon, like the sun, was thought to be an object
thrown up into the sky by some supernatural being. The Babylonians
took over from the Sumerians the worship of the moon deity under
the name of Sin.66 Sin was worshipped in Haran and Ur the birth-
place of Abraham, founder of the monotheistic faiths. In early sixth
century BCE, Babylon was the area’s greatest city. Nebuchadrezzar’s
successor, Nabonidus, was a devoted worshipper of the moon. Moon
worship continued into Islamic times.
Some Baghdadis believe that the moon became one-eyed, because
it quarreled with the sun that hit it in one eye and extinguished its
light.67 A few Iraqis quote to the moon as saying, ‘lo ïndi äyntayn
çan aglub il-layl nahar’68 ‘If I had two eyes I would have turned the
night into day’. When a few Baghdadis see the crescent in the first
nights of Rama∂an they would look at a silver coin or at the river and
pray humbly ‘O God make it a month of bliss and abundance for us
and for all the community of Muhammad’.69
Iraqis may take an oath by the moon, u-Ìaqq ha}l-badir äl-ïbad,70
‘by the Truth of this moon [that shines] on the worshippers’ and
u-Ìaqq ha}l-gumriyyah,71 ‘by the Truth of this moon light night’.
Among Baghdadi proverbs in which the moon is employed are:
il-gumar may-∂urha nbaÌ-i-}l-klab,72 ‘the moon is not blemished by
the barking of the dogs’ which is said about a respectful person who
does not care about being criticized’, and il-gumar min hlalah
mbayyin,73‘the moon is apparent from its crescent’, said about taking
actions whose results are predicted from the start. They also believe
that a lot of blood will be shed when the disc of the moon becomes
red.
66
Wikipedia Encyclopedia and Leick 1991: 152, Jones 2004, IX, 6172.
67
Al-Îajjiyyah 1991, VI: 117.
68
Jones 2004, I: 443, IX: 6172; Shawqi 1991: 149 and al-Îajjiyyah 1999, VII:
118–19.
69
Ibid., 119.
70
Ibid.
71
Ibid.
72
Ibid., 120
73
Ibid., 117
204
Song 6: Ya Gumar, Ya DaÌlabi! Moon, O Round Moon!

The following song is similar to the song Ya Gumar Latghib (Part B:9)
in content, but not in melody and some lexical items. Both are
variants of one song in which the children ask the moon to bring
their fathers home safe and sound. This is not necessarily an indica-
tion of paganism. Rather, it refers to God who created the moon.
Karbala}, Q 3:178
Ya Gumarna ya daÌlabi! 74 O our moon, O round moon!
Dizz abuyah khal yiji! Send my father let him come!
Jabli sallat ïnab He brought me a basket of grapes
Farraghtah (i)bab75 in-nabi I distributed it at the Prophet’s gate
Wu}n-nabi min Ìishmituh Because of his dignity
Jatti-l-ghazala zarutuh The gazelle came and visited him
Labsah gladah dhahab Wearing a golden necklace
Nazäh gladah dhahab Taking off a golden necklace
Shafha il-mullah irtahab The Mullah saw her and was surprised
Äf quränah76 wu-lÌagah He left his Qur}an and followed her
Song 7: Ya Qamag Ya DaÌraji! O Moon, O Rolling Moon!
Mosul, Q3: 178

Ya qamag ya daÌraji! 77 O Moon, O rolling moon!
∑iÌ abuyi liji! Call my dad to come!
Ijibilna sallat ïnab He’ll bring us a basket of grapes
Min slal in-nabi From the baskets of the Prophet
Wu}n-nabi min haybatu And because of the Prophet’s dignity
Jatti-l-ghazalah zagetu The gazelle came and visited him
∑allat äla sajjadah She prayed on a praying carpet
Jana il-ïnab kullu Ìulu We got all the grapes sweet
74
DaÌlabi, The meaning of the verb daÌlab is unclear. It exists in the Kuwaiti
and Lebanese dialects, ‘to bend down’, al-Bakri 1972: 226. If this is so, then the
root of the verb daÌlab ‘to bend’ is Î.D.B. and the /l/ is an infex added to the
root (Î, D, B) creating a quadrilateral verb, Ìadlab > daÌlab.
75
Farraghtah, i.e. ‘I gave it’ to the beggars, who usually stand by the gates of the
cemeteries.
76
Qur’an > Qurän used by children. Children and several adults who pretend
to take an oath by the Qur’an may say wu’l-Qur’an, see al-Îanafi 1962, I: 33.
77
DaÌraja (CA), ‘to roll down’.
205
Song 8: Hadha Gumarna il-Äli This High Moon is Ours

Basra, D:136–7
This song is a variant of the previous one. Girls stand forming a
ring on moonlit nights and go around dancing and singing the
main lines. The leader stands in the centre and sings the last one-
two words of each line. In Mosul all the girls sing together the
entire song.
Leader: Hadha gumarna il-äli This high moon is ours
Group: il-Äli… il-äli… il-äli The high… the high…the high
– Ijib abuya bi}s-salamah Will bring my father safely
– Bi}s-salamah bi}s-salamah Safely, safely
– Wijib-li sallat ïnab And he will bring me a basket of grapes
– Sallat ïnab sallat ïnab A basket of grapes, a basket of grapes
– Wi}l-ïnab ma-ridu And the grapes I do not want
– Ma-ridu 78 maridu I do not want it, I do not want it
– Dhabbaytah ibbab in-nabi 79 I distributed them at the Prophet’s gate
– Ibbab in-nabi, ibbab in-nabi At the Prophet’s gate, at the Prophet’s gate
– Wun-nabi ibÌa∂ratu While the Prophet is in his shrine
– IbÌa∂ratu, ibÌa∂ratu In his tomb, in his tomb
– IbÌa∂ratu, ibÌa∂ratu, ibÌa∂ratu In his tomb, in his tomb, in his tomb
Jatt-il-ghazalah zaritu80 The gazelle came and visited him
– Zaritu, zaritu, zaritu She visited him, she visited him, she
visited him
Then the girls disperse singing:
Labsah gladah dhahab Wearing a golden necklace
Nazäh gladah dhahab Taking off a golden necklace
Song 9: Ya Gumarna Latghib O Our Moon, Don’t Disappear!

Ramadi Q3:165
On full-moon summer nights, children in Ramadi sit outdoors
clapping and chanting and look at the shining moon surrounded by
the stars. The words gubbah, ‘room’ and sharashib, ‘hems’ stand
metaphorically for the sky and the stars respectively.
78
Maridu. Often Iraqi children pronounce two words as one when the first
word ends with fatÌah and the second word has a hamzah followed by a fatÌah,
hence ma+’aridu> maridu. Dhabbayt, ‘I threw’ (lit.).
79
Bab an’nabi, ‘At the Prophet’s gate’, i.e. the cemetery where beggars are
found.
80
An Iraqi legend relates that the prophet MuÌammad gave shelter to a gazelle
chased by a hunter (Q 3:168).
206
Ya Gumarna latghib! O our moon, don’t disappear!

Yabu gubbah u-sharashib! O the one who has a sky and stars
Bint il-Ìawwa kalhadh-dhib 81 The wolf ate the daughter of Eve
Sukkar ma¨jun ibÌalib82 Sugar mixed with milk
Wu}l-ärayis ärrasu The brides got married
Wu}l-äjayiz äjjazu And the old women grew frail
Shaggu magrunat Îasan They tore Îasan’s garment
Îasan shayil 83 dinbusah Îasan is wearing his pin
Yimshi wiïdd bi-flusah Walking and counting his money
Song 10: Ya Îutah Ya ManÌutah! O Whale! O Whale!

When the moon disappears in an eclipse, many Iraqi adults and
children believe that a giant whale has swallowed it. They also believe
that the whale carries the earth and that the eclipse causes disasters
to them. The Arabs in the pre-Islamic period were also scared of
the eclipse of the moon, so were many Muslims in later times.84 To
appease his followers, it is related that the Prophet MuÌammad said,
‘Inna-sha-shamsa wa}l-qamara atiyani min ayatihi la yakhsufani
li-mawti aÌadin wa-la li-Ìayatihi, fa-idha ra}aytumu dhalika fafzaü
ïla dhikri-llahi wa}l-Òalati ’,85 ‘the sun and the moon come from His
signs, they do not eclipse for the death of anyone, or for his life, so
if you see this [the eclipse], rush to mention the name of God and
pray’. To scare the whale and force it to let the moon free during the
eclipse, several Iraqis still take to the streets and the rooftops with
pots, platters, forks, knives, pans, and bang on them while chanting
this song. When the eclipse is over, they feel relief.
Baghdad, Îajj 1:111 and Q2:231
Ya Ìutah ya manÌutah! 86 O whale! O whale!
Hiddi gumarna-}l-äli Let our high moon go free
Hadha gumarna inridah We want this moon of ours
Wunçan ma-thiddinah And if you don’t let it go free
Adugliç [i]b-Òiniyyah I’ll bang on a tray for you
81
Kalha. In fast speech children do not pronounce the initial hamzah from verbs
whose initial consonant is a hamzah followed by a fatÌah, as in ’akalha > kalha, ‘he
ate it’.
82
Ma¨jun, lit. ‘kneaded’.
83
Shayil, lit. ‘carrying’.
84
About the fear of the Iraqis of the eclipse of the moon, see al-Älawchi 1966:
21, 47–8; Sa¨d al-Din 1998, I: 29; al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 111, 1999, VII: 118–19.
85
Al-Älawchi 1966: 49.
86
ManÌutah. It means literally ‘carved’ used to create assonance with Ìuta.
207
The women on the rooftops reply addressing God:

Ya qarib il-faraj! O the One who brings relief soon!
Ya äli bila daraj! O the High One without steps!
Äbdak ib-shiddah Your worshipper is in stress
And another version from Baghdad:87
Ya Ìutah ya maltutah O whale, O giant
Hiddi gumarna-}l-äli Let our high moon go
Wunçan ma-thiddinah And if you don’t let it free
Ni∂irbiç [i]b-sakkinah And if you don’t let it free, we’ll strike
you with a knife.
In a version from Qalät ∑aliÌ (Q 2:231), the following verse is
added: khalli gumarna saäh, ‘let our moon free for a while’.
Rain
The life-renewing and life-sustaining powers of rain have been per-

sonified in the pantheons of both primitive and higher religions. Rites
to ensure rain had their origin in remote antiquity and have been
observed throughout the world, and worship of rain gods as a symbol
of fertility prevailed in the ancient cultures. Sorcery, magical charms
and prayers were employed by rainmakers, among other rites, to induce
rain. Thunderstorms are prominent in representations of the gods of
ancient Sumer, Babylonia, Assyria, and Akkad. Among these great
storm gods were Enlil of Mesopotamia and Marduk of Babylon.88
In the seasonal revival of nature and the infusion of new life, rain
was seen in the ancient Middle East and other parts of the world as
a dispenser of divine grace and plenty and the promise of survival.
Worship of rain gods as symbols of fertility prevailed in the East, as
well as elsewhere. The Mesopotamian symbol for ‘height’ also meant
‘rainy sky’, and thus linked rain to divinity. In the Qur}an,89 Allah is
described as the One who created the heavens and earth and sent
water down out of heaven.
To evoke rain in drought times, some Iraqi children in the villages
take a stick and wrap it with rags and old clothes to make a doll
which they call umm il-ghayth,90 ‘the one who has the rain’. They
87
See Fattal 2003: 71, n. 12.
88
Jones 2004, XI: 7602.
89
Qur’an, 13:2–4, 48–9.
90
See Q 1:467.
208
roam the alleys singing in front of every house. The owners of the
houses pour a bowl of water on the doll as a symbol of inducing rain.
When the sky becomes cloudy, a few Baghdadis would say mçalçilah
u-äla hawaha,91 i.e. ‘the sky has black clouds loaded with water’, and
when the thunder and lighting increase and it pours, one member of
the family would recite from the Qur}an (chapter 13 [Surat al-Ra¨d]);
believing that God will order the thunder, the lightning and the rain
to ease up. Some Iraqis believe that God used a black angel to drive
the clouds with a whip and that the thunder is the sound of the
angel’s feet. The rain is mentioned in a few Iraqi proverbs like ïlm
bila ämal mithl il-ghaym bila ma†ar,92 ‘knowledge without deed[s]
is like a cloud without rain’, and il-mbalbal maykhaf min il-ma†ar,93
‘the wet person does not care about (lit. ‘fear’) the rain’, is said about
someone in trouble, who does not care if he gets into more trouble.
The following rain song is reminiscent of an ancient Babylonian
practice pleading Ishtar, the god of irrigation, to induce rain.
Song 11: Yamm il-Ghayth! O the One Who Has the Rain!
Mosul, Q 1:191
Yamm il-ghayth! O the One who has rain!
Lola-l-ma†ag ma jina Had it not been for [lack of] rain,
we wouldn’t have come
Îu††u-l-na bi}†-†absha Put [water] for us in the wooden bowl
AÒbaÌ 94 waladkum yimsha Your son has begun to walk
Wu}l-Ìin†ah ib-†ulu-}l-bab 95 And the wheat is as high as the door
Wu}sh-shiïr bila Ìsab And the barley is countless
Ti¨†una [w]illa ndiqq il-bab Give us, otherwise we’ll knock at the door
Mosul, Q 3: 228
Ya umm il-ghayth ghithina! O the One who has rain, help us!
Billi ïbshit raïna Wet the grass of our shepherd
Khalli i¨shaybitna tunbut Let our grass grow
Yiräha i†layyina 96 So our sheep graze in it
91
al-Îajjiyyah 1999, VII: 121.
92
Ibid., 122.
93
Ibid., 123.
94
More common in IA than aÒbaÌ is Òar.
95
In the construct phrase ib†ulu-’l-bab, ‘in the height of the door’ (lit. ‘in its
height [of] the door’) is the regular one among the Christians and Jews of Baghdad.
See examples in Mansour 1992: 44 and Abu-Haidar 1991: 116.
96
I¨shaybitna, dim. of ïshibna, ‘grass’ and i†laynna, dim. of †ilyanna, ‘our sheep’
209
They also sing (Q 3:228):

Ya rabbi shilah shilah! 97 O my Lord make it rain, make it rain!
Ti¨†i il-ra¨dah il-laylah Give the thunder to night
W-uflan yisqi khaylah And let so and so water his horses.
Song 12: Mu†ar Mu†ar Îalabi Rain, Rain, Light Rain
Basra, Q3: 217

When it rains in Basra, girls take to the streets, singing and dancing.
The first four lines of the following song are a plea to God to induce
rain, followed by four lines which allude to the fact that it rains cats
and dogs to the extent that people are carried from one side of the
road to the other.
Mu†ar mu†ar Ìalabi 98 Rain, rain, pouring rain
Äbbir banat iç-çalabi Take the Çalabi’s daughters across
Mu†ar mu†ar shashah 99 Rain, rain, rapid rain
Äbbir banat il-basha Take the Pasha’s daughters across
Song 13: il-Matar Äsi The Rain is Stubborn
Samarra} 100
When it rains, children go outside their homes, dancing and singing:
Mu†ar mu†ar äsi Rain, rebellious rain
™awwil shaär rasi Make the hair of my head long
Rasi bi’l-madinah yakul Ìabb u-tina Rasi is in the city eating seeds and a fig
Song 14: Ya Rabbi Ma††irha O my Lord, let it rain!

This song reflects a reality of Iraqi life when the älawchi, ‘the whole-
sale vegetables and fruit vendor’ raises the prices of his merchandise
as a result of drought.
97
Shila, probably this word is a distortion of çailah, ‘bullet’, i.e. the rain is so
strong that it falls and makes a sound like a bullet.
98
Îalabi, The meaning of word Ìalabi is unclear. al-Dulayshi suggests ‘strong
rain’ (al-Dulayshi 1968: 151 n. 4).
99
Shashah, ‘fast’. Ibid.: 151 n. 2.
100
Children are happy to see the rain falling. They take to the streets and alleys
barefoot and sing loudly this song. See al-Samarra’i 1975, VIII–X: 243.
210
Baghdad, Îajj 1:166 and al-Musayyab Q 3:221

Ya rabbi ma††irha! O my Lord, make it rain!
Äla ¨nad il-älawci 101 Despite the vegetables’ vendor
Älawci bidah †asah The vegetables’ vendor holds a bowl in
his hand
Yimshi wiÌikk ib-rasah He walks while scratching his head
Song 15: il-Ma†ar ™ashsh The Rain Poured
Ramadi, Q 3:224
In the past when a Bedouin noticed a flash of lightning, he would
tell the good tidings to friends and relatives, ‘abraqat wa-arädat
wa}stahallat wa-am†arat ’, ‘[after] the lightning there will be thunder
followed by a rain’ (Q 3:233).
The Bedouin children get out of their tents and sing while it rains:
il-Ma†ar †ashsh102 It rained cats and dogs
Ällana inüdah103 May we see it coming again
il-Ma†ar †ashsh It rained cats and dogs
Ruzzan ya rüdah! Multiply its thunder!
Il-Ma†ar †ashsh! It rained cats and dogs!
Ikh∂arr ya üdah! O grass, turn green!
Part C
Animals, Birds, and Insects (Songs 1–37)
Song 1: Ghazalah Ghazzaloki

O Beautiful Gazelle, They Twirled you
Karbala}, Q1: 285

When walking in groups, boys sing and clap. In the upper Euphrates
areas, they chant the following song while standing in a ring and
holding hands. In Samarra} they stand nude by the shore of the Tigris
and sing to it. The gazelle stands for a beautiful girl.
101
The word Älawçhi is a compound word from älwah, ‘a wholesale farmers
market’ and the Turkish suffix çi. When the suffix is added, there is a shift of stress
to the next to last syllable.
102
™ashsh, lit. ‘to spread’, ‘to scatter’.
103
Bedouin children sing this song. The use of ällana is found in CA.
211
Ghazalah ghazzaloki 104 O beautiful gazelle, they twirled you

Bi}l-mayy da¨biloki In the water they rolled you
Ga¨dah äla-}sh-sha† She was sitting by the river bank
Ga¨dah timashshi† She was sitting and combing [her hair]
Ajaha numi Numi came to her
Gallilha gumi! He told her ‘Get up!’
Hadha ÌÒaniç Here is your horse
Ashiddah wa}rkab I’ll saddle it and mount
Äla-l-sikarkab105 The clip–eared horse
Sikarkab il-barriyah The clip–eared horse of the desert
La-tibçin älayya Don’t cry for me
Ibçi äla Ìjuliç Cry for your anklets
Îjuliç barba¨miyyah Your anklets are worth four hundred
[dinars]
Song 2: Ghazali Ghazal My Gazelle is a [Beautiful] Gazelle
Ramadi, Q 2: 170
Like the previous song, the following contains verses from various
songs. The last few lines have religious tones. Children used to
chant it with or without clapping, while sitting or strolling
together.
Ghazali ghazal My gazelle is a [wonderful] gazelle
™ab li¨biç †ab, †ab! Your play is enjoyable, is enjoyable!
Wu}l-gumar shallali 106 When the moon is slack
Ib-nuÒÒ il-layl ghab At midnight it disappeared
Waraha wara-}l-Ìennah Behind it, behind the henna [bush]
Waraha wara-}z-zaytun Behind it, behind the olive [trees]
Maktubah ib-bab il-jannah It is written at the gate of Paradise:
Bab in-nar li}l-kuffar The gate of hell is for the unbelievers
U-bab il-jannah li}l-islam And the gate of paradise is for the Muslims
(lit. ‘for Islam’).
104
Boys sing Ghazala Ghazzaloki in the summer when they stand nude by the
shore of the Tigris. Cited also in al-Samarra’i 1975: 246–7. The gazelle is an epithet
for a beautiful girl. The word ghazzaloki makes no sense, but it is used for produc-
ing assonance with ghazalah.
105
Sikarkab is a compound word. Rajul asakk in CA is ‘a clipped-eared man’
(CA) and rakaba (CA) ‘to ride’, but in the context of the song it means, ‘a clipped-
eared horse’.
106
Shallali, ‘slopy’. It is unclear to what noun the suffix h in waraha refers.
Probably this verse is taken from a different song, as are some of the other verses in
the song. The several rhyme schemes in the song attest to that.
212
Song 3: Kharuf Ya Kharuf! Sheep, O Sheep!

Baghdad, Îajj. II, 71
Baghdadis call the male sheep çibis (CA kabash) and the female,
na¨jah. A small çibis is †ili, and a small na¨jah is fa†imah. The aborted
foetus is called quzi, and its delicate skin is lisa. A group of sheep is
ghanam or ghnaym.107 When some Iraqi children start playing with a
small sheep they hit it gently on its forehead and enrage it by saying,
‘Ti-khmmas’. When the villagers see a sheep the first thing in the
morning, they believe that their day will be a fortunate one. They
also believe that when they run into a herd of sheep in the morning,
they have to count seven red ewes, otherwise a misfortune will befall
them. If a baby does not stop crying, his mother will walk with her
baby behind a herd of sheep which stirs the dust, then she will say,
‘ya äjjah ukhdhi il-lajjah’, ‘O dust take away the hubhub’, believing
this will make her baby stop crying. The white sheep used to be the
preferred domestic animal for children in the Iraqi home prior to the
introduction of toys. The children would take good care of the sheep
and often wash its wool, hang a chain of blue beads and small bells
on its neck, and dye its forehead and legs with hennah.108
The following is a song for the sheep:
Ya Kharuf ya Kharuf! O sheep, O sheep!
Akul laÌmak wa-khudh Òuf I eat your meat and take [your] wool
Wan†ik iÌshish ihwayah And give you lots of grass
Min tukbar wutÒir [i]smin When you grow up and become fat
AdhbaÌak bis-sakkin I’ll slaughter you with the knife
Ya kharufi ya miskin! O my sheep, O poor sheep!
Song 4: Arnab, Arnab Rabbit, Rabbit

Ba¨qubah, Q 2:194
Children clap and sing together while sitting or standing in the alleys.
‘Titu’ is a rabbit in children’s language.
Arnab, arnab Rabbit, rabbit
Urku∂, urku∂! Run, run!
Inta Òadiqi You’re my friend
Wana Òadiqak And I am your friend
AsbaÌ bi}l-mayy I swim in the water
Ya titu! O Titu!
107
See a variant in Q:288.
108
Ibid., 71–2.
213
Jana kamala Kamala came to us

Ya titu! O Titu!
Rakib zmalah Riding his donkey
Ya titu! O Titu!
Gi†a¨nah tamrah We picked one piece of date
Ya titu! O Titu!
Tamur il-khistawi [From] the Khistawi dates
Ya titu! O Titu!
Titu ya titu titu! Titu, O Titu, Titu!
Song 5: B ïrah Nami Nami! 109 Camel, Sleep, Sleep!

Baghdad, Q 1:427
Some Iraqis say the following proverb about a person who is able to
perform hard tasks but fails to do simple and easy jobs, ‘il-biïr yishil
kull shi u-äl-munkhul yibruk,’110 ‘the camel carries everything, but on
the sieve it kneels down’, and about a person who resorts to obvious
excuses rather than being frank, they say, ‘il-biïr yi∂la¨ min idhnah’,111
‘the camel is lame in its ears’, which is an absurdity.
In the 1930s, the Bedouins used to pass through the town of
al-Musayyib on their way to graze their camels. A group of children
would imitate the camel’s rider, move their heads and chests up and
down, follow the camel and sing:
B¨ irah nami nami! Camel, sleep, sleep!
Jaç MÌammad [il] Ìarami MuÌammad the thief came to you
Dhabboh bi}l-darbunah They tossed him in the alley
™ilät simçah zgayrunah112 A very small fish emerged
In a version from al-Ramadi Q 2:221, the last two verses read:
Çakkiç ibhal äghulah He pricked you with this thorn
™ila¨ lisniç ha††ulah Your tongue came out this long
Song 6: Haydaw Yab äyyiri Haydaw! Get up, O my Camel Get up!
Qalät Sukkar, Q 2:224–5
A group of Bedouin children move their heads up and down and sing
together the following song. To urge the camel to get up and walk,
the camel driver shouts, ‘Haydaw’.
109
Repeated in al-™u¨mah 1976, II–III: 208.
110
Al-Îanafi 1962, I: 95.
111
Ibid.
112
Zgayrunah, dim. of zgayrah, small’.
214
Haydaw yabäyyiri113 Haydaw! Get up, O my little camel, get up!

Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw wayn mgayyil! Get up! Where are you resting your knees?
Get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw bi}s-sabkhayah Haydaw! Get up off the dusty ground, get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw wumällig rayah Haydaw! Get up, he is hanging a piece of cloth,
get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw bit-il-bidwi Haydaw! Get up the daughter of the Bedouin, get up!
Haydaw timshi u-tidwi Haydaw! Get up! She is walking and making noise,
get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw min diwwaha Haydaw! Get up! Who made her make noise, get up!
Haydaw rayil isbaha, Haydaw! Get up!It is the man of her youth, get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw raÌat li}l-mayy, Haydaw! Get up! She went to the well, get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw yabat walad,114 Haydaw! Get up! She gave birth to a boy, get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw sammoh Òamad,115 Haydaw! Get up! They named him Samad, get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw äbir baÌrayn, Haydaw! Get up! He is crossing two seas, get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Haydaw shayil rumÌayn, Haydaw! Get up! He is carrying two spears, get up!
Haydaw! Get up!
Song 7: Laysh Ya Wawi! Why, O Jackal!

Tikrit, Q 2:179–80
Iraqi children call the jackal, abu-l-wayw and hÒayni as epithets. When
travelling, several villagers believe that the jackal is a good omen if
they run into one, because they consider it a witty animal. Often the
Iraqi mother says to her child, ja il-wawi, ‘The jackal has come’ as a
means to scare him/her to go to bed. The following proverb, ‘itÌaz-
zam li}l-wawi biÌzam sabi¨ ’,116 ‘wear a belt to face the jackal [as if you
113
Baäyyiri is dim. of bïri, ‘my little camel’.
114
jabat > yabat and rajul <rayul in which /j/ > /y/ according to the local dialect.
115
∑amad, ‘eternal’ is one of God’s attributes. The word ‘Abd, ‘servant’, ‘wor-
shipper’ as the first part of a proper name Äbd al-∑amad occasionally is dropped in
IA. See al-Îanafi 1978, I: 184.
116
For these proverbs, see al-Îanafi 1962, I: 114, and al-Îajjiyyah 1968, II:
81–2.
215
confront] a lion’, warns about taking precautions even against those

who pretend to be weak.
When some children in Iraqi villages see the feathers of a killed
hen, they sing:
Laysh ya wawi! Why, O jackal!
Takul dijajatna You eat our hen
Min bayt ämmatna? From our aunt’s house?
Khalli-}l-farukh yukbar Let the chick grow
U-yin†aÌ il-äskar And butt the army
Äskar Ikhdayrawi 117 ma-yakul Ikhdairawi’s army doesn’t eat the rice
it-timman
Illa-b-khashugah 118 Except with a spoon
Khashugah mangushah A decorated spoon
Wul-äyn majlutah And the eyes are peeled (i.e. open)
Bint AÌmad il-kursi AÌmad il-Kursi’s daughter
Timshi w-tugmuzli She is walking and winking to me
WashmaÌla gumzatha! How beautiful her winking is!
Marid gumzatha ïlla b-sh¨fatha I do not want her winking unless she has
her hair, lock on lock
Song 8: ∑alat il-Wawiyyah The Prayer of the Jackals
D: 123–4
Boys and girls in Basra stand in a ring holding hands. One of them,
the leader, sings every other verse and the group the rest. The follow-
ing song has a deductive message that people should pray only to
God.
Leader- ∑allu Òalat il-wawiyyah! Pray the prayer of the jackals!
Girls- Ma-nsalli We won’t pray
– ∑allu Òalat il-bazazin Pray the prayer of the cats!
– Ma-nÒalli We won’t pray
The leader asks the participants to pray for three-four more animals,
and when they refuse, he/she sings:
– ∑allu Òalat rabbkum Pray the prayer for your Lord
All the children bend their head and sing:
117
In Samarra’ this song is slightly different than in Baghdad. Kh∂airawi (dim.
Khu∂ur), instead of Ällawi. See al-Samarra’i 1965: 20.
118
Khashugah, pl. khawashig. A few Baghdadis say qashuqah, Per. qashiq, see
al-Îanafi 1982, II: 442.
216
– A¬¬ah Akbar! God is great!

Leader- Idha jatkum saÌabah bay∂ah If a white cloud comes to you
– La-tkhafun! Don’t be afraid!
– Idha jatkum saÌabah Òafrah If a yellow cloud comes to you
– Latkhafun Don’t be afraid
– Swayf 119 abuna Ìadir rusna Our father’s sword is under our pillows
(lit. ‘heads’)
– Idha jatkum saÌabah sodah, If a black, black,
sodah, sodah, tiru! black cloud comes to you, fly!
Song 9: Il-Tha¨lab Fat Fat The Fox Passed By

Îillah Q: 198–200
Girls sit in a ring. One girl is chosen as a leader. The girls sing
while the leader goes around the circle trying secretly to put a
handkerchief behind one of the girls. If this girl discovers it, she
runs with the handkerchief after the leader. They exchange roles if
the girl behind whom the handkerchief was placed discovers the
handkerchief before the leader completes going around the circle
once.
Leader: Dayir dwayrah120 He is going one around
Girls: Îibiç libiç121 Quickly
– Maksurah Broken
– Biha ithnaäsh ba¨rurah In it are twelve sheep droppings
– Ba¨rurah Sheep droppings
– Baycikil Bicycle
– Cikil cikil Cikil cikil
– Äraqçin, äraqçin122 Skullcap, skullcap
– çin çin Çin, çin
– Wu}th-tha¨lab And the fox
– Fat fat Passed by, passed by
– Wubdhaylu And in his tail
– Sab¨ liffat Seven knots
– Baysikil Bicycle
119
Swayf, dim. of sayf, ‘sword’.
120
Dwayrah, ‘small round’, dim. of da’irah.
121
The two-echo words Ìibiç and libik create assonance. Qadduri says that both
words mean ‘quickly’. Other such pairs of echo words in this article are Ìajanjali-
bajanjali (part E, song 51) and shandal-mandal (part E, song 58). The Arabic term
for such two words is itba¨, which is an intensification by repeating a word with its
initial consonant changed.
122
Äraqçin, a compound word of Arabic äraq, ‘sweat’ and Persian çin, from the
verb çaridan, ‘to absorb’.
217
– Sikil sikil Cikil, Cikil

– Ith-tha¨lab fat The fox passed by
– Wub-dhaylu And in his tail
– Sab¨ liffat There are seven knots
– Baysikil Bicycle
Song 10: idh-Dhib Wul-Na¨jah The Wolf and the Ewe

Hit and the Upper Euphrates, Q 1:280
In Iraqi lore and folk literature, the wolf enjoys a good reputation.
It is a custom in Iraq to put a wolf ’s tooth on a necklace and hang it
on the child’s neck to drive away demons and the evil eye. At present,
instead of a real wolf’s tooth, some Iraqis use ivory shaped like a
wolf ’s tooth covered with strips of gold. In the middle of the ivory,
a small blue stone is placed. Wolf ’s eyes and claws are used as talis-
mans too. The blue colour also has the power to drive away the evil
eye.123 Some Iraqis say that the wolf will be the last to die of all living
creatures at the end of the world, because all the metaphysical crea-
tures are afraid of it.124 Among the Iraqi proverbs where the wolf is
mentioned are: Shayil äyn idh-dhib,125 ‘he carries the wolf ’s eye’, said
about a successful person’, and Ìukum ädil ikhalli in-na¨jah tisraÌ
waya dh-dhib,126 ‘a just regime lets the ewe graze with the wolf’.
A few variants of the following song exist in different parts of Iraq.
In Baghdad children hold hands and form a ring. One child stands
in the centre of the ring (the lamb) and another (the wolf) stands
outside it. The wolf tries to slip inside the ring to eat the lamb, but
the children in the ring resist. When the wolf succeeds in penetrating
the ring, he exchanges places with the ‘lamb’ and the game is played
again. In al-Hillah, and the southern cities of Najaf and Karbala},
boys and girls play this singing game together. One boy (the wolf ) is
chosen to play the father and one girl (the mother) undertakes the
role of protecting the ewes from the wolf (the father). The following
song is from al-Ramadi.
Father: (wolf) Mal ün †ashtash khirzi Malün scattered my beads
Mother: Malün bayig wuldi Malün stole my children
– Ani-dh-dhib wakulhum I am the wolf and I eat them
123
Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, II: 85.
124
Ibid.
125
Ibid., 86. In Basra the proverb is shayil ÿun dhib, ‘He is carrying wolf ’s eyes’.
It is said about someone who cannot sleep at night, see ShuÌan 1984: 113.
126
Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 110 and 1968, II: 23.
218
– Wani-}l-umm waÌmihum I am the mother and I protect them

– In†uni flanah! Give me (a name of a girl)!
– Wa¬¬ah ma-n†ikiyyaha By God, I won’t give her to you
– TiÌlibli l-Ìuliyyah So that she milks the she-camel for me
– Äsa-}l-Ìuliyyah bi}l-äma May the she-camel become blind
– TÒammu†li-j-jidriyyah So that she washes the small pot for me
Äsa-}j-jidriyyah bi}l-kasir May the small pot be broken
– In†iniyyah! Give her to me!
– Wa¬¬ah ma-n†ikiyyaha By God I won’t give it to you
– Äyni äl dhiç il-binit I leer with my eyes at that girl
– Äyni äla dhak il-walad I leer with my eyes at that boy
The game is over when all the children are kidnapped.
Song 11: Bazunti Fog il-Îa†ab My Kitten is on the Firewood

The cat is among the favourite domestic animals for most Iraqi chil-
dren. Several Iraqis in Baghdad call the male cat bazzun, and the
female bazzunah and qa†a. In northern cities, especially in Mosul,
the Aramaic word biss is frequently used for a cat. Some Iraqi women
still believe that a guest will visit them when they see a cat moving
its paws towards its face. When a cat fights another cat some Iraqi
women do not interfere with them, because they believe that by
doing so a mishap will befall their families. The existence of a lot of
cats in the kitchen is a sign of wealth.127 Among the Iraqi proverbs
said about the cat are: mithl il-bazzun shlon matdhibbah yoga} äla
rijlah,128 ¨like the cat, no matter how you drop it, it falls on its paws’,
and il-bazzun ilha sab¨-i- rwah,129 ¨the cat has nine (lit. ‘seven’)
souls’, said about someone who escapes every trouble. Another prov-
erb is rizq il-bazazin äla-}l-mäththarat,130 ¨the livelihood of the cats
depends on the careless women’ who does not keep the food away
from the cat.
The following song is from Karbala} (Q 2:166).
Bazunti fog il-Ìa†ab My kitten is on the firewood
Takul khokh takul ru†ab She eats peaches, she eats dates
Dhabaytha ibdhak iÒ-Òob I threw her in the other side [of the river]
∑aÌat mayw bazzunti My cat meowed
∑aÌat mayw bazzunti My cat meowed
127
Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 110 and 1968, II: 23, 74.
128
Ibid.
129
Ibid.
130
Ibid.
219
Song 12: Bazzunti bazzunah My Cat is [a Pretty] Cat

Îadithah, Q2: 158
Until the introduction of refrigerators to Iraq in the 1940s, women
used to leave cooked food during the summer nights on the rooftops
so it would not spoil. This proved futile though, as the cat would
reach it and eat it after removing the lid. Girls sing this song when
walking in the alleys or sitting on the floor.
Bazzunti bazzunah My cat is [a pretty] cat
Ya maÌlah zoj iÿunah! How beautiful are her pair of eyes!
Bazzunti takul far My cat eats a mouse
TiÌmi bayti u-bayt ij-jar She protects my home and the neighbour’s
home
Ya yummah131 †ag†ag ij-jidir! 132 O mum the pot rattled!
Kishfatha-}l-bazzunah The cat removed it
Song 13: Bazzuni Ghasli Wuçki! 133 Cat, Wash Your Face!
Mosul, al-Übaydi: 210
Two girls stand facing each other and holding hands to form a rec-
tangle. A third girl lays her chest on their arms pretending she is a cat
washing her face. The two girls carry her to a designated location
agreed upon in advance. While doing so, the carried girl sings the
refrain and the other two girls sing the rest.
Bazzuni Ghasli wuçki! Cat, wash your face!
Nyayw nyayw Meow meow
Ba¨d ghada nzawwijki We’ll marry you off the day after tomorrow
Nyayw Nyayw Meow meow
Inzawwijki äl-qessab We’ll marry you off to the butcher
Nyayw Nyayw Meow meow
Yi†ïmiki shish kabab He’ll feed you a skewer of kebab
A similar song from Samarra} follows (Q2:162):
Ya bzayzitna! O, our kitten!
Ghasli wujhiç Wash your face
Bi}Ò-Òabuna With a piece of soap
U-mayy il-Ìar And hot water
131
IA has more words for ‘mother’, ümm, maymah, (‘dear mother’, dim. of ümm
and mama. Mama, borrowed from English is seldom used in villages and small towns.
132
In a few words in IA, the /j/ is a sun letter, and hence the l of the definite
article assimilates with it.
133
This song in Samarra’ (Q 2:161) is called Ya Bzayzitna, ‘O Our Kitten’.
220
Song 14: Bazzunah Ya Mayw! Cat O Meow!

Najaf, Q 2:164
This song comes from the southern town of Najaf. Seeing a cat eating
a fish, several village girls clap and chant this song:
Bazzunah, ya mayw! Cat, O meow!
Ahl il-simaç jo The fish vendors came
Gumi tlaggihum Get up and welcome them
Ukli maÌarihum Eat the scales of their fish
Ukli bananinhum Eat their outside (scales)
Bazzunah, ya mayw! Cat, O meow!
Song 15: Bashbusha Ya Bashbusha! Kitten, O Kitten!

NaÒiriyyah, Îillah, and Ramadi, Q 2:154
Bashbushah ya bashbushah! 134 Kitten, O kitten!
Wayn çinti maÌbusah? Where were you imprisoned?
MaÌbusah bi}l-magharah? Were you imprisoned in the cave?
™ifrat älayç il-farah The mouse (f.) jumped on you
Wul-farah hindi hindi The mouse is an Indian, an Indian
Wu}l-laylah bati ïndi Stay tonight with me
Aqaddimliç Òiniyyah I’ll bring you a platter
Îamra w-kha∂ra u-mawiyyah Red, green, and blue
Song 16: Çalib Dog

Baghdad, Îajj 1:167
Iraqis, in general, have a negative attitude towards dogs. There are a
few animals that play a significant role in the realm of insults and
curses and Iraqi folklore counts several animals in this category. The
dog (and the pig) seems to have a deeper religious nature than others.
Some Baghdadis believe that the barking of a dog is a bad omen;
others keep away from the dog because they consider it an impure
animal to the extent that they discard a dish licked by a dog. If a child
134
Basbusah, dem. of the Aramaic word biss, and basbusah, ‘kitten’ is dim. of
biss > bashbusha where s > sh. In a variant from Karbala’ bish and basbusah are
employed in the same song, see al-Tu¨mah 1976: 203, where the following verses
are added most likely recently:
Agüd min il-ÒubÌiyyah I get up in the early morning
Aghsil wujhi widayyah I wash my face and hands
AruÌ il-mama u-baba I go to my mummy and daddy
akhu∂-ilhum taÌiyyah And greet them
221
was scared of a dog, his mother would cut a lock of the dog’s hair and
put it under the pillow of her child before she puts him/her to bed.135
There are several Ìadiths (traditions) showing that the current nega-
tive attitude towards the dog is not a new one. According to one
Ìadith, Gabriel said to the Prophet, ‘the angels do not enter a place
housing a dog’. A tradition transmitted by Abu ™alÌah relates that
the reward in the next world for anyone who keeps a dog not intended
for watching sheep or the fields will be reduced.136 It is related also
that the Prophet MuÌammad said, ‘lawla anna al-kilaba ummatun la
amartu bi-qatliha walakin khiftu an ubida ummatan faqtulu minha
kulla aswada bahimin fa}innahu jinnuha ’,137 ‘Had the dogs not been
a community, I would have ordered them to be killed, but I was
afraid to destroy a community. So, kill every jet-black dog among
them, because it is a devil’.
To compare a person to a dog is to wound his dignity deeply.
No wonder then that the dog appears in Iraqi proverbs in a negative
light. For example, il-çalib ishgad ma-yisman il-çalib laÌmah ma-
yinwakil,138 ‘no matter how much the flesh of the dog gets fat its
meat can’t be eaten’.
The following song comes from Baghdad (Îajj 1: 166).
Ummi raÌat li}s-sug My mum went to the market
Jabat çalib maslug139 She brought a boiled dog
Çakçaktah bi}l-ibrah She pricked it with a needle
™ilät dam wujraÌah Blood and puss came out
Song 17: Ya-Jraywati! O My Puppies!

Mosul, Q3: 415
Children sing the refrain wayÒ wayÒ, and the leader the remaining
verses.
–Ya jraywati! 140 O my puppies!
– WayÒ wayÒ Ways ways (Chirp! Chirp!)
135
Al-Îajjiyyah1968. II: 76.
136
Al-Zubaydi 1994: 925.
137
For another Ìadith, see Äthamnah 1987, VIII: 83–122 (see especially 93,
n. 54).
138
al-Îanafi 1962, I: 137.
139
It seems that the children used here a dog instead of a hedgehog because in
folk medicine a hedgehog is boiled in water and some of the water is given to a child
to drink to stop diarrhoea, see al-Îajjiyyah 1968, II: 76–8.
140
Jraywat pl. of jraywah, ‘bitch’.
222
– Bayt il-mullah The family of the Mullah

– WayÒ wayÒ Ways, ways
– ™ubkhaw shillah They cooked lentil soup
– WayÒ wayÒ Ways ways
– Jit adhughah I came to taste it
– WayÒ wayÒ Ways, ways
– Kisraw sinni They broke my tooth
– Bi}l-khashughah With the spoon
WayÒ wayÒ yawladi Chirp chirp. O my chicks
In Mosul (Q2: 245–6), a mother warns her children not to go out

for fear that a certain old woman named Khajjawah will kidnap
them.
WayÒ WayÒ Yawladi! Ways ways, O my Chicks!
La ti†laü äl wadi! Don’t go out to the valley!
La-tikh†efkem khajjawah Lest Khajjawah kidnaps you
Song 18: Ya Ragg! O Turtle!
Tikrit Q 2:258
A group of boys stand in the river up to their knees. When another
boy (called rafash) dives into the river and tries to touch the knees of
one of the boys, they sing:
Ya ragg! Ya ragg! 141 O turtle! O turtle!
AÌmar id-darag With a red back
Jaç il-rafash The male turtle came to you
Yu†fush †afish Attacking [you] violently
Ghatti! Take cover!
Song 19: Ana il-Si ¨luwwah I am the Demon
Karbala}, Q 2: 238-39
The si¨luwwah, or the female demon plays an important role in Iraqi
legends similar to that of the witch or the ogre in Western fairy-tales.
This demon is a composite myth made out of some ancient river-
goddess cult. She is a water spirit, for she dwells either in the river,
or in caves or woods near running water. Her body is covered with
141
About playing this game song in Samarra’, see al-Samarra’i 1965: 64.
223
long hair, her breasts are hanging down, reaching her knees. In shape,
she is a woman, but is represented sometimes as having a fish’s tail
instead of two legs. She is fond of human flesh, but at the same time,
she has a partiality for human lovers.142
In the following song, one of the boys in the group acts like
a female demon and another plays the role of the mother. The rest
of the group stands in a file behind the mother and another boy,
the wolf, stands two or three meters in front of the mother. The boys
sing and move one step to the right and one step to the left. The
demon asks the mother to bring her a little water. When the latter
goes to do so, the demon kidnaps one of the girls. The game ends
when all the girls are kidnapped one by one.
– Ana-}s-su¨luwwah I am the demon
– Byammah Next to her
– Akul bnayyah I eat a girl
– Byamma Next to her
– Baysh a†fur? By what [shall] I jump?
– Bi}†-†awah By the frying pan
– Baysh a†fur? By what [shall] I jump?
Bi-}Ò-Òiniyyah By the platter
Song 20: Frayj il-Agra¨ Frayj il-Agra¨
Samarra} and Tikrit, Q 2:241

According to a legend, Frayj (dim. of Faraj) is the son of the mother
demon Si¨luwwah, that eats people. He is fond of riding horses and
playing tricks on fishermen and river-dwellers, but is different from
his mother. He resembles an old man, his head is red and bald and
the hair of his beard is green.143
In summer, boys jump into the river naked. One boy stands on
the bank of the river and rubs his body with mud. When the other
boys get out of the river, they run after him singing:
Frayj il-agra¨ yakunna144 Frayj ‘the bald’ will eat us
Frayj il-agra¨ yakunna Frayj the bald will eat us
142
Sa¨d al-Din 1979: 24.
143
Ibid.
144
Yakunna < yakulna. the lam of yakul, ‘eat’ is assimilated with the sun letter
suffix /n/, ‘us’.
224
Song 21: Ya Ghrab Ya Ghrab O Crow! O Crow!

Karbala}, Q 2:146–7
In southern Iraq, the crow is called abu bgay¨, ‘the one with spots’.
Many people in the Middle East, including Iraqis, dislike the crow
and regard it as a messenger of death and bad luck. Because of its
black feathers they associate it with grief and death. So, they say, ‘it
is black’, about a bad day, as well as about bad news and a gloomy
face.145 One legend claims that a crow killed another crow and buried
it in the ground. Abel learned this from the crow and he, in turn,
killed his brother Cain (Gen. 4:8) and buried him in the ground.146
They also dislike the crow, because it is ugly and it attacks the chick-
ens and the birds, and eats their vegetables and fruit.
When the children hear the crow crowing, they say ‘khayr, khayr’
[God willing] ‘it is good news’, or ‘idha khayr dhibbah u-fut’,147 ‘if it
is good [news] throw it and go’, and ‘idha sharr ukhdhha bijnaÌak
u-tir”,148 ‘and if it is bad [news], take it in your wings and fly’. An
Iraqi saying about a malicious person is ‘mithl il-ghrab’149 ‘like the
crow’ and others say, il-ghrab ma yidalli illa äl-kharab,150 ‘the crow
leads [people] only to destruction’.
Ya ghrab ya ghrab! O crow, O crow!
Ma shifit abuyah? Haven’t you seen my daddy?
Yakul u-yibçi Eating and crying
Ïnd il-kababçi ! 151 At the kebab vendor’s shop?
Bidah äÒayah [Carrying] a stick in his hand
Ysug il-ma†aya Driving the donkeys
Song 22: IÌmayrah152 Min Sagiç?

Little Donkey (f.) Who Drove you?
Fallujah, Q 2:304
Six boys stand in a line next to each other. A seventh boy, who stands
twenty feet away, moves towards them. One of the six boys steps
forward and another boy pushes him lightly on his back and sings
145
Sa¨d al-Din 1966.
146
Khayyat 1986, I: 163.
147
Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 63.
148
Ibid.
149
Ibid.
150
Al-Îanafi 1962, I: 277.
151
Kababçi, Çi is a Turkish suffix borrowed in Iraqi Arabic and denotes several
meanings in IA. See my article (Masliyah 1966: 291–300).
152
About playing this game song in Samarra’, see al-Samarra’i 1965: 22.
225
the first line. If the pushed boy identifies the culprit, he rides on the
latter’s back to an agreed location. If he does not, the opposite occurs.
IÌmayrah153 min sagiç Little donkey (f.), who drove you?
Uürfi sawwagiç Know your driver!
Song 23: Shuf Hadha ™ayri! Look, This is My Bird!

Karbala} and Middle Euphrates villages, Q 2: 121
The bird (†ayr) is mentioned in many Iraqi proverbs, such as, i†-†ayr
ib-†ayr yinÒad wu}l-mal bi}-lmal yinjab,154 ‘the bird is caught by another
bird, [the same way] money brings more money’; †ayr u-†ar,155 [it is
like] ‘a bird that flew’, said about missing a good opportunity, and
makil lsan †ayr,156 ‘he ate a tongue of a bird’, said about a talkative
person. A quick person is as fast as the bird. He is mithl il-†ayr,157 ‘he
is like the bird.’
Sitting in an orchard, children sing:
Shuf hadha †ayri Look, this is my bird
Ma yiÌibb ghayri He loves no one but me
Yulgu† ishïri He picks my barley
MiniÒ-Òiniyyah From the platter
Min shaf il-bishbish158 When he saw the kitten
Min khofah Ìanfash159 Out of fear, he ruffled his feathers
Bi-}t-tali yifashfish160 In the end he would deflate the air
Yukhtul bi-zwiyyah And hide in the corner
Song 24: Ani ™ayr Akh∂ar I Am a Green Bird

Îillah, Q 2:124
This song recalls a Babylonian legend, which relates that a wife
slaughtered one of her husband’s boys from a previous marriage and
made a meal of the boy’s flesh for her husband.161 The boy’s sister,
153
IÌmayrah, dim. of Ìmarah, ‘female donkey’.
154
Al-Îanafi 1962, I: 245.
155
Ibid.
156
Al-Îanafi 1964, II: 51.
157
Sa¨d al-Din, 1966: 63.
158
Bishbish is dim.< biss, (Arm., ‘cat’). The doubling of biss is for endearment
for ‘a kitten’ where the s > sh.
159
Îanfash. To become furious. Possibly from Ìanfish, ‘hairy (dog) ’.
160
Fashfash is a quadrilateral verb formed by doubling the verb’s two consonants
/f/,and /sh/ to intensify the meaning of fash,‘to deflate air.’
161
The song reminds us of a folk tale in ancient cultures. See Sa¨d al-Din 1979:
26–7, 34, and 60–1.
226
however, revived her brother by gathering his bones and putting

them under a porous pottery vessel. As a result, a watermelon appeared
and when it ripened, a green bird came out of it.
The refrain is the last word of each verse, which is repeated by all
the children.
Ani †ayr akh∂ar I am a green bird
™ayr akh∂ar Green bird
Amshi watfakkar I walk and think
Watfakkar And think
Ummi dhibÌatni My mother slaughtered me
DhibÌatni She slaughtered me
Wabuy kalni162 And my father ate me
Kalni He ate me
Wukhti-}l-äzizah And my dear sister
il-Äzizah My dear [sister]
Lammat i¨Âami163 Collected my bones
[I]bçis il-Ìarami In the pouch of the thief
il-Îarami The thief
Song 25: Kukukhti 164 Kukukhti

Baghdad, Îajj 1:167
The word kukukhti is composed of kuku, ‘dove’ (Per.) and [u]khti,
‘my sister’ (Ar.). Children in Najaf and Karbala} say ‘ya quqti ’ instead
of kukukhti. Some Iraqis believe that doves have black wings because
they swam in the blood of a Muslim saint and that they moaned
when al-Îusayn, the son of the caliph Äli, was killed in 680 AD.
Doves are seen in Iraqi gardens, mosque yards and especially sitting
in palm trees. Imitating the cry of doves, children in Baghdad sing
the following song.
Kukukhti Kukukhti
Wayn ukhti? Where is my sister?
Bi}l-Ìillah In Îillah
Wash takul? And what does she eat?
Bajillah Pava beans
Wash tishrab? And what does she drink?
Mayy A¬¬ah God’s water (i.e. rain)
162
Kalni < akalni, ‘he ate me’.
163
In another version, ‘lammat ¨Âami u-Ìayyatni’, ‘she gathered my bones and
revived me’. See Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 59.
164
Variants of this song from Karbala’ (Q 2:131–2) and Mosul (Q 2:133) are
slightly different from that of Baghdad.
227
Wayn tnam? Where does she sleep?

[i]Bga¨ A¬¬ah On God’s ground
Song 26: Ya Gunburah /Gumburah, Ya WaÒwaÒ

Lark, O Chirping Bird
Kut, Q 3:66
Some Iraqi children say the phrase, ‘mithl il-gumbarah’,165 ‘like a lark’
about a short boy. A playmate who falls in a trap set by his peers is
compared to a trapped lark:
Ya gunbarah ya waÒwaÒ! O lark, O chirping bird!
Wush jabak li}l-mifgaÒ? What brought you to the trap?
The following is a variant from Basra, Q 2:254
Ya gumbara yammiÒ-Òuf O lark with wool [feathers]
Takul zar¨ wana ashuf You eat seeds while I watch
Yal hu huw, yal huw huw Yal hu huw, yal huw huw
SabbiÌ wakalna khyar Praise God [while] we eat cucumbers
Yal hu huw, yal huw huw Yal hu huw, yal huw huw
Song 27: Bali Ya Bulbul! Ya, O Bulbul!

Ramadi, Q 2:101
Iraqis say about someone who speaks and reads eloquently, ‘yiqra
mithl il-bulbul ’,166 ‘he reads like the nightingale’, and about some-
one who repeats a story or something else word by word, ‘Ìifaz
il-Ìçayah mithl il-bulbul ’167 ‘he memorized the story like the night-
ingale’.
One girl (the leader) stands in the centre of a ring of girls holding
hands. All the other girls sing the refrain bali. The girl, who stands
in the centre of the ring sings the rest of the song.
Leader: Ya bayt Bulbul! O, Bulbul’s family
Group: Bali Ya
– Ma ïdkum bulbul? Don’t you have a nightingale?
– Bali Ya
– YurguÒ bi}†-†asah Dancing in the bowl
– Bali Ya
– Îamamat yassah168 The dove of Yassah (Yassin)
165
Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 61.
166
Ibid., 63.
167
Ibid.
168
Yassah, dim. of the proper noun Yasin.
228
– Bali Ya
– Ya bint il-muluki! O the daughter of kings!
– La, la No, no
– Jo khi†boki They came and asked for your hand
– La, la No, no
–}Umki wabuki [From] your mother and father
– La, la No, no
In Baghdad, however, boys used to sing this song when taking
swimming lessons in the Tigris with their swimming teacher. The
teacher would ask them in a loud voice, Ya-wlad bulbul, ‘O chil-
dren of Bulbul’, and the students would answer, bali, ‘yes’ (Îajj1,
141–2).
Song 28: Inshid Inshid Ya Bulbul! Sing! Sing! O Nightingale!

Änah, Q 2:98
Children sing this song in the spring and summer in the gardens with
or without clapping.
Inshid inshid ya bulbul! Sing, sing, O nightingale!
Ukul il-Ìabbah min is-sunbul Eat the grain from the stalk
Wu}s-sunbul minnak za¨lan And the stalk is mad at you
Wigullak iÌna jiran He tells you we are neighbours
Taäl iläb wayyayah Come play with me
Îatta an†ik Ìabbayah So I give you a grain
Inta tgarrid u-farÌan You sing and you are happy
Wani yiÌsibni-}†-†aÌÌan While the miller thinks of me
Wi-sawwini Òammunah169 And makes of me a loaf of bread
Îatta yakulni-}l-juän So that the hungry one eats me
Song 29: ÄÒfuri Min Kaffi ™ar My Sparrow Flew from my Palm
Îillah, Q 2:111
For a person with a strong sexual drive, the epithet äÒfur, ‘a sparrow’
is employed. Some Iraqis believe that eating the brain of the sparrow
enhances the sexual drive of males.170
Children in Hillah sing this song during spring and summer.
ÄÒfuri min kaffi tar My sparrow flew from my palm
ÄÒfuri fog il-ashjar My sparrow is on top of the trees
Inzil inzil ya äÒfur Come down, come down, sparrow
169
∑ammunah, pl. Òammun, ‘a kind of sour bread baked in diamond loaves’.
170
Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 61.
229
Ukul il-Ìabbah bliyyat gshur! And eat the grain[s] without shells!
ÄÒfuri çan iÒghayyir My sparrow was little
Rabbaytah äla idi 171 I raised him by myself
Lumman kubar wutrayyash When he developed and grew feathers
Gam iynaggir bi-khdudi He began to peck my cheeks
Song 30: ÄÒfuri ™ayir My Sparrow is Flying
Hit, Q 2:106
An Iraqi legend relates that God asked the sparrow to bring the water
of life, but the sparrow drank it. So God tied its legs with an unseen
chain, and this is why it is jumping.172 No wonder then that there
are several negative sayings about the sparrow in Iraqi lore, like äqlah
mithl äql il-äsfur,173 ‘his brain is [as small] as the sparrow’, which is
said about someone incapable of thinking. However, sharp memory
and fluency are attributed to the sparrow.
Some Iraqi villagers encourage their children to drive away sparrows
and all kinds of birds from their plants and seeds. They expect visitors
when they see the sparrows fighting each other and attribute the black
chests of the sparrows to swimming in the blood of a saint.174
ÄÒfuri †ayir My sparrow is flying
Fog il-manayir Above the minarets
Wa¬¬ah lagulla-l-baba I swear by God I’ll tell daddy
Yishrab jighayir That he smokes cigarettes
Song 31: ÄÒfuri Fog il-Manarah My Sparrow is above the Minaret
Karbala}, Najaf, and Ka∂imiyyah, Q 2:114

Children stand in a circle, clap hands, dance, and sing:
ÄÒfur fog il-manarah A sparrow is above the minaret
Bidah gu†mat175 ikhyarah He holds a piece of cucumber in his hand
Kittillah176 dadah177 ishwayyah I told him, ‘brother, [Give me] some’
171
Äla idi, lit., ‘on my hands’.
172
Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 61
173
Ibid., 63.
174
Ibid., 61.
175
Gu†mah, lit. ‘a cigarette butt’.
176
Kittillah < gilit+lah, ‘I told him’.
177
Dadah (m.) and dad, words used for requesting help, Per., dadash,
‘brother’.
230
Galli nafsiç diniyyah178 He answered me, ‘You have no shame’

Kittillah jawayn rayiÌ179 I asked him, ‘Where are you going?’
Galli rayiÌ lil-bistan He replied, ‘I am going to the orchard
Ajib khokh u-rumman To bring peaches and pomegranates’
Kittillah, il-man il-man? I asked him, ‘For whom, for whom?’
Galli li-bint is-sul†an He replied, ‘For the Sultan’s daughter’
Song 32: Laglag Laglag! Stork! Stork!
Karbala} Q 2:135–6
The following song alludes to the belief of some Iraqi children that
storks steal soap. Indeed, the stork is depicted in folk tales as a thief
and a liar.180 It is related that the stork was an owner of a grain shop
and that it cheated in weighing the goods and stole the necklace of
the Sultan’s daughter.181
Laglag, laglag! Stork!, stork!
Ummak ti†lag Your mother is in labour
Wabuk yizlag And your father slips
Jabat wawi She gave birth to a jackal
Ismah ¨laywi182 His name is ‘Laywi’
Bawwag iÒ-Òabunah! The thief of a piece of soap!
Min jawwah ir-razunah From under the window shelf
Song 33: Laglagayn foq il-Qibbi

Two Storks on the Top of the Room
Mosul, Q 3:463
Children are enchanted when they see storks perching on the rooftops
of mosques and minarets. They sing:
Laglagayn foq il-qibbi Two storks are on the top of the room
Yighislon [i]Ìwas il-liïb Washing the play clothes
Lamman yiji il-pasha When the Pasha comes
Yiläbu ™ammasha183 They will play the ™ammasha game
Lamman yiji-l-Ìajji When the Hajji comes
178
Nafsiç diniyyah, lit. ‘you have a low soul’.
179
Jawain, and ja/ça+wayn? ‘to where?’
180
The stork appears in this proverb, mithl il-laglag, ‘like the stork’, said about
someone with slim and long legs, see Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 63.
181
Ibid.
182
¨Laywi, dim. of Äli
183
™ammasha is the name of a game in Mosul.
231
Yiläbu Talghadi 184 They play the Talghadi game

Îajji äyb! Hajji [what] a shame!
Laglag äyb! Stork [what] a shame!
Bawwaq iÒ-Òabuni You are the thief of the soap
Song 34: Nugri Nugri Ya Äjah! Peck! Peck! O Bird!

Samarra}, Q 2:251
A group of girls sits on the floor holding toys. When they begin to
sing, they move their toys in different directions according to the
rhythm of the song.
Nugri nugri ya äjah! Peck! Peck! O bird!
Nagriç nagr id-dajajah Your pecking is that of a hen
La-tÌasbin Ìsabi Don’t take me into account
Îsayn il-tagga ¨ Îusayn the coward
in-Nayim juwwa-l-ga ¨ Who sleeps beneath the ground
Ä¨ … Ä¨ Yek … Yek
Song 35: Korat iz-Zanbur The Wasp’s Nest

Karbala}, Q 2:95
Strolling together, or sitting on the ground in a circle, girls sing the
following song holding hands. One of the girls, the leader, calls the
name of a girl (Sa¨diyyah) while clapping and going around the circle.
Sa¨diyyah follows the leader. The game ends when all the girls’ names
are called and they have followed the leader.
Korat iz-zanbur The wasp’s nest
™ir ya äÒfur! Fly, O sparrow!
™iri Sa¨diyyah! Fly, O Sa¨diyyah!
™arat … ™arat She flew … She flew
Song 36: ZalantaÌ Snail

Îillah Q 2:91
When a villager’s child catches a snail in the fields during spring, he/
she imagines that the snails’ antennae are horns with which it fights
the crab.
Zalan†aÌ, zalan†aÌ Snail, snail
™alli¨ grunak wun†aÌ Stick out your horns and butt!
184
Talghadi is a name of a game, a contraction of taäl, ‘come’ and ghadi,
‘close’.
232
Song 37: Bit is-Saqqah185 The Butterfly
Musayyab, Q2: 89
Iraqi children call the brownish spotted butterfly, bit is-saqqah (lit. ‘the
daughter of the water vendor’). When they catch one, they put it
gently on their palms, and let it go free singing:
Bit is-saqqah, Bit is-saqqah! Butterfly! Butterfly!
™iri †iri! Fly! fly!
Address for correspondence: sadok@sbcglobal.net

25205 Ward Place, Carmel CA, 93923, USA
REFERENCES
Abu-Îaidar, Faridah. 1991. Christian Arabic of Baghdad. (Wiesbaden)

Al-Älawçhi, Äbd al-Îamid. 1966. Min Turathina al-Sha¨bi. (Baghdad)
—— 1975. al-Turath al-Sha¨bi IV (Baghdad), 47–53
Ämmar, Hamid. 1954. Growing in an Egyptian Village. (London)
Al-Äni, Walid Äbd al-Äziz. 1975. ‘al-Aläb al-Mushtarakah lada A†fal Änah’, al-
Turath al-Sha¨bi IV, 199–204
Äthamnah, Khalil. 1987. ‘al-Jinn Jiran la Narahum, al-Karmil ’. (Haifa)
al-Bakri, Îazim. 1972. Dirasat fi al-AlfaÂ al-Ämmiyyah al-MawÒiliyyah. (Baghdad)
Baneth, D.Z. 1950. Alexander Marx Jubilee Volume. (Newark)
Blanc, Haim. 1964. Communal Dialects in Baghdad. (Cambridge)
Al-Çalabi, Dawud. 1935. al-Athar al-Aramiyyah fi Lughat al-MawÒil al-Ämmiyyah.
(Mosul)
—— 1960. Kalimat Farisiyyah Musta¨malah fi Ämmiyyat al-MawÒil. (Baghdad)
al-Dabbagh, Äbd al-Khaliq. 1956. Mu¨jam Amthal al-Mawsil al-Ämmiyyah I. (Mosul)
Dammus, Îalim. 1923. Qamus al-Äwamm. (Damacus)
al-Daywachi, Saïd. 1966. ‘Aghani al-Ïd fi al-MuÒil’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi, (Baghdad),
I, 20–2
al-Dulayshi, Äbd al-La†if. 1968. al-Aläb al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-BaÒrah. (Baghdad)
Fattal, Salim. 2003. Bai-sim†a}ot Baghdad (Heb., ‘In the Alleys of Baghdad’).
(Jerusalem)
FraiÌah, Anis. 1988. Asma} al-Ashhur wa}l-A¨dad wa}l-Ayyam. (Lebanon)
al-Îajjiyyah, {Aziz Jasim. 1967. Baghdadiyyat I. (Baghdad)
—— 1968. Baghdadiyyat II. (Baghdad)
—— 1973. Baghdadiyyat III. (Baghdad)
—— 1981. Baghdadiyyat IV. (Baghdad)
—— 1986. Baghdadiyyat V. (Baghdad)
—— 1991. Baghdadiyyat VI. (Baghdad)
—— 1999. Baghdadiyyat VII. (Baghdad)
Al-Îanafi, Jalal al-Din. 1962. al-Ayman al-Baghdadiyyah I. (Baghdad)
—— 1964. al-Ayman al-Baghdadiyyah II. (Baghdad)
185
For a variant see Îasan 1988, III: 189.
233
—— 1964. Mu¨jam al-AlfaÂ al-Kuwaytiyyah. (Baghdad)

—— 1978. Mu¨jam al-Lughah al-Ämmiyyah al-Baghdadiyyah, I. (Baghdad)
—— 1982. Mu¨jam al-Lughah al-Ämmiyyah al-Baghdadiyyah, II. (Baghdad)
Îasan, Îusayn Äbbas. 1966. ‘Îawla Ughniyat Sidi Sidi’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi V, 66
—— 1988. ‘Luäb wa-Aghani al-A†fal’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi III. (Baghdad)
Al-Jadir, Walid. 1989. al-Azya} al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-Ïraq. (Baghdad)
Al-Karmili, Anastas. 1972. al-Musaïd I. (Baghdad)
—— 2003. Diwan al-Tiftat. (Beirut)
Khayya†, Ibrahim. 1986. Majmuät al-Amthal al-Baghdadiyyah I. (Baghdad)
Kojaman, Y. 2001. The Maqam Music Tradition of Iraq. (London)
Leick, Gwendolyn. 1991. A Dictionary of Ancient Near Eastern Mythology. (New
York)
Lindsay, Jones (ed.). 2004. Encyclopedia of Religion2, Vols. I, VI, IX, XI. (New York)
McCarthy, R.J. and E. Raffouli. 1964. Spoken Arabic of Baghdad II. (Baghdad)
Al-Ma¨dadi, Äbdul al-La†if. ‘al-MilÌ fi al-Fuluklur al-Ïraqi’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi.
(Baghdad), 68–72
Al-Maghribi, Salwa. 1996. Aghani al-Banat al-Sha¨biyyah bayna al-FuÒÌa wal-
Ämmiyyah. (Kuwait)
Al-MallaÌ, MaÌmud. 1928. ‘Nukat wa-Ghara}ib Lughawiyyah’, Lughat al-Ärab V,
year 6 (Baghdad), 349–53
Mansour, Jacob. 1965. Hagaddah shail Pesah (Judeo-Arabic). (Jerusalem)
—— 1991. The Jewish Baghdadi Dialect. (Jerusalem)
Masliyah, Sadok. 1996. ‘Four Turkish Suffixes in Iraqi Arabic: -Li, -Lik, -Siz and
–Ci’, JSS 41/2, 91–8
—— 1998, ‘Abu and Umm in Iraqi Arabic’, JSS 43/1, 113–29
Al-Musawi, Shukriyyah. 1965. ‘Min Aghani al-A†fal fi al-Furat’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi,
(Baghdad), year 2, 21
Qadduri, Îusayn, Luäb wa-Aghani al-A†fal al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-Qi†r al-Ïraqi, Bagh-
dad, I; 1975 II; 1984 III; 1988
Sa¨d al-Din, KaÂim. 1966. ‘al-™uyur fi al-Fuluklur al-Ïraqi’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi II.
(Baghdad), 58–64
—— 1979. al-Îikayat al-Sha¨biyyah al-Ïraqiyyah. (Baghdad)
—— 1998 ‘Aghani al-A†fal al-Sha{biyyah fi al-Ïraq’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi, (Baghdad)
Vol. 1, 4–38
Al-Samarra}i, Ibrahim. 1968. al-Tawzi¨ al-Lughawi al-Jughrafi fi al-Ïraq. (Baghdad)
—— 1975. ‘Ahazij al-A†fal fi Samarra}’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi VIII/IX. (Baghdad)
Al-Samarra}i, Yunus. 1965. al-Aläb al-Sha¨biyyah li-∑ibyan Samarra} I, (Baghdad),
18–24
Al-∑arraf, AÌmad Îamid. 1935. ‘al-Ayyam fi al-Mu¨taqadat’, Lughat al-Ärab, VIII,
year 5 (Baghdad), 466–71
—— Lughat al-Ärab, year 6, 31–2
al-Shalji, Äbbud. 1982. Mawsuät al-Kinayat al-Ämmiyyah I. (Beirut)
Shawqi, Äbd al-Îakim. Madkhal li-Dirasat al-Fuluklur wa}l-AÒa†ir
Shawqi, Äbd al-Îami∂. 1978. Madkhal li-Dirasat al-AÒa†ir al-Ärabiyyah
Scher, Addai. 1980. Mu{jam al-AlfaÂ al-Farisiyah al-Muärrabah. (Beirut)
ShuÌan, AÌmad. 1984. al-Amthal al-Furatiyyah. (Damascus)
Stevens, E.S. 1931. Folk-Tales of Iraq. (London)
Thinyan, {Abd al-La†if. 2001. ∑afaÌat min Qamus al-Äwamm fi Dar al-Salam.
(Baghdad)
Al-Toma, Salih. 1969. The Problem of Diglossia in Arabic. (Cambridge)
234
Al-™u¨mah, Salman. 1976. ‘NuÒuÒ Ghinaïyyah lada A†fal Karbala}’, al-Turath

al-Sha¨bi, II–III. (Baghdad), 201–8
Al-Übaydi, Azhar. 1989. al-MuÒul Ayyam Zaman. (Mosul)
Al-Wahhab, Äziz. 1975. ‘Khiyanat al-Ühud’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi. (Baghdad)
Woodhead, D.R. and Wayne Beene. 1967. A Dictionary of Iraqi Arabic, Arabic-
English. (Washington)
Al-Zubaydi, Zayn al-Din. 1994. MukhtaÒar ∑aÌiÌ al-Bukhari, MuÌammad MuÌsin
Khan (ed.). (Riyadh)
235
BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN
SUDANESE ARABIC1
JAMES DICKINS
UNIVERSITY OF SALFORD
Abstract
On the basis of notions developed in respect of attribution in Dickins

(2009, which readers are recommended to read before looking at this
paper in detail), I address basic sentence structure in Sudanese Arabic.
I argue that a central feature of Sudanese Arabic is the bipartite predi-
cand-predicate (mubtada}-xabar) structure, pointing out that this has
some tantalisingly unexpected features. I also consider monopartite
sentences in Sudanese Arabic, arguing for a more inclusive view of
what constitutes a non-elliptical sentence than is commonly accepted.
I finally look briefly at bipartite sentences with ‘scrambled’ word order.
1
I thank Janet Watson for reading a draft of this paper and making very useful
suggestions. All shortcomings are my own responsibility. I also thank the Lever-
hulme Trust for granting me a Research Award giving me relief from teaching and
administration during the academic years 2002–4 in order to pursue work on a
dictionary and grammar of Sudanese Arabic. This award has contributed to the
production of this paper.
For present purposes, Sudanese Arabic can be taken to have the following conso-
nant phonemes (cf. Dickins 2007: 24): /b/ voiced, bilabial, stop; /m/ bilabial, nasal;
/w/ bilabial, glide; /f/ voiceless, bilabial, fricative; /d/ voiced, apico-dental, stop;
/t/ voiceless, apico-dental, stop; /z/ voiced, apico-dental, fricative; /s/ voiceless, apico-
dental, fricative; /∂/ voiced, emphatic, apico-alveolar, stop; /†/ voiceless, emphatic,
apico-alveolar, stop; /Â/ voiced, emphatic, apico-alveolar, fricative; /Ò/ voiceless,
emphatic, apico-alveolar, fricative; /r/ (plain), apico-alveolar, trill; /®/ emphatic,
apico-alveolar; trill; /l/ (plain), apico-alveolar, lateral; /¬/ emphatic, apico-alveolar,
lateral; /n/ apico-alveolar, nasal; /j/ voiced, dorso-prepalatal, stop; /c/ voiceless,
dorso-prepalatal, stop (marginal phoneme); /s/ voiceless, dorso-prepalatal, fricative;
/n/ dorso-prepalatal, nasal (marginal phoneme); /y/ dorso-palatal, glide; /g/ voiced,
post-dorso-velar, stop; /k/ voiceless, post-dorso-velar, stop; /g/ voiced, post-dorso-post-
velar, fricative; /x/ voiceless, post-dorso-post-velar, fricative; /¨/ voiced, pharyngeal,
fricative; /Ì/ voiceless, pharyngeal, fricative; /’/ voiced, glottal, fricative (sometimes
described as glottal stop); /h/ voiceless, glottal, fricative.
For present purposes, Sudanese Arabic can be taken to have the following vowel
phonemes (cf. Dickins 2007: 25): /a/ open, unrounded, short vowel; /i/ front,
close, unrounded, short vowel; /u/ back, close, rounded, short vowel; /a/ open,
unrounded, long vowel; /i/ front, close, unrounded, long vowel; /u/ back, close,
237
BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC
The theoretical analysis provided in this paper is based — some-

what informally — on the linguistic theory of axiomatic functionalism
initially developed by J.W.F. Mulder and S.G.J. Hervey (e.g. Mulder
1968, 1989; Mulder and Hervey 1972, 1980; Hervey 1979, 1982),
and subsequently extended on the basis of proposals put forward by
Michael Lamb in Dickins (1998). In an attempt to keep the main
body of the paper as generally comprehensible as possible, I have con-
fined technical comments relating to axiomatic functionalism to foot-
notes.2
1. General Background
In this article, I shall use the term ‘Sudanese Arabic’ as shorthand for
Central Urban Sudanese (Dickins 2007; elsewhere termed Khartoum
Arabic (Dickins 2006)), that is the dialect standardly spoken by long-
term native Arabic-speaking residents of Greater Khartoum (Khartoum,
Khartoum North, and Omdurman), and in other urban areas of cen-
tral Sudan, roughly to the towns of Atbara in the north, Sennar on
the Blue Nile, and Kosti on the White Nile. For details of the tran-
scription system, see Dickins (2007). In this paper, I use a subscript
to indicate a vowel which is deleted in liaison ‘readings’ of the mate-
rial presented. The Sudanese examples for this article have been taken
from three types of sources:
1. Examples constructed by myself. These are marked with a (C) after
them, or sometimes an entire group of examples is noted as having
been constructed before they are given.3
rounded, short vowel; /e/ front, mid, unrounded, long vowel; /o/ back, mid,
rounded, long vowel (see, however, Dickins 2007 for a critique of this account and
an alternative analysis).
2
In fact, the syntactic analysis in this paper is much more like that of Mulder
and Hervey than that implied — whether in lexotatics or delotactics — in Dickins
(1998). In Dickins (1998), syntax (roughly as normally understood) or delotactics is
an analysis involving content (semantic elements) only, whereas in Mulder and
Hervey, syntactic analysis involves elements which have both form and content.
In Dickins (1998), I have argued that Mulder and Hervey’s standard version of
axiomatic functionalism is coherently subsumed under the extended version of
the theory proposed there (e.g. Dickins 1998: 250–1). Accordingly, the theoretical
models of standard axiomatic functionalism are fully interpretable in terms of
models within extended axiomatic functionalism. In extended axiomatic-function-
alist terms, Mulder and Hervey’s syntax is an analysis of relations at the allosemic
level (what might be termed allosemotactics).
3
Some of the constructed examples are either elicited from Elrayah Abdelgadir
or produced by him without prompting on my part. Elrayah Abdelgadir acted as
consultant in 2005 and 2007 for an Arabic/English Dictionary of Sudanese Arabic
which I am working on.
238
2. Material which I tape-recorded in 1985 and 1986, either from

Omdurman Radio, or spontaneous conversations between Sudanese
friends; or material which I wrote down from spontaneous speech.
All these examples are marked with an (R) after them.
3. Material taken from a number of radio series recorded for me by
Omdurman Radio in 1986. These are marked with the name of the
series after them.
The definite article in Sudanese Arabic has the following allomorphs:
After a consonant al- – before all non-apical and non-dorsal conso-
nants: /b/, /m/, /w/, /f/, /y/, /g/, /k/, /x/, /g/,
/¨/, /Ì/, /}/, and /h/.
ad-, at-, az-, etc. – before apical and dorsal consonants: /d/,
/t/, /z/, /s/, /∂/, /†/, /Â/, /Ò/, /r/, /®/, /l /, /¬/,
/n/, /j/, /s/, and the marginal /c / and /n/.
After a vowel
l- – before all non-apical and non-dorsal
consonants
d-, t-, z-, etc. – before apical and dorsal consonants
In this article, I have used subscript forms to indicate vowels which
‘disappear’ through so-called re-syllabification in liaison with preced-
ing or following words: thus, fihim ‘he understood’, in which the
syllables are /fi/ and /him/ (with stress on the first syllable /fi/), but
fihim al-kalam ‘he understood the statement/discussion’ (in which the
first two syllables are /fih/ and /mal/). I have not used subscript forms
with following pronouns — thus fihm-u ‘he understood it (m.sg.)’
(not fihim-u); also fihmu ‘they understood’ (same pronunciation as
fihm-u ‘he understood it (m.sg.)’. I have also not used subscripts with
the article al-. Thus fihmu l-kalam ‘they understood the statement/
discussion’ (not fihmu al-kalam).
We can establish the following provisional word and phrase cate-
gories for Sudanese Arabic:
Word category Phrase category
noun nominal phrase (NomP)
adjective adjectival phrase (AdjP)
verb verb phrase (VerbP)
adverb adverbial (AdvP)
For current purposes, I shall treat a phrase as any element consisting
of more than one word (not counting the clitic al- as a word). Where
the element consists of only one word, I will refer to it simply as a
239
noun, adjective, verb, or adverb. Where a noun (etc.) is preceded by al-,

I shall refer to this at this point in the paper as a definite noun (etc.).
We can also establish the notion of a bipartite clause, consisting of
a predicand (which, for the moment, we can characterize as consisting
of a noun or nominal phrase) and a predicate (which may be a noun,
nominal phrase, adjective, adjectival phrase, verb, verb phrase, adverb,
or adverbial.4
2. Definiteness, Indefiniteness and Basic Sentence Structure
I have argued in Dickins (2009; Section 10) that the definite particle
is the head of definite phrases in Sudanese Arabic. There I pointed
out that the distribution of definite phrases (i.e. the syntactic slots/
positions/places in which they can occur) is roughly ‘nominal’, i.e. it
is similar to that of simple indefinite nouns. The distribution of indef-
inite phrases, by contrast, depends on whether the phrase is nominal,
adjectival, verbal, etc. In this paper, I will look at the implications of
this situation for basic sentence structure in Sudanese Arabic. Consider
the following (examples constructed by myself ):
2.1 Noun+other element

2.1.1 Noun+Noun
definite+definite definite+indefinite indefinite+indefinite
?al-walad at-tarzi al-walad tarzi *walad tarzi
‘the boy’s the tailor’ ‘the boy’s a tailor’ ‘a boy’s a tailor’
tarzi al-walad
‘the boy’s a tailor’
(‘it’s a tailor that the boy is’)
4
The terms ‘predicand’ and ‘predicate’ are used in Bohas, Guillaume and Kou-
loghli (1990: 43), where they are employed as the translations of the traditional
Arabic grammatical terms mubtada’ and xabar. They are subsequently used by
Watson (1993). In respect of Classical (and Standard) Arabic, the term ‘predicand’
in particular allows the term ‘subject’ to be employed as a translation of the tradi-
tional Arabic grammatical term faïl (i.e. the subject of the so-called verbal sentence).
Although I do not believe that Sudanese Arabic makes a properly syntactic distinction
between nominal and verbal sentences (cf. Section 4), I have used the term ‘predi-
cand’ in this paper to avoid the bizarre-sounding description of the ‘non-predicate’
element of an Arabic bipartite clause as the ‘subject’ of this clause, even where this
predicate is clearly non-verbal. Thus in ar-rajil fi-l-bet ‘the man’s in the house’, for
example, where the predicate fi-l-bet ‘in the house’ is clearly non-verbal, I want to
avoid describing the ar-rajil element as the subject.
240
?at-tarzi al-walad at-tarzi walad *tarzi walad

‘the tailor’s the boy’ ‘the tailor’s a boy’ ‘a tailor’s a boy’
walad at-tarzi
‘the tailor’s a boy’
(it’s a boy that the tailor is’)
2.1.2 Noun+Adjective
?al-walad az-za¨lan al-walad za¨lan *walad za¨lan
‘the boy’s the angry one’ ‘the boy’s angry’ ‘a boy’s an angry one’
za¨lan al-walad
‘the boy’s angry’
(‘it’s angry that the boy is’)
az-za¨lan al-walad az-za¨lan walad *za¨lan walad

the angry one’s the boy ‘the angry one’s a boy’ ‘an angry one’s a boy’
2.1.3 Noun+Adverbial
?al-walad al-hina al-walad hina *walad hina
‘the boy’s the one who’s here’ ‘the boy’s here’ ‘a boy’s here’
hina l-walad
‘the boy’s here’
(‘it’s here that the boy is’)
al-hina al-walad al-hina walad *hina walad

‘the one who’s here is the boy’ ‘the one who’s here is a boy’ ‘a boy’s here’
?walad al-hina
‘a boy is the one who’s here’
(‘the one who’s here is a boy’)
2.1.4 Noun+ Verb/Verb phrase

?al-walad az-ziïl al-walad ziïl *walad ziïl
‘the boy’s the one who got ‘the boy got angry’ ‘a boy got angry’
angry’
ziï l al-walad
‘the boy got angry’
241
az-ziïl al-walad az-ziïl walad *ziïl walad

‘the one who got angry’s the ‘the one who got angry’s a boy’ ‘one who got angry’s a boy’/
boy’ ‘a boy got angry’
?walad az-ziïl
‘the one who got angry’s a boy’
2.1.5 Noun+bipartite clause

?al-walad al-bet-u garib al-walad bet-u garib *walad bet-u garib
‘the boy is the one whose ‘the boy’s house is near’ ‘a boy’s house is near’
house is near’ (more lit: ‘the boy his house (more lit: ‘a boy his house
near’) near’)
bet-u garib al-walad

‘the boy’s house is near’
al-bet-u garib al-walad al-bet-u garib walad *bet-u garib walad

‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, a boy’
the boy’ a boy’
?walad al-bet-u garib

‘the one who’s house is near is
a boy’
2.2 Adjective + other element
2.2.1 Adjective+adjective
?al-äjib az-za¨lan al-äjib za¨lan *ajib za¨lan
‘the strange one’s the angry one’ ‘the strange one’s angry’ ‘a strange one’s angry’
za¨lan al-äjib
‘the strange one’s angry’
(‘it’s angry that the strange
one is’)
?az-za¨lan al-äjib az-za¨lan äjib *za¨lan äjib

‘the angry one’s the strange ‘the angry one’s strange’ ‘an angry one is strange’
one’
äjib az-za¨lan
‘the angry one’s strange’
(‘it’s strange that the angry
one is’)
242
2.2.2 Adjective+noun: see 2.1.2 above
2.2.3 Adjective+Adverbial
?al-äjib al-hina al-äjib hina *äjib hina
the strange one’s the one ‘the strange one’s here’ ‘a strange one’s here’
who’s here’
hina al-äjib
‘the strange one’s here’
(‘it’s here that the strange one
is’)
?al-hina al-äjib al-hina äjib *hina äjib

‘the one who’s here is the ‘the one who’s here is strange’ ‘here’s a strange one’
strange one’
?äjib al-hina
(‘the one who’s here is
strange’)
2.2.4 Adjective+Verb/Verb phrase

?al-äjib az-ziïl al-äjib ziïl *ajib ziïl
‘the strange one’s the one who ‘the strange one got angry’ ‘a strange one got angry’
got angry’
ziïl al-äjib
‘the strange one got angry’
?az-ziïl al-äjib al-ziïl äjib *ziïl äjib

‘the one who got angry is the ‘the one who got angry is ‘an angry one is strange’
strange one’ strange’
?äjib az-ziïl
‘the one who got angry is
strange’
2.2.5 Adjective+bipartite clause

?al-äjib al-bet-u garib al-äjib bet-u garib *äjib bet-u garib
‘the strange one is the one ‘the strange one’s house is ‘a strange one’s house is near’
whose house is near’ near’ (more lit: the strange
one his house is near’)
243
bet-u garib al-äjib

‘the strange one’s house is near’
?al-bet-u garib al-äjib al-bet-u garib äjib *bet-u garib äjib

‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, a strange
the strange one’ strange’ one’
(‘one whose house is near is a
strange one’)
?äjib al-bet-u garib

strange’
2.3 Adverbial+other element

2.3.1 Adverbial+noun: see 2.1.3 above
2.3.2 Adverbial+Adjective: see 2.2.3 above
2.3.3 Adverbial+Adverbial
?al-ba¨da-na al-hina al-ba¨da-na hina *ba¨da-na hina
‘the one after us is the one ‘the one after us is here’ ‘one after us is here’
who’s here’
hina al-ba¨da-na
‘the one after us is here’
(‘it’s here that the one after
us is’)
?al-hina al-ba¨da-na al-hina ba¨da-na *hina ba¨da-na

‘the one who’s here is the one ‘the one who’s here is after us’ ‘a one who’s here is after us’
after us’
?ba¨da-na al-hina
‘the one who’s here is after us’
2.3.4 Adverbial+Verb/Verb phrase

?al-ba¨da-na az-ziïl al-ba¨da-na ziïl *ba¨da-na ziïl
‘the one after us is the one ‘the one after us got angry’ ‘after us got angry’
who got angry’
zi}i l al-ba¨da-na
‘the one after us got angry’
244
?az-ziïl al-ba¨da-na al-ziïl ba¨da-na *ziïl ba¨da-na

‘the one who got angry is the ‘the one who got angry is after ‘one who got angry’s after us’
one after us’ us’
?ba¨da-na az-ziïl
‘the one who got angry is after
us’
2.3.5 Adverbial+bipartite clause
?al-ba¨da-na al-bet-u garib al-ba¨da-na bet-u garib *ba¨da-na bet-u garib
‘the one after us is the one ‘the one after us, his house is ‘one after us his house is near’
whose house is near’ near’ (more lit: ‘after us his house is
near’)
bet-u garib al-ba¨da-na

‘the one after us, his house is
near’
al-bet-u garib al-ba¨da-na al-bet-u garib ba¨da-na *bet-u garib ba¨da-na

‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, one after us’
the one after us’ after us’
?ba¨da-na al-bet-u garib

after us’
2.4 Verb/Verb phrase+other element

2.4.1 Verb/Verb phrase+Noun: see 2.1.5
2.4.2 Verb/Verb phrase+Adjective: see 2.2.5
2.4.3 Verb/Verb phrase+Adverbial: see 2.3.5
2.4.4 Verb/Verb phrase+Verb/Verb phrase
?al-baka z-ziïl al-baka ziïl *baka ziïl
‘the one who cried is the one ‘the one who cried got angry’ ‘one who cried got angry’
who got angry’
ziï l al-baka
‘the one who cried got angry’
?az-ziïl al-baka az-zi{l baka *ziïl baka

‘the one who got angry is the ‘the one who got angry cried’ ‘one who got angry is one
one who cried’ who cried’
245
?baka z-ziïl
‘the one who got angry cried’
2.4.5 Verb/Verb phrase+bipartite clause
?al-baka l-bet-u garib al-baka bet-u garib ?baka bet-u garib
‘the one who cried is the one ‘the one who cried’s house is ‘one who cried’s house is near’
whose house is near’ near’
bet-u garib al-baka

‘the one who cried his house
is near’
?al-bet-u garib al-baka al-bet-u garib baka *bet-u garib baka
‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near ‘his house is near, one who
the one who cried’ cried’ cried’
baka l-bet-u garib
‘the one who’s house is near
cried’
2.5 Bipartite clause+other element

2.5.1 Bipartite clause+Noun: see 2.1.4
2.5.2 Bipartite clause+Adjective: see 2.2.4
2.5.3 Bipartite clause+Adverbial: see 2.3.4
2.5.4 Bipartite clause+Verb/Verb phrase: see 2.4.5
2.5.5 Bipartite clause+bipartite clause
?aÒ-ÒaÌb-u maä-na l-bet-u garib aÒ-ÒaÌb-u maä-na bet-u garib *ÒaÌb-u maä-na bet-u garib
‘the one whose friend is with us ‘the one whose friend is with ‘one whose friend is with us,
is the one whose house is near’ us, his house is near’ his house is near’
?bet-u garib aÒ-ÒaÌb-u maä-na
‘the one whose friend is with us,
his house is near’
?al-bet-u garib aÒ-ÒaÌb-u maä-na al-bet-u garib ÒaÌb-u maä-na *bet-u garib ÒaÌb-u maä-na
‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, one whose
the one who’s friend is with us’ one who’s friend is with us’ friend is with us’
ÒaÌb-u maä-na l-bet-u garib
one whose friend is with us’
246
2.6 Discussion of material in sections 2.1–2.5.5
Although the material in sections 2.1–2.5.5 is set out using the word
classes and related phrase classes established in Section 2, the infor-
mation reinforces the analysis given in Dickins (2009, Section 10)
that the head of a phrase which begins with a definite particle is the
definite particle itself — regardless of the word class or phrase class
of what follows it (noun, adjective, adverbial, verb, bipartite clause,
etc.). This is particularly obvious in the middle column where the
two elements of the matrix bipartite clause are definite and indefinite.
All combinations of definite and indefinite in which a definite phrase
precedes an indefinite phrase are acceptable.
It is normally acceptable for the indefinite element to precede the
definite element in definite-indefinite bipartite clauses (bipartite
clauses comprising a definite and an indefinite element). In this case
a strong main stress almost always falls on the initial indefinite ele-
ment. In terms of thematic structure (as opposed to syntactic struc-
ture), such an initial indefinite element is the rheme and carries a
strong emotional force. A rheme-theme sentence ordering of this kind
is sometimes referred to as the ‘pathetic’ ordering (Firbas 1974: 117).
Sometimes, however, indefinite-definite word order in definite-indef-
inite bipartite clauses seems problematic, especially where the definite
element involves an adverb, verb, or further bipartite clause following
the al- (e.g. walad al-hina ‘the one who’s here is a boy’, walad az-ziïl
‘the one who got angry is a boy’, walad al-bet-u garib ‘the one whose
house is near is a boy’. It is not clear to me whether this is gram-
matical matter (i.e. whether some or all of the forms of this type are
to be regarded as ungrammatical), or a matter of stylistic preference
(some forms are avoided because they seem inelegant), or something
else. Although a form like tarzi l-walad is in principle ambiguous
between a genitive structure, ‘the tailor of the boy / the boy’s tailor’
and a definite-indefinite bipartite clause having an indefinite-definite
word order, the intonational forms of these two structures are so dif-
ferent that they cannot in practice be confused. Tarzi l-walad ‘the
tailor of the boy’ always forms part or whole of a single intonation
unit, while tarzi l-walad ‘the boy’s a tailor’ involves two intonation
units, tarzi ‘a tailor’ and (a)l-walad ‘the boy’.
Definite-definite bipartite structures seem to be acceptable in some
cases. However, where the first definite element comprises al- + noun
and the second comprises al-+ adjective, as in al-walad az-za¨lan sup-
posedly meaning ‘the boy is the angry one’, they are avoided, and are
perhaps ungrammatical. The motivating factor here is presumably the
247
intonationally similar attributive usage, e.g. al-walad az-za¨lan ‘the

angry boy’. In definite-definite bipartite clauses, the initial definite
phrase always seems to be thematic. The following are examples from
my data of definite-definite combinations:
al-ba†is da l-bitkun fi-hu ‘the batis [old word for the inside sole
l-gadam, wa-n-naäl bikun fi of a shoe] is the bit in which the foot
l-ar∂ is/should be, and the undersole is/
should be on the ground’ (Îiraf
sa¨biyya, 1986)
al-dolab al-biliff wara ‘the dolab [part of a waterwheel] is
that which turns behind’ (R)
In fact, definite-definite sentences in which one or neither of the
elements contains the definite particle al- are relatively common.
Examples are:
da hu or hu da ‘that’s him’ (R)
az-zol da ÒaÌb-i↑5 ‘that man’s my friend’ (C)
All the putative indefinite-indefinite bipartite structures are starred in

2.1–2.5.5 as ungrammatical. In fact, indefinite-indefinite clauses do
exist in Sudanese Arabic. The most common type is illustrated by the
following:
1. gamat nar/Ìariga ‘a fire broke out’ (C)
Example 1 consists of an indefinite verb followed by an indefinite
noun (subject/predicand), the latter taking strong rhematic stress.
This can be compared to English ‘A fire broke out’ in which the
rhematic sentence stress also falls on ‘fire’, rather than ‘broke out’
which, as the last lexical element in the utterance, is where sentence
stress typically falls in English.
Where an indefinite subject of an indefinite verb is unspecified
(that is does not have a following adjective or other elements further
defining it), indefinite-indefinite sentences in Sudanese Arabic always
take the word order Verb-Subject. Where an indefinite subject is
5
Strictly speaking, forms with pronoun suffixes in Sudanese Arabic may be
either definite or indefinite. Thus in di mara jarat-na (R) ‘she’s a woman who’s a
neighbour of ours’ (lit: ‘she’s a woman our neighbour’), jarat-na ‘our neighbour’
agrees with the indefinite mara ‘a woman’, indicating that jarat-na is itself indefi-
nite. It is also possible, however, to say al-mara jarat-na (C) ‘the woman who’s our
neighbour’ in which jarat-na agrees with the definite al-mara indicating that jarat-na
is also definite.
248
further specified, and apparently where the verb is also further speci-
fied, it is possible to have Subject-Verb. Thus:
Ìarayig zayy di bitgum †awwali ‘fires like that break out all the time’
(C)
as well as:
bitgum †awwali Ìarayig zayy di ‘fires like that break out all the time’
(C)
In both these cases the verb phrase bitgum †awwali carries main sen-
tence stress and is treated as rhematic, while Ìarayig zayy di is the-
matic. The same thematic structure applies to the following:
ÌaÒalat Ìaja ‘something happened’ (C)
It is not clear from my data whether verb-like adjectives (e.g. active
participles) can occur, as verbs do, in indefinite-indefinite bipartite
clauses.
Another, though marginal, indefinite-indefinite bipartite clause-
type consists of a noun and an adjective, where the adjective answers
(or can be thought of as answering) the question kef ‘how’. Thus:
a. say kef? ‘how would tea be?’ (R)
b. say ma ba††al. ‘tea wouldn’t be bad.’ (R)
Similar forms occur without a preceding question:
say ma ba††al, mus kida? ‘Tea wouldn’t be bad / a bad idea,
don’t you think?’ (R)
Where the indefinite noun is further specified, e.g. by a phrase with
zayy ‘like’, indefinite-indefinite bipartites with nouns are much more
normal:
kalam zayy da ma kiwayyis ‘things [spoken about] like that are
not nice’ (R)
With the existential adverb fi ‘there is’, bipartite sentences in which
the other element is an indefinite noun are common:
fi muskila? ‘Is there a problem?’ (C)
With ïnd ‘on’ used for general possession, like English ‘have’, and maä
‘with’, used to give the sense ‘have [on oneself]’, indefinite-indefinite
bipartites are similarly quite common:
maä-k sajayir? ‘have you (m.sg.) got any cigarettes
on you?’ (R)
249
maä-y↑ nafaren talata min ‘I’ve got/had two people from among
axwan-na as-subban our young friends [lit: from our youth
brothers]’ (Ar-riwayat as-safawiyya
li-†uwwar 1924, 1974)
ïnd-u girus katira ‘he’s got a lot of money’ (R)

ïnd-i↑ falaja ‘I got a gap between my front teeth’
(R)
ïnd-i↑ Òadig le-y↑… ‘I’ve got a friend of mine…’ (R)
ïnda-na Ìadis katir ‘we’ve got a lot to talk about’ (R)
Other adverbial-noun indefinite-indefinite bipartites are occasionally

also found:
giddam-ak moya ‘there’s water in front of you (m.sg.)’
(R)
To recapitulate and amplify the argument in this section, although
there are restrictions on the combination of definite and indefinite
elements in bipartite clauses, it is definiteness and indefiniteness
which provides the most general parameters for describing the distri-
bution (possibilities of occurrence) of elements in such clauses, rather
than traditional categories, such as noun, nominal phrase, adjective,
adjectival phrase, verb, verb phrase, etc. As seen in Dickins (2009;
Section 10), definiteness similarly largely determines distribution in
the case of objects of verbs and prepositions: a verb phrase or prepo-
sitional object has to be definite (e.g. maä az-za¨lan ‘with the angry
one’, but not *maä za{lan ‘with an angry one’). The only exception
is where there object is a noun (together with its dependent phrase,
if there is one), in which case the object may be indefinite (maä rajil
‘with a man’, as well as maä r-rajil ‘with the man’). Taken together,
this evidence strongly supports the view that phrases involving initial
al- are to be analysed as definite phrases with an al- head.
Previously in this section, I have considered issues of thematic
structure (theme and rheme). I have assumed that thematic structure
is distinct from syntactic structure. It is also the case that issues of the
definiteness and indefiniteness of the constituent elements of bipartite
clause structure (identified previously in this paper as predicand and
predicate (cf. also Dickins 2009; Section 10), are not a relevant part of
the syntactic structure of the bipartite clause itself. That is to say, the
fact that one constituent element of a bipartite is definite, for example,
and the other one is indefinite, is not in itself relevant to identifying
which element is to be regarded as the predicand and which as the
predicate, any more than the definiteness of indefiniteness of ‘a cat’
250
and ‘the dog’ are relevant to identifying which is the subject and
which the object in ‘a cat bit the dog’ (or ‘the cat bit a dog’).
If definiteness and indefiniteness — which as argued involve dif-
ferent phrase-types in Sudanese Arabic — are not relevant to predi-
cand-predicate analysis, it follows that neither are elements which
give rise to different phrase-types: the most obvious of these ele-
ments are, of course, word-classes, of which I have — on a fairly ad
hoc basis — identified the following for Sudanese Arabic: noun,
adjective, adverb (and adverbial), and verb. Finally, word order is
also not relevant to the identification of syntactic structure. The fact
that an element comes first in an utterance, for example, is not by
itself sufficient for us to conclude that that element is the subject, or
the predicand, etc.
If we then factor out, in analysing what is the predicand and what
is the predicate in Sudanese Arabic, questions of i. theme and rheme,
ii. definiteness, iii. word-class (and by extension phrase-class), and
iv. word order, what do we have left in determining what is the
predicand in a bipartite predicand-predicate clause, and what is the
predicate? The answer, I suspect, is nothing. That is to say, structur-
ally we can say of a bipartite clause that it has two major elements;
let us call these A and B rather than predicand and predicate (for
reasons which will become immediately obvious). However, in order
to identify which of A and B is the predicand and which the predi-
cate, we have to invoke non-structural considerations (or at least
considerations which are only structural at smaller levels of analysis,
e.g. of the constituent phrases). Once we have factored out such things
as theme and rheme, definiteness, word/phrase-class more generally,
and word order, all that we are left with in a putative predicand-
predicate analysis is two elements, either of which we could deem to
be the predicand or predicate.
I will not attempt to go further into theoretical analysis of what is
involved in the main body of this paper, since this would require
much more explicit adherence to the particulars of a linguistic theory
(axiomatic functionalism) than is reasonable in a paper of this kind.
Suffice it to say, that we can think of bipartite clauses in Sudanese
Arabic as being equative in a fundamental — i.e. true — syntactic
sense: such clauses are analogous to a mathematical statement of the
type X = Y. As is well known, there is no difference in mathematics
between X = Y and Y = X. In the same way, there is, I believe, no
properly syntactic distinction between a predicand and a predicate:
once we have identified one of the constituents of a bipartite clause
as the predicand we can identify the other as the predicate — or vice
251
versa, if we prefer. The crucial thing about such a structure is the

presence of two elements in an equative relationship not how we label
them (just as the crucial thing in the case of X = Y / Y = X in a mathe-
matical context is the presence of the two elements, X and Y, in an
equative relationship, not the order in which we write these two
elements down).
In this regard, we may note the following possibilities in Standard
Arabic:
2. ma¨ruf-un anna-ka rajul-un ‘it is known that you (m.sg.) are a gen-
karim erous man’ (lit: ‘known [is] that-you
man generous’)
3. min al-ma¨ruf-i anna-ka ‘it is known that you (m.sg.) are a gen-
rajul-un karim erous man’ (lit: ‘from the known [is]
that-you man generous’)
4. al-ma¨ruf-u anna-ka ‘what is known is that you (m.sg.) are
rajul-un karim a generous man’ (lit: ‘the known [is]
that-you man generous’)
Intuitively we are inclined to say, because of word order and use

of the same words almost throughout, that there is no difference in
sentence structure between 2, 3 and 4 — and I believe that this
intuitive view is correct. Traditional Arabic grammar, however,
requires every bipartite sentence to have a separately identifiable
predicand and predicate. Accordingly, it utilizes a set of criteria to
determine what is the predicand and what the predicate in particular
cases. Most importantly, a distinction is made not only between defi-
niteness and indefiniteness, but also between degrees of ‘specificity’
(taxÒiÒ). Specificity is a wider notion than definiteness, encompassing
both definite and indefinite nominals. A specificity hierarchy from
most to least specified can be established, roughly as follows: pronoun,
proper noun, demonstrative, noun/nominal with the definite article,
any of the previous as the annexed element in a construct (genitive),
indefinite annexion phrase, indefinite noun phrase involving an attrib-
utive adjective, bare indefinite noun or adjective (Watson 1993:
19–20; cf. also Wright 1971, 2: 260–4, Abdul-Raof 2001: 114–15;
Badawi, Carter and Gully 2004: 307–22). In analysing nominal sen-
tences — i.e. sentences which are made up of a predicand (mubtada})
and a predicate (xabar) — traditional Arabic grammar identifies the
predicand (mubtada}) as the more specified element and the predicate
(xabar) as the less specified one. Where both elements are equally
specified, the predicand precedes the predicate.
252
In 2 ma¨ruf-un anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘it is known that you are a

generous man’ (lit: ‘known [is] that-you man generous’), ma¨ruf-un
‘known’ is a bare indefinite and therefore maximally unspecified, and
anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’ is the equiva-
lent of a definite noun; the complementizer anna- ‘nominalizes’
clauses, functioning as the clausal equivalent of the definite article
al- (cf. English ‘the fact that you are a generous man’). On the basis
that the more specified element is to be analysed as the predicand
(mubtada} ) and the less specified one as the predicate (xabar), the
predicand in ma¨ruf-un anna-ka rajul-un karim is thus anna-ka rajul-
un karim ‘that you are a generous man’ and the predicate (xabar) is
ma¨ruf-un ‘known’. Similarly, in 3, min al- ma¨ruf-i anna-ka rajul-un
karim ‘it is known that you are a generous man’ (lit: ‘from the known
[is] that-you man generous’) min al-ma¨ruf-i ‘from the known’ is
traditionally analysed as the predicate, and anna-ka rajul-un karim
‘that you are a generous man’ as the predicand. Min al-ma¨ruf-i ‘from
the known’ is to be analysed as indefinite and therefore fairly unspec-
ified (its definite correspondent being alla∂i min al-ma¨ruf-i ‘that
which is known’ (more lit: ‘the from the known’), while anna-ka
rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’, as already discussed, is
definite.
Consider now 4 al-ma¨ruf-u anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘what is known
is that you are a generous man’ (lit: ‘the known [is] that-you man
generous’). Here, the structure in 2 and 3 (predicate preceding predi-
cand) is — remarkably — reversed. In 4, al-ma¨ruf-u ‘the known
[thing]’ is the predicand while anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are
a generous man’ is the predicate. In 4, al-ma¨ruf-u ‘the known [thing]’
and anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’ are to be
taken as equally specified: al-ma¨ruf-u has the definite article, while
anna-ka rajul-un karim has (is introduced by) the complementizer
anna-, which, as argued above, is equivalent to the definite article.
Given that where two elements in a nominal sentence are equally
specified, the element which comes first is the predicand and the
element which comes second is the predicate, in 4 the predicand is
al-ma¨ruf-u ‘the known [thing]’, while the predicate is anna-ka rajul-un
karim ‘that you are a generous man’. This kind of approach makes it
possible to ‘operationalize’ Arabic grammar: it allows us to determine
what is and is not the predicand and predicate in all cases. As I have
suggested, however, I do not think it provides a genuinely structural
account of what is going on.
The notion of equativity is worth amplifying somewhat here. It is
clear from the tables in sections 2.1–2.5.5 that bipartite sentences
253
involving, for instance, a noun and another noun, or a noun and an

adjective are equative:
al-walad tarzi ‘the boy is a tailor’ (C)
al-walad za¨lan (minn-ak) ‘the boy is angry (with you [m.sg.])’
(C)
Similarly:
al-walad fi-l-bet ‘the boy is in the house’ (C)
It is also clear from previous discussion that the relationship between
tarzi ‘a tailor’ and at-tarzi ‘the tailor’ is one of indefiniteness vs. def-
initeness. Similarly, the relationship between za¨lan (minn-ak) ‘angry
(with you [m.sg.])’ and az-za¨lan (minn-ak) ‘the one who is angry
(with you [m.sg.]) / the angry-[one]-(with you [m.sg.])’ is also one of
indefiniteness vs. definiteness. Accordingly, just as the indefinite tarzi
without a preceding al- means ‘a tailor’ and the definite at-tarzi
means ‘the tailor’, so the indefinite za¨lan can be thought of meaning
‘an angry [one]’ while the definite az-za¨lan means ‘the angry [one]’.
By extension the indefinite fi-l-bet can be thought of meaning ‘a in-
the-house-[one] / a [one] who is in the house’, while the indefinite
al-fi-l-bet means ‘the in-the-house-[one] / the [one] who is in the
house’. Similarly, the indefinite ziïl (minn-ak) can be thought of as
meaning ‘a got-angry-(with-you) [one]’ while the definite az-ziïl
(minn-ak) means ‘the got-angry-(with-you) [one] / the [one] who got
angry with you’. Finally, the indefinite Òahb-u fi-l-bet can be thought
of as meaning ‘a [one] his/whose friend is in the house / a his-friend-
is-in-the-house [one]’, while the definite aÒ-Òahb-u fi-l-bet means ‘the
[one] his/whose friend is in the house / the his-friend-is-in-the-house
[one]’.
Given all this, consider the following (all of which are constructed
examples):
al-walad tarzi ‘the boy is a tailor’
al-walad za¨lan (minn-ak) ‘the boy is an angry(-with-you [m.sg.])
[one]’
al-walad fi-l-bet ‘the boy is an in-the-house [one]’
al-walad ziïl (minn-ak) ‘the boy is a got-angry(-with-you
[m.sg.]) [one]’
al-walad Òahb-u fi-l-bet ‘the boy is a his-friend-[is]-in-the-
house [one]’
or better:
‘the boy is a-his-friend is an-in-the-
house [one]’
254
That is to say, there is no difference — in one sense at least — in

Sudanese Arabic between the equivalent of ‘the boy is one who got
angry’ and ‘the boy got angry’. While the distinction between equa-
tives and non-equatives in English is very clear, in Sudanese Arabic
this distinction is, in syntactic terms at least, non-existent.
3. Monopartite Sentences
In addition to bipartite clauses, Sudanese also has monopartite

clauses. These are most obviously represented by clauses which con-
sist of a verb phrase, such as:
5. masu (as-sug) ‘they went/have gone (to the market)’
(C)
That a verb phrase of this type constitutes a full sentence seems
uncontroversial, and conforms to both traditional Arabic grammar
and modern Western analyses of both Standard Arabic and the dia-
lects. This analysis can, however, happily be extended to participles,
such as the following active participle usage. Thus:
6. masin (as-sug) ‘they/you (pl.)/we are going (to the
market)’ (C)
In fact the form masin, on its own, or the corresponding singulars
masi (m.sg.) or masya (f.sg.) are standard ways of saying that one is
leaving or, with a question intonation, of asking a person or people
if they are leaving, (e.g. at the end of a visit to one’s house). There is
thus very good reason communicatively for regarding not only verb
phrases but also corresponding ‘participle phrases’ as complete non-
elliptical sentences. Thus, ‘she’s in pain’ can be expressed by the sin-
gle word (f.sg. active participle) mit}allima. Support for the view that
‘participle phrases’ constitute full sentences is provided by the use of
such phrases in complex sentences. Thus:
7. najib äli u-nasaggil-u ‘We’ll bring Ali and employ him as
baskatib al-mina li}inn-u the chief clerk of the port, because
muÌtajin le-baskatib “needing” [(m.pl.) i.e. “we need”] a
chief clerk’ (Ar-riwayat as-safawiyya
li-†uwwar1924, 1974)
8. di gafla l-o∂a äle-ha u-xayfa ‘She’s closed the room on/against
ta¨mal fi nafís-a Ìaja her(self ), and fearing [(f.sg.) i.e. “I
fear”] that she will do something to
herself ’ (Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya, 1986)
255
In example 7 the subordinate structure beginning li}inn-u ‘because’

(with a dummy 3.m.sg. pronoun suffix — u), contains the monopar-
tite clause muÌtajin le-baskatib. The active participle muÌtajin ‘need-
ing (m.pl.)’ has the same ‘we’ subject-referent as the main clause verbs
najib ‘we bring’ and nasaggil ‘we employ’. Apart from an a priori
theoretical commitment (which I do not have) I can see no reason to
believe that the monopartite muÌtajin le-baskatib ‘needing a chief
clerk’ is elliptical here, e.g. for the bipartite niÌna muÌtajin le-baskatib
‘we [are] needing a chief clerk’. Example 8 is even more interesting
than 7. Here the active participle in the first coordinated clause gafla
(f.sg.) mirrors the active participle in the second coordinated clause
(after u- ‘and’) xayfa (also f.sg.). However, the referent is different. In
the first clause, the person being referred to is the unfortunate Su}ad
(Suäd), who has locked herself in her room after being told by her
father that she cannot marry the man she loves. In the second clause,
xayfa refers to the gallant Aunt Safiyya (Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya of the series
title), who has come to rescue Su}ad from her predicament.6
There seems no good reason to confine monopartite sentences to
those whose head is a verb or participle. Many verbs in Sudanese do
not have a standard active participle form, but do have a fa¨lan form.7
Thus the following both seem to be reasonable non-elliptical sen-
tences in Sudanese Arabic:
9. ziïl (minn-ak) ‘he got angry (with you [m.sg.])’ (C)
10. za¨lan (minn-ak) ‘he is angry (with you [m.sg.])’ (C)
6
Some idiomatic phrases — including those which involve a participle — only
occur without a predicand. An example is bayta maä[-k] literally ‘overnighting with
[you (m.sg.)]’, meaning idiomatically ‘[you] have a hangover’. In this idiomatic
phrase, the active participle bayta only ever occurs in the f.sg. form. It is not possible
to also have a predicand hi ‘it (f.sg.)’ (thus *hi bayta maä-k) in this idiomatic sense.
Other examples involving a f.sg. predicate in which a predicand cannot occur are,
with the active participle, farga maä-w ‘he’s mad’ (lit: ‘making a difference with
him’) and, with a verb, ma bitafrig maä-y↑ ‘it doesn’t make any difference to me’,
fakkat minn-u ‘he went mad’ (lit: ‘it [f.sg.] left him’). Other impersonal usages in
which it is not possible to have a predicand include forms involving the 3. m.sg.
imperfect yahimm, as in ma yahmma-ni↑ bi-n-nas del ‘I’m not concerned about
these/those people’ (lit: ‘[it] not-concerns-me with these/those-people’).
7
Almost all verbs from which fa¨lan forms are derived are intransitive; the tran-
sitive gibil, whose derivative gablan is discussed in Dickins (2009; Section 9), is an
exception. Almost all fa¨lan forms are derived from verbs which have fiïl perfect, and
many fa¨lan forms refer to emotional or physical states experienced by people, e.g.
farÌan ‘joyful’, ta¨ban ‘exhausted’, na¨san ‘drowsy’, bardan ‘cold [as an experienced
physical sensation]’; thus ana bardan ‘I’m [feeling] cold’ — cf. barid ‘[objectively]
cold’, e.g. as-say da barid ‘that tea’s cold’.
256
In the same light consider the following:

11. galu ta¨ban jiddan jiddan ‘they said that he was very very tired’
(R) (more lit: ‘they said very very tired’)
Here the fa¨lan form ta¨ban is in a subordinate clause, and has a dif-
ferent referent (m.sg.) from the referent (subject) of the main verb
galu ‘they said’.
In fact, not only active participles and fa¨lan adjectives, but also any
adjective/adjective phrase, noun/noun phrase, adverb/adverbial, etc.
seems to be able to function as a monopartite sentence in Sudanese
Arabic. Thus, standard ways of saying ‘where are you going’ are wen?
‘where?’ and äle wen? ‘to/towards where?’, as well as masi (m.sg.)/
masya (f.sg.)/masin pl.) wen?. The standard question if someone
knocks on one’s door is min-u↑ ‘who?’. The word muskila is frequently
used on its own where in English it would be more natural to say,
‘That’s a problem’. In the same light, consider the following:
fikra. intu tagüdu titässu. ana ‘An idea [i.e. I have an idea]. You
afattis dawa. (m./com.pl.) sit and eat supper. I’ll
look for some medicine’. (R)
ma ta¨mal kida — ëb. ‘Don’t do that. It’s wrong.’ (said to
small child) (R)
a. fi? ‘Is he there?’
b. fi ‘Yes.’ (R)
fi di maä-kum ‘We agree with you (m./com.pl.)
on this.’ (R) (lit: ‘on this, with you’
[m./com. pl.])
ana gariba?! ma xalt-ak ya ‘Am I a stranger?! You see/But
walad-i↑ [unstressed ma] I’m your (m.sg.) aunt
my boy.’ (Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya 1986)
English arguably makes a distinction between presentative usages and
presumably elliptical non-presentatives. An example of a presentative
usage is ‘cow’ as said by a small child looking out of a train window
every time she sees a cow. A elliptical non-presentative occurs where
the child is asked ‘What’s that?’ and she replies ‘A cow’. In cases
where there is a non-correspondence between the putative referent of
the presentative utterance we are inclined to say that the person is
wrong — or ‘that’s wrong’ — and less inclined to say that what the
person has said is untrue. In the case of elliptical non-presentatives,
the claim of the untruth of the utterance — ‘that’s not true’ (etc.) —
seems more acceptable.
257
Sudanese Arabic certainly has elliptical utterances: ganamaya

‘a sheep’ as a response to sufti sin-u↑ ‘What did you (f.sg.) see?’ is
elliptical. However, I do not believe that ganamaya ‘a sheep’ in
response to da sin-u↑ ‘What’s that?’ is properly speaking elliptical.
The only difference between a presentative usage ganamaya ‘a sheep’
in Sudanese Arabic, and ganamaya ‘a sheep’ as a response to da
sin-u↑ ‘What’s that?’ seems to be that the latter involves presupposi-
tion of the existence of the entity being considered (the sheep):
it is not presented ‘out of the blue’. This is essentially a question
of the thematic (theme-rheme) organisation of the utterance (or,
better, the real-world psychological facts to which theme and rheme
can be related). I have already argued (Section 2.6) that bipartite
predicand-predicate structures have a strange syntactic structure:
once issues such as theme and rheme are abstracted away, what one
is left with is not so much two distinct syntactic positions (predi-
cand and predicate), but what looks more like two equatively-
related ‘slots’ in one syntactic position. (As noted earlier, I will not
try to pursue this issue further here, since it would require a pro-
found consideration of the fundamentals of linguistic theory.) If
this analysis is at all plausible, it will be seen that having one ‘slot’
in this position — a monopartite sentence — is not very different
from having two.8
8
It may be that Arabic equative (‘predicand-predicate’) structures are an
example of what Mulder terms ‘coordination’. His use of this term has little, if
any, connection with more standard uses of ‘coordination’ in linguistics to
describe the functioning of ‘and’ and related forms. Rather, what Mulder means
by ‘coordination’ is a relationship of bilateral functional independency between two
elements in syntax such that neither one of the two elements functionally implies
the other (cf. Mulder 1989: 288–93; 445–6; also Dickins 1998: 72). Note that
the distinction which Mulder makes between functional and occurrence depend-
ency is particularly important in understanding what he means by functional
dependency). I have argued in sections 2.6 and 3 that syntactically ‘predicand’
and ‘predicate’ do not imply one another; these are not, in fact, properly speaking
two distinct syntactic positions (‘slots’). I have also suggested in Section 3 that
Arabic monopartite sentences are to be analysed as cases in which a single element
occupies the one position which, in bipartite sentences, is occupied by two elements
(‘predicand’ and ‘predicate’).
In addition to subordination and coordination in syntax, Mulder recognizes
also what he terms interordination – that is a situation in which both elements
functionally imply one another. The structures which Mulder gives as examples of
both coordination and itnterordination (e.g. Mulder 1989: 290) all seem to me
extremely problematic. I will not pursue this issue in detail here. However, I believe
that the issue of ‘ordination’ (subordination, coordination, and interordination) in
axiomatic functionalism needs to be looked at again. It may be that the notions of
258
4. ‘Scrambled’ Bipartite Clauses
The most straightforward ‘linearisation’ (realisation) of grammatical

structures is such that all elements of one grammatical structure occur
together. However, exceptions to such straightforward linearisation
are well known: in the English ‘That man I know’, the verb phrase
constituent ‘know that man’ is realized discontinuously (for reasons
of thematic focus). Sudanese Arabic exhibits numerous cases of such
‘scrambling’. Here I will consider V-S-O/C word orders — i.e. verb-
subject-object word order with respect to those verbs which take a
standard object, and the corresponding verb-subject-complement
word order for verbs of ‘being’, ‘becoming’, ‘continuing to be’ which
take what is traditionally referred to as a subject-complement.
V-S-O/C structures are occasionally found with verbs which take
a standard object, as follows (with the V, S, and O/C elements
marked after the relevant item):
maset (V) inta (S) dungula (O)? ‘did you (m.sg.) go to Dongola?’ (R)
sufta (V) i nta (S) az-zol da (O), ‘You (m.sg.) saw that man, didn’t
mus kida? you?’ (R)
axadta (V) ana (S) xams†asar ‘I spent fifteen days in the Al-
yom (O) fi ÒaÌra↑ l-ätmur Atmour Desert’ (R)
jit (V) umbariÌ ana (S) s-saä ‘I came yesterday at seven-o-clock
sabä hina (O) here’ (R)
The following example has a prepositional object, rather than a nom-
inal object
jit (V) ana (S) †awwali fi l-makan ‘I came immediately to our general
al-ämm bita¨-na (O) place’ (R)
In all of these cases, the subject is pronominal, and is very commu-
nicatively ‘light’, while the verb is either the 1.sg. or 2.m.sg. perfect.
In theme-rheme terms, it would appear that in these utterances the
subject pronoun constitutes a ‘minimal’ theme (perhaps an ‘after-
thought’ theme), whose purpose is mainly to remind the reader who
the subject is, and perhaps more specifically to differentiate between
1.sg. and 2.m.sg., which have the same form in the perfect tense.
Syntactically, the most sensible analysis seems to be to regard these
examples as scrambled bipartite predicand-predicate structures with a
coordination and interordination are not separately necessary — or distinct — from

that of ‘syntheme’ (see Dickins 2009; footnote 13). In this case, Arabic equative/
bipartite/predicand-predicate structures can be regarded as synthemes, just as it may
be possible to regard al — and a following clause together as a syntheme.
259
discontinuous predicate (verb phrase) constituent. Thus in maset (V)

inta (S) dungula (O)? ‘did you go to Dongola?’, for example, the
predicate constituent maset dungula ‘went to Dongola’ is interrupted
realisationally by the predicand inta ‘you’.
With those verbs which are traditionally analysed as taking a comple-
ment rather than an object (verbs of ‘being’, ‘becoming’, ‘continuing to
be’, etc.) V-S-O/C word order is much more common. Examples are:
kan (V) ism-u (S) muÌammad (C) ‘his name was Mohammed’ (R)
takun (V) hi (S) Òagayra fi Ìajma- ‘she must have been small in size’ (R)
ha (C)
fi kullu man†iga fi fannan bikun ‘in every region there is a singer who is
(V) hu (S) mahir jiddan (C) very talented’ (R)
fi itnen u-xamsin kanat (V) asar ‘in [19]52 the marks of the [Second]
al-Ìarb al-älamiyya (S) lissa¨ World War were still present in that
mawjuda (C) fi l-man†iga di region’ (R)
ba¨d ma ämal kida, biga (V) hu ‘after he did that, he got to the stage
zat-u (S) gaïd sakit bi-la xidma where [lit: “became”] doing nothing,
(C) without anything to do’(Mafahim,
1986)
biga (V) le-hu aj-jari be kirë-hu ‘Running [on his legs] became quicker
(S) asra¨ (C) ya jamaä for him, my friends [lit: “oh, group”]’
(i.e. quicker than going by horse)
(Dukkan wadd al-baÒir, 1986)
Fairly frequently, the verb in V-S-C structures of this kind fails to
agree, particularly where this verb is kan ‘to be’:
[an-nas del] umbariÌ kan (V) ‘those people] yesterday we were
niÌna (S) maä-hum (C) bi-l-lel with them at night’ (R)
Examples such as this last one suggests that kan is on its way to becom-
ing grammaticalized — as a past tense marker — rather than a verb
proper in Sudanese Arabic. However, this process still has a long way
to go, and it would appear that with complement verbs such as kan,
as with more standard transitive verbs, the best syntactic analysis of
V-S-C forms remains that they are ‘scrambled’ predicand-predicate
clauses.9
9
In my discussion here I have ignored the interesting phenomenon of comple-
ments which are verb phrases or themselves bipartite clauses. An example involving
a verb-phrase complement is: zaman kan (V) nas-na (S) bi-talbas jilud (O) bass
(Îiraf sa¨biyya) ‘in the past our people used to wear leather [shoes] only’. Here, the
complement of the verb kan ‘to be’ is the verb-phrase bi-talbas jilud, itself consisting
of a verb bi-talbas ‘they wear’ and an object jilud ‘leather(s)’.
260
5. Conclusion and Prospects
On the basis that definiteness and indefiniteness yield fundamentally

different syntactic categories (Dickins 2009), I have considered in this
paper basic sentence structure in Sudanese Arabic. I have argued that
Sudanese Arabic has two basic types of sentence structure: an essen-
tially equative bipartite (‘predicand-predicate’) structure and a mon-
opartite (‘predicate only’) structure.
I believe that many of the analyses presented here apply not only
to Sudanese Arabic, but also to other dialects and to Standard Arabic.
In particular, I believe that sentence structure in both Standard Arabic
and Arabic dialects generally can be at least partially analysed in terms
of syntactically equative bipartite, plus monopartite sentence types.
Address for correspondence: J.Dickinsesalford.ac.uk.
REFERENCES
Abdul-Raof, H., 2001. ‘On the subject in Arabic’, Journal of Semitic Studies. 46,
1:97–120
Badawi, E., M.G. Carter, and A. Gully, 2004. Modern Written Arabic: a Compre-
hensive Grammar. (London and New York)
Bohas, J., J.-P.Guillaume and D.E. Kouloughli, 1990. The Arabic Linguistic Tradition.
(London)
Danes, F. (ed.). 1974. Papers on Functional Sentence Perspective. (Prague)
Dickins, J. 1998. Extended Axiomatic Linguistics. (Berlin and New York)
—— 2006. ‘Khartoum Arabic’, in Encyclopaedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics
(vol. 2) (Leiden), 559–71
—— 2007. Sudanese Arabic: Phonematics and Syllable Structure. (Wiesbaden)
—— 2009. ‘Relative clauses in Sudanese Arabic’. Journal of Semitic Studies 54,
2:535–71
Dukkan wadd al-baÒir.1986. Omdurman Radio series (drama)
Firbas, J. 1974. ‘Some aspects of the Czechoslovak approach to problems of func-
tional sentence perspective’, in F. Danes (ed.), Papers on Functional Sentence
Perspective. (Prague)
Hervey, S.G.J. 1979. Axiomatic Semantics. (Edinburgh)
—— 1982. Semiotic Perspectives. (London)
Îiraf sa¨biyya 1986. Omdurman Radio series on traditional crafts
Mafahim 1986. Omdurman Radio series (drama)
Mulder, J.W.F. 1968. Sets and Relations in Phonology. (Oxford)
—— 1989. Foundations of Axiomatic Linguistics. (Berlin)
Mulder, J.W.F. and Hervey, S.G.J. 1972. Theory of the Linguistic Sign. (The Hague)
—— 1980. The Strategy of Linguistics. (Edinburgh)
Ar-riwayat as-safawiyya li-†uwwar 1924 [‘The Oral Accounts of the 1924 Revolu-
tionaries’]. 1974. (Khartoum)
Watson, J.C.E. 1993. A Syntax of ∑anäni Arabic. (Wiesbaden)
Wright W. 1971. A Grammar of the Arabic Language (2 vols. re-published as single
vol.). (Cambridge)
Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya. 1986. Omdurman Radio series (drama)
261
REVIEWS
RAINER VOIGT (ed.), From Beyond the Mediterranean: Akten des 7. Internationalen
Semitohamitistenkongresses (VII. ISHaK), Berlin 13, bis 15, September 2004 (Semi-
tica et Semitohamitica Berolinensia 5). Shaker Verlag, Aachen 2007. Pp. 572.
Price: /48.80 paperback. ISBN: 978-3-8322-6340-9.
The International Hamito-Semitic Congress first met in 1969 and since then has
met seven more times, in intervals of four to ten years, most recently in the autumn
of 2008. Proceedings have been published for the first five meetings; only for the
sixth (Moscow 1994) is there no companion publication. This volume is the pro-
ceedings of the seventh meeting, held in Berlin in 2004. The thirty-two articles in
this volume are grouped under four headings: Comparative Semito-Hamitic (7),
Cushitic (8), Semitic (13), and Egyptian-Berber (4). Four articles are in German,
one is in Italian, and the rest are in English. Included as a preface is the German
text of R. Voigt’s opening address to the congress participants. Given the venue of
this review, my own limited proficiency, and limited space, I will confine my com-
ments to just some of the articles in the Semito-Hamitic and Semitic categories.
First, a brief word about Afroasiatic (i.e., Semito-Hamitic) studies in general. At
this point in time, when much remains to be done on the reconstruction of the
individual branches, Afroasiatic studies are a hazardous venture. Just as one cannot
reconstruct Indo-European by comparing modern English, Hindi and Romanian,
one cannot reliably reconstruct Afroasiatic phonology or morphology by comparing
Hausa, Beja and Tuareg. It is true that Semitic and Egyptian are attested in ancient
times (and thus are probably the two branches that can be compared most reliably),
and it is true that some good work has been done in the reconstruction of individual
branches like Chadic, Cushitic and Berber. However, given that there are so many
Afroasiatic languages for which we do not even have reliable data (especially within
Chadic, Cushitic and Omotic), it seems to me that one must proceed very cautiously,
and very sceptically, when attempting comparison at the Afroasiatic level. One cannot
simply perform mass lexical comparison of the languages (ancient or modern), as
some Afroasiatic scholars have done in the past.
Returning to the volume under review, I will begin with the article entitled
‘Chadic and Semitohamitic’, by H. Jungraithmayr. This article is essentially a reitera-
tion of the fact that Chadic must be considered part of Afroasiatic; though today
this is widely accepted, it was not so until the mid-twentieth century. Jungraithmayr
gives several examples of morphological and lexical correspondences, including the
interesting, but speculative suggestion that the Akkadian subordinate marker -u
(which corresponds to the West Semitic indicative -u) is cognate with a Chadic
subjunctive marker -u or -o.
V. Blazek writes about ‘Semitic Prepositions and their Afroasiatic Cognates’. This
is an ambitious topic, on which one could write volumes. The article is useful as a
review of some of the proposed etymologies for the Semitic prepositions, though
the author relies on just a few sources. Given that most of the common Semitic
prepositions consist of just one or two consonants, finding an etymology is often
difficult or even impossible; the chances of finding reliable cognates within Afroasi-
atic are very slim. Many of Blazek’s suggestions for cognates are seemingly random,
263
REVIEWS
for example, his suggestion (admittedly preceded by a question mark) that Semitic
*}il(ay) ‘to’ is cognate with Rendille (East Cushitic) íl ‘land’. Egyptian, given its
ancient attestation, is the most likely place to find cognates for Semitic prepositions.
Strangely, Blazek quickly dismisses Egyptian (j)r as a cognate for Semitic *}ilay.
Overall, this article is a good example of how Afroasiatic comparison is often just
pure speculation.
C. Ehret’s article ‘Applying the Comparative Method in Afroasiatic (Afrasan,
Afrasisch)’ is of no value to the serious linguist. Ehret continues to propose a system
of biliteral roots for Afroasiatic, and a system of affixes that extended these biliteral
roots to triliteral ones. So, for example, Ehret reconstructs an Afroasiatic root *lt ‘to
hit repeatedly’, extended by an ‘iterative’ suffix -Ì to *ltÌ ‘throw pebbles in one’s
face’, by an ‘intensive’ suffix -z to *ltz ‘beat with the fist’, and by an ‘extendative’
suffix -m to ltm ‘to beat’. Further discussion of Ehret’s method is unnecessary.
The article by A. Militarev is entitled ‘Toward a Complete Etymology-based
Hundred Wordlist of Semitic: Items 1–34 (First Third)’. This article simply lists
Semitic cognates for thirty-four words, based on Swadesh’s hundred-word list. The
goal of the author is to use this cognate list to apply the glottochronological method
to the Semitic family, though these cognate lists can, of course, also be used in more
productive ways.
The articles that appear under the ‘Semitic’ heading in this volume are, overall,
of greater value. S. Baldi writes an article entitled ‘Arabic Loans in Gur Languages’,
which is based on the author’s Dictionnaire des emprunts arabes dans les langues
d’Afrique de l’Ouest et en Swahili. This dictionary appeared in 2008, and not in
2005, as indicated in the article’s bibliography. The Gur languages, also sometimes
referred to as Voltaic languages, number upwards of a hundred (Baldi has data from
thirty-nine), and are spoken in a number of West African countries. Arabic loans are
prevalent, thanks to the spread of Islam, though many of the loans were transmitted
indirectly, often via Hausa. The loans include a good number of verbs, as well as
the expected large number of nouns; this fact, along with some very interesting
phonetic adaptations, make study of these words especially worthwhile.
G. Hudson’s contribution, ‘North and South Ethiopian Semitic’, is a re-evaluation
of the supposedly innovative features that distinguish South Ethiopian, as outlined
by Hetzron in 1972. Some of Hudson’s suggestions will be controversial, in par-
ticular the suggestion (long espoused by D. Cohen) that the gemination of the
G imperfect (i.e., y¢qatt¢l ) is not a proto-Semitic feature, but Hudson’s discussion
is stimulating.
Alessandro Mengozzi offers an article entitled ‘Verba Primae Infirmae Neoara-
maice’, which, despite its title, is written in English. Neo-Aramaic studies has had
a boom in the last few decades, with the appearance of a surprising number of
excellent descriptive grammars. Comparative and historical work on Neo-Aramaic
dialects is less well represented, though there have been a few very good studies
on dialect comparison and historical grammar. This article by Mengozzi puts the
available data on Neo-Aramaic to excellent use, presenting a very enlightening
comparative historical study of Neo-Aramaic verbs with the initial radicals y and
} (< }aleph or äyin).
In his article ‘Amharic Dialects Revisited’ (title misspelled in the table of contents),
Z. Leyew treats a topic which is largely ignored in general works on Semitic and
Ethiopian linguistics. Amharic is not a uniform language, but is subject to regional
variation in the realms of phonology, morphology and lexicon. Leyew outlines some
of the features that characterize the Gondar, Wollo, Gojjam and Shoa dialects, and
264
REVIEWS
even provides a number of isogloss maps. This is a fascinating article, and one which
highlights an area for fruitful research.
P. Zemánek treats one of the most popular topics of Semitic morphology in his
article ‘On the Definite Article in Semitic’. Unlike most other comparative studies
of the definite article, this one does not attempt to trace the etymologies of the
various Semitic articles (this includes my own work on the topic). Instead, Zemánek
focuses on the ‘waves of appearance’ of the articles. Not much new is offered here,
though the approach is interesting.
Despite a few unfortunate inclusions, the volume overall contains some very
valuable pieces. An enormous amount of work needs to been done in the compara-
tive study of Afroasiatic languages, but it is good to see that attempts are being
made.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp042 AARON D. RUBIN
PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY
ELIZABETH FROOD, Biographical Texts from Ramesside Egypt (Society of Biblical Litera-
ture Writings from the Ancient World 26). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta
2007. Pp. xviii + 301. Price: $24.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-210-7.
(Auto)Biographien sind eine der ältesten und prominentesten Textsorten der
altägyptischen Kultur. Besonders die Gräber des Alten Reichs, der 1. Zwischenzeit
und der frühen 18. Dynastie enthalten biographische Texte, auf denen ein großer
Teil unserer Kenntnis dieser Epochen beruht. Die Biographien der Ramessidenzeit
(19.–20. Dynastie, c. 1300–1100 v. Chr.) sind in der Regel nicht mehr so informa-
tiv, zumindest was Vorgänge der politischen Geschichte angeht. Das hängt damit
zusammen, dass sich Grabdekorationen und funeräre Texte nach der 18. Dynastie
(etwa ab 1300 v. Chr.) vorwiegend mit der Welt der Götter und Toten beschäfti-
gen; das Leben im Diesseits kommt sehr viel seltener zur Sprache.
Dementsprechend sind die Biographien der Ramesidenzeit bisher in der wis-
senschaftlichen Literatur weniger beachtet und nie im Zusammenhang behandelt
worden. Diese Lücke wird nun durch die Arbeit von E. Frood geschlossen. In der
Hauptsache handelt es sich um eine Sammlung von Übersetzungen (fast) aller
ramessidischen Inschriften biographischen Inhalts, gegliedert nach den Berufen
ihrer Besitzer: Priester, Künstler, Verwaltung, Militär, Vizekönige von Nubien und
Handwerker aus Deir el-Medina; bei dieser letzten Gruppe werden die für dieses
Genre an sich atypischen „Bekenntnisbiographien“ zusammengestellt. Insgesamt
sind 66 Texte bzw. Denkmäler von 50 verschiedenen Personen ausgewählt und
übersetzt worden.
Bei der Auswahl der Texte ist man bei der Textsorte „Biographie“ in einer beson-
deren Lage: Biographien (der Ramessidenzeit wie der anderen Epochen) kommen
in der Regel nicht als selbständige Texte vor, sondern eingebettet, als Teiltexte einer
größeren Einheit; oft besteht der biographische Abschnitt sogar nur aus wenigen
Sätzen oder Beiworten. Auch in dieser Sammlung sind daher in den meisten Fällen
nur bestimmte Passagen der übersetzten Texte „biographisch“ im eigentlichen
Sinne. Das bedeutet aber auch, dass „Vollständigkeit“ bei einer solchen Überset-
zungssammlung kaum möglich und sinnvoll ist, dazu müßte man jeden Text auf-
nehmen, der auch nur ein einziges biographisches Beiwort hat. Dementsprechend
ist auch diese Sammlung nicht „vollständig“, es sind keineswegs alle in dieser Zeit
bezeugten biographischen Epitheta oder Sätze aufgenommen worden, aber alle
wesentlichen Inschriften sind erfaßt. Tatsächlich hat die Autorin sogar einige Texte
einbezogen, die eigentlich noch in die 18. Dynastie gehören (Nr. 20 und 23), und
265
REVIEWS
weitere, die gar nicht biographisch sind (Nr.l: Bericht in der 3. Person; Nr. 15; 42;
44), aber „alternative strategies for the presentation of biographical events“ (p. 20)
zeigen sollen. Die Zusammenstellung macht auch deutlich, dass die ramessidischen
Biographien weniger traditionsverhaftet sind als ihre Vorgänger und Nachfolger:
Textträger (z.B. öfter Tempelwände), Inhalte, Adressaten (z.B. der König in Nr. 25)
und formale Gestalt weichen in dieser Zeit nicht selten von den überlieferten
Mustern ab, haben aber offenbar nicht prägend gewirkt; die Biographien der 3.
Zwischenzeit und der Spätzeit orientieren sich wieder stärker an den vorramessidi-
schen Inschriften.
Den Übersetzungen vorangestellt ist eine ausführliche Einleitung (pp. 1–31).
Sie behandelt die charakteristischen Eigenschaften altägyptischer Biographien im
allgemeinen (pp. 1–8), die Vorgänger der ramessidischen Biographien (pp. 8–11),
den politischen und kulturellen Hintergrund der 19. und 20. Dynastie (pp. 12–19)
und schließlich die übersetzten Texte selbst: ihre Auswahl, die Kontexte, in denen
sie vorkommen, ihre Form und Sprache, ihren religiösen Aspekt, die Rolle des
Königs und des durch die Biographie charakterisierten Menschen selbst sowie die
Übersetzungstechnik. In dieser Einleitung werden auch einige unkonventionelle
Gedanken vorgebracht, so etwa die (kaum sehr naheliegende) Vorstellung, ägyptische
Biographien könnten während der Begräbniszeremonien rezitiert worden sein (p. 8).
Auch die Ausführungen zum Gebrauch der Sprachstufen und -register in der Rames-
sidenzeit (pp. 23–4) sind nicht ganz überzeugend. Eine vermeintliche zeitliche Ent-
wicklung (in der 19. Dynastie noch eher Mittelägyptisch, in der 20. Neuägyptisch,
p. 23) ist jedenfalls nicht der wesentliche Punkt, denn die Biographien der anschlie-
ßenden 3. Zwischenzeit sind alle (spät)mittelägyptisch verfaßt. Wichtiger für den
unterschiedlichen Sprachgebrauch sind Textsorte, Themen und Kommunikations-
situation.
Die Übersetzungen sind durchweg gut und zuverlässig. Da die weitaus meisten
Texte in K.A Kitchens Sammlung von „Ramesside Inscriptions“ enthalten sind, ist
es auch ohne besondere Mühe möglich, jeweils den ägyptischen Text heranzuziehen.
In den Anmerkungen werden gelegentlich philologische Details und besondere
Schwierigkeiten erörtert; überwiegend beschränken sie sich aber auf inhaltliche
Erläuterungen, die vor allem an Fachfremde gerichtet sind. Die unpraktische Tren-
nung von Haupttext, Anmerkungen (pp. 233–55) und Quellenangaben (pp. 257–
61) ist in dieser Serie üblich und kann nicht der Autorin angelastet werden.
Insgesamt gibt dieses Buch einen wohlgelungenen Überblick über die Ausprägun-
gen, die diese altererbte ägyptische Textart in der Ramessidenzeit angenommen hat.
Es wird sowohl dem Fachfremden von Nutzen sein, für den es eine verläßliche
Sammlung von Übersetzungen bereitstellt und damit ein tieferes Verständnis der
19. und 20. Dynastie ermöglicht, als auch für den Ägyptologen, der sich rasch über
die (Auto)Biographien dieser Zeit und ihre Besonderheiten informieren möchte.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp044 KARL JANSEN-WINKELN
FREIE UNIVERSITÄT BERLIN
WILLIAM M. SCHNIEDEWIND and JOEL H. HUNT, A Primer on Ugaritic: Language,

Culture and Literature. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2007. Pp. xv +
226. Price £22.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-521-70493-9.
In 1992, the late J.-L. Cunchillos wrote a Manual de estudios ugaríticos (Madrid), a
small handbook on Ugaritic. In just over a hundred pages, chapter IV of that work
deals with the script and language of Ugaritic, overlapping the book under review
here, which makes no mention of it. And while the Primer refers to J. Tropper’s
266
REVIEWS
monumental Ugaritische Grammatik (Münster 2000) it is unaware of his Ugaritisch.

Kurzgefasste Grammatik mit Übungstexte und Glossar (Münster 2002), which is a
concise reference grammar with exercises and a glossary. The authors consider
D. Sivan’s Grammar of the Ugaritic Language (Leiden 1997) to be ‘the standard
reference grammar in English’ (p. 210), even though it has been criticized, not least
for its poor bibliography.1
The Primer starts with an overview of Ugarit: its location and discovery, its
history, daily life, religion and texts, and there are three pages on ‘Ugarit and Bibli-
cal Studies’. The approach in the rest of the book is inductive. Chapter 2, ‘School
Texts’, is an introduction to the language and its alphabet. The following chapters
deal in turn with the letters and the administrative, legal and literary texts. Here,
worked examples in alphabetic cuneiform and transcription are followed by texts also
in cuneiform and transcription, set as exercises. The core of the book is a ‘Gram-
matical Precis’ covering orthography, phonology, pronouns, nouns and adjectives,
numbers, the verb and particles. Then come a glossary, bibliography and finally
an index of topics and Ugaritic words. While there are some explanatory notes for
the examples, the exercises are given as blocks of unsegmented text and look a little
daunting. There are still many uncertainties in Ugaritic, but students will find
the lack of decision unsettling, for example, the hesitant comments on the root Ìt}
(pp. 56–7). Also, more explanations could have been given, for instance, the notes
to the last lines of the letter KTU 2.13 (p. 82) are incomplete and a student strug-
gling with the form lqt should have been told that probably it is a scribal mistake
for lqÌt, as generally recognized2. In addition, some remarks are completely obsolete,
such as the comparison between Ug. ngb and the biblical ‘Negeb’ (p. 131)3 which
has long been discredited.
The following mistakes have been noted, mostly typographical: p. xiii: ‘cunéi-
forms’ for ‘cunéiformes’; p. xiii (and p. 211): ‘Handbook for Ugaritic Studies’ for
‘Handbook of Ugaritic Studies’; p. 14 n. 8: ‘divinizes’ for ‘divinisés’; p. 17: Ug. gmr
means ‘tyro, trainee’ not ‘village’; p. 29: ‘Winfred Watson’ for ‘Wilfred Watson’;
p. 39: ‘gutteral’ for ‘guttural’; p. 42 (and p. 74): ‘amqu†’ for ‘amqut’; p. 43 n. 4:
‘the Ugaritic’ for ‘Ugaritic’; p. 82, heading: space needed between ‘KTU ’ and
‘2.13’; p. 97: insert ‘RS’ before ‘17.238’; p. 116: ‘sibu, “witnesses”’ for ‘Akk. sibu,
“witnesses”’ (see AHw, p. 1229a); p. 130: ‘consecretion’ for ‘consecration’; ‘Hititte’
for ‘Hittite’; p. 157: ‘that that’ for ‘that’; p. 161: ‘Stong’ for ‘Strong’; p. 162:
‘ya(}a)lu’ for ‘(}a)yalu’; p. 163 under pnt: ‘cp. Akk. libbu’ has been repeated from
the previous line; ‘“wizards”’ for ‘“wizard”’; p. 164: ‘form these’ for ‘form of these’;
p. 170: ‘nhsm’ for ‘nÌsm’; p. 181 n. 3: ‘Munster’ for ‘Münster’; p. 121: ‘w}a†nth’
for ‘w†nth’; p. 184a: ‘Akk. iltnutu’ for ‘Akk. iltenutu’; p. 186a: ‘tranquilty’ for
‘tranquility’; p. 190a: ‘hlm’ for ‘Ìlm’ (‘dream’, written correctly on p. 191b);
p. 199b: ‘cp. Akk.’ is repeated; p. 203b: ‘collaspe’ for ‘collapse’; p. 205b: ‘raÌaszu’
for ‘raÌaÒu’ and ‘distance’ for ‘distant’ (under RÎQ); p. 207a: Akk. silÌatu does
not exist; p. 212: ‘a’ for ‘à’; p. 213: ‘Légends’ for ‘Légendes’; p. 215: ‘Instituto’
for ‘Istituto’ and ‘nordo’ for ‘nord’; p. 217: ‘Amarnah’ for ‘Amarna’; p. 219:
‘publ@orgc.csic.ed ’ for ‘publ@orgc.csic.es’; p. 219 (and p. 221): ‘Departmento’ for
‘Departamento’; p. 224a: ‘mlkny’ should be in italics; p. 225a: ‘ttpl ’ should not be
1
See J. Tropper’s critical review in AfO 44/45 (1997/98), 429–38.
2
Conventionally written lq<Ì>t to indicate such an omission.
3
Incidentally, Ug. ngb means ‘victualling’ (cf. Akk. nagbu, ‘stored’) or if derived from
Ug. gbb, it means either ‘gathered’ or ‘equipped’.
267
REVIEWS
in bold and the page references should be 123, 126, 129; p. 225b: ‘yrh’ for ‘yrÌ’.
The map on p. 6 (Figure 1.2) is very blurred. P.C. Craigie, Ugarit and the Old
Testament, should be on p. 220, not p. 211.4 The list of major journals publishing
Ugaritic studies (p. 220) should have included at least Aula Orientalis, Semitica and
Studi epigrafici e linguistici sul Vicino Oriente antico. It is incorrect to say that ‘mod-
ern dictionaries … follow the order of the Hebrew alphabet plus additions’ (p. 38).5
In fact, the three most recent dictionaries of Ugaritic6 adopt the sequence of the
modern European alphabet in modified form.
In the ‘Glossary’ (pp. 182–209), the use of capitals to indicate roots follows Sivan
and is an excellent idea. No genders are given for nouns and some homographs are
not listed separately, e.g. mhr, ‘warrior’ / ‘dowry’ and p, ‘mouth’ / ‘and’ / ‘here’. The
following comments largely concern mistakes and are listed under the Ugaritic
entries. Ug. }ibr: correct Akk. abiru to ab(a)ru; Ug. }GR also has cognates in
Heb. and Aram.; Ug. }az: correct ‘KTU 3.1’ to ‘KTU 4.205:6’; Ug. }all is not
related to Akk. allanu but is a loan from Hurrian alalu, ‘garment’7; Ug. }ilqÒm
remains unexplained but cannot correspond to Akk. algamisu since that is equiva-
lent to Ug. }algb†; Ug. }imr: the Akk. should be immeru since the form emmeru is
Assyrian; Ug. }an, ‘I’ may correspond to OB ana (CDA, p. 16) but not to Akk. anaku;
Ug. atn, ‘she-ass’ is the singular (not atnt)8; Ug. bnwt means ‘creature’ not ‘creations’;
Ug. gds only occurs as a PN (KTU 4.7:9); Ug. Ìtt means ‘silver’ (correctly on
p. 130) not ‘gold’ and is a loan from Hattian *Ìattus-; Ug. ™BÎ, ‘to slaughter’
should be ™BÎ; Ug. ™W/YÎ, ‘to plaster’ should be ™W/YÎ; Ug. kÌ† is incorrectly
written ‘kÌt’; Ug. m}izrt, ‘garment’ cannot correspond to Akk. isru; Ug. pgt means
‘girl’ not ‘daughter’ (also p. 18); Ug. mtrÌt should be listed after mtq, not after m†n;
Ug. sÌt, ‘slaughterer’ should be sÌ† and the Hebrew cognate is sÌ† not sÌt; Ug. †}i†,
‘mud’, is cognate with Arab. †a}t not Heb. †t, which is equivalent to Ug. †t, another
word for ‘mud’.
Unfortunately, in spite of the evident enthusiasm of its authors for teaching
Ugaritic, this Primer has too many mistakes and omissions to be used by beginners.
A thoroughly revised edition is required.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp045 WILFRED G.E. WATSON
NORTHUMBERLAND
4
Omitted bibliography: G. del Olmo Lete, Mitos y leyendas de Canaan según la tradición
de Ugarit. Textos, versión y estudio (Madrid 1981) from the translations of Ugaritic texts (sec-
tion 9.5); E.J. Pentiuc, West Semitic Vocabulary in the Akkadian Texts from Emar (Cambridge
Mass. 2001) from the Emar section (9.8.4); R. O’Callaghan, Aram Naharaim (Rome 1948)
from the Amorite section (9.8.5); N. Wyatt, Myths of Power (Münster 1996) from section
9.12 and surprisingly, J. Hoftijzer and K. Jongeling, Dictionary of the North-West Semitic
Inscriptions, 2 vols (Leiden 1995).
5
On p. 149 there is a similar statement but it refers to the sequence in the Ugaritic
alphabet.
6
G. del Olmo Lete and J. Sanmartín, Diccionario de la lengua ugarítica, 2 vols (Sabadell
1996, 2000), my revised translation of it as G. del Olmo Lete and J. Sanmartín, A Dictionary
of the Ugaritic Language in the Alphabetic Tradition, 2 vols (Leiden 20031, 20042) and
J. Tropper, Kleines Wörterbuch des Ugaritischen (Wiesbaden 2008).
7
See Watson, SEL 6, 1989, p. 52 n. 33; AuOr 8, 1990, pp. 139–40.
8
It should be added to the list of feminine nouns unmarked for gender given on p. 48
n. 8.
268
REVIEWS
JAMES W. WATTS, Ritual and Rhetoric in Leviticus: From Sacrifice to Scripture. Cam-
bridge University Press, Cambridge 2007. Pp. xviii + 257. Price: £50.00 hard-
back. ISBN: 978-0-521-87193-8.
This work consists of nine linked essays, three of which have appeared previously
as articles. It falls broadly speaking into two unequal parts, roughly indicated by the
title and subtitle respectively. The first six chapters build up a case for reading
Leviticus 1–16 (principally 1–5 and 8–10) as text, and thereby as rhetoric, under-
stood in the classical sense as persuasive speech, rather than attempting to interpret
as ritual the rituals they prescribe or describe. The last three address broader issues
arising out of this discussion: the effects of priestly rule in second temple Judaism;
‘sacrifice’ as a rhetorical term, and its confusions, in modern discussion; and the
origins of scriptural authority.
The argument of the first part of the book may be summarized as follows. Leviticus
is not performed ritual, but a text about ritual, and an understanding of the aims and
effects of texts, that is, a theory of rhetoric, is more appropriate for its interpretation
than theories about ritual. P does not usually give any interpretation of the rituals it
prescribes, and interpretations of ours risk imposing alien ideas on the text. Watts
applies this insight to Leviticus 1–7, and within that passage specifically to the prior-
ity of the ölâh and to Chapters 4–5; and to Chapters 8–10. His results are in one
sense obvious; they are important in that they have heretofore been neglected.
His first and most basic conclusion is that the text of chapters 1–7 (and by impli-
cation the rest of the book also) aims not only to direct priests and people to per-
form their offerings in particular ways, but, by naming the speaker with increasing
frequency as YHWH, to assert its own authority over their ritual practice. The effect
is to shift the locus of authority over ritual from the priesthood to the Torah. In the
last chapter he argues that the nucleus of scriptural authority must be this authority
of the Torah over ritual, since ancient texts are commonly appealed to in antiquity
in this field rather than in any other. Within this text, the ölâh is given priority to
emphasize the ideal of selfless devotion, disguising the interest of the priests in their
perquisites from the cult.
Other aspects of the text, however, tend to enforce the authority and perquisites
of the priesthood. Watts convincingly argues that it cannot be by coincidence that
the terms Ìa††a}t and }asam, identical with words for ‘sin’ and ‘guilt’, are chosen for
the (probably innovated) atoning offerings, and that the currently fashionable trans-
lations fail to register this. He argues that the play on these emotionally freighted
words is adopted in order to convey the urgency of submitting to this ritual demand,
which aimed to increase priestly revenues. Moreover, the way in which the verb
kipper is used reinforces priestly privilege: only the priest is the subject of this verb
in ritual directions, and his ‘atoning’ leads to YHWH’s forgiveness. Watts does not
note that these offerings are said to be for ‘unwitting’ sins. Could it be that this
functioned to create a sense of guilt in victims of illness or misfortune, and thereby
to contribute even further to the use of these provisions?
Perhaps Watts’s most controversial argument concerns Leviticus 10. While chap-
ters 8–9 clearly convey that the Aaronid priests are fully authorized through their
initiation by Moses in accordance with divine commands, Watts argues, contrary
to most views, that the following chapter backs this up, in that, being constantly
placed in danger, their survival shows that they are competent and that mistakes like
that of Nadab and Abihu are rare.
The themes of the last three chapters follow naturally. Watts argues that the gen-
eral effect of priestly rule was beneficial, and that the way in which the hierocracy
269
REVIEWS
has been judged by moderns has been distorted by prejudice. The argument of the
all too brief last chapter has already been referred to. Most striking is his argument
concerning the use of ‘sacrifice’ in modern discourse, which he argues confuses
themes drawn from ritual texts concerning animal sacrifice and from narratives usu-
ally involving human sacrifice. The argument is too complex to summarize here,
but it is worth saying that Watts does not take fully into account the evidence he
cites himself that human and animal sacrifice could be interchangeable in ritual
(most obviously at Carthage).
Watts argues with vigour and persuasively, and most of his points are well taken.
Sometimes the argument is overpressed; and the idea that the object of the rhetoric of
Leviticus is to elevate its own authority is odd. For authority is normally appealed to,
not for its own sake, but to support what the speaker is saying. It cannot be the ultimate
object of the argument. Nevertheless, Watts would be justified in expecting the discus-
sion of ritual texts in the Torah to take a very different turn as a result of his work.
The work reads easily, despite not infrequent misspellings and other errors. The
most painful of these for the Hebraist is the invention of minÌôt (twice) as the
plural of minÌâh in place of the regular, though not directly attested, menaÌôt.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp046 WALTER J. HOUSTON
UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER
CHRISTOPHE NIHAN, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch (Forschungen zum Alten

Testament, 2 Reihe, 25). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2007. Pp. xviii + 697. Price:
/99.00. ISBN: 978-3-16-149257-0.
In an extensive survey of scholarship pursuing a longstanding but narrowly con-
ceived literary-historical approach to biblical material, Nihan’s contribution falls
well within this approach. The task he sets himself is ambitious: ‘to reassess the
difficult question of the formation history of the book of Leviticus, in relationship
to the composition of the Torah as a whole and to the history of the early Second
Temple period, during which this book was written’ (p. 608). Unfortunately, Nihan’s
reassessment is modest. He also claims that, despite appearances, Leviticus was not
composed as a coherent narrative at a certain historical moment but incorporates a
very considerable number of additions over time. Almost all of the additions he
identifies are detectable by exercising sensitivity to language and syntax. This kind
of sensitivity, however, differs from scholar to scholar, produces many variations of
the same kind of parsing of text, and results in a bewildering array of editorial addi-
tions. One of Nihan’s conclusions is characteristic: ‘Later [after Lev 1–3 has used
an alleged earlier document], Lev 1–3 was included into P’s narrative by means of
Lev 8–9, building an inclusion with Ex 25–29, as well as by various additional
redactional devices, such as the envelope created by the motif of Moses’ admission
into the sanctuary in Ex 40:35 and Lev 9:23’ (p. 610).
The final form of Leviticus is confidently dated to the Second Temple period
and, for Nihan, constitutes a window into the life and institutions of the state of
Yehud (Judaea after the return from exile). The increasingly common use of the
term Yehud reflects the hopeful view that at long last we can trust the historical
reliability of biblical material. But Montesquieu’s gripe over two hundred years ago
about those who construct histories still applies: ‘They don’t make a system after
reading history, they begin with the system and then search for proofs. And there
are so many facts over a long history, so many different ways of thinking about it,
its origins are ordinarily so obscure, that one always finds materials to validate all
sorts of opinions’ (Thoughts, no. 190).
270
REVIEWS
If we want insight into rules in Leviticus, according to Nihan, we have to consider

similar rules in law codes that supposedly predated Leviticus (Decalogue, Covenant
Code and Deuteronomic Code). Consider the succession of rules in Lev. 19:11–12
(claimed to belong to a separate Holiness Code [H], itself added to the Priestly
Code of Leviticus 1–15): theft, false dealing, lying, swearing falsely by Yahweh’s
name and profaning God’s name. The Leviticus rule about theft ‘completes the
prohibition in Ex 20:15; Deut 5:19 with two others concerning deception of a
fellow Israelite … not found in the other codes. V. 12 takes up Ex 20:7; Deut 5:11,
but restates it emphasizing the specific aspect of the prohibition on swearing a false
oath … in Yahweh’s name … and adds a different rationale: the fear of desecrating
Yahweh’s [text has God’s] name. This rationale betrays a characteristic feature of
H which introduces for the first time in the Torah the notion that not only Yahweh
but also his [text has God’s] name … are holy …’ (p. 473).
Nihan pursues the form of literary analysis associated with Graf-Wellhausen,
dividing the Pentateuch into different sources and assuming that these sources are
real and reflect historical development. But it is possible to pursue less complicated
means for understanding the text. As in mathematics where the simpler solution is
the more convincing one, once persuaded it is impossible to go back to the convo-
luted approach. Thus in Lev. 19:11–12, why not assume that the lawgiver, familiar
with other parts of the biblical corpus, set down the rules’ disparate subject matter
in response to a disturbing event in the life of the nation’s founding father, Jacob-
Israel? In order to steal Esau’s birthright, Jacob deals falsely by deceiving blind Isaac
when bringing him a meat dish. Jacob lies about his identity when, claiming to
be Esau, he audaciously swears a false oath stating that Yahweh his God — as in
Lev. 19:12 both names are used in Gen. 27:20 — granted him success in obtaining
the meat. We have then in the narrative the sequence: theft, false dealing, lying,
attributing a false claim to Yahweh and thereby desecrating God’s name.
Instead of comprehending the cluster of rules as a product of a bewildering pro-
cess of redaction involving different and even hypothetical documents and time
periods, we can, instead, view the medley as formulated in reaction to Jacob cheating
Esau. Not only do particulars in the episode carry over into details in the rules, a
more natural and certainly more engaging process of composition emerges. It is said
of the Qur}an that its interpretation has remained the monopoly of specialists whose
exegesis derives less from the text than from successive commentaries on it. Mutatis
mutandis it is true of a major strand of biblical scholarship, of which Nihan’s work
is another example.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp047 CALUM CARMICHAEL
CORNELL UNIVERSITY
JILL MIDDLEMAS, The Templeless Age: An Introduction to the History, Literature and
Theology of the ‘Exile’. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Kentucky 2007.
Pp. x+174. Price: $13.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-664-23130-9.
The quotation marks around the word exile point to a central proposal of this
volume: not all the biblical voices known from this period were actually in exile,
away from the land. Whether in their several exiles or among the majority that
stayed in the land, what all the writers had in common was the absence of the
temple. The new nomenclature leads Middlemas to posit a precise number of years
to this period, 587–515 BCE, and the extra time allotted at the end of the period
enables her to include the words of Haggai, Zechariah 1–8, and the Holiness Code
in this templeless age.
271
REVIEWS
The point about the naming of the age is well taken although it may be hard to
get the biblical guild to rid itself of the word exile. In addition, the proposed term
is not without its own difficulties. As Middlemas admits, the term itself is awkward,
and I would add that it leaves the words of Ezekiel prior to 587 in a strange limbo:
he still had a temple. In the first chapter the author also admits that there was possibly
a sanctuary at Bethel during this period, and we know that the Jewish mercenaries
at Elephantine had a temple already when Cambyses invaded Egypt. So they too
were not without a temple in the templeless age. Finally, it is only a templeless age,
as was the period before Solomon and the era after 70 CE.
The book owes its origins to a series of lectures the author gave for the Theology
Faculty at Oxford, based in part on her dissertation, The Troubles of Templeless
Judah (Oxford 2005).
Middlemas competently surveys the history of the period in her first chapter,
addressing its uncertainties and responding intelligently to the latest exegetical and
archaeological arguments. Subsequent chapters discuss Lamentation, in Lamentations,
Isa. 63:7–64:11, and the Psalter; Memory, as recounted in the Deuteronomistic
History; judgment and hope, in Jeremiah and Ezekiel 1–39; Prophetic Visions of
Divine Reversal, in Second Isaiah and Ezekiel 40–8; and Commitment to Covenant,
in Haggai, Zechariah, and the Holiness Code.
Middlemas writes with grace and clarity and is obviously well acquainted with
current exegetical debates. Footnotes are mercifully few and most references to
secondary literature are contained in parentheses within the text. Nineteen pages of
bibliography, broken down into appropriate categories, are included at the end
before scripture and subject indexes.
After surveying the contents of the laments, Middlemas notes their three levels
of response to suffering: the expression of grief, an explanation for the suffering and
consideration of future possibilities, including hope in the miracle of divine inter-
vention and restoration. In her discussion of the Deuteronomistic History, she
recounts the proposals of Cross, the Göttingen school and O’Brien, but comes to
no clear decision among them and finds a discernible organization in the final form
of the text. She uncovers more hope in this document than Noth did, and surveys
the proposals about this hope by von Rad, Wolff and Gerbrandt. She speaks of
Yahweh’s ability to intercede in human affairs, p. 63, a rare solecism as she appar-
ently meant intervene.
Middlemas finds both judgment and hope in Jeremiah and Ezekiel 1–39. Her
discussion of hope in Jeremiah is much too brief in my judgment (e. g., on 23:5–6
[one sentence] and on the new covenant [twelve lines]). There is no mention of
Jeremiah’s second letter to the exiles in 51:59–64, and we are told near the end of
this unit on Jeremiah that the recipient of the salvific promises is narrowed in the
book to a select portion of the community that inherits the words of the prophet
and interprets them anew, although without grounding this conclusion in a par-
ticular passage. A number of points are missed in Ezekiel: the scroll Ezekiel eats is
indeed full of lamentation, mourning and woe, but it is also as sweet as honey; she
asserts that the punishment of the exiles had been accomplished by their deporta-
tion, but Yahweh also sorts out the bad sheep from the good in the new Exodus in
chapter 20.
Much of what she writes on Second Isaiah is quite helpful, but her review of recent
literary critical discussions, including the idea that chapters 49–55 were probably
written in Palestine and her apparent endorsement of the two editions of Second
Isaiah proposed by Albertz, are later ignored in her exegetical survey as she works
272
REVIEWS
from the final form of the text. Ezekiel 40–8 is treated in two and a half pages that
deal only with the temple and its regulations. She does not discuss at all the appor-
tionment of the land, with its egalitarian overtones or the stream coming from the
temple, that implies that everything, including the Dead Sea, can be transformed
by Yahweh’s renewed presence.
The discussion of Haggai and Zechariah 1–8 uncovers a broader message in the
templeless age than can be gathered from strictly exilic voices although her claim
that Haggai single-handedly inspired the rebuilding of the temple seems overstated.
She decides not to include a discussion of the priestly materials from the Pentateuch
in the templeless age since many scholars consider them later, but debates about the
age of the Holiness Code are just as divided and uncertain. Did the Holiness Code
really encourage the reconstruction of the temple in Jerusalem, as she asserts?
The criticisms and questions raised in this review are stated within an overall high
admiration for the author’s comprehensive recasting of the messages offered by
various biblical writers in this templeless age.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp048 RALPH W. KLEIN
LUTHERAN SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY AT CHICAGO
ARCHIE T. WRIGHT, The Origin of Evil Spirits (WUNT 2 Reihe 198). Mohr Siebeck,
Tübingen 2005. Pp. xvi + 260. Price: /49.00. ISBN: 3-16-148656-0.
Subtitled ‘The Reception of Genesis 6.1–4 in Early Jewish Literature’, this revised
University of Durham thesis argues that the story of the descent of the ‘divine chil-
dren’ in Gen. 6:1–4 was interpreted by the author(s) of the third-century BCE Eno-
chic Book of the Watchers as an account of the origin of sin and suffering, through
the legacy of evil spirits operating as autonomous or semi-autonomous malevolent
beings. The Enochic author(s) exploited the ‘non-specificity’ of Gen. 6:1–4 to cre-
ate an anthropology and demonology that came to dominate late Second Temple
Judaism. The doctrine was developed in the Qumran scrolls with their prayers for
protection against these spirits and their leader, who exploit an innate human ‘evil
inclination’ to assail even the most virtuous of humans. Help against these is also
invoked from a corresponding army of good spirits (with their own leader), generat-
ing a cosmic and ethical dualism. Philo of Alexandria, however, represents a rejec-
tion of this interpretation of the biblical text by explaining the giants of Genesis 6
as metaphors for human pleasures and vices and locating the origin of human sin
within the individual. Wright suggests that this wide difference indicates the variety
within Second Temple Judaism. Yet both Judaism and Christianity have continued
to confuse the two explanations of evil — as angelic and as human — by insisting
on human responsibility but retaining ‘Satan’ both as a tempter of individuals and
as a cosmic force, each exonerating God from the charge of having created evil. This
study therefore grapples with a highly important issue.
The book contains a useful, if rather programmatic account of the history of research
on the Book of the Watchers. But Milik’s view that Gen. 6:1–4 is dependent on the
Enoch story and not vice-versa is merely noted (p. 30), not discussed. Consequently,
the following chapter, ‘Strategies for Interpreting Genesis 6.1–4’ continues to treat the
biblical passage as the source of the Enochic doctrine. The characterizations of the
divine beings in the biblical story — bene elohim, nephilim, gibborim — are discussed
in detail, but further peculiarities of the biblical story, such as the lack of connection
to the Flood and the lack of any narrative context are ignored. But if the story is an
invention of the biblical author, what is its point — and why so ‘non-specific’? If it is
not invented, then the Enochic version could derive from the same source.
273
REVIEWS
The assumption that the Genesis account is the source for 1 Enoch represents a
scholarly consensus — but one built by scholars unfamiliar with or uninterested in
biblical criticism, for whom, indeed, the biblical text was already fixed by the third
century. But not only does the short, enigmatic episode of Gen. 6:1–4 imply a fuller
story, but the P version of the Flood and the Noachic covenant imply a preceding
corruption of the earth and the problem of bloodshed, from which the earth was
cleansed through water. Yet P has no story of angelic descent, no explanation for the
Flood. The Yahwist, however, to which the language of Gen. 6:1–4 belongs, does not
connect it with the Flood nor describe the angels as wicked. For this author the evil
angel has become a creature made by Yahweh (Gen. 3:1: }sr {sh yhwh }lhym = Äsaël).
It is Cain, not the giants, who sheds blood on the earth and whose descendants invent
arts and technology. Wright also dismisses the possible connection of the Enoch story
to the Day of Atonement ritual (Leviticus 16). Yet where does the ritual come from,
and what does it mean, except that human sin reverts to its origin, buried in the
wilderness? The very issues that Wright finds separating Enoch from Philo — angelic
versus human responsibility for human sin — also separate the Genesis sources, while
the Priestly writer probably shared Enoch’s view about the sin and the Flood. So the
beginning of the entire question of the origin of evil lies not in Gen. 6:1–4, but
somewhere else. And consequently, Wright’s thesis is fundamentally shaky. For while
a personification of evil in the form of a transcendent being (Belial/Mastema/Satan/
Azazel/Melchiresha) no doubt underwent vigorous development in the late Second
Temple period, the figure itself also drew upon Leviathan (Isaiah, Psalms, Job), the
Satan (Job, Zechariah) and Helal ben Shachar (= Lucifer; Isaiah). The issue of evil
spirits cannot be explained without analysing a wider set of issues. Autonomous evil
spirits were well-entrenched as minor deities everywhere outside Judah before the third
century. Why not in Judaism? And what about the development of angelology?
Perhaps the Bible does not tell us everything about the religion of Judah?
Despite problems with the overall concept, this is a useful and in places well-
argued book. The analysis of the Book of the Watchers traditions is thorough and I
tend to agree with Wright’s explanation for its purpose, although more attention to
astronomical/astrological issues in both 1 Enoch and the Qumran scrolls might have
been helpful. Likewise the discussion of the Qumran material itself offers an inter-
esting perspective. I would in fact recommend this book, not because of the answers
it gives, but the questions it raises.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp049 PHILIP R. DAVIES
UNIVERSITY OF SHEFFIELD
KAY PRAG, Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967: Volume V. Dis-

coveries in Hellenistic to Ottoman Jerusalem (Levant Supplementary Series 7).
Council for British Research in the Levant and Oxbow Books, Oxford 2008.
Pp. xvii + 500 + 32 pl. Price: £75.00 hardback. ISBN: 978-1-84217-304-6.
Recently there has been an intensification of archaeological activity by many impor-
tant scholars seeking to understand the transformations of Byzantine and Islamic
Jerusalem. While this reflects a general interest in Islamic archaeology, research into
the ‘late periods’ of Jerusalem is not new. Forty years ago, Dame Kathleen Kenyon’s
excavations from 1961–7 were seminal and broke new ground in our understanding
of Early Islamic and Ottoman Jerusalem. Sadly, Kenyon did not survive the final
publication of her material. However, Kay Prag’s careful and meticulous publication
of the Kenyon excavations adds significantly to our understanding of this city in the
Late Byzantine, Early Islamic and Ottoman periods.
274
REVIEWS
One of the greatest challenges in a volume of this nature is to separate Prag’s

analysis from Kenyon’s excavations, avoiding any ambiguity while enriching the
contributions of both archaeologists. Fortunately this is admirably done. While
always presenting Kenyon’s rationales and interpretations, Prag plays the sceptic,
reaching her own conclusions as tempered by forty years of newer work in Jerusa-
lem. For the most part, both Prag and Kenyon’s conclusions agree. Despite the
publication of many unconnected areas south of the city, Prag organizes the volume
in a logical chronological and geographical narrative, reporting on those areas that
best inform on the Byzantine extent (Sites V, E, D, and B), the Umayyad (and
Äbbasid) urban core (Sites G and J), and the Ottoman fortifications (Sites S.I, III–
VI). The ability to make sense of late period contexts in the deposition of a con-
tinuously occupied city is daunting and often frustrating, particularly when many
of the excavation areas are small and have disturbed contexts. While it is evident
that Prag patiently and systematically worked through every phase of every area, she
fully discusses only the most well-stratified, discrete and informative contexts,
strengthening her conclusions and sparing the reader from long unfiltered details.
Kenyon excavated small deep trenches at Sites V, E, D, and B in order to obtain
the earliest date of occupation for the southeastern area of Jerusalem, an example of
her pioneering hypothesis-driven and stratigraphic excavation style. For all areas,
Prag independently reaches similar conclusions to Kenyon: there was no occupation
from the Iron Age II period. Rather, these areas show Roman (first century CE)
building activity and primarily Byzantine to Early Islamic occupation. Further, Ken-
yon and Prag agree that the earliest part of the southern city wall in Site B, excavated
by F. Bliss and A. Dickie from 1894–7, should not be attributed to the Hasmonean
period (140–37 BCE), contrary to what was originally (and still is1) assumed. Prag
argues convincingly from several key stratified assemblages that the wall did not
predate the first century CE and was associated with the wall construction of Herod
Agrippa (37–41 CE), while the second line was part of the fifth century Eudocian
city walls that went out of use in the Early Islamic period. A topographic map of
Bliss and Dickie’s excavations would have greatly enhanced Prag’s evaluation of their
interpretations. The Byzantine/Early Islamic transition in Jerusalem shows no signs
of destruction or even disruption, but rather continuity (at least in production) and
transformation. Based largely on J. Magness’s typologies, Prag identifies a discrete
group of fine and courseware ceramics dating to the late seventh/early eighth cen-
tury transition and the eighth–tenth centuries in Site D.II. In J. Hayes’s fine report
at the end of the volume, he found no Late Roman finewares later than 570 CE.
This may further indicate shifts to Mediterranean trade networks and/or changes in
styles or trends of material culture during this period.
The volume’s main contribution is for the Early Islamic and Ottoman city of
Jerusalem. Sites G and J revealed the now well-known, newly founded Umayyad
palatial building, Building II, as part of a complex of six buildings built around the
southwest corner of the Temple Mount. Prag emphasizes that before these excava-
tions, nothing was known about these structures or Umayyad archaeology in general.
Kenyon identified the structure as early Umayyad and thought that the building
was initially Roman-Byzantine. Prag revises the interpretation into contemporary
dialogue, not only correcting the heights, phases, and condition of all of the contexts,
1
As in the current Israel Antiquities Authority excavations. Yehiel Zelinger, ‘The Southern
Fortifications of Jerusalem during the Hasmonean and Byzantine Periods’, paper presented at
ASOR 2008.
275
REVIEWS
but drawing attention to the problem of the construction date in the papyrus sources,
reassessing B. Mazar and M. Ben-Dov’s 1968–70 excavations of the structure and
drawing comparisons with the many Umayyad buildings excavated in the last thirty
years. Through this synthesis, Prag argues two main points: 1) that the building was
initially part of a longer-planned construction for the area from 680–715 CE, and
2) that it continued beyond the 749 earthquake.
Prag makes a strong case against Ben-Dov, asserting that the building was not
abandoned before the end of the Umayyad period. However, the Äbbasid conti-
nuity is still tenuous. As her main argument, she cites significant assemblages of
glazed wares appearing in the ground floor drains connecting to the upper storey
as suggesting that the building was intact and used at least until the ninth cen-
tury, if not later. Following a phase of partial robbing of the Umayyad floor, new
floors appeared at higher levels and there was only minor rebuilding of wall frag-
ments in Phase 4b. The changes seem minor and they were not differentiated
from the Umayyad phase in excavation; Prag questions how closely dated they are
to the original building and whether they were just patches to fix broken areas.
This would make more sense for a short-lived building. If the building had a
longer use, one would expect more substantial repartitioning, which did not
occur. Ben-Dov described them as minor partitions of the Umayyad building
with some Äbbasid period changes. It is problematic that all of these fragments
belonged to a single phase of reuse because the masonry is varied and none of the
fragments are physically connected with each other. Yet, the material culture
includes mixed assemblages mainly from the eighth to tenth centuries. Further,
all of these wall and threshold fragments are in alignment with each other, and
probably slightly different in orientation from the original plan. Unfortunately,
the published plan shows all the secondary fragments separately (Prag, fig. 127).
A plan showing them in relation to the earlier Umayyad architecture would have
been very useful in ascertaining where (and why) certain changes were made and
if they form a coherent rebuilding phase, perhaps following the 749 earthquake,
which seems not to have had any major impact on the building. Accepting Prag’s
re-dating of the structure re-establishes the Äbbasid contribution to Jerusalem
which previous scholars have written out, though this is beginning to be redressed
by other scholars.2
As for the function, Prag remains cautious and less assertive, though perhaps
unnecessarily. The building’s function as a dar al-imara or governor’s residence has
strong evidence.3 First, the building’s entrances on three sides are not unusual and
seen at the dar al-imara at Änjar on the N, E, and W sides. Such a building was
not necessarily a closed palatial residence. Second, the location of the dar al-imara
on the qibla side of the main al-AqÒa mosque and connected to it has numerous
parallels elsewhere such as at Änjar, Kufa and Damascus and has been convincingly
2
See J. Magness, ‘Early Islamic Urbanism and Building Activity in Jerusalem and at
Hammath Gader’, in J. Haldon (ed.), Money, exchange and the economy in the first century of
Islam (Aldershot 2009) who argues for an Äbbasid (and Fa†imid) occupation of Building II.
Excavations in the Giv’ati parking lot by the Israeli Antiquities Authority recently revealed an
Umayyad-Äbbasid building just south of Site J that might provide clearer evidence for this
continuity, D. Ben Ami and Y. Tchekhanovetz, ‘Jerusalem, Giv’ati Parking Lot’, Hadashot
Arkheologiyot 120 (2008).
3
Attributed first by M. Rosen-Ayalon. For discussion, see The Early Islamic Monuments
of al-Haram al-Sharif (Qedem 28, Jerusalem 1989).
276
REVIEWS
argued as part of a planned urban template.4 Lastly, Walid I, following his father
Äbd al-Malik’s building program in Jerusalem, was also responsible for continuing
work on the dar al-imara (al-Kha∂ra}) in Damascus.5
A long, substantial chapter on the Ottoman city from Site S (I, III–VI) provides
completely new evidence on the archaeology of Jerusalem from the sixteenth–nine-
teenth centuries. Contrary to Kenyon’s goal of finding the second-century city walls
of Aelia Capitolina, Prag firmly refutes the existence of either a Roman city wall or
a wall of the Xth Legion camp, as hypothesized by E. Mazar. However, the excava-
tions allowed Kenyon and Prag to understand the Ottoman city wall.
Prag’s chief contribution is perhaps not the wall itself, but the ceramic analysis
of previously unpublished Ottoman pottery that Kenyon saved. This assemblage,
along with the Damascus Gate and Armenian Garden material, starts to fill in our
knowledge of Ottoman Palestine. Prag divides the material into two main phases:
late sixteenth century, and late seventeenth to nineteenth centuries. Pipes, which
have long been the only Ottoman artifact published, are clearly important in this
differentiation and are analysed in depth by St. John Simpson at the end of the
volume. Further, Prag presents a good summary of the enigmatic ‘grenade’ or
sphero-conical vessel. She concludes that they were essentially tinderboxes, ‘powder-
horn’ type containers that held a wick material used by Ottoman armies and in
domestic contexts. This debated function is convincing but raises further unresolved
questions. Were these grenades distinctly Ottoman or borrowed from some earlier
tradition? Many grenades have been dated to the tenth century and later. Why and
how would a military artifact be used domestically? Along with the report for
Sites G and J, the Islamic ceramic reports are important contributions to the field
in terms of new material, clarity and outlining of typologies (including a drain pipe
typology), and the incorporation of a staggering amount of parallels including many
smaller, lesser-known excavations. A map of all the parallel sites mentioned would
have been useful to situate these. The ceramic descriptions are long and perhaps
better served in a chart form, but nevertheless provide a good roadmap into the local
and wider networks of Jerusalem ceramics in the Early and Late Islamic periods.
The chief problem for the discussion on the Ottoman defence wall echoes afore-
mentioned criticisms: the lack of plans referencing Prag’s arguments, which hinders
the reader from understanding these complicated areas. In particular, it is difficult to
understand the system of ditches and forewalls associated with the wall as they are not
on any whole plan and at times introduced prematurely before the evidence is pre-
sented in the final interpretations. One plan of Jerusalem is necessary with all of the
projected walls, ditches and forewalls of the various phases and the conjectured walls
of B. Mazar and G. Wightman to understand the argument for Site S. A plan of the
other Umayyad buildings (V and VI) excavated by B. Mazar would also be important
to the understanding of how it interrelated with S.III, as part of the walls of this trench
were attributed to this building. In S.IV, the fourth/fifth century ‘Peristyle’ house
complex excavated by Mazar ties into Phase 8 but no plan is given. Nevertheless, Prag
adroitly assesses the historical descriptions of Ottoman Jerusalem and is able to show
that the wall, built 1537–40, likely had a forewall and a series of ditches which over
time were filled and the area used as an open space for markets or industry.
4
D. Whitcomb, ‘Islam and the Socio-Cultural Transition of Palestine – Early Islamic
Period (638–1099 C.E.)’ in T.E. Levy (ed.), The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land
(London 1995), 488–501.
5
See B. Flood, The Great Mosque of Damascus: Studies on the Makings of an Umayyad
Visual Culture (Boston 2001), 147–58, 187–8.
277
REVIEWS
Prag’s control over the republication project is visible throughout the volume.
The layout of each phase, its associated contexts, architecture, ceramics and regis-
tered finds is clear and the numerous photographs from the excavations are easy to
follow and well integrated. This is no small feat for an excavation report of nearly
380 pages consisting of reconstructions of often disturbed material excavated over
forty years ago. A good introduction and periodic summaries, though at times
repetitive, are beneficial and help guide the reader through Kenyon’s excavations
and understand Kenyon’s own assessments. Throughout the volume, Prag always
considers how her discussions and detailed arguments can be made even clearer. The
volume is a fitting testament to the archaeological legacy of Kenyon and is a major
contribution to our understanding of Byzantine, Early Islamic and Ottoman Jeru-
salem.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp050 A. ASA EGER
RESEARCH CENTER FOR ANATOLIAN CIVILIZATIONS
KOÇ UNIVERSITY
PETER E. PORMANN (ed.), Rufus of Ephesus: On Melancholy (Sapere 12). Mohr

Siebeck, Tübingen 2008. Pp. xv + 332 + 7 illustrations. Price: / 29.00 paper-
back. ISBN: 978-3-16-149759-9.
Peter Pormann, the editor of this gem and its main contributor, is a relatively young
scholar. He trained in classics and Islamic studies and is one of the few pupils of
the great Manfred Ullmann. Among the upcoming generation of academics Pormann
is, by inclination and ability, in my opinion the most likely candidate to bear Ull-
mann’s torch, less so perhaps as a lexicographer but certainly as a medical historian.
It is therefore no surprise to hear that Pormann, by his own account (p. x), was
inspired to compile the present volume by various pieces of work which Ullmann
had done on the subject over a period of two decades, notably the latter’s seminal
article ‘Die arabische Überlieferung der Schriften des Rufus von Ephesos’ (published
in 1994). In the mid 1990s Pormann began to collect the Greek, Arabic and Latin
fragments relating to Rufus’s book On Melancholy, years later (in 2006) he organised
a topical workshop at the Warburg Institute, engaging a number of experts, and
proceeded to put together the excellent collection which is introduced here.
Melancholy, a term derived from the Greek words for ‘black bile’ (which was
thought to cause this condition), has occupied physicians and philosophers from
Antiquity through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance down to the present times.
As a medical concept, ‘melancholy’ is difficult to grasp, since it was used to describe
a wide range of mental (and subsequently physical) disorders, covering the whole
spectrum between what is now called depression and various manifestations of down-
right madness; yet the ancients also believed that melancholy lay at the roots of
genius, great achievement and exceptional creativity. In line with humoral pathology,
Galen (d. 216–17 CE) divided the condition into three types: ‘hypochondriac’
(i.e. originating in the epigastric region), ‘encephalic’ (i.e. affecting primarily the
brain), and ‘general’ (i.e. pervading the whole body). Melancholy, though describing
a mental disorder, was generally considered to have physiological causes, which in
turn were classified into two kinds: ‘innate’ and ‘acquired’. The man who wrote the
single most influential work ever on the subject was a somewhat elusive Greek
physician by the name of Rufus of Ephesus (fl. c. 100 CE). Virtually nothing is known
about his life, and most of his numerous medical writings (102 according to one
count) have only survived in the form of Greek, Latin, Syriac or Arabic extracts
in varying degrees of textual authenticity. Such is also the case of his masterpiece
278
REVIEWS
On Melancholy, which enjoyed equally great popularity in the Greco-Arab East as

in the Latin West; it dealt mainly with the ‘hypochondriac’ type, presumably
because Rufus believed that the other two types could be inferred from it. This
treatise, however, is strangely lost both in the Greek original and in its medieval
Arabic translation. A possible explanation for this loss, according to some scholars,
may be seen in the fact that Rufus’s treatise was exploited and adopted so well by
the dominating figure of Galen that it eventually ceased to be copied — Rufus, like
many a medical man from Antiquity, disappeared in Galen’s shadow precisely
because the latter considered him so valuable a source for the promotion of his
own medico-philosophical ideas. Rufus’s treatise, though, must have continued to
be copied at least until the early Middle Ages, or else the Arabs could not have
translated it. Equally unclear is why the Arabic translation, too, which by the way
may or may not have gone through a Syriac intermediate, does not seem to have
survived even in a single copy. As matters stand, the only way to partly ‘reconstruct’
this important text is to collect all those Greek, Arabic and Latin fragments which
relate to it, and this is exactly Pormann’s starting point.
The book is divided in two main parts. The first part, which makes up more than
a third of the whole volume (pp. 3–110), is the work of Pormann and consists of a
neatly presented collection of Greek, Arabic and Latin fragments relating to Rufus’s
On Melancholy. The 78 fragments, which in the case of Arabic sometimes had to be
constituted on the basis of manuscripts rather than printed editions, are numbered
consecutively and arranged topically, with a clear and unpretentious English transla-
tion en regard, preceded by a thorough introduction giving a brief medico-historical
background as well as a few interesting source-critical observations, and followed
by a very detailed commentary providing contexts, parallel passages, cross-references
and various philological remarks. The majority of fragments is Arabic (eleven
sources), then Greek (four sources), and finally Latin (one source); the Arabic frag-
ments roughly account for 70% of the material, Greek for about 25%, and Latin
for about 5%. Three minor suggestions: p. 33, frag. 10, l. 2 read ‘distension’
(instead of ‘spasm’); p. 57, frag. 47, l. 4 read ‘and by avoiding hot water’ (instead
of ‘while warm water calms it’); p. 63, frag. 63, l. 4f. read ‘that the natural heat be
revived through this wine’ (instead of ‘that this stimulating wine revives the natural
heat’).
The second part consists of seven rather heterogeneous but thoroughly enjoyable
‘Essays’, written by a number of colleagues from different walks of life whom Por-
mann managed to engage in this project. Simon Swain ‘Social Stress and Political
Pressure: On Melancholy in Context’ (pp. 113–38) looks at Rufus’s work with a
wider historical lens, setting it against the intellectual trends prevailing in the Greco-
Roman world during the first and second centuries CE, and conducts an investiga-
tion into the term ‘melancholy’ as used by contemporary non-medical writers, while
three of Rufus’s famous ‘case histories’ serve to illustrate certain socio-political and
cultural patterns of behaviour at the time. Vivian Nutton ‘Rufus of Ephesus in the
Medical Context of his Time’ (pp. 139–58) provides sections on the medical milieu
of Rufus’s home town Ephesus, the anatomical tradition of Alexandria (where he
may have studied), Hippocratism, the four medico-philosophical sects (empiricists,
methodists, dogmatics, ‘pneumatists’), and the medical marketplace. Philip van der
Eijk’s ‘Rufus’ On Melancholy and its Philosophical Background’ (pp. 159–78)
focuses on the medico-philosophical traditions underlying Rufus’s conceptualiza-
tion of melancholy as a mind-body disease, showing his implicit debt to Aristote-
lian theories, typologies of melancholy, diagnosis and understanding of the condi-
279
REVIEWS
tion, and Galen’s implicit debt, in turn, to Rufus. Peter Pormann ‘Melancholy in
the Medieval World: the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim Traditions’ (pp. 179–96)
emphasizes the importance of Rufus’s work throughout the Middle Ages, providing
examples to illustrate the history of melancholy as an intellectual concept (largely
owing to the latter) among Christians, Jews and Muslims alike. Peter-Klaus Schus-
ter and Jörg Völlnagel ‘Dürer and Rufus: Melencolia I in the Medical Tradition’
(pp. 197–219) embark on an art-historical study of Albrecht Dürer’s famous etching
known as Melencolia I (created in 1514), showing eloquently how Rufus’s notions
of melancholy persisted through the centuries to influence humanist circles in Cen-
tral Europe, and including a long section on the interpretative history of Dürer’s
copperplate. Peter Toohey ‘Rufus of Ephesus and the Tradition of the Melancholy
Thinker’ (pp. 221–43) investigates on the one hand the Aristotelian tradition, which
links melancholy with genius and the bipolarity of manic-depressive illness, and
on the other hand the ‘Rufus tradition’, which links melancholy with overmuch
thinking, scholarship and depression, illustrating these traditions by a variety of
(occasionally far-fetched) examples from Renaissance art and philosophy to modern
European literature. Thomas Rütten ‘Rufus’ Legacy in the Psychopathological
Literature of the (Early) Modern Period’ (pp. 245–62) examines in great detail the
‘hypochondriac’ type of melancholy and the (not always acknowledged) influence
of Rufus’s ideas in the history of psychiatry, including notably a section on Robert
Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy (published in 1621). The volume concludes
with three ‘Appendices’ (pp. 265–96), largely philological in nature (two short ones
by Pormann, a longer one by van der Eijk and Pormann); an extensive ‘Bibliogra-
phy’ (pp. 297–310) of quoted literature; a ‘General Index’ (pp. 313–24) of names
and terms, partly analytical; and lastly a very useful ‘Source Index’ (pp. 325–31) of
cited classical texts.
For those involved in the history of Greek or Arabic medicine and philosophy this
book will no doubt become an indispensable tool, especially insofar as Pormann’s
collection of fragments is concerned; yet the book also offers a variety of stimulating
and original thoughts to those who approach the subject matter from a different
angle. Considering the tricky and extremely well-mastered challenges of typesetting,
the book is very reasonably priced (there is also a cloth edition at /59.00). Pormann,
who pulled all this off, can only be congratulated.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp051 OLIVER KAHL
P.S.F. VAN KEULEN and W.TH. VAN PEURSEN (eds), Corpus Linguistics and Textual
History: A Computer-Assisted Interdisciplinary Approach to the Peshitta (Studia
Semitica Neerlandica Volume 48). Van Gorcum, Assen 2006. Pp. 367. Price:
/98.50. ISBN: 90-232-4194-0.
The volume under review represents the synergism of two important Dutch
research projects, namely the Peshitta Institute Leiden (PIL) and the Werkgroep
Informatica Vrije Universiteit (WIVU), with the input of other internationally
acclaimed scholars. Anyone wishing to stay abreast of modern research into the
Old Testament Peshitta or Syriac language must read this collection of essays,
critique essays, and response essays to the critique essays.
The volume largely comprises contributions to the Computer-Assisted Linguistic
Analysis of the Peshitta (CALAP) seminar of 2003, a joint project of PIL and WIVU.
The scholarly community owes a debt of gratitude to the Netherlands Organization
for Scientific Research (NWO) for funding CALAP. The volume divides into two
280
REVIEWS
parts, Part One: Papers Presented at the CALAP Seminar, focusing on questions of
method and theory, and Part Two: 1 Kgs 2:1–9, a section that highlights the appli-
cation of the methods used by CALAP to an actual text. The editors have organized
the material well and provided indices of passages cited and of modern authors
referenced.
Konrad D. Jenner and Wido van Peursen from PIL and Eep Talstra from WIVU
open the volume with two joint essays on how the separate projects can work
together productively. WIVU brings its expertise on computer analysis of the
Hebrew Bible, while PIL its specialization on the text of the Peshitta. In their first
essay, they grapple with the question of defining a language system and the issue of
determining the textual basis for describing that language system. In their second
essay, they address the problem of transferring research questions into linguistic data
types and analytical tools. Within CALAP, they adapted the programs used to analyse
Biblical Hebrew developed by WIVU to the Syriac Old Testament. In their essay
on the basic parameters of computer-assisted linguistic analysis on word level, Hen-
drik Jan Bosman and Constantijn J. Sikkel discuss the role of human intervention
in correcting the computer analysis. Pier G. Borbone and A. Dean Forbes interact
with their presentation in separate critique essays, to both of which Bosman and
Sikkel offer a response. Janet W. Dyk offers an interesting article on data prepara-
tion, in which she discusses how the data is treated both on the word level and the
phrase level and what methods can be applied in answering research questions such
as phrase structure and verbal valency. Geoffrey Khan critiques her essay.
Researchers in Syriac language and comparative Semitics will appreciate the sur-
vey article of Wido van Peursen on the tripartite nominal clause in Syriac, in which
he lays out the opposing views of the syntactic function of the enclitic personal
pronoun in Syriac offered by G. Khan (a copula), G. Goldenberg (a pronoun), and
T. Muraoka (an emphatic particle). He finds that the definitions of ‘subject’ and
‘predicate’ are important in engaging the differing views. In the opinion of van
Peursen, Muraoka uses the terms grammatically, while Goldenberg uses them psy-
chologically or pragmatically. Van Peursen believes that the terms ‘topic’ and ‘com-
ment’ are better descriptives of what Goldenberg intends. Van Peursen also engages
the research of Jan Joosten. Goldenberg, Joosten, and Muraoka offer separate com-
ments on the essay of van Peursen, with van Peursen responding in a single contri-
bution. This set of essays alone, containing a spirited and engaging interchange of
conflicting ideas, is worth the price of the book and should be incorporated into
comparative Semitic courses and courses on Syriac grammar.
Percy S.F. van Keulen discusses the relevance of the study of the targum to
research into the Peshitta Old Testament. He focuses on Targum Jonathan to the
Prophets in its relation to the Peshitta of Kings. Students of textual criticism and
translation strategy will enjoy this essay, along with the sober and penetrating
response essays of Bas ter Haar Romeny and Donald M. Walter. The general
researcher should be aware that the issue of targum and Peshitta in the Prophets is
far different than the same question with regard to the Law or the Writings due to
multiplicity of targums to the Law and significant time difference between the
composition of the targums and the Peshitta with regard to the Writings. Targum
Proverbs, by way of reminder, may owe its origin to the Peshitta of Proverbs.
Part Two focuses on the application of the methods discussed in Part One to a
specific text, namely 1 Kgs 2:1–9. Van Keulen discusses textual features of the pas-
sage, providing a detailed, running list of formal differences between the Peshitta
and the Hebrew. It would have been helpful it he had summarized the data and
281
REVIEWS
drawn conclusions from it. Bosman and Sikkel apply word level analysis to the text,
illustrating some of the points made in their earlier essay in Part One. In her essay
on structured syntactic hierarchy, Dyk discusses signals for divisions within the text,
the use of verb tenses to indicate the main thrust as over against background, the
use of verb tenses in independent versus dependent clauses, and compares and con-
trasts Hebrew and Syriac as languages. In a separate essay, she treats lexical corre-
spondence and translation equivalents in the Syriac and Hebrew with a view to
building an electronic concordance that can access and sort such information. Van
Peursen analyses the nominal clauses in the text, relating to the earlier discussion
where relevant. Van Keulen treats the exegetical and text-historical issues arising in
the Peshitta by comparison to the Hebrew MT. He also discusses the knotty prob-
lem of the so-called BTR (Basic Textus Receptus) and the divergent textual tradition
represented by MS 9a1. In a final essay, van Peursen draws together the results of
the interdisciplinary study of 1 Kgs 2:1–9. Among other matters, van Peursen dis-
cusses cases where one scholar coming from one discipline looks for a linguistic
solution for the divergence of the Syriac from the Hebrew, while another scholar
coming from a different discipline proposes translation technique or exegesis as the
explanation for that divergence. In some cases, the two approaches are in fact com-
plementary.
In sum, every research library should acquire a copy of this important volume for
its collection. Teachers of Syriac, Comparative Semitics, and Textual Criticism
should incorporate selected sections into their courses. The present reviewer
applauds these initial results of cooperation and looks forward to further studies
being produced by the syngergism of PIL and WIVU under the umbrella of CALAP.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp052 JEROME A. LUND
TEMPLE BAPTIST COLLEGE
CHRISTA MÜLLER-KESSLER, Die Zauberschalentexte in der Hilprecht-Sammlung, Jena

und weitere Nippur-Texte anderer Sammlungen. Harrassowitz Verlag, Wiesbaden
2005. Pp. xii + 257. Price: /68.00. ISBN: 978-3-447-05059-3.1
The book reviewed here represents an important contribution to the study of the
Aramaic magic corpus, a field that has developed considerably over the last ten years.
A wave of new discoveries and publications has enriched our knowledge of these
distinctive documents, which bear witness to the languages and religious practices
of Jews, Mandaeans, Christians and Pagans in late antiquity in Babylonia. The pres-
ent volume is the first of three long-awaited books by Dr Müller-Kessler, who has
already established herself as one of the most active and prolific researchers in this
field.
Before considering the merits of this work, I wish to emphasize a fact that is
known to all researchers involved in the publication and study of these ancient
documents: editing incantation bowls is no easy task. A brief glimpse at the pho-
tographs published in this volume suffices to show that the process of deciphering
these texts is an involved one. Even the texts written in the Jewish square script,
which generally tends to be less cursive and ligatured than its Mandaic and Estrangelo
Syriac counterparts, present difficulties in differentiating between different letters or
1
The reviewer would like to thank several people for permission to cite from their
unpublished transcriptions of magic bowls: Prof. Shaul Shaked for the Martin Schøyen Col-
lection (MS), Dr James Nathan Ford for bowls in a private collection (JNF), and Dr Dan
Levene for the Dehays collection (SD) and the Vorderasiatisches Museum (VA).
282
REVIEWS
combinations of letters. Evidence for this may be found in the numerous places in
this book wherein the author has justifiably corrected readings previously suggested
by some of the leading epigraphers. The rough writing surface, concentric shape of
the text, and poor state of preservation add to the challenges that the decipherer
encounters.
Dr Müller-Kessler (henceforth MK) has not baulked at this task, and has endea-
voured to publish a wide selection of texts, even when the bowl on which the text
was written is incomplete or severely damaged. In this she has surpassed all her
predecessors, who have published only wholly or almost-wholly preserved bowls.
Inevitably, further discoveries will allow for more complete publication of these
texts.
This review will focus primarily on a central methodological issue on which the
reviewer finds himself in disagreement with the editor of these texts. While the
present reviewer holds that every epigraphic source comprises an individual textual
witness that must be presented as much as possible without change and judged upon
its own merits, MK’s editions are characterized by numerous ‘corrections’ she intro-
duces into the text; in fact, there is barely a text presented here without MK’s
proposed ‘improvements’. Some of these emendations are linguistic in nature, oth-
ers textual. To the present reviewer, many seem superfluous, as I hope to demon-
strate by the following examples. I have transcribed the examples in the Jewish script
into Hebrew characters. The curly brackets {‫ }א‬are employed by MK to denote her
proposed editorial deletions, while angled brackets <‫ >א‬denote her proposed addi-
tions.
Text 1 line 2. There is certainly no need to emend the canonical text of Deut. 6:7:
‫ ובלכתך בדרך‬to read <‫ובלכתך בדרכ>ך‬.
Text 3 line 1. MK reads: ‫ביתה }אי{ ואיסקופתיה דאדק בר מחלפתא ו}ל{>ד<ממי אינתה‬
‘das Haus und die Türschwelle des Adaq bar MaÌlapta und seiner Frau Mamay’.
However, the expression ‫ ולממי‬is hardly an error, since it recurs in a similar context
in lines 4–5 of this bowl (correctly read and left unemended by MK): ‫לביתה‬
‫‘ ולאיסקופתה דאדק בר מחלפתא ולממי אינתה‬dem Haus und der Türschwelle des
Adaq bar MaÌlapta und seiner Frau Mamay’. As Hopkins has demonstrated in this
journal, the use of the lamed preposition as genitival constructs is rare in Eastern
Aramaic but sufficiently attested to be regarded as a living phenomenon. Hopkins
suggested that it was a vernacular form that only occasionally found expression in
the literary dialects.2 This important attestation in the magic corpus lends further
support to Hopkins’ contention. An additional example is found in MS 2053/126:6
(unpublished): ‫‘ ולכל אינשי בתיהון דמאכוסרו בר מדוך ולנרסוי בת אדרוי אינתתיה‬and
the people of the household of Makhusro son of Madukh and of Narsoi daughter
of Adaroi, his wife’.
Text 3a line 1. MK reads ‫חתים ומחתם בית}ת{ה ואיסקופת}ת{ה >ד<דודי בת אחת‬
‘Versiegelt and fest versiegelt ist das Haus und die Türschwelle der Duday bat AÌat’.
The repeated taws are surprising, but in both cases the photograph reveals that the
scribe immediately refilled his pen before writing the second taw. It may be sug-
gested that the second taw is thus effectively a correction of the poorly written first
taw, which is not erased in accordance with the common scribal practice at the
2
S. Hopkins, ‘On the Construction Smeh l-Gaßra “The Name of the Man” in Aramaic’,
JSS 42 (1997), 23–32.
283
REVIEWS
time.3 However, since the spelling ‫ ואיסקופתתה‬recurs in line 4, it is possible that it

reflects an unattested dialectal biform or a hypercorrection. We may note that twice
in this text, the scribe writes ‫‘ אינתה‬his wife’ for expected ‫אינתתה‬, presumably
reflecting a pronunciation }inteh, perhaps resulting from haplology.
In addition, MK emends the name ‫ דודי‬here to ‫>ד<דודי‬, but in line 4 she leaves
the form unemended in an equivalent context: ‫לביתה ולאיסקופת}ת{ה דודי‬. In both
cases, the unemended text ‫ איסקופתתה דודי‬can be interpreted as an example of the
genitive construction ‫ ביתיה מלכא‬similarly discussed by Hopkins.4 The construction
is attested elsewhere in the Babylonian Aramaic magic texts: ‫על שמיה מארוי בר‬
‫‘ באתאי‬In the name of Maroi bar Bathai’ (AMB 7:1–2), and thus need not be
emended.
Text 4a. line 7. ‫‘ ואנא מישתבענא לכון במ>י< שמדד }מדד{ בשעולו מים‬und ich
beschwöre euch bei demjenigen, der das Wasser mit seiner hohlen Hand mißt’. MK
emends the post-biblical Hebrew spelling ‫מש‬- ‘the one who’ to ‫מי ש‬-, even though
the spelling found in the bowl is quite widely attested and has been noted in the
scholarly literature.5
Text 5 lines 1–3. MK reads ‫‘ הדין צילמה דרוח>א וד<לוטתא ודמחיתא בישתא‬Dies ist
das Abbild der (bösen) Ruh<a> <und des> Fluches und der bösen Plage’. However,
without emendation, the expression ‫ הדין צילמה דרוח לוטתא‬may be understood
quite reasonably as ‘This is the image of the spirit of the Curse-Spirit’.
Text 6 line 4. ‫‘ קל פגרי רעש >ו<קל פגרי רגש‬the sound of my body crying out6
<and> the sound of my body trembling’ would make sense without the conjunctive
waw, and does not need to be emended according to the parallels.
Text 8a line 9. <> ‘seid entwurzelt’. MK emends this Syriac text from
. However, given the common weakening of the pharyngeals in the Syriac
bowls, this emendation is unnecessary.7 This is particularly so in the present case,
since the same word is written without the äyin in all three previously published
parallel bowl-texts (Moriggi 4:7, 5:8; 32:8).
Text 9 line 6. MK reads ‫צי>ב<אות‬. However, without emendation the text may be
read ‫צואות‬, showing the rare but attested interchange of waw and beth.
Text 11 line 1. ‫‘ דהלין בר שרקוי וניונדוך אינתתיה בת כפני וזדוי בר}י{ה‬des Halen bar
Sarqoy und seiner Frau Newandux(t) bat Kapnay und ihres Sohnes Zadoy’. There
is no evidence that Zadoy is referred to specifically as Newandux(t)’s son, and
accordingly the emendation is not necessary. In fact, it is not possible to determine
3
‘False starts’ and corrected forms that remain unerased have been discussed in my article
‘On Some Non-Standard Spellings in the Aramaic Magic Bowls and their Linguistic Signifi-
cance’, JSS 52 (2007), 245–77. Additional examples are now attested in the magic corpus.
See M. Morgenstern, ‘Mandaic and Jewish Babylonian Aramaic — Some Points of Contact’,
Aram Periodical (Forthcoming).
4
Hopkins, ibid, p. 25.
5
J.N. Epstein, Introduction to the Mishnaic Text3 (Jerusalem 2000), 1218 (Hebrew), orig-
inally published in 1948 but now fully indexed; M. Bar-Asher, ‘A Preliminary Study of
Mishnaic Hebrew as Reflected in Codex Vatican 32 of Sifre-Bemidbar’, Teüda 3 (Tel Aviv 1983),
141 (Hebrew).
6
I do not know the source of MK’s translation ‘reagierte darauf’.
7
Numerous examples are listed in M. Moriggi, La lingua delle coppe magiche siriache
(Quaderni di Semitistica 21, Florence 2004), 119.
284
REVIEWS
with certainty to whom the possessive pronoun -‫ יה‬refers, since while it is it his-
torically the masculine form, in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic it may be used equally
of masculine or feminine antecedents.8 In other words, the unemended pronoun
can theoretically refer to either Halen (masculine) or Newandux(t) (feminine).
The spelling of the pronoun in line 5, ‫ולזדוי ברה‬, is equally ambiguous, since it
may be read breh or brah; compare the defective spelling ‫‘ ביתה‬his house’ (Text 3
line 1) which parallels the spelling ‫ ביתיה‬in the same text (line 4).
Text 11 line 4. By emending the name ‫ פחלדד‬to read ‫פלחדד‬, MK has avoided
dealing with the interesting misplacement of the Ìet. We may suggest that this non-
standard spelling arises because the Ìet was not actually pronounced by the scribe,
who therefore did not know exactly where to place it within the word.9
Text 11d line 3. ‫‘ ערטיל שליח>י<תין‬Ihr seid nackt ausgezogen’. The text is simply
written in scriptio defectiva, which is not uncommon and does not need emending.
Compare in this volume text 15 line 1: ‫‘ צית>י<תון‬ihr hört’, and further: ‫אסירתון‬
‫‘ וחתמיתון בההיא עיזקתא דשלמה מלכה‬You are bound and sealed by that seal of King
Solomon’ (JNF 10:7–8).
Text 12 line 1. [‫‘ אל>א<יסור בגדנא מלכ>י<הון דש]ידי‬Zur <B>indung: Bagdana,
König <d>er S[edas]’. While ‫ אלאיסור‬is sometimes found in the bowl texts, ‫אליסור‬
is similarly well attested (e.g. SD 47; MS 1928/47:8). The traditional interpretation
of ‫ אליסור‬as a name ‘Elisur’ is preferable, and the reading should certainly not be
emended on the basis of MK’s interpretation.10 MK herself leaves the reading ‫אליסור‬
unemended in the parallel text published in this volume as 12a (line 1). In the
latter text, she similarly does not emend the grammatically correct form ‫מלכהון‬.
In Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, the form ‫ מלכהון‬is grammatically interchangeable
with ‫ ;מלכיהון‬there is no orthographic distinction between ‘their king’ and ‘their
kings’. If MK meant to correct this text to the ‘standard-literarisch-babylonisch-
aramäisch’ form, then she would have to translate here ‘Könige <d>er S[edas]’.
Text 12 line 5. [‫‘ קדחי ופוקי ועירוקי וגלח>י< מן ביני ]רישיכי‬Brich aus und gehe
hinaus und fliehe und rasiere die Haare [deines Kopfes]’. The correct reading of
the word emended by MK is surely ‫‘ וגלה‬be exiled’, a f.s. imperative of the root gly.
For the use of the root gly with reference to the expulsion of a demon, compare
8
For ‫יה‬- used as 3 f.s. possessive pronoun, see S. Friedman, ‘Three Studies in Babylonian
Aramaic Grammar’ Tarbiz 43 (1974), 64–9 (Hebrew); M. Morgenstern, Jewish Babylonian
Aramaic in Geonic Responsa; Studies in Phonology, Verb Morphology, Pronouns and Style
(Ph.D. Thesis, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2002, Hebrew), p. 89 (possessive
pronoun), pp. 108–9 (object pronouns). For examples drawn specifically from the magic
bowl texts, see H. Juusola, Linguistic Peculiarities in the Aramaic Magic Bowl Texts (Studia
Orientalia 86, Helsinki 1999), 89–92 (possessive pronoun).
9
The parallel phenomenon is found in Hebrew texts from Qumran. See E.Y. Kutscher,
The Language and Linguistic Background of the Isaiah Scroll (1Q Isa a) (Leiden 1974), 508; on
the addition of non-historical pharyngeals as evidence for their loss in pronunciation in Jew-
ish Babylonian Aramaic, see J. Blau, On Pseudo-Corrections in Some Semitic Languages (Jeru-
salem 1970), 51; Y. Kara, Babylonian Aramaic in the Yemenite Manuscripts of the Talmud
(Jerusalem 1983, Hebrew), 67; and especially D. Boyarin, Review of Kara, Yemenite Manu-
scripts, Leshonenu 51 (1987), 253–4.
10
See J.N. Ford, Review of J.B. Segal, Catalogue of the Aramaic and Mandaic Incantation
Bowls in the British Museum, Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 26 (2002), 254, and litera-
ture cited therein.
285
REVIEWS
the Mandaic magic bowl BM91780:10, wherein it parallels the root npq much like
in the present text.11 In the present text, the verb does not bear the yod since
in ‘standard-literarisch-babylonisch-aramäisch’ the III-yod f.s. imperative singular
ְ 12 The following text should probably read [‫‘ מן בתי]הון‬from
pattern is ‫ ְק ַטא‬or ‫ק ָטא‬.
[their] houses’.13
Text 13 line 5. For ‫‘ ומחיא וטרפא דר>ד<ק]י[ ודרדקתא‬und die männlich[en] und
weiblichen Kleinkinder schlägt und zerschlägt’ read ‫ומחיא וטרפא דדקי ודרדקתא‬.
The final yod of ‫ דדקי‬is clearly visible in the photograph, while ‫ דדקי‬may be taken
as a phonetic spelling for the common ‘standard-literarisch-babylonisch-aramäisch’
form ‫‘ דעדקין‬young ones’.14 The text may be read without hypothetical emenda-
tions.
Text 18 lines 1–2. ‫>כי ביה< יהוה צב]אות צו[ר עולמ>י<ם‬. There is no reason to think
that the citation from Isa. 26:4 must include the first two words. My own prefer-
ence would be not to emend the spelling of ‫עולמ>י<ם‬, since we do not know what
reading lay before the scribe. Furthermore, post-biblical texts contain many citations
of Hebrew verses that do not follow the orthography of the Massoretic Text.
Text 23 line 3. ‫‘ לוט>ת<יה‬ihre Flüche’. This should probably be taken as a singular
noun showing loss of the shewa and progressive assimilation (*-†¢†eh > *††eh > ††eh).
Compare the uncorrected spelling ‫ אינתה‬in text 3 line 1 discussed above. Another
example showing this assimilation is probably ‫‘ לוטא‬a curse’ found in Gordon H
(line 1), a bowl-text which similarly contains the non-standard form ‫‘ דאיתא‬of a
woman’.15
Text 38a lines 2–3. wqryt} ∂-ptykry} zykry} w<d>¨str}t} nwqb}t} ‘und die Verfluchung
der männlichen Patikars and <der> weiblichen Göttinnen der Zauberei’. Similarly
line 4: mn p}gr}ywn ∂-d}nys w<d>r¨w}y w<d>dwm} bny} mhlpt} ‘aus den Körpern des
Danis und <des> Raway und <der> Duma, der Kinder der Mahlapta’; and line 5:
wqnynw<n> ∂-d}nys w<d>dwmh w<d>rw}y. Müller-Kessler has emended all three
examples on the assumption that the single genitive particle ∂- cannot govern more
than one noun. However, Nöldeke already recorded an example that indicates that
this is not the case in Classical Mandaic, admittedly without the proleptic suffix:
‘d} ∂-kyw}n wrwh} wmsyh} b}†l} wswb} syby}y’ ‘die Hand Saturn’s, und der Rûhâ und
des nichtigen Christus and der 7 Planeten’.16 Investigation of the magic corpus in
11
See the edition of this text in J.N. Ford, ‘Another Look at the Mandaic Incantation
Bowl BM 91715’, JANES 29 (2002), 43–4.
12
See G. Dalman, Grammatik des jüdisch-palästinischen Aramäisch (Leipzig 1905), 339,
348.
13
Even if we were to adopt MK’s reading of ‫ גלח‬and accept that this verb does not
belong to the III-yod class, Juusola, Linguistic Peculiarities, p. 193, has already listed exam-
ples demonstrating the co-existence of the historical and phonetic forms side by side, such
as Gordon G:11–12: ‫‘ כען שיקלי גיטכי וקבילי מומתיכי ויפרח ויקדח פוקי מן ביתיה‬now take your
divorce deed and accept your adjuration and fly and flee and go out of her house’. It is perhaps
significant that the two words in this example that demonstrate the loss of the final -i vowel
are from III-Ìet roots. It is possible that the final Ìet was not actually pronounced, and that
they effectively conjugated like the III-yod f.s. imperatives.
14
J. Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch über die Targumim, Erster Band (Leipzig 1867), 183
s.v. ‫דעדק‬.
15
C. Gordon ‘Aramaic and Mandaic Magic Bowls’, ArOr 9 (1937), 86. Cf. the spellings lg’t
for * lg’†t ‘you took’ and l’tyn for < *l’†tyn discussed in Ford, JANES 29 (2002), 35 and n. 12.
16
Th. Nöldeke, Mandäische Grammatik (Halle an der Saale 1875), 327.
286
REVIEWS
Mandaic and Jewish Babylonian Aramaic suggests that while this syntactic use
of the genitive ∂- to govern more than one noun is rare, it is occasionally attested,
more frequently in the texts in the Jewish script. In Mandaic I have found the
following examples: ‘l pwm}ywn ∂-bny} }n}s} ∂-gwbry w[n]sy’ ‘on the mouths of
people, of men and women’ (MS 1928/42:7), and perhaps bswm}yhwn ∂-hlyn
ml}ky} w¨str}t’ ‘in the names of these angels and goddesses’ (MS 2054/123:27) and
}bhwn d-kwlhwn shyry} wdywy} wrwhy} whwmry} wlyly}t} wrwh}t} bys}t} w†wlny}t}
rwrb}t} ∂-t}byl ‘the father of all the sahras, dews, spirits, pebble-spirits, liliths, evil
spirits, and mighty shadow-spirits of the world’ (MS 1928/52:27–9), though in the
latter two examples the words linked by a simple conjunction are in apposition with
the pronouns hlyn ‘these’ and kwlhwn ‘all of them’. The construction X-hwn d-Y
w-Z ‘their X of Y and Z’ is more frequent in the bowls in the Jewish script: ‫לביתיהון‬
‫‘ דאחי ונני בני גושנזדוך‬to the house of Ahay and Nanay sons of Gushnazdukh’
(MS 1929/2:2). ‫‘ תא עליהון דשידי ודיוי‬come upon the seds and dews (MS 1929/1:6);
‫בישמיהון דאביאל ובתואל ונתואל ואליהוז ותלינות ותלתות יה קרבית ומטואל ומטאל‬
‫‘ ועניאל ועשאל וצוריאל ואריאל ודנאל וניאל‬In the name of Abi}el, Batu}el etc’ (MS 1927/
13:6–8). The infrequency of this construction may suggest that it was a vulgarism
that was generally avoided in the written language.
Text 40b line 10. mn zymt} d-rys}ywn w}lm} <l>†wpry} ∂-lgr}ywn mn †wpry} ∂-lgry}ywn
w}lm} <l>zymt} ∂-rys}ywn ‘vom Kopfhaar bis zu ihren Zehennägeln, von ihren
Zehennägeln bis zu ihrem Kopfhaar’. MK has emended both instances of the use
of the preposition }lm} ‘until’ without a following lamed to conform to a supposed
‘norm’. It is true that in classical Mandaic, }lm} is often followed by a lamed when
it precedes a noun. However, in the magic corpus, there are several attestations of
}lm} before a noun without the lamed, including the parallel text written by the same
scribe, AO 14.963.17 I have identified two more examples in the unpublished texts
from the Martin Schøyen collection: (1) mn swmy} w}lm} }rq} ‘from the heavens
unto the earth’ (MS 1928/53:14); (2)}lm} lywm} ywm dyn} w}lm} syt} s}yy} pwrq}n}
}lm} lgmwry} swmy} w}rq} ‘until the day of judgment, until the hour, the hours of
deliverance, until heaven and earth are perfected’ (MS 2054/35:14–15).18 From the
combined evidence of these examples it becomes apparent that the use of }lm} before
a noun without a following prepositional lamed is a rare but attested alternative to
the standard construction }lm} l-.
Notes on readings
Text 15 line 1. ‫‘ כל עררין ואיסרין‬Alle … und magischen Bande’. Read ‫כל נידרין‬
‘All oaths’.
Text 15 line 2. ‫ואם לא הוו בשמרה דאלהא דישמיה ובשמתה דכל מלכיה ובשמתה דרבי‬
‫‘ אחא בר רבי חניאה ובשמתה דכל ישראל‬Und wenn sie nicht mit der Beachtung des
Gottes des Himmels und mit dem Bann aller Könige und mit dem Bann des Rabbi
AÌa bar Rabbi Îania und mit dem Bann ganz Israels’. The context requires the
reading ‫‘ בשמתה‬mit dem Bann’ rather than ‫‘ בשמרה‬mit der Beachtung’ and the
17
The text was published by H. Pognon, ‘Une incantation contre les génies malfaisants,
en mandaïte’, Mémories de la Societé de linguistique de Paris 8 (1892), 193–234. The identity
of the two scribes was determined by Müller-Kessler herself.
18
This expression is also found in the Ginza Rba. For the references to the Ginza texts,
see E.S. Drower and R. Macuch, A Mandaic Dictionary (Oxford 1963), 441 s.v. saiia.
287
REVIEWS
photograph reveals that this is indeed the correct reading; the lower ‘leg’ of the taw
is faded but can clearly be discerned.
Text 17. Since, as MK states, ‘Wegen seines fragmentarischen Zustands ist der
Text schwer verständlich’, it seems strange to recommend emendations. It would
be better to present the readings that may be gleaned from the surviving letters,
and to hope that a future parallel will be discovered that will enable its better recon-
struction.
Text 18 line 1. ‫‘ למלך עלמוה‬für den König der Welt’. Read ‫‘ למלך עלמיה‬for the
king of all ages’.
Text 23 line 3. ]‫[ פך אטמית קרנך קרני‬... ‘ich verschloß/bezwang dein Horn. Mein
Horn…’. Perhaps read ‫א[פך אפי מות קרנך קרני‬... ‘Your face is the face of death.
Your horns are the horns of …’.
Text 38 lines 8–9. ¨syr hyl}ykyn ∂-kwlhyn ‘gebunden ist eure ganze Kraft’. For
kwlhyn read kwlkyn.
Text 39 lines 6–7. bgbr} d-}lyp }lyp h}wy} byt }yn} wr[bw]NnO rbw}n hwy} byt gbyn}
‘beim Gabra, die, die jeweils zu Tausenden in der Augenhöhle existieren, and die,
die je[weils] zu Myriaden in der Augenbraue existieren’. Prefer the readings }ynÌ
and gbynÌ and translate ‘by the Man who has thousands upon thousands between
his eyes and myriads upon myriads between his eyebrows’. Mandaic byt here has the
meaning of ‘between’.19
Appendix Text 2A line 4. wl{y}}}yly} b}yt} wnpqy} ¨sqwptÌ ‘und die Eingänge des
Hauses and die Ausgänge (und) die Türschwelle’. For b}yt} read b}ytÌ and translate
‘and for those who enter his house and those who leave his threshold’. Both }yly}
and npqy} are participles. If this line is understood in this way, there is no need
to emend the following text, which Müller-Kessler reads wmn zyrÌ wmn b¨zrh
^d-^bm}t} umn {d}}ylÌ umn n}pqÌ and translates ‘und seinem Samen and seinen
Nachkommen im Lande und seinem Eingang and seinem Ausgang’. Without emen-
dation, the text can be simply translated ‘from his seed and his progeny that is in
the town, and from (he) who enters it and from those who leave it’.
Notes on commentary
Text 2a line 1. It is unlikely that there is a connection between the expression ‫פוחח‬
‫‘ פורס על שמע‬A bare-limbed person may say the blessings over the shema’ and the
text of this bowl.
Text 4 line 9. ‫‘ בנין דאית להון ודהון להון‬die Kinder (/Söhne), die [sie] haben and
haben werden’. Contra MK, the form ‫ הון‬is not ‘ein Perfekt mit futurischer
Bedeutung’; rather, it is a masculine/common plural participle, exactly according
to the grammar of the ‘standard-literarisch-babylonisch-aramäisch’ (‫)הוַ ן‬
ָ in which
MK determines that this text is composed.20 The use of the participle to express
the indicative future is common in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, as noted by
Schlesinger.21
19
Drower-Macuch, Dictionary, 64 s.v. bit 3.
20
See Dalman, Grammatik, 340, 350.
21
M. Schlesinger, Satzlehre der aramäischen Sprache des babylonischen Talmuds (Leipzig:
Asia Major, 1928), 40–1, §27.
288
REVIEWS
Text 5 line. 5. There is no reason to read ‫ שים‬instead of ‫שום‬. Where the scribes
differentiate between the waw and yod, the material readings favour the waw, and
this is the Babylonian Aramaic form.
Text 5 line 8, n. 10. MK rejects the reading ‫‘ ו}שו{ אישתא וערייתא‬fever and chills’
in BM 139524 in favour of ‫ושואישתא ועריומא‬, which she translates ‘und Verwir-
rung and Betörung’. Elsewhere (JSS 52 [2007], 254) I have suggested that the cor-
rect reading is ‫וש ואישתא‬, and that the letters ‫ וש‬represent a false start in which the
}aleph was omitted because it was elided in pronunciation. The correct reading of
the second word appears to be ‫ ערויתא‬rather than ‫ערייתא‬.
‫ אישתא וערויתא‬is a word-pair found in many bowls: AMB 27:6: ‫מן אישתא ומן‬
‫ ;ערויתא‬MS 1927/21:10: ‫ ואישתא וערויתא‬JNF 98:1: ‫ ;אישתה ומן ערויתא‬VA 2423:8:
‫ ואישתא עוירויתא‬JNF 141: 2–3: ‫ ;מן אישתא ומן ערויתא‬JNF 142:4: ‫;ואישתה וערויתה‬
MS 2053/57:6: ‫ ;מן מיחוש ואישתא ומן ערויתא‬MS 2053/59:3 ‫ ;ואישתא וערויאתא‬and
MS 1927/21:10: ‫ואישתא וערויתא‬. The reading ‫ ואישתא וערויתא‬is further supported
by Classical Syriac wherein the identical phrase appears,22 and by the Neo-Aramaic
dialect of Koy Sanjak, in which arwetha usala means ‘an illness causing a high fever
and cold shivers’ (H. Muzafi, oral communication). By contrast, neither ‫שואישתא‬
nor ‫ עריומא‬is attested in Aramaic.
Text 11b line 6. ‘Die in Morag 1988, 253 gelisteten jemenitischen Varianten mit
-ty können durchaus später redigierte Formen sein, da mit den Geonim eine
Rennaissance des SLBA-Dialekts einsetzte’. The distribution of the 1 c.s. -ty mor-
pheme on III-yod verbs in the Yemenite reading tradition of the Talmud has noth-
ing to do with a renaissance of SLBA amongst the Geonim; it rather reflects the
textual transmission of the Talmud in later European sources up to and including
its almost final redaction in the printed editions of the European renaissance.
Although such forms are occasionally attested in Geonic texts, in Geonic citations
of the Talmud, the 1 c.s. morpheme remains the Talmudic form -ay, as in ‫‘ בעיי‬I
asked/sought’ (b. Sabb. 35a, cited in GK V 41:3; b.B.Bat. 67a, cited in Hark
171:12; b.B.Bat. 51a, cited in HPS 162:20]); ‫‘ אתאי‬I came’ (b. Sebu. 48b, cited in
Hark 110:30).23 The examples showing the -ti morpheme are almost exclusively
drawn from legal formularies or declarations, both of which are composed in an
archaizing idiom: ‫‘ איצטביתי‬I have consented’ (Hark 1:1, formulary); ‫‘ אתניתי‬I have
stipulated’ (Hark 1:11, formulary); ‫‘ אקניתי‬I have transferred possession’ (Hark
101:32, 102:1; legal declaration).24 Furthermore, it is incorrect to say that SLBA,
as MK labels the language of Targums Onkelos and Jonathan to the Prophets,
served as a model for the Geonic idiom, from which it differs extensively.25
22
See R. Payne-Smith, Thesaurus Syriacus (Oxford 1879–1901), 2977 s.v.
.
23
The sources: GK — B.M. Lewin (ed.), Ginze Kedem, 6 vols, (Haifa: published by
the author, 1922–44); Hark — A. Harkavy, Studien und Mittheilungen aus der Kaiserlichen
Oeffentlichen Bibliothek zu St. Petersburg: Vierter Theil, Responsen der Geonim (zumeist aus dem
X–XI. Jahrhundert (Berlin 1887); HPS — Sefer Halachot Pesuqot by Rav Jehudai Gaon, Codex
Sassoon 263 (Jerusalem 1971); cited by page and line number of facsimile edition.
24
The different idiom of the legal formularies has been noted by M. Sokoloff, ‘The Ara-
maic Verbs in Halachot Pesuqot’, Leshonenu 35 (1971), 235–42. The existence of a distinct
idiom for court declarations (‫ )לשון טענות‬was first pointed out by Friedman, ‘Three Studies’,
64.
25
I have discussed this in detail in my study Jewish Babylonian Aramaic in Geonic Responsa;
see particularly p. 11, §5.4.
289
REVIEWS
Text 32 line 3. MK writes ‘Diese Pluralendung bedarf einer separaten Studie,

da -wt} als Morphem im Zentral-Südbabylonisch-Aramäischen bisher nicht erkannt
wurde’. However, the plural ending -wata in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic has already
been discussed by Epstein, who cited examples of both feminine nouns such
as ‫‘ מתוותא‬towns’ (b. Gi†. 7a) and masculine nouns such as ‫‘ חתנוותא‬sons-in-law’
(b. Sabb. 23b).26
Text 33a line 3. It is not clear how the use of ‘der syrisch fremden Demonstra-
tivpronomina’ and ‘this’ ‘weist vermutlich auf eine zugrundeliegende
mandäische Vorlage hin’. These texts are not written in Classical Syriac, and fre-
quently employ grammatical forms that differ from it but are not necessarily derived
from Mandaic. Compare, for example, the use of in Moriggi 6:5, which
is certainly not of Mandaic origin, since it is replete with Jewish and Christian
motifs.
It is also not correct to say ‘Auch die Schreibung mit Ì deutet den mandäischen
Hintergrund an, da nur in diesem Dialekt etymologisches /h/ graphisch als Ì
erscheint’. In fact, the phonological merger of historical *h and *Ì into a single
phoneme (apparently realized as /h/) appears to characterize all the central and
southern Mesopotamian Aramaic dialects, and consequently graphic interchanges of
this kind are quite common.
The magic bowls in Syriac script show numerous examples of these interchanges
in general, which, contrary to what MK here suggests, go in both directions, i.e.
both for historical *Ì and for historical (and in my opinion synchronic) *h.27
The Aramaic magic bowls written in the Jewish script often employ a single graph-
eme to represent historical *h and *Ì, while the scribes of the Talmudic manuscripts
generally tended to employ the ‫ ח‬grapheme only for historical *Ì, though some
exceptions are found.28 Mandaic preserves only one grapheme for the merged pho-
neme, and that is based upon the historical sign for *Ì, even though it is realized as
/h/. The historical grapheme for h is preserved only in word-final position as a
marker for the 3 m.s. pronominal suffix.
Since this magic bowl, written in the Manichaean script, shows only sporadic
use of the sign for historical h, it cannot be regarded as following the ortho-
graphic norms of Mandaic, and its orthography cannot be adduced as evidence
for a Mandaic Vorlage.
Conclusion
The magic bowl texts provide us inter alia with an unparalleled primary source for
Eastern Aramaic as written by native speakers. The modern editor of these ancient
texts must be wary of imposing his or her own preconceptions onto these valued
sources. It is likely that the forms of Aramaic spoken in Sassanian Babylonia were
more varied than our written records indicate, and that in the absence of a clear
literary standard, the degree of interplay between the written and spoken languages
varied. Accordingly, the editor of such a corpus should not seek to impose a unity
where there is none, or to force the texts to accord with any particular dialect or
26
J.N. Epstein, A Grammar of Babylonian Aramaic (Jerusalem, Tel Aviv 1960, Hebrew),
120–1.
27
Moriggi, La lingua, 116–18.
28
Some examples of ‫ ח‬for historical *h are cited in M. Morgenstern, ‘Jewish Babylonian
Aramaic and Mandaic: Some Points of Contact’, Aram Periodical (forthcoming).
290
REVIEWS
Urtext. We must let the ancient texts be our guide to the language and not force
them to conform to our own preconceived assumptions.
In spite of the above reservations, we are all indebted to Müller-Kessler for her
valuable contribution to the reading of these difficult texts. She has laid the ground-
work for all future research on them.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp053 MATTHEW MORGENSTERN
UNIVERSITY OF HAIFA
AVI SAGI, The Open Canon: On the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse (The Robert and
Arlene Kogod Library of Judaic Studies). Continuum, London 2007. Pp. 240.
Price: £16.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-82649-670-6.
Toward the end of The Open Canon: On the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse, Avi
Sagi describes the book as ‘an attempt to trace the contours of halakhic culture as
seen by those who live and work within it … meant to listen to the consciousness
of the halakhists’ (p. 212). The book does so, at least initially, by examining the
reception history of the Talmudic dictum ‘these and these are the words of the
living God’ (BT Eruvin 13b and BT Gittin 6b), reportedly enunciated by a heavenly
voice in response to an ongoing halakhic dispute between the Schools of Hillel and
Shammai. The assertion that both sides of a dispute count as ‘words of the living
God’ raises a host of questions regarding the truth claims of halakhic positions, the
nature of rabbinic dispute, and so provides a natural entrée to the issues Sagi, who
teaches in a philosophy department, wishes to explore.
The book provides a fascinating overview of halakhic — or, more accurately,
meta-halakhic — positions, and anyone interested in the diversity of views
among traditional Jewish jurists will find rich material here. Indeed, Sagi has
rendered a service to the scholarly community by collecting this rich array of
texts.
Sagi, aims to provide a taxonomy of meta-halakhic positions. The first three
chapters are devoted to three overarching views concerning the nature of halakhic
truth — monistic, pluralistic, and harmonistic — and Sagi explores the way each
deals with the issues raised by the saying ‘these and these are the words of the
living God’. A monistic position that asserts the existence of but one true position,
would have to grapple with the heavenly voice’s willingness to recognize both
Hillel’s and Shammai’s ruling as true; a pluralist thinker would need to establish
limits for halakhic legitimacy, lest any and all positions be treated as equally
legitimate.
The questions are fascinating and the material rich. However, I found the book
problematic in a number of ways. The first of these is admittedly unfair since it
has more to do with my own sensibilities than any shortcoming on the author’s
part, but since many of the readers of this journal probably share these sensibili-
ties, I will voice my discomfort on the following point: the book is radically
ahistorical; it trucks in disembodied, contextless ideas, concatenated because they
express the same position. The discussion of the monist position, for example,
begins with Joseph Caro, a sixteenth-century (floruit) mystic and scholar in Safed,
then proceeds to discuss the views, in order, of sages from eighteenth century
Jerusalem and Italy, sixteenth century Poland, nineteenth–twentieth century
Belarus, thirteenth century Italy, eleventh century France, twentieth century Tel
Aviv, nineteenth century Poland, eighteenth century Lithuania, twelfth century
France and sixteenth century Prague. While I recognize the methodological vari-
ety in different areas of the humanities, I found it frustrating to be introduced to
291
REVIEWS
such a chronological and geographic range (and in such a short span: the entire
chapter consists of thirteen pages) without some discussion of the context in
which these views were formulated. The absence of context is particularly marked
when the sources cited suggest some historical dynamic. For example, the view
that ‘halakhic rulings are human creations’ (p. 80) is introduced with citations
from three twentieth century orthodox thinkers, two of whom lived in the U.S.
(Rabbis Hutner and Feirstein). I doubt this is coincidence, but the point is not
pursued.
More deeply, I cannot help but wonder if we are still free to assume the
existence of a superhistorical notion of truth that is operative in the writings of
Talmud commentators in twelfth century France and twentieth century Tel Aviv
— and this assumption is a sine qua non for the typological approach of The
Open Canon.
Another point of criticism is internal to execution of the book. The advantage
of typological analysis is, arguably, that it allows the author to divert his or her
energies to conceptual analysis. But in this regard too The Open Canon is prob-
lematic. The number of primary sources adduced, one and often more on almost
every page, precludes close, analytic readings. Moreover, for most of the book Sagi
makes only occasional references to contemporary legal and philosophical think-
ers, even when the philosophical context of a particular thinker’s thought is rela-
tively well-established (as with the Kantian setting of Solovetchik’s halakhic
thought). Only the last two chapters — on halakhic values and the nature of
dispute — explicitly address the theoretical questions that have been implicit since
the very outset. This is a pity since the analysis is frequently enlightening, espe-
cially the discussion of models of halakhic authority and the different axiological
approaches to dispute.
But the most serious issue to my mind is Sagi’s vacillation between descriptive
and prescriptive analysis. As the quote that opens this review indicates, Sagi states
explicitly that he wants to ‘listen to the consciousness of the halakhists’. The posi-
tion he carves out is avowedly internal, and the book’s ‘critical tone was thus accord-
ingly subdued’ (p. 212). That is, of course, a legitimate scholarly approach, but it
is unclear whether Sagi in fact sees his work in purely descriptive terms. The title
of the book suggests that halakhic discourse is somehow open, and in a number of
places Sagi suggests this is the case, e.g., when he states that ‘Torah study is plural-
istic by definition’ (p. 15), or that ‘the rabbis perceived halakhic discourse as a
process of constant confrontation between contesting views’ (p. 188), i.e., that dis-
pute as such is constitutive of halakhic debates. But while the book demonstrates
conclusively that there is a wide range of opinions within traditional Jewish sources
(a descriptive claim), it does not show that this variety was embraced by ‘the rabbis’
(only by some rabbis). What, then, is ‘the meaning of halakhic discourse’ referred to
in the title of the book? Is it the open, pluralistic views Sagi presents, or perhaps the
monist approach is preferable? The Open Canon suggests it is the former, but to
argue for this position the book would have to abandon its internal descriptive
orientation and adopt an external, critical one. Of course, one is always free to apply
the same Talmudic dictum to the views presented in the book and say ‘these and
these are the words of the living God’. But for those who do not want to adopt a
rabbinic approach, The Open Canon offers a great deal of fascinating historical mate-
rial but only preliminary analysis.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp054 AZZAN YADIN
RUTGERS UNIVERSITY
292
REVIEWS
SHMUEL SAFRAI ‫ז״ל‬, ZEEV SAFRAI, JOSHUA SCHWARTZ and PETER J. TOMSON (eds),
The Literature of the Sages, Second Part: Midrash and Targum, Liturgy, Poetry,
Mysticism, Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science and the Languages of Rabbinic
Literature (Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum, Section
Two: The Literature of the Jewish People in the Period of the Second Temple
and the Talmud, 3a). Royal Van Gorcum, Assen and Augsburg Fortress Press,
Minneapolis 2006, Pp. xvii + 794. Price: /85.00. ISBN: 978-90-232-4222-2
(Royal Van Gorcum); 0-8006-0606-X (Fortress Press).
Roughly twenty years separate the bulky volume 2, under review, from its predeces-
sor, that appeared in 1987. The new book is quite useful indeed. An internal table
of contents opens each chapter. There are four multi-chapter sections: ‘Midrash and
Targum’ (pp. 1–278), ‘Liturgy, Poetry, Mysticism’ (pp. 279–420), ‘Contracts,
Inscriptions, Ancient Science’ (pp. 421–564), ‘The Languages of Rabbinic Litera-
ture’ (pp. 565–640). Section One, ‘Midrash and Targum’, comprises Menahem I.
Kahana’s ch. 1, ‘The Halakhic Midrashim’ (pp. 3–105), Marc Hirshman’s ch. 2,
‘Aggadic Midrash’ (pp. 107–32), Myron B. Lerner’s ch. 3, ‘The Works of Aggadic
Midrash and the Esther Midrashim’ (pp. 133–229), Chaim Milikowsky’s ch. 4
‘Seder Olam’ (pp. 231–7) with an appendix by Zeev Safrai, ‘The Scroll of Antiochos
and the Scroll of Fasts’ (pp. 238–41), and then Zeev Safrai’s ch. 5, ‘The Targums
as Part of Rabbinic Literature’ (pp. 243–78). Of chs 1 and 3, the editors claim that
they ‘are almost book-length and represent outstanding original contributions to
Talmudics which will probably remain reference studies for a good many years to
come’ (p. xv). Indeed. ‘They are especially important regarding textual history and
literary criticism, the sine qua non for any use of this material for any purposes of
a historical nature’ (p. xv).
The chapters on Midrash are written from a philological viewpoint. Kahana’s
‘The Halakhic Midrashim’ starts by introducing their collections, then explains the
term ‘halakhic midrash’. The literary nature of such texts is then explained (with
examples in copious footnotes). The development of exegetical methods is discussed
(pp. 13–17), and an introduction follows to the exegetical methodological differ-
ences between the schools of R. Yishmael and of R. Akiva (pp. 17–27). Kahana
believes that ‘[a] study of the names of dominant sages mentioned in the Halakhic
Midrashim will likely yield important information about the date and sources
of each individual document’ (p. 29). Manners of redaction are pointed out; e.g.,
‘at times we discern a slanted way of editing, with the redactors presenting the views
of sages from the other school in a partial and fragmentary manner in order to tip
the scales in favor of their own conception. This tendency was not noted by earlier
scholars’ (p. 36), and examples ‘from each of the two schools’ (p. 36) are given. The
redactors were ‘no neutral editors’ (p. 38), but ‘belonged to the schools themselves’
(pp. 38–9), as shown by their methods, terminology, ordering principle, and pos-
sibly ‘tendentious adaptations of midrashim from the other school’ (p. 39). Kahana
acknowledges (fn. 161) that by claiming that the redactors had such affiliations, he
is in agreement with Hoffmann, Epstein, and others, and in disagreement with
Albeck. Almost thirty lines in the same fn. 161 are devoted to refuting Porton’s
(1970, vol. 4) own refutation of Epstein and Hoffmann (G.G. Porton, The Traditions
of Rabbi Ishmael. 4 vols. [Leiden1965–70]). On pp. 40–52, Kahana is concerned
with the content of the halakhic midrashim: early halakha, aggada, polemic with
sectarians, attitude to non-Jews. On pp. 52–60, he considers in turn the relation to
other kinds of works: Aramaic and other translations, Mishna and Tosefta, and both
Talmudim. He then turns to the time and place of redaction (60–4), to Epstein’s,
293
REVIEWS
Albeck’s, and Lieberman’s opinions on this, and to the discovery in the Golan
of the inscription: ‘This is the beit midrash of Rabbi Eliezer ha-Kappar’ (p. 63).
A section on ‘History of Research and Future Challenges’ (pp. 64–8) concludes
Part I of Kahana’s important treatise, and is followed (p. 68) by his Part II:
‘Description of the Collections’ one by one, namely, ‘Mekhilta de-Rabbi Yishmael’,
‘Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai’ — extant in the Middle Ages, but ‘subse-
quently lost, and then partially recovered by modern scholars’ (p. 72) sometimes
erroneously (pp. 73–4) —, as well as ‘Sifra’, ‘Sifrei Numbers’, ‘Sifrei Deuteronomy’,
‘Mekhilta Deuteronomy’ and ‘Sifrei Zuta Deuteronomy’.
Marc Hirshman’s shortish, yet valuable introduction to the aggadic midrash is
sandwiched between the two chapters in the book that are themselves each book-
length treatments: Kahana’s and Lerner’s. Hirshman defines the relevant concepts,
then turns to techniques and phenomenta in the aggadic midrash considered as
creative exegesis. He then turns to the social setting, and to the popularity of the
genre. I find it problematic that notwithstanding the two chapters on the aggadic
midrash, there is nothing in the book by way of a discussion of the folktale studies
approach to the domain. Especially because of the intercultural concerns of the
Compendia series, it would have been crucial to adopt also that viewpoint. In order
to argue for this, I am discussing the matter in a separate article.
Like Kahana’s, Myron Lerner’s almost book-length and likewise superb chapter
is subdivided into two parts. In Lerner’s chapter, these are ‘State of the Art: The
Study of Midrashic Literature’ (pp. 134–76), and ‘A Sample: Midrashim to the Scroll
of Esther’ (pp. 176–229). The standard corpus is introduced (p. 139). A section on
the Tannaic period begins by acknowledging its being ‘commonly accepted that the
Aggadic Midrashim are a product of the Amoraic period’ (p. 140); yet, already
‘Tannaic sages engaged in aggadic exegesis’ (p. 140), but ‘the Amoraic period in the
Land of Israel witnessed the appearance of numerous talmudic authorities who
seemingly chose aggadic interpretation as their almost exclusive field of activity’
(p. 144). Lerner ‘Circulation of Aggadic material in Written Form’ (pp. 144–5) and
‘The Embryonic Stage of the Extant Aggadic Midrashim (250–400)’ (pp. 145–7)
is followed with ‘Dating the Extant Midrashim’ (pp. 147–55), itself subdivided into
a subsection about the importance of parallel passages, then ‘The Earliest Midrashim
(400–600)’ ‘The Interim Period (600–700)’, ‘Later Midrashic Works (700–900)’,
and ‘On European Soil: The Close of the Midrashic Endeavour (1000–1200)’. The
next section is ‘In the Wake of the Editing Process’. Part II, reflecting Lerner’s own
scholarly focus, concentrates, by way of a sample, on the midrashim to the Scroll
of Esther.
The next theme is texts on history and the yearly cycle. Chaim Milikowsky
ch. 4 (pp. 231–7) discusses Seder Olam, ‘an exegetically-based chronography focus-
sing on the biblical period, which is attributed to the second century Tannaic sage,
R. Yose’ (p. 231). Some peculiar syntax, vocabulary and idiomatics ‘have important
ramifications…for the question of the formation of Seder Olam’ (p. 233). ‘Evidently,
R. Yose’s role was one of a transmitter and glossator’ (p. 235). Twice in the Babylo-
nian Talmud, at Yevamot 82b and Nidda 46b, ‘the third century Palestinian Amora
R. Yohanan is cited as saying: ‘Who taught Seder Olam? R. Yose.’ Since internal
criteria, as well as the analysis of the parallel passages in other rabbinic texts, support
the hypothesis that Seder Olam is a Tannaic work, there is nothing concerning
the text we know as Seder Olam which would conflict with R. Yohanan’s statement’
(p. 235). A critical edition by Milikowsky of Seder Olam is mentioned as being in
press (p. 236). Zeev Safrai’s appendix to Milikowsky’s chapter deals with the Scroll
294
REVIEWS
of Antiochos, and the Scroll of Fasts, which itself ‘probably originated in popular
circles who fostered the cult of saints without the support of the sages and, perhaps,
against their wishes’ (p. 241).
Zeev Safrai’s ch. 5, on the Targums (pp. 243–78), discusses more fully Targum
Yonatan on the Prophets, the Targum on Psalms and on Job, the Targum on Prov-
erbs, and the Targum on Canticles. The chapter concludes with a section on the
following problem: ‘Since there are three Targums on the Tora and additional
targumic fragments, it might reasonably be asked what the relationship between
these various documents was’ (p. 277).
Section Two in the book deals with liturgy, poetry, or mysticism. It comprises
six chapters: Joseph Tabory’s ch. 6, ‘Prayers and Berakhot’, i.e., benedictions, and
ch. 7, ‘The Passover Haggada’, then Vered Noam’s ch. 8, ‘Megillat Taanit — The
Scroll of Fasts’ (not to be mistaken for the obscure Scroll of Fasts discussed earlier
by Safrai), Ezra Fleischer’s ch. 9, ‘Piyut’ on hymnography, Joseph Yahalom’s ch. 10,
‘“Syriac for Dirges, Hebrew for Speech” — Ancient Jewish Poetry in Aramaic and
Hebrew’, and finally Michael D. Swartz’s ch. 11, ‘Mystical Texts’.
Vered Noam’s ch. 8 (pp. 339–62) is concerned with the semi-historical Megillat
Taanit. Vered Noam is the only woman author in this book. Ezra Fleischer author-
ing the ch. 9 on hymnography made me long for such extensive treatment on his
part, as the chapters by Kahana and Lerner. Yet, ch. 9 only takes pp. 363–74. It
comprises the sections ‘Pre-Paytanic Poetry’, ‘The Rise of Piyyut’, ‘Genres and Con-
tents’, ‘Patterns and Structural Ornaments’, ‘Language and Style’, and ‘The Early
Paytanim’. Joseph Yahalom’s ch. 10 (pp. 375–91) includes poetic exemplification
throughout. All of the verse that appears in the examples is in Hebrew, except an
early, in-line example of Aramaic dirge (p. 377). Jewish Palestinian Aramaic poetry
is rather the subject of Yahalom and Sokoloff (J. Yahalom and M. Sokoloff [eds],
Jewish Palestinian Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity [in Hebrew; Shirat Bnei
Maärava: Shirim Arammiyyim shel Yehudei Eretz Yisrael ba-Tqufa ha-Bizantit.
Jerusalem 1999]). Yahalom’s chapter is mainly concerned with poetry in the domain
of grief and mourning, which also includes public fasts, but there is a section
(pp. 384–6) on admonitions. Michael Swartz, in ch. 11 (pp. 393–420), ‘shows the
power of mystical esoteric texts describing visionary experiences and magic ritual.
He discusses seminal works or genre including Merkava literature, Hekhalot litera-
ture and Sefer Yetsira’ (p. xv). The chapter by Swartz concludes Section Two in the
book, whereas Section Three’s own last chapter is Yuval Harari’s ch. 17, ‘The Sages
and the Occult’.
Section Three in the volume comprises chs 12 to 17. Among these, the first one
is Mordechai A. Friedman’s clear and useful ‘Contracts: Rabbinic Literature and
Ancient Jewish Documents’ (pp. 423–60). Jonathan J. Price and Haggai Misgav
authored ch. 13, ‘Jewish Inscriptions and Their Use’ (pp. 461–83). ‘Despite 150
years of scholarship on Jewish epigraphy, no firm criteria have been developed — or
are likely to be developed — to distinguish Jewish inscriptions form others’ (p. 461),
yet tentative indicators are listed.
Samuel S. Kottek’s ch. 14 (pp. 485–96) is on ‘Medical Interest in Ancient Rabbinic
Literature’. ‘Geography and Cosmography in Talmudic Literature’, which is ch. 15
(pp. 497–508), is by Zeev Safrai. It is on geographical conceptions in early rabbinic
literature, not on the referents of specific toponyms. Hence the difference with
respect to A. Neubauer’s Géographie du Talmud (Paris 1868). Likewise, Ben Zion
Eshel’s gazetteer, published by the Magnes Press in 1979, of Jewish settlements in
Babylonia in talmudic times was not cited, and is missing from the consolidated
295
REVIEWS
bibliography of Safrai et al. (Ben Zion Eshel, ‫ישובי היהודים בבבל בתקופת התלמוד׃‬
‫ — אונומסטיקון תלמודי‬Jewish Settlements in Babylonia during Talmudic Times
[Jerusalem1979]). It must be said that Reeg’s lexicon (Gottfried Reeg, Die Ortsna-
men Israels nach der rabbinischen Literatur [Wiesbaden1989]) of place-names found
in the early rabbinic literature does appear in the consolidated bibliography. Yet,
looking up ‘Reeg’ in the index only yields one occurrence on p. 403, citing a the-
matically altogether different kind of book by the same author (it is cited in Michael
Swartz’ chapter ‘Mystical Texts’). Curiously, I was unable to find the citation of
Reeg in Safrai’s chapter on geography.
Chapter 16, by Abraham Ofir Shemesh, is titled ‘Biology in Rabbinic Literature:
Fact and Folklore’ (pp. 509–19). I have substantive things to say about the ancient
science chapters in the volume, so I devote a separate article to that discussion.
Shemesh’s first subsection is ‘Wild Man-Like Creatures (‫’)אדני שדה‬, and his proposed
identification of the adnei- (or adni-) ha-sade with the orang-utan from the Malay
archipelago is, in my opinion, ill-conceived, and arguably based on the use made, of
‘orang-utan’, by R. Israel Lipschütz (1782–1860) in Tif }eret Yisra}el (Hanover 1830),
at Kil}ayim, ad loc. At that time the term also denoted the African apes, and in par-
ticular, the chimpanzee. Besides, the chapter does not mention the crucial connection
to the homo agrestis of the medieval Western tradition (known in English lore as the
‘wildman’ or ‘woodwose’. Shemesh himself (personal communication, July 2008) is
quite open to my suggestions concerning this. At any rate, the subject is difficult, and
in other respects, his chapter is certainly valuable. Section Three in the book is con-
cluded by an important chapter on the occult, by Yuval Harari (pp. 521–64).
Section Four in the book, ‘The Languages of rabbinic Literature’, comprises three
chapters. Moshe Bar-Asher’s ch. 18 is ‘Mishnaic Hebrew: An Introductory Survey’
(pp. 567–95). Yohanan Breuer is the author of ch. 19, ‘The Aramaic of the Talmu-
dic period’ (pp. 597–625). This chapter, too, is a handy yet articulate introduction.
The last chapter in the book is Daniel Sperber’s ch. 20, ‘Rabbinic Knowledge of
Greek’ (pp. 627–40).
There is partial overlap between topics discussed in the book under review and
another book also of 2006, The Late Roman–Rabbinic Period, edited by Steven
Katz, Vol. 4 of The Cambridge History of Judaism (Cambridge 2006). Its focus is
on history, and it also deals with sociology and with material culture (e.g., art and
architecture), yet there is a partial overlap, even with the same author for the same
subject. But in Katz’s volume, the history of ideas rather than of texts is to be
found.
Unfortunately, the volume is not free from typos, or at any rate, spelling errors.
I found about thirty of them. Moreover, Churgin’s Targum Ketuvim, cited by Zeev
Safrai on p. 275, does not appear in the bibliography: it appears among neither the
primary, nor the secondary sources. The entry should be: ‘Churgin, P.M., Targum
Ketuvim. New York: Horeb Press, ([1944] 1945)’. Pinkhos M. Churgin was born
in Pahost, in the Czarist empire, in 1894, and died in New York in 1957. From
1929, he was professor of Jewish history and literature at Yeshiva University.
In Lerner’s chapter, the name of the nineteenth-century editor of editions of the
Midrashim still popular with the broad public appears as ‘R. Hanokh Zundel’ on
p. 178, but as ‘Rav Henokh Zundel’ on p. 148. At the end of the index of personal
names, on p. 772, s.v. ‘Zundel, H.’ (of course it is followed with ‘Zunz, L.’), there
is reference only to the occurrence on p. 236 (which is in the ‘Bibliography’ section
of Milikowsky’s short chapter on Seder Olam); not even the important occurrence
on p. 148 is mentioned in that index entry.
296
REVIEWS
It is not easy to look up a subject, as there is no subject index. The indices take
pp. 711–72, and at over sixty pages it would be unfair to blame them for inade-
quacy. They are subdivided into indices of the sources, and indices of personal
names. These two subdivisions are further subdivided; e.g., within the index of
personal names, there are a section on biblical names, a section for the period of the
Second Temple, Tannaim and Amoraim, a section for the period of the Geonim,
Rishonim, and Aharonim, and a section for the modern period. Still, a subject index
would have been very useful, and its lack is a shortcoming.
In important respects, the book is up to the daunting challenge that the series set
for it. Yet admittedly, two different thresholds were set. Kahana’s and Lerner’s excel-
lent chapters are like short books on their own, they have lasting merit, and finding
such achievements near the beginning, decidedly wets this reader’s appetite for the
other topics to be up to the same standard.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp055 EPHRAIM NISSAN
GOLDSMITHS COLLEGE
TIMOTHY EDWARDS, Exegesis in The Targum of The Psalms: The Old, the New,
and the Rewritten (Gorgias Dissertations 28 Biblical Studies 1). Gorgias Press,
Piscataway, NJ 2007. Pp. xviii + 288. Price: $102.00 hardback. ISBN: 978-1-
59333-432-1.
This study is based upon a selection of 15 psalms, the criteria for selecting them
being that they should come from all the books of the Psalter, and that they should
include a historical grouping of psalms (i.e. recognised or portrayed as a distinct
group in antiquity), psalms with significance in Christian exegesis and psalms
with exegetical expansions. The psalms chosen are Pss 1, 2, 45, 68, 80, 118 and
137, and as a historical grouping Pss 24, 48, 82, 94, 81, 93 and 92, on the basis
that (except 81, 82) they are said in m. Tamid 7:4 and the superscriptions in the
LXX to have been sung in the Temple on successive weekdays. Five manuscripts are
used, representing all three of the ‘families’ into which previous studies have divided
the textual tradition. The Aramaic text for each of the psalms is reproduced from
MS Wroc¥aw 1106, followed by an apparatus listing the main variants and the
author’s own English translation. Of course, a work that deals with only fifteen
psalms has some limitations in its scope, but with a book the size of the Psalter it
would be unrealistic to expect complete coverage in the kind of detail afforded by
Edwards. The selection made here consists of psalms with a good variety of treat-
ments by the targumist, though it is not clear to me of what significance the his-
torical grouping is in this connection
The book begins by considering how the Targum of Psalms (Tg.Ps.) relates to
other early Bible translations, and finds that Tg.Ps. was essentially independent.
Similarity in translation or interpretation can often be put down either to the
Hebrew text itself or to similarity in exegetical technique which produced similar
results in different versions. Only one likely case of dependence on an earlier trans-
lation (Aquila) is indicated, and very little evidence is found to support the view
that Tg.Ps. often shares the same Vorlage with the LXX and Peshitta. The relation-
ship with targumim to other parts of the Hebrew Bible is then discussed. Several
traditions shared with the targumim to the Torah and the Prophets are pointed out,
though surprisingly enough none with the targumim to the Hagiographa, including
the Targum of Job. Edwards believes that Tg.Ps. assumes a knowledge of broader
targum tradition among its readers, since without this some of its interpretations
would be difficult to follow. An examination of the relationship between Tg.Ps. and
297
REVIEWS
rabbinic literature shows numerous parallels, but also highlights the creativity of the
Targum within that tradition. Edwards maintains that Tg.Ps. developed in a way that
cannot be explained by a slavish dependence on midrash, and he questions the assump-
tion that targum is a second rate form of literature that simply restates what has been
said in midrash. The targumist is thoroughly at home with the world of midrash, but
is also a creative scholar, both willing and able to adopt and adapt existing traditions
when this is required by context in his translation. Where Tg.Ps. displays unique tradi-
tions, these are explained as due to the creativity of the author rather than dependence
on unattested midrashim. A comparison of Tg.Ps. with MidrashTehillim suggests that
there is no reason to assume any specific relationship between the two, other than their
being based on the same book of the Bible. Finally, Tg.Ps. is compared with the New
Testament and early Christian exegesis in two respects. Firstly, there is the question of
whether Tg.Ps. can be used in NT research for evidence of contemporary exegesis.
Matters discussed are the relationship of Tg.Ps. 68:19 to Eph. 4:8, Tg.Ps. 118 and the
use in the use of Ps. 118:22ff. in the NT in connection with the rejection of Jesus, and
the basis for using Tg.Ps. 80:16 in relation to Son of Man traditions; and it is con-
cluded that none of these passages of Tg.Ps. are relevant for NT research. Secondly,
the question of whether Tg.Ps. shows any evidence of reaction to early Christian inter-
pretations of the psalms is discussed with regard to its treatment of Psalms 2, 45 and
110, and it is allowed that on occasion the Targum can be shown to be counteracting
Christian interpretations of these psalms.
As far as date is concerned, Edwards observes that the earliest datable tradition
comes from dependence on Aquila, and can thus be dated to the early second cen-
tury, but that the majority of exegetical traditions found in Tg.Ps. are close to
Amoraic traditions, which would suggest that a date before the fifth century for the
‘original’ Tg.Ps. is very unlikely. The author believes that there was an ‘original’
Tg.Ps. that has been added to during its long redactional history, rather than there
having been more than one Targum to the Psalms.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp056 DAVID M. STEC
MARIANO GÓMEZ ARANDA, Dos Comentarios de Abraham ibn Ezra al Libro de Ester:
Edición crítica, traducción y estudio introductorio (Literatura Hispano-Hebrea 9).
Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas Instituto de Filología, Madrid
2007. Pp. cxxvii + 193 + *70. ISBN: 978-84-00-08563-6.
Abraham ibn Ezra (b. 1089), the eminent Andalusian Jewish polymath, wrote two
different Hebrew commentaries on the book of Esther, as he did for a number of
other biblical books. His first Esther commentary was written in Rome sometime
between 1140 and 1142; the second was written sometime between 1153 and 1156,
probably in Rouen. The first commentary appeared in the Second Rabbinic Bible
(Venice, 1524–5) and continues to be printed in Rabbinic Bibles (Miqra}ot Gedolot).
In contrast, the second commentary was first published only in 1850 by J. Zedner
(London) and does not appear in any Rabbinic Bibles. It is thus the first commen-
tary that is most often consulted and cited. The second commentary is more than
half again as long as the first. However, the second commentary is not simply an
updated version of the first, but rather should be considered a separate work, as was
shown in a careful study by B. Walfish (JQR 79 [1989], 323–43). It even seems
that Ibn Ezra wrote the second without being able to consult the first; in fact, the
unavailability of his earlier works was probably a major reason for his composing
the second commentary on Esther and other biblical books.
298
REVIEWS
Never before has a critical edition of either Esther commentary been undertaken,
and so it is very welcome that the author has produced this volume, which includes
critical editions and annotated translations of both. The critical edition is especially
needed for the second commentary, since the text is generally harder to find, and
since the edition of Zedner is based mainly on a single manuscript.
The author begins his ‘introductory study’ (pp. xxvii–cxii) with a brief history of
the two commentaries, discussing the time and place of their composition and their
previous publication. He continues with a lengthy comparative study in which he
demonstrates the ways in which the two commentaries differ in content. Some of
the topics covered are: differences in the use of language, differences in Ibn Ezra’s
treatment of certain topics (such as the absence of the divine name in Esther and
the etymologies of proper names), and the differing use of Rabbinic material. It is
a very interesting study, and one which also serves to highlight the approach of Ibn
Ezra to biblical commentary in general. This is a nice companion to the study of
Walfish mentioned above, which compares the two commentaries in a more
methodical way.
The introductory study also contains a discussion of the manuscripts consulted
for this critical edition (nine for the first commentary and six for the second). Also
listed are about a dozen other relevant manuscripts that were not employed, for a
variety of reasons explained by the author. Concluding the introductory study is
a handy bibliography of primary and secondary sources relating to the works of
Abraham ibn Ezra. Following the introductory study is an index of all biblical pas-
sages cited in the introductory study, in the two commentaries (with reference to
both the Hebrew texts and Spanish translations), and in the author’s footnotes to
the two translations.
The Spanish translations appear consecutively (pp. 3–193) and are followed by
the Hebrew texts and critical notes (pp. *5–*70). The Hebrew is printed in a good-
sized font, biblical text appears in boldface, and chapter and verse numbers are
marked. All of these features, coupled with the relatively clear Hebrew style of Ibn
Ezra himself, make for easy reading of the commentaries. Biblical citations from
outside the book of Esther are labelled with chapter and verse numbers as well,
which I presume is a helpful addition of the editor. The Spanish translations are
also presented in a very clear manner, well spaced, with chapter and verse numbers
plainly indicated. The added footnotes not only help to clarify Ibn Ezra’s text, but
also make reference to other works of Ibn Ezra and other medieval grammarians
and commentators.
The commentaries of a medieval Jew on a minor biblical book may seem like
obscure reading matter, but, in fact, these texts are more than simply comments
on the Esther story. That is to say, these texts are not just for those looking for an
interpretation of particular passages in the book of Esther. On reading the com-
mentaries, one gains insight on grammatical matters, theological issues, and Ibn
Ezra’s understanding of history.
In comparing the two commentaries, the reader can also witness how Ibn Ezra
continued to evolve as a scholar. Just to give a simple example, consider his com-
ments on the phrase u-b¢-bo}ah lipnê ham-melek (Esth. 9:25), which could be trans-
lated either ‘upon her coming to the king’ or ‘upon its coming to the king’, since
it is not clear who or what the pronominal subject is referring to. In the first com-
mentary, Ibn Ezra interprets this as, ‘when Esther came to the king’. But in the
second commentary, he says, ‘there are some who say [this means] “when Esther
came to plead for her people” … but b¢-bo}ah could also mean “when the decree
299
REVIEWS
[to kill the Jews] came to the king” … and this [latter opinion] is correct in my
eyes.’ So we see that Ibn Ezra remained open to new interpretations and had no
problem changing his mind.
This is the third critical edition of Ibn Ezra’s commentaries published by Mariano
Gómez Aranda. Ecclesiastes was published in 1994, and Job in 2004. It is hoped
that more critical editions of Ibn Ezra’s work will follow.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp057 AARON D. RUBIN
PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY
DVORA BREGMAN, The Golden Way: The Hebrew Sonnet during the Renaissance and
the Baroque (Medieval and Renaissance Text and Studies 304). Arizona Center
for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Arizona 2006. Pp. 298. Price: $45.00/
£37.00. ISBN: 978-0-86698-348-8.
Dvora Bregman (Ben Gurion University of the Negev) wrote her earlier study
Shevilé Zahav and the accompanying anthology Seror Zahav in 1995. The study
deals with the history of the Hebrew sonnet, which manifested itself mainly in Italy
but subsequently also in the rest of Europe and the Ottoman Empire, and was even
written by Sephardic poets in Amsterdam and Holland.
In The Golden Way, Bregman deals with the history of the Hebrew sonnet from
its first appearance in Italy around 1300. One can ask oneself why Bregman chose
the sonnet as a subject rather than the whole of Hebrew Italian poetry and its
Hebrew European and Mediterranean offspring, and why she restricted herself to
just one form of poetry. Why not deal with other forms of poetry, such as terza
rima, sestina or ottava rima? Why not deal with Hebrew ballades and monorhymed
or otherwise structured poetry?
The Hebrew sonnets by Immanuel da Roma (1261–1320) and others should not
be treated without dealing with the earlier Hebrew poetic tradition that derived from
the Arabic.1 The Arabic-based metres are correctly mentioned in Dov Yarden’s edi-
tion of Immanuel’s Mahberot. However, in her article on the sonnets by Immanuel,
Jacqueline Genot-Bismuth was aware only of the Italian background of the sonnet
that has stressed syllables. We know from his Italian poetry that Immanuel belonged
to the same generation as Dante Alighieri (1266–1321). In both the rhymed prose
texts and his poetry we find, for instance, his adherence to the philosophical dis-
course that is called dolce stil novo (the last word without diphthongization, rather
than the other Italian variant nuovo). We see for instance in his work the reflection
of the expression prima cagione (a mixture of prima causa and prima ratio), which
was coined by Dante to indicate God or First Cause, or in Immanuel’s words ha
1
Articles on this subject: Arie Schippers, ‘The Work of Samuel Archivolti (1515–1611)
in the Light of the Classical Traditions and Cinquecento Italian literature’, in Helmantica
Vol. 51 no. 154 (2000), 121–38; idem, ‘Les troubadours et la tradition poétique hébraïque
en Italie et en Provence; les cas de Abraham ha-Bedarshi & Immanuel ha-Romi’; in Antonius
H. Touber (ed.), Le Rayonnement des troubadours; Colloque de l’AIEO Amsterdam (Amsterdam
October 1995) (Internationale Forschungen zur Allgemeinen und Vergleichenden Literatur-
wissenschaft, Amsterdam 1998), 133–42; Carlos Del Valle Rodriguez, El Divan poético de
Dunash ben Labrat (Madrid 1988); idem, Carlos del Valle Rodriguez, Historia de la Gramática
hebrea en España, Volumen X: La gramática hebrea de Ibn Danán en la versión árabe y hebrea
(al-Darûri y ha-Kelal). (Gramática Hebrea X, Madrid 2004); Jacqueline Genot-Bismuth, ‘La
révolution prosodique d’Immanuel de Rome’ in Sasson Somekh (ed.), Studies in Medieval
Arabic and Hebrew Poetics (Israel Oriental Studies XI, Leiden 1991), 161–86. See also the
many articles by Angel Saenz Badillos on the subject.
300
REVIEWS
sibah ha rishonah. We also find philosophical terms in one of his satirical sonnets;
for instance, when the poet speaks about creative intelligence in a poem about an
ugly daughter of Gershom.
The interest in poetic forms, rhymes and metres in the course of the history
of Hebrew poetry lies in the adoption of forms and metres from the Gentiles;
according to the words of Ps. 106 [107]: 35 ‘And they mingled themselves among
the peoples.’ At the beginning of this Arab metrical tradition stood Dunash ibn
Labrat (920–90), Hebrew Andalusian poet and grammarian, who took over the
metres from Arabic poetry. The Arabs consider metrics a part of grammar, so in
most cases we find metrical observations in Hebrew grammars, even in later periods
— for example, in the case of Saädya ibn Dannân (Granada, 1440–1505) or the
Italian grammarian Samuel Archivolti (1515–1611). In Archivolti’s grammar Arugat
ha-Bosem (‘Fragrant Flower Bed’) we see how Archivolti still uses traditional terms
such as yated (Arabic watid) for the sequence v- (long followed by short syllable),
which forms the stable part of every foot of the metre.
One of Archivolti’s remarkable examples is a monorhyme six-liner, which can be
represented as a wheel because he speaks of the wheel of fortune. It can be read
perpetually, like some äyn poems in Arabic (referring to the rhyme letter as well
as the meaning of äyn as a word for ‘eye’) that describe the eye of the beloved.
‘Concretes’ like this were found earlier in both Arabic and Hebrew poetry (for
instance, poems in the form of trees). Archivolti explains the metres of his poems
by using the terms ‘peg’ (yated, Arabic watid) and ‘movements’ (tenuöt, Arabic
harakât), with the merubba¨ (Arab. murabba¨ = aabC/ ddeC) rhyme in a satirical
poem à la Cecco Angiolieri (1260–1312), but the further terminology of metres
— such as arokh for the Arabic tawîl metre (‘long’), a term used by Saädya ibn
Dannân — is absent from his work. Although Archivolti presents an example of a
sonnet and an example of an ottava rima in the very same chapter, he does not
mention the names of these two Italian genres. And even the stress that is required
on the penultimate syllable according to the rules of Italian is respected.
In The Golden Way, Bregman occupies herself with this interesting field, namely
Hebrew and Arabic poetics, which fused with additional rules that originated from
the Italian and Provençal tradition, and which also had its impact on Dutch Sep-
hardic poets, such as Solomon d’Oliveyra. After a general introduction, she discusses
in Part I (‘The Ancient Hebrew Sonnet’) the forming of the corpus of Hebrew son-
nets at the same time as the emergence of the Italian sonnet (1), the earliest Hebrew
sonnets (2), the author of the first Hebrew sonnet (3), and (Chapter II) the general
structure and rhyme scheme. Starting (1) with the question why the sonnet is
unique compared with other strophic forms in Italian literature, she explains that
in the sonnet the transition from the octave (the first eight lines) to the sestet (the
last six lines) is a ‘crisis’ in the ‘music’ of the poem:
The musical pattern of the sonnet verse-form is unique. Static forms, such as those used
in the mono-rhymed classic Spanish Hebrew poem, and repeating forms of various
kinds, such as the strophes used in liturgical Hebrew poetry (…), all lack the inner
tension and sharp contrasts of the sonnet.
She also discusses (2) the development of the classical model of the Italian sonnet,
which evolved from the Sicilian sonnet that consists of fourteen lines of equal
length. The closed octave (ABBA ABBA) was invented during the course of exper-
iments, thus giving the sonnet all that it needed to attain the classic form. Petrarch
(1304–74) was not the first to create the classic sonnet, although he did purify the
form of its superfluities. For the Hebrew sonnet, it is very important to deal with
301
REVIEWS
the model of Immanuel of Rome (3). In view of the slow development of the
Italian sonnet, the Hebrew sonnets of Immanuel of Rome come as an impressive
surprise: every one of his sonnets has fourteen lines in a single metre, and the great
majority are rhymed ABBA ABBA CDE CDE. Without doubt, this is the classic
model of the sonnet in Hebrew guise, and was published as early as 1328. Petrarch
began writing his Canzoniere in 1336 and did not finish editing it until 1374.
In establishing the classic sonnet, Immanuel thus preceded Petrarch by more than forty
years. … This poet, who so brilliantly composed Hebrew poetry in the traditions
of medieval Spain, was able to liberate himself from the old, if not sacred conventions
of this rich tradition to penetrate the very heart of Italian poetry, and to precede the
Italians themselves in establishing the classic model of the most common and basic form
in their poetry.
The classic model of the sonnet required Immanuel to refrain from using the various
options, however inviting they might be (p. 4). Bregman then explains (p. 5) that
Petrarch cannot have been the inspiration for Immanuel, as they lived in different
times and even in different places (for many years, Petrarch lived outside Italy, in
Avignon). Having eliminated these possibilities, the only way to explain the fascinat-
ing similarity between Immanuel and Petrarch is to suggest that both poets shared
an Italian source of inspiration: it appears that this source can be none other than
Dante Alighieri.
Bregman sees Dante also as the author of Il Fiore — the Italian version of the
famous allegory of love, Le Roman de la Rose, which was composed during the
thirteenth century by two French poets: Guillaume de Lorris (who began the poem)
and Jean de Meun (who completed it). Immanuel wrote his Mahberet Ha-Tofet
ve-ha-Ëden (‘Hell and Heaven’) in the wake of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Dante’s
influence on his work is apparent in several places in the Mahberot, and especially
in the sonnets.
Then in the IIIrd chapter she deals with metre, the phonetic syllable, the syl-
labic models, the quantative models, and internal rhythm, and symmetrical alter-
nating stress. The IVth chapter about the rhyme follows: homogeneous rhyme,
stressed rhyme, rich rhyme, alternating rhymes, rhymed biblical phrases. Then we
have the Vth chapter about structures of syntax and rhetoric: syntax, syntactic sym-
metry, rhetorical patterns. The VIth chapter is about developing the subject: a
bipartite structure, straggling sestes, affinity to the Italian sonnet, context-dependent
development.
Important are of course theme, attitude and mood in the sonnet (VII): the the-
matic approach, the love sonnet, love as sin, social implications, religious rebuke,
complaint, panegyric, boasting, criticism, and debate, and gluttony. The Italian
sonnet greatly expanded its range of subjects, approaches, and attitudes: the Sicilians
devoted the sonnet mostly to the subject of love, and the Tuscan poets cultivated
a number of new themes: religious and philosophical thought, ethics (largely alle-
gorical), social issues, politics, and others. Guittone d’Arezzo greatly contributed to
the diversity of the prosody, and was also instrumental in expanding the sonnets’
range of themes. The poets of the dolce stil novo saw poetry as something sublime,
deserving of only the most exalted subjects. Dante in his essay De Vulgari Eloquentia
limited these subjects to three: arms, love, and virtue. Dante and his circle wrote
poetry largely on the subject of love, though they broadened its significance in vari-
ous ways: the ‘realistici’, on the other hand — Cecco Angiolieri, Rustico di Filippo,
and others — demonstrated a broader approach. The first trend created an ‘exalted’
sonnet — limited in subject matter, Platonic, religious, serious and refined — while
302
REVIEWS
the latter created a ‘low’ sonnet varied in subject matter, realistic, vulgar, filled with
humour and a kind of street-smart cynicism. This, then, was the situation in which
Immanuel found himself when it came time to choose his own poetic path. Against
this background, Immanuel’s sonnets deal with every subject, high and low: love,
religious rebuke, complaint, praise, ridicule and boasts. In this he is reminiscent of
the “realistici”, who adopted a popular approach to their poetry. And indeed, in
more than a few sonnets Immanuel does adopt stylistic traits characteristic of this
trend, without avoiding however the usages of the dolce stil novo. Dvora Bregman
tries to find an answer as to whether his Italianized sonnets were accepted by the
Jewish community, in view of the kind of subject matter.
Part II (VIII) of The Golden Way starts with the flowering of the Italian sonnet,
beginning with (1) the poetry of Petrarch, (2) the poetry after Petrarch (i.e. Petrar-
chism: its major traits; early Petrarchism; and Petrarchism in the sixteenth century
with the subtitles ‘Not Only Love’ and ‘Not Only Petrarch’), and (3) baroque
poetry (with the concept of meraviglia; ‘creating amazement’).
The revival of the Hebrew sonnet (IX) took place when the decline of the son-
net after Immanuel of Rome was followed by the Renewal — which consisted of
the continuing participation in Italian culture of the Hebrew sonnet and the revival
of Immanuel’s poetics — by the poets who renewed the Hebrew Sonnet, such as
Joseph Sarfati,2 who translated from Spanish the theatre play Calisto y Melibea,
whose protagonist was the prostitute Celestina. In this connection, also the work
of Samuel Archivolti is mentioned. Bregman devoted an earlier article to his poems
in Italia 7 (1988), and is especially interested in his sonnet 59, which was pub-
lished in Bregman’s Sror Zehubim (Jerusalem 1981) and describes the music of
the spheres.3 Bregman then widens the circle, indicating that there are also many
sonnets in the East, for example in Saloniki and Constantinople. Although Breg-
man mentions some 80 sonnets from the sixteenth century, other sonnets were
written.
About the expansion of the corpus of sonnets, Bregman writes that this was
also linked to the flowering of poetry in Italy. In his anthology of Hebrew Italian
poetry (Berlin 1934), Schirmann includes the work of more than twenty-five poets
who were active during the seventeenth century, but there were many others. Four
important poets stand out as the major, highly prolific and well-known sonneteers
of that century: Leone da Modena, Moses Zacuto, Jacob Frances and Immanuel
Frances. There are short sub-chapters devoted to minor poets (Isaac Levi and
Abraham Graziano) and to the Hebrew sonnet in Holland. In Holland there was
a broad spectrum of personalities: Menasseh ben Israel, Isaac Aboab and Solomon
Oliveyra, who was a prolific poet and the author of Ayyelet Ahavim (‘Gazelle of
love’) (Amsterdam 1665). Oliveyra included some poetry in his rhyme dictionary
Sharshot Gavlut (Exod. 28:22; ‘Wreathen chains of pure gold’) (Amsterdam
1665).
Chapter X is devoted to general structure and rhyme scheme. Bregman first deals
(1) with the classical model, for example the acceptance of the model, its adherence
to the closed octave ABBA ABBA, and its restraint in structuring the sestet towards
the two-rhyme model CDC DCD. Bregman quotes Samuel Archivolti, who in 1602
2
I prefer to spell this name Sarfati with S rather than Tz, as was done by the translator of
this book. Even Zarfati would have been preferable to Tzarfati, as Tz is a modern invention
that does not do justice to the historical pronunciation of Sadé.
3
Also translated and dealt with in my article on Archivolti.
303
REVIEWS
introduced the first Hebrew sonnet to appear in critical theory (in his grammar
Arugat ha-Bosem; ‘Perfumed Garden’), with the pun on mishqal (which means both
‘weight’ and ‘metre’) and zahav (‘gold’), which has the numerical value of fourteen.
Second, Bregman deals (2) with expansion and change and discusses the sonetto
caudato (‘with a tail’), for example a sestet rhymed CDE CDE, with first coda EFF,
then FGG, and so on, which had already been employed in humorous and burlesque
poetry by Cino da Pistoia, Antonio Pucci, Burchiello and Berni (21 codas!). The
first Hebrew example is by Leone Modena (1571–1648).
The rest of the chapter comprises sub-chapters, such as ‘Expanding the Octave’
(writing a sonetto doppio, Sp. Sonetos dobles) and unusual rhyme schemes; it ends
with the sub-chapter ‘Question of the Sonnet’s Boundaries’. De Barrio’s Spanish
forms were imitated by Jacob Sasportas, a poet from the Amsterdam school. Hebrew
forms appeared in, for example, the four sonnets written for Joseph Penso: ‘Such
defiance of conventions, complicated structures, and grandiose symmetries all com-
bine to create a real meraviglia in the best of Baroque style’ (p. 128).
Bregman then (XI) deals with metre (p. 136) and the acceptance of the quanti-
tative-syllabic system (p. 136), and discusses the old and the new within this sys-
tem, and even investigates signs of a different path in metrics (p. 147). She also
discusses rhyme (XII; p. 150), including stressed rhyme (p. 150) and ornate rhyme
(p. 155). In the subsequent chapters, other formal, linguistic and thematic features
are discussed and illustrated with many examples: structures of syntax and rhetoric,
old as well as new (XIII; p. 166); how the subject is developed (XIV; p. 174), with
both new and old models; subjects, approaches and attitudes (XV; p. 200), includ-
ing love sonnets, wedding poems, encomiastic, occasional and various poems,
friendship sonnets, polemics, prayer, ethics, religious thought, laments, medita-
tions, complaint, mockery, laughter and many others. Also sonnet sequences (XVI)
are dealt with: coronas and such like as well as the sonnet sequences in Yesod Ölam
by Moses Zacuto.
The concluding remarks are devoted to the development of the Hebrew sonnet
in history (XVII), and continuity and change especially in view of the tradition and
change in the sonnets of Immanuel of Rome and the tradition and innovation in
the Hebrew sonnet of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The book ends with
an appendix comprising a table of quantitative syllabic metres (p. 289), a bibliog-
raphy (p. 293) and an index (p. 305).
I congratulate the author on the English version of her thorough, rich and solid
book. May her readership increase, so that also Italianists, Anglicists and so on take
an interest in Hebrew Italian literature and integrate the Hebrew sonnet into their
history of the European sonnet!
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp058 ARIE SCHIPPERS
AMSTERDAM
LEORA BATNITZKY, Leo Strauss and Emmanuel Levinas: Philosophy and the Politics
of Revelation. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2006. Pp. xxii + 280.
Price: £48.00 hardback. ISBN: 978-0-86156-4.
This is a difficult book, but it repays study. The two philosophers have rarely been
compared, but they have much in common. They were contemporaries, responding
to the same events, notably the Holocaust, and were nurtured on the same combina-
tion of Western philosophy, Jewish tradition and philosophy, and twentieth-century
phenomenology and existentialism: both studied with Husserl and Heidegger, and
were highly influenced by Rosenzweig. They were also both Jewish philosophers,
304
REVIEWS
drawing on that specific tradition and differing from philosophers who happened
to be Jewish; but Jewish philosophers concerned most of the time with philosophy
in general rather than with how philosophy relates to Jewish practice in particular.
In this context, Leora Batnitzky discusses their views of the philosophical task as
such, of religious revelation and of politics. But it is their view of politics that looms
largest, and about which she has the most interesting and startling (but plausible)
things to say.
Essentially, she makes two claims: that Levinas got politics wrong, and that
Strauss, properly understood, got it right. Levinas, on her view, tried to do two
impossible things: to free politics from any metaphysical or religious presupposi-
tions, and to reduce it to personal ethics. For Levinas, both ethics and politics are
based on one’s recognition of one’s absolute responsibility towards other people,
or ‘the Other’. This, one might say, may well illuminate personal relationships, but
does not illuminate relationships between groups, or relationships based on nego-
tiation and ‘trading’ (my word), or relationships based on justice rather than com-
mitment, or (in particular) relationships legitimately requiring force and coercion.
It also ignores the fact that all existing codes of law and ethics are bound up with
assumptions about human nature and destiny which are often religious and always
go beyond the empirical.
In contrast, Strauss recognises fully the role of religious principles in systems of
law. Jewish law, for example, can been seen as coherent only if one recognises the
underlying theological assumptions; and this is true even if one accepts that it is
essentially about action rather than belief. But Leora Batnitzky argues that this does
not mean that he is the dogmatic conservative that both his followers and his oppo-
nents have too often taken him to be. She argues, in effect, that he holds, first, that
all political positions are based on metaphysical and often religious assumptions;
and secondly, that there is in this area truth and falsity. If he stopped there, he
might indeed be a dogmatist. But he also holds that it is the business of philosophy
to be sceptical about all these assumptions, not because there is no absolute truth
but because we do not ourselves know it with absolute certainty. Hence we should
acknowledge that our own presuppositions are not absolutely certain; we should be
ready to talk to people who have different presuppositions; and we should support
liberal democracy, not because we can prove that it is the right system, but because
we cannot show with certainty (or even likelihood?) that we have any justification
for withholding basic rights from any person. And so Strauss’s thought turns out to
lead not to dogmatic conservatism but to sceptical liberalism! Similarly, Strauss’s
method of exegesis, with its concern with what a writer did not say, is not a search
for esoteric doctrines, but simply a recognition that there may be many reasons for
a person to hint at what they really think rather than to say it plainly, and one needs
to be alert to the clues that this is happening.
So for Leora Batnitzky the relevance of Strauss is that he takes the philosophical
task to be that of showing the ways systems of thought hang together (especially,
for a Jewish philosopher, Jewish thought), unearthing presuppositions, showing that
they are not necessarily certain, and nevertheless continuing the dialogue and the
search for truth. Politically, this uncertainty should, as Mill argued, lead us to main-
tain individual freedom and especially freedom of speech. If Batnitzky is right (she
does not herself mention Mill), Strauss would accept this, while perhaps feeling that
he would personally prefer a more ordered and authoritarian society, but that his
personal preferences are not to the point. Hence the importance of Strauss, rather
than Levinas, politically as well as philosophically.
305
REVIEWS
It remains to say that the above is a very free paraphrase of what seems to me
to be the most important ideas in this book. I hope my interpretation of the
author’s intentions is correct. I must also emphasize that the review has been lim-
ited to these main points. There is a richness of detail in this book and a multitude
of suggestive ideas to which I have not done justice, but which are well worth
reading.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp059 A.H. LESSER
KHALEEL MOHAMMED and ANDREW RIPPIN (eds), Coming to terms with the Qur}an.
A volume in honor of Professor Issa Boullata. Islamic Publications International,
McGill University, North Haledon, NJ 2008. Pp. xxiii + 358. Price: $29.95
paperback. ISBN: 978-1-889999-47-0.
The trend seems to be toward a second festschrift. In 2000, Kamal Abdel-Malek
and Wael Hallaq edited a book Modernity and Postmodernity in Arabic Literature.
Essays in Honor of Professor Issa J. Boullata (Montreal). This book celebrated the
scholar of classical and modern Arabic literature at McGill University in Mon-
treal, the oldest Canadian university, on his seventieth anniversary. The volume
here under review honours Issa Boullata, Professor of the Institute of Islamic
Studies, on his seventy-fifth birthday (February 25, 2004). It concentrates on his
second important field of research, the study of the Qur}an, its aesthetic dimen-
sions, and its exegesis. The Institute of Islamic Studies was founded by Wilfred
Cantwell Smith in 1952 and has been famous for its broad interdisciplinary
approach and its liberal and non-confrontational way of dealing with inter-reli-
gious problems. The reviewer of such a festschrift regularly faces a dilemma of
subjectivity — what to include and what to leave out. I have decided to give the
reader of this review an overall if uneven idea of what to expect, but I found
myself unable to go deeper in discussing the very broad spectrum of the many
issues raised.
Eltigani Abdulqadir Hamid, ‘The Concept of Reform in the Qur}an’ (pp. 3–32)
attempts in a somewhat hortational way to identify a common Quranic concept
underlying words such as ÒaliÌ, iÒlaÌ, muÒliÌ, etc. Khaleel Mohammed, ‘The Iden-
tity of the Qur}an’s Ahl al-dhikr’ (pp. 33–45) attacks mediaeval and modern inter-
pretations of the term ahl al-dhikr, which occurs twice in the Qur}an. He quotes
NaÒir al-Din al-Albani (d. 1999), who as a staunch salafi is convinced that the term
means ‘the ahl al-qur}an and the ahl al-Ìadith … those who know the authentic
from the unauthentic … and other principles of fiqh and Ìadith}, i.e., people such
as al-Albani himself; MuÌammad al-Tijani (b. 1943), a Sunni scholar who con-
verted to Shiism, on the other hand, is quoted as claiming with equal firmness that
‘the term refers to the Prophet’s family’. Khaleel Mohammed argues plausibly that
the Quranic term originally refers to the Jewish mazkirim, ‘the recorders of the
past’. While this may not yet be an ‘unassailable truth’ (p. 38), his following wry
statement is worth pondering: ‘It is unlikely that the findings of this research …
will counteract any of the modern (mis)interpretations of ahl al-dhikr. Yet, they
raise a question that could promote research as well as the irenic philosophy of
scholars like Issa Boullata: how many more terms of the Qur}an have metamor-
phosed over the passage of time?’ (p. 43). Andrew Rippin’s contribution ‘Metaphor
and the Authority of the Qur}an’ (pp. 47–62) examines the words for ‘blind, blind-
ness’ in the Quranic text and unravels their metaphorical connotations. He con-
cludes: ‘we must understand the Qur}an as part of the Middle Eastern religious
306
REVIEWS
imagination, a text within the midrashic genre coming from the 7th century’
(p. 48). Seth Ward in ‘The Qur}an, Chosen People and Holy Land’ (pp. 63–76)
ends his overview of Banu Isra}il and Yahud in the Qur}an by contextualizing the
more hostile pronouncements on the Jews and states: ‘The Qur}an cannot be seen
only as a book read by extremists to justify extremism, but also as a scripture which
can be used by Muslims who fight against a political interpretation of Islam that
stresses armed struggle, and who reject terror and hatred as un-Islamic’ (p. 72).
Rizwi Faizer in her ‘The Dome of the Rock and the Qur}an’ (pp. 77–106), boldly
proposes on the basis of the inscriptions in the Dome of the Rock that ‘the early
Muslims might well have been sectarian Christians’ (p. 99). She emphasizes the
religious and political ambitions of Äbdalmalik in building the Dome and even
calls — somewhat anachronistically, I would say — the caliph an ‘Arab Muslim
nationalist’ (p. 90). Asma Afsaruddin offers in her article ‘Sunni-Shii Dialectics
and the Qur}an’ (pp. 107–24) a fairly traditional description of what Q 9:40
(ayat al-ghar) means for the Sunni view of Abu Bakr’s ‘superiority’ (af∂aliyya) to
Äli, whereas a well-known Îadith-tradition establishes Äli’s superiority in the
Shiite context. Carl Sharif El-Tobgui, ‘The Hermeneutics of Fakhr al-Din al-Razi’
(pp. 125–58) more describes than analyses the often discussed muÌkam-mutashabih
problem of Q 3:7 according to al-Razi’s commentary MafatiÌ al-ghayb. Equally
descriptive is Qamar-ul Huda’s article on mystical exegesis ‘Qur}an and Îadith in
the School of Al-Suhrawardi’ (pp. 159–76). Roxanne D. Marcotte, ‘The Qur}an
in Egypt I: Bint al-Sha†i} on Women’s Emancipation’ (pp. 179–208) gives us a
sympathetic, yet critical and careful analysis of the pros and cons of the exegetical
work of Egypt’s First Lady of tafsir (d. 1998). Soraya Mahdi Hajjaji-Jarrah, ‘The
Qur}an in Egypt II: Sayyid Qu†b on Inimitability’ (pp. 209–26) contrasts two
different attitudes of Sayyid Qu†b (d. 1966). His initial purely literary interest
in commenting on the Qur}an (in major books such as al-TaÒwir al-fanni and
Mashahid al-qiyama) is replaced after his conversion to religious extremism by a
completely different attitude, which led him to condemn purely literary approaches
and to advocate militant Islamic activism instead — mainly in his commentary
Fi Âill al-qur}an. Yusuf Rahman, ‘The Qur}an in Egypt III: NaÒr Abu Zayd’s Liter-
ary Approach’ (pp. 227–65) gives us a penetrating analysis of Abu Zayd’s main
exegetical theses, based on a commendably rich bibliographical basis. What I
missed was a deeper analysis of the reaction of Muslim scholars to Abu Zayd’s
hypotheses. Sahiron Syamsuddin, ‘The Qur}an in Syria: MuÌammad ShaÌrur’s
Inner-Qur}anic Method’ (pp. 267–83), equally well-researched, describes ShaÌrur’s
approach, showing himself mildly critical of ShaÌrur’s (lack of) method. Sheila
McDonough, ‘The Qur}an in India I: Iqbal and Gandhi on the Qur}an’ (pp. 285–
319) compares Mohammed Iqbal’s and Mahatma Gandhi’s messages. Gandhi, after
his experience in his anti-apartheid work in South Africa before World War I, often
quoted the Qur}an and considered Islam equally important as Hinduism in the
struggle against colonialism and racism. Alan M. Guenther, ‘The Qur}an in India
II: Tablighi Jamaät and the Qur}an’ (pp. 321–38) shows us that the founders of
Tablighi Jamaät follow a very traditional reception of the Qur}an, even accepting
the use of suras in amulets.
All in all, this volume is a welcome contribution to our knowledge of how dif-
ferently the Quranic text was and is read. It is ecumenical in spirit and pluralistic
in its methodology.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp060 STEFAN WILD
UNIVERSITY OF BONN
307
REVIEWS
JOHN A. MORROW (ed.), Arabic, Islam and the Allah Lexicon: How Language Shapes
our Conception of God. Edwin Mellen Press, Lewiston, NY 2006. Pp. 340. Price:
$119.95 hardback. ISBN: 978-0-7734-5726-3.
This collection of essays on ‘Allah’, the Arabic word for God, is an attempt to gather
reflections on the principal name used for ‘God’ from a selection of Islamic sources
that range from the Qur}an to its everyday usage by contemporary speakers of Arabic.
Three authors collaborated in this venture: John A. Morrow, the editor, Barbara
Castleton, author of two chapters and Luis Alberto Vittor, co-author of one chapter.
The book comprises a general introduction, five chapters, more than two dozen
statistical tables and an index. Bibliographies are added separately to each chapter.
In a rather odd fashion, the editor has added his own explanatory comments as
endnotes to each chapter. Actual source citations and other textual references are
not presented in academic footnote format but are sporadically interspersed in
brackets within the text of the individual articles. Often, unfortunately, these are
truncated references, providing simply the name of an author without further spec-
ification. The acknowledgements enumerate a long list of scholars and individuals
who gave some aid to this project. Methodologically, the book is a hodgepodge,
eclectically and idiosyncratically combining phenomenological and sociolinguistic
approaches with assorted historical-critical and philosophical reflections. The com-
bination creates a disordered mix of data, facts, conjectures and insights that are
difficult to relate to one another.
In the introduction, the editor defines the purpose of the book as an effort
‘to study the frequency and function of the Allah Lexicon in the Arabic language’
(p. l). The pseudo-technical phrase, ‘the Allah Lexicon’, however, is never defined;
rather it turns out to mean nothing more than the lexical frequency of the word
‘Allah’ in a great variety of texts, contexts and discourses. The first chapter, ‘The
Omnipresence of Allah in the Arabic Language’, by John A. Morrow (pp. 7–70),
compares the ‘omnipresence’ of the word ‘Allah’ in the Arabic language with the
frequency of the word for God in a large number of languages chosen arbitrarily
from a variety of language families. The chapter concludes with the oddly theological
statement that ‘Arabic is truly the language of Islam, the language of the Qur}an
and the language of Allah’ (p. 46). The second chapter, ‘Frequency and Function
of Religiously-Based Expressions’, by Barbara Castleton (pp. 71–113), examines the
pervasiveness of phrases and words that include a reference to Allah in daily life and
everyday speech. The third chapter, ‘The Origin of the Allah Lexicon’, by John
A. Morrow (pp. 115–85), highlights certain instances of the word ‘Allah’ in Qur}an
and Sunna and also mentions its occurrence in pre-Islamic expressions. It then
makes the leap into its colloquial usage and the linguistic challenges posed by mod-
ernization. The fourth chapter, ‘Transfer of Essential Phrases into Second Language
Use’, by Barbara Castleton (pp. 187–241), examines the passage of the word ‘Allah’
into the bilingual Arabic-English speaking environment and its various conse-
quences. The fifth chapter, ‘The Most Beautiful Names: The Philosophical Founda-
tion of the Allah Lexicon’, co-authored by John A. Morrow and Luis Alberto Vittor
(243–80), provides a puzzling potpourri that combines reflections on the etymo-
logical origin of the word ‘Allah’ with a survey of the ninety-nine most beautiful
names of God in Islamic theology and aspects of the ‘complete human being’ idea
in Islamic esotericism and mysticism. This final chapter touches on many themes
pertinent to the conceptualization of God in Islam but it moves from topic to topic
without a consistent flow of argumentation. Furthermore, it raises particular topics
in such composite form that it is difficult to perceive the actual sources from which
308
REVIEWS
specific claims are derived. The inadequacy of this way of argumentation is not
redeemed by the multitude of Arabic book titles and Muslim author names that are
dropped cumulatively into the editor’s endnotes for a scholarly effect (pp. 273–80).
The subtitle of this essay collection promises an answer to the question ‘How
Language Shapes Our Conception of God’ but it does not deliver on the promise.
Instead, what we find is the forced marriage of two approaches, one sociolinguistic
and the other phenomenological, both focused on the Arabic word ‘Allah’ in the
written sources of Islam and the oral discourse of Muslims, but no genuine synthe-
sis between them. Nor, beyond a few insightful comments, do we find a genuine
historical-critical analysis of the subject. The specialist in Semitic Studies will look
in vain for significant new discoveries in these essays and the generalist in Religious
Studies will be hard pressed to discern a comprehensive understanding of how the
concept of Allah functions in the religion of Islam. The book does, however, draw
attention to the centrality of the idea of God in Islam and recognizes that there are
multiple perspectives from which this idea can be analysed.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp061 GERHARD BOWERING
YALE UNIVERSITY
309
SHORT NOTICES
PEKKA LINDQVIST, Sin at Sinai: Early Judaism Encounters: Exodus 32 (Studies in

Rewritten Bible 2). Åbo Akademi University and Eisenbrauns, Winona Lake
2008. Pp. 391. Price: $49.95. ISBN: 978-952-12-2020-3.
The book offers an illuminating exploration of how the ‘golden calf’ — the arche-
typal story of Israel’s rebellion — was remoulded in early Jewish literature up to the
sixth century CE. In-depth textual and literary analysis is accompanied by broader
considerations of historical and social factors that might have stimulated certain
attitudes towards the text.
The author unfolds his investigation gradually, building up the anticipation. The
first two chapters are dedicated to methodological questions and discussion of the
main studies on the topic. Lindqvist’s own work focuses on the interpretations that
attempt to mitigate the gravity of the ‘sin at Sinai’. He thereby complements sig-
nificantly Mandelbaum’s (1990) inquiry into non-apologetic exegesis in tannaitic
literature. In addition, he revises the view upheld by Marmostein (1935) and Smo-
lar and Aberbach (1990), for whom polemic with Christianity was a raison d’être
of Jewish apologetics, and highlights the ‘inner-Judaic catechetical need’. Chapter 3
provides an overview of the broader literary and cultural context, including biblical
exposition of the episode, early Christian interpretation and allegations of Jewish
zoolatry in the works of some Gentile authors.
The main bulk of the argument rests in chapter 4, where the author closely
analyses a considerable number of texts spanning the Septuagint, Targumim, Jewish
Hellenistic works, midrashim and rabbinic writings of the Talmudic era. The author
singles out two main foci of apology: vindication of Israel and — even more promi-
nent — vindication of Aaron. Furthermore he identifies different apologetic strate-
gies, some of them more conspicuous than others, for example, omitting details
and modifying the account (e.g., Philo and Josephus); inserting additional details
(e.g., Targum Pseudo-Jonathan); avoiding translation of certain words or passages
(e.g., Targum Neofiti), which seems to be in line with the mishnaic ruling concern-
ing the ‘forbidden targumim’. According to Lindqvist, such a ban on translating
and synagogal reciting certain biblical texts might have been motivated by the desire
to avoid public shaming of the people of Israel. The most elaborate apology is found
in amoraic midrashim, which were produced in the post-Constantinian era and
might therefore have been influenced by Christian polemic. Finally, Lindqvist looks
into the intriguing connection between the drama at Sinai and Ezekiel’s merkavah
vision, intimated already in the Hebrew Bible itself (e.g., Ps. 68:18) and further
explored in the mystical Hekhalot literature as well as in rabbinic midrashim. Inter-
esting similarities between interpretations attested in Genizah fragments and in the
Quran are discussed.
Lindqvist’s is an intelligent and thought-provoking study, which crosses the
boundaries between the disciplines by raising questions of how the treatment of a
text reflects formation of religious self-identify and the ways in which collective
memory works. It could have been further enriched by consideration of additional
secondary literature on the subject, for example, Christine Hayes on the relationship
of Exodus 32 and Deuteronomy 9–10 (2004), Rachel Elior on merkavah mysticism
311
SHORT NOTICES
(1990, 2004) and James Rhodes on the Epistle of Barnabas (2004). From the aes-
thetic point of view, the book suffers from occasional flaws in design and layout,
such as the last word of a section jumping to the next page (p. 121) or the text of
a quotation running on to the margin (pp. 209–11). These minor critical points
notwithstanding, it is a stimulating and worthwhile contribution to the field.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp043 MILA GINSBURSKAYA
CAMBRIDGE
BERNARD M. LEVINSON, “The Right Chorale”: Studies in Biblical Law and Interpreta-
tion (FAT 54). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2008. Pp. xxiii + 432. Price: /99.00.
ISBN: 978-3-16-149382-9.
The reader may initially share the author’s surprise at being asked comparatively
early in his career to compile a volume of collected essays. But surprise will soon
turn to understanding, and admiration of the mature gifts displayed in each of these
twelve studies: breadth of knowledge, depth of erudition, elegance of style, and
above all authority of argument. They were originally published at various dates
between 1990 and 2006, but each has been thoroughly reworked and updated for
this edition, with much additional literature cited. The title, which is that of the
first article, is taken from a poem by Wallace Stevens.
The volume has a clear theme. All the studies relate to biblical law, most of them
being directly concerned with the interpretation of Deuteronomy or the Covenant
Code, and the majority are concerned with the bearing of diachronic study on
interpretation. The twelve essays are distributed in equal numbers between three
parts. The first four show ‘why biblical law matters’. The first chapter sets the
agenda for the whole book: in controversy with M. Sternberg Levinson argues first,
using the Flood story as an example, that diachronic study is necessary simply to
make sense of the text, and secondly that the biblical revelation cannot be reduced
to narrative: law is important to the Bible as literature. The second deals with the
Eden narrative, and argues that there is no fall in the story, because it presupposes
agency and autonomy in humans from the start, the qualities which are required
for life under law. The third is a brief study of the Sinai covenant as the basis of
Israel’s nationhood; and chapter four studies Deuteronomy 16–18 as the sketch of
a proposed transformation of national life in which all its institutions would be
subordinated to the Torah. Levinson argues that this makes it a model for modern
constitutions based on the separation of powers. Here one might object that the
passage does not have the effect of a constitution. The president of the United States
is given defined functions by the Constitution; the Deuteronomic king has none.
Part 2 consists of close studies of legal passages. Chapter 5 is a grammatical study
of Ex. 21.2. The ‘Hebrew slave’ need not already be one: ‫ עבד עברי‬is the ‘effected
object’. The other three chapters study Deuteronomy 13 in the light of textual
criticism and Assyriology, specifically the succession treaty of Esarhaddon. The
MT is correct against the LXX and other witnesses in Deut. 13.7a in referring only
to ‘your mother’s son’ and not also the father’s (chapter 6). ‫ כסה‬in v. 9 means
not ‘conceal’ but ‘condone’ (chapter 7). In v. 10, the text, uniquely, requires the
addressee to kill the person counselling apostasy out of hand, rather than, as has
often been argued and as the versions have attempted to make clear, delivering him
or her to due process of law (chapter 8). However, while this is well argued, Levin-
son fails to offer an interpretation of v. 10abb, ‘your hand shall be against him first
to put him to death (‫)להמיתו‬, and the hand of all the people afterwards’.
312
SHORT NOTICES
Part 3 consists of controversial essays refuting the opinions of four contempo-

raries on the legal corpora and re-asserting the standard critical view. Against
R. Westbrook, the evidence for revision and interpolation in the legal corpora is
clear. C.M. Carmichael’s hermeneutics is a closed system which allows no way of
proving or disproving his assertions, and makes Deuteronomy unintelligible. Against
J.G. McConville, Deuteronomy’s Passover law does revise earlier tradition. J. Van
Seters’s dating of the Covenant code in the exile subsequent to Deuteronomy does
not survive a careful examination of its altar law (Exod. 20:24).
The collection as a whole triumphantly vindicates the significance of biblical law,
the essential function of diachronic analysis (source and redaction criticism, and
historical contextualization) in interpretation, and, especially in the last section,
the established positions of the critical tradition in the succession of Wellhausen.
The footnotes and bibliography are a superb resource for the study of biblical law.
And the publishers have produced a beautiful volume worthily complementing a
fine text.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp062 WALTER J. HOUSTON
JAMES T. SPARKS, The Chronicler’s Genealogies: Towards an Understanding of

1 Chronicles 1–9 (Society of Biblical Literature Academia Biblica 28). Society of
Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2008. Pp. xi + 385. Price: $47.95. ISBN: 978-1-
58983-365-4.
The genealogies of 1 Chronicles 1–9 have been the subject of two significant
German language monographs in the past generation (Magnar Kartveit’s Motive und
Schichten der Landtheologie in 1 Chronik 1–9 in 1989, and Manfred Oeming’s Das
wahre Israel: die “genealogische Vorhalle” 1 Chronik 1–9 in 1990), as well as receiving
renewed attention in the more recent commentaries. Sparks’ work is probably the
lengthiest and most detailed discussion to date in English of this topic. It follows
the trend of focusing primarily on the theological or ideological significance of
the genealogies, as this may be discerned from their literary structure. At the same
time, considerable attention is given to text-critical questions, along with an interest-
ing (if somewhat speculative) discussion in chapter 11 on the Chronicler’s use of
Genesis.
Sparks notes that 1 Chronicles 1–9 has often been viewed (at least in earlier
twentieth-century scholarship) as the work of a later redactor or redactors, who
produced an introduction to the book that lacked internal consistency, purpose or
plan, and had little, if any, relation to the narrative proper. In contrast to these older
critical judgments, Sparks argues that these chapters constitute an ordered, carefully
structured, and unified whole. 1 Chronicles 1–9 is analysed as a large-scale chiasm,
with its central section (1 Chr. 6:48–53) focusing upon the authorised cultic offi-
cials performing their duties in the designated place. Each of the supporting levels
of the chiasm is said to build up to this climax by declaring the inability of the kings
of Israel and Judah (the Davidic kings just as much as Saul) to maintain the people
in the safe possession of their land. Instead, the genealogies record Judah’s exile
because of the unfaithfulness (maäl) of the people and their leaders. The genealogies
also declare the way out of exile. Brief narrative notes (e.g., on Jabez in 4:10) indi-
cate that humility and prayer guarantee prosperity and the possession of the land,
while mourning over unfaithfulness (Ephraim in 7:20–9) will similarly ensure the
restoration of material blessings. Lying at the centre of the whole presentation is the
sacrificial cultus of the Jerusalem temple, as the means of atonement for maäl. The
313
SHORT NOTICES
centrality of the Levitical orders and the rites of atonement was already recognised
by William Johnstone in his commentary (1997), an insight that Sparks seeks to
amplify by his literary analysis. The chiastic arrangement of these chapters indicates
that a fully maintained and supported cultus must be at the centre of the lives of
a people restored from exile, to secure forgiveness and assure the safe possession of
the land.
This work was originally submitted as a doctoral dissertation to Murdoch Uni-
versity, Western Australia, in 2007, and reflects both the strengths and strictures
of that genre. A pruning of the discussion for publication would have allowed the
author’s own arguments to stand out in greater relief. That said, the relentless
pursuit of an argument can lead to over-interpretation of some parts and the mis-
reading of others. Closer engagement with Kartveit’s and Oeming’s works would
have given a broader appreciation of the range of themes in these chapters. The
author’s argument that 1 Chronicles 1 is intended to show ‘life lived in exile …
life without Yahweh’ (p. 331) as the chiastic counterpoise to ch. 9 did not convince
me (Thomas Willi’s 1991 commentary is helpful here). Similarly, the claim that
the genealogies declared the failure and irrelevance of the Davidic dynasty for the
Chronicler’s age is belied by the central significance of the Davidic covenant in the
narrative proper. The genealogies and the narrative must stand together in inter-
pretation.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp063 BRIAN E. KELLY
CANTERBURY
FIONA C. BLACK, The Recycled Bible: Autobiography, Culture, and the Space Between
(Semeia Studies 51). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2006. Pp. vii + 218.
Price: $29.92 paperback. ISBN: 1-58983-146-2.
This volume brings together two trends that assumed great prominence in the late
twentieth century in biblical studies, cultural studies and the role of the reader in
exegesis, the latter leading, among other things, to autobiographical and pseudo-
autobiographical interpretation. These essays explore the ‘space in between’ these
arenas of culture and the self. There are biblical precedents, of course: the device
of pseudonymity (Psalms, Proverbs, Song of Songs, Qoheleth Daniel) creates a
deliberate rift between a projected self and the text’s own cultural context, and this
conflict can be traced through reception histories in which the texts are ‘recycled’
both culturally and autobiographically.
The essays themselves attempt to bridge the gap in various ways. Deborah Krause,
discussing hypertext commentary on the Pastorals chooses a text that ‘recycles’ Paul
through (pseudo-)autobiography. She also wants to see them as examples of ‘tech-
nological innovations’ analogous to the World Wide Web, where individual loca-
tions conceal an open and almost endless network of other sites, themes, or power
structures. Black (invoking Winterson) plays with the deceits of the pseudo-autobi-
ographies of the protagonists in the Song of Songs. Andrew Wilson on the figure
of Mary and Hugh Pyper on children’s bible stories and James Smith on the
demonic intertwine their own self-histories with facets of modern culture. Others
conceal the self more but make intriguing links between bible and culture: Tina
Pippin on John 6 and vampires, Roland Boer on He-Brew and Ela Nutu on The
Matrix (using Baudrillard). In two concluding responses, Erin Runions suggests that
autobiography is resistant to social control, and that escape from both the social
panopticon and from the self is possible, while Geroge Aichele ponders the fate of
both canon and self in a ‘post-canonical’ world. Text, culture and reader inevitably
314
SHORT NOTICES
deconstruct each other to the point where, it seems, the only serious activity is play.
Some biblical and early postbiblical authors, however — not to mention the rabbis
now and then — appear to have understood this quite well.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp064 PHILIP R. DAVIES
ANDREW D. GROSS, Continuity and Innovation in the Aramaic Legal Tradition

(Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 128). Brill, Leiden 2008.
Pp. xii + 236. Price: /89.00/US$142.00. ISBN: 978-90-04-15284-7.
The publication of Brooklyn Museum Aramaic Papyri by E. Kraeling in 1953, an
archive of Aramaic contracts from Elephantine, prompted a substantial interest
in the structures and formularies of Aramaic legal documents by such scholars as
R. Yaron, J. Rabinowitz, and Y. Muffs, comparing them with both subsequent
Jewish Aramaic materials as well as with contemporary and earlier Mesopotamian
contracts. Since then, new studies by such as H. Szubin and R. Westbrook, new and
improved editions, by B. Porten and A. Yardeni, and, most importantly, new pub-
lications of major Aramaic corpora — notable among them the Wadi ed-Daliyeh
Samaria papyri and Aramaic and Nabatean documents from the Dead Sea Caves
from both the first and second centuries CE — have made renewed and revised
overviews of these structures and formularies necessary. The volume under review,
a revision of a 2005 dissertation at New York University, constitutes a major con-
tribution to such studies for a specific type of contract: sale contracts, or, as termed
by the author, ‘deeds of conveyance’.
After an introductory chapter, the three major chapters of the work are devoted
to the three major functional clauses in such documents respectively: ‘the acknowl-
edgment of receipt clause’, ‘the investiture clause’, and ‘the warranty clause’. For
each sub-type of each clause, Gross reviews and compares the terminology found in
each major document collection from a careful philological point of view, and com-
pares the terminology and formularies with material from as early as mid-second
millennium BCE cuneiform (both core and peripheral) to as late as Hai Gaon’s
(d. 1038 CE) manual of Jewish Babylonian Aramaic documents. Relevant parallels
are also occasionally adduced from Palmyrene and Nabatean (Mada’in Salih) tomb
inscriptions and the Syriac slave sale from Dura-Europus.
Among the important terms philologically discussed, some of them only attested
in the newly published materials, are ‫שפי‬, ‫פצל‬, ‫שחרץ‬, ‫זרף‬, and ‫שליט‬.
Despite a few cases of infelicitous language, the scholarship of this welcome
volume is sound and comprehensive, covering an impressive and vast range of
materials. It should serve as an important reference in its field for a long time to
come.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp065 STEPHEN A. KAUFMAN
HEBREW UNION COLLEGE
JEWISH INSTITUTE OF RELIGION, USA
GIANCARLO TOLONI, La sofferenza del giusto: Giobbe e Tobia a confronto (Studi biblici
159). Paideia Editrice, Brescia, 2009. Pp. 123. Price: /14.30 paperback. ISBN:
978-88-394-0759-7.
The author, who is associated with universities in both Naples and Madrid, has
already published a monograph on the text of Tobit. This short study is based on
the idea that the same popular Egyptian or Babylonian archetypical legend about
the righteous man who is tested and then reinstated lies behind the portrayal of the
315
SHORT NOTICES
trials and tribulations of Job and the unfortunate afflictions of Tobit. For Toloni,
the former are resolved through the juxtaposition of Job and God and the latter
through Tobit’s solidarity with his kin. The correspondences between Tobit
and Job have long been recognized — indeed as Toloni acknowledges (p. 46) at
Tob. 2:11 the Vulgate has a substantial plus comparing Tobit with Job — but the
question remains whether they are substantial enough to support Toloni’s thesis. In
addition to the theme of the suffering of the righteous Toloni notes commonalities
such as wealth, family life, angelology, images of God, and, in part because he
understands Job 3:23 to be the hermeneutical key to the book, he is especially
intrigued by the theme of blindness in both books, whether actual (Tobit) or meta-
phorical (Job); he also highlights similarities in dramatic literary structure between
the two works, working with Tobit as comedy and Job as tragedy, and he stresses
that both works share the typology of the test, the use of evil spirits, prayer, and
requests for death. Lexically there is not much to be said, even though we now have
the Aramaic and Hebrew fragments of Tobit from Qumran. More than a quarter
of this little book (pp. 74–96) is an appendix, an analysis of Ps. 54:5 (MT) that is
only tangentially linked to the rest of the book in terms of its having something
to do with those who inflict suffering. Verdict: enjoyable, because Job and Tobit
are fascinating texts in terms of the issues and themes that Toloni highlights, but
ultimately his overall thesis is unconvincing.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp066 GEORGE J. BROOKE
MARK J. BODA, DANIEL K. FALK and RODNEY A. WERLINE (eds), Seeking the
Favor of God. Volume 1: The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple
Judaism (SBL Early Judaism and Its Literature 21). Society of Biblical Literature,
Atlanta, 2006. Pp. xvii + 249. Price: $39.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-
261-9; Volume 3: The Impact of Penitential Prayer beyond Second Temple Judaism
(SBL Early Judaism and Its Literature 23). Society of Biblical Literature,
Atlanta, 2008. Pp. xiii + 306. Price: $39.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-
389-0.
These are the opening and closing volumes in a very well planned trilogy that con-
siders in turn origins, development and impact. In the first volume R.A. Werline
offers an opening definition: ‘Penitential prayer is a direct address to God in which
an individual, group, or an individual on behalf of a group confesses sins and petitions
for forgiveness as an act of repentance’ (p. xv). S.E. Balentine sets recent work on
biblical penitential prayer within a longer history of scholarship showing on the way
how the discourse has moved from form criticism to tradition history and from Ger-
many to North America. M.J. Boda considers the ideological origins of penitential
prayer in the sixth-century liturgical transformation of Deuteronomic, priestly and
prophetic traditions. D. Rom-Shiloni carries that further, arguing that ‘orthodox’
penitential prayers polemicize against ‘non-orthodox’ communal laments. Six scholars
investigate particular texts, often from a particular methodological, literary or
theological point of view: J.C. Hogewood (Leviticus 16 and Ezra 9–10 as priestly
speech-acts), R.J. Bautch (lament in trito-Isaiah), W. Morrow (divine righteousness
in early penitential prayers), K.M. Hayes (Jeremiah and Joel), J. Gärtner (guilt in
Isa. 63:7–64:11), and M.W. Duggan (Ezra 9:6–15). M.J. Boda offers some reflec-
tions on form criticism in transition. S.E. Balentine contributes a reflective afterword
drawing out the principal themes of the volume. The third volume in the series looks
316
SHORT NOTICES
at the Nachleben of penitential prayer in Judaism and Christianity. For Judaism there
are essays on rabbinic Judaism (R.S. Sarason), on the early history of the Tahanunim
(R. Langer), on the Amidah (R. Kimelman; S.C. Reif), on early synagogue poetry
(L. Lieber), and on Kabbalah (L. Fine); for Christianity there are studies on New
Testament theology (R.A. Werline), on the absence of penitence in early Christian
prayer (P. Bradshaw), on the Didache (C. Claussen), on the East Syrian rite of pen-
ance (B.D. Spinks), and on Byzantine Christianity (R.R. Phenix and C.B. Horn).
In his afterword R.S. Sarason comments on the constant recontextualization of
penitential elements, rather than whole prayers, in post-scriptural texts and contexts
and highlights the several similarities as well as the more obvious differences between
Jewish and Christian appropriations of the traditions of penitence. Both books have
comprehensive bibliographies and indexes, enhancing their value as landmark vol-
umes that the next generation of scholarship will have to refer to.
MELVIN K. H. PETERS (ed.), XIII Congress of the International Organization for

Septuagint and Cognate Studies: Ljubljana, 2007 (SBL Septuagint and Cognate
Studies 55). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2008. Pp. xi + 365. Price:
$45.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-395-1.
Twenty-five papers are printed in the alphabetical order of their contributors but
can be grouped roughly as follows. Three papers, by C. Boyd-Taylor, N. de Lange,
and J.G. Krivoruchko, are part of the Cambridge project on the Greek Bible in
Byzantine Judaism (see now the set of papers that they have jointly edited: Jewish
Reception of Greek Bible Versions: Studies in Their Use in Late Antiquity and the
Middle Ages, Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2009). The relationships between the LXX
and Greek writers are addressed by E.G. Dafni (Euripides), K. Hauspie (Theodoret
of Cyrus on Ezekiel), and J.M. Scott (Letter of Aristeas). The recensions are repre-
sented in the essays by S. Kreuzer and R.T. McLay who each write about the
Lucianic Text and Kaige; T.M. Law considers 3 Kingdoms in Symmachus. Trans-
lation theory features in J. Cook’s investigation of semantics and the provenance
of translated units, in C. Dogniez’s analysis of the disappearance of the theme of
water in various parts of the LXX, and in R. Sollamo’s consideration of transla-
tion universals. The remaining papers cover particular texts: A. van der Kooij on
‘ebed in LXX Pentateuch; P. Hugo on the temple in 2 Samuel (MT and LXX);
R.J.V. Hiebert and N.N. Dykstra on LXX textual criticism and the computer, with
4 Maccabees as a test case; J. Joosten on the influence of LXX Pentateuch on
LXX Psalms; P.J. Gentry on LXX Ecclesiastes; R. Ceulemans on LXX Canticles in
the Catenae; J.-M. Auwers on LXX Cant. 2:17; M. Cimosa and G. Bonney on Job’s
replies to his friends in LXX Job; D. De Crom on translation equivalence in the
prologue to ‘Greek Ben Sirach’ (sic); M.N. van der Meer on LXX Isa. 37:25;
C. Amphoux and A. Sernadour on LXX Jeremiah in Codex Vaticanus; G. Walser
on translating LXX Jeremiah; and E. Kellenberger on oral tradition behind the
variants in Daniel. M.K.H. Peters provides a brief editorial introduction in which
he points out rightly that the near completion of various translation projects in
English, French and German seems to be stimulating an ongoing interest in the LXX.
There are no indexes.
317
SHORT NOTICES
SIDNIE WHITE CRAWFORD, Rewriting Scripture in Second Temple Times (Studies

in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature). William B. Eerdmans, Grand
Rapids 2008. Pp. xii + 160. Price: $16.00 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-8028-4740-9.
This book is one of the first monographs to be devoted to those Second Temple
Jewish writings that rework the Pentateuch. Well-written, informative and up-to-date,
it is a welcome introduction to the corpus of ancient texts commonly designated as
‘Rewritten Bible’. The book has eight chapters. The first introduces the reader to the
complex issue of defining ‘Rewritten Bible’ or, as Crawford labels it, ‘Rewritten Scrip-
ture’. She effectively summarizes the prevalent views on the subject and presents her
own fairly broad definition. The second chapter focuses on the proto-Samaritan bib-
lical manuscripts from Qumran. These texts, best represented by 4QpaleoExodm and
4QNumb, reveal a harmonistic tendency, solving perceived difficulties by utilizing
other biblical passages. They lie at one end of the spectrum of works featuring what
the author calls ‘the creative work of the scribes’ (p. 37). Chapter three addresses a
group of Qumran texts once considered as non-biblical compositions, but now widely
recognized to be scripturally authoritative. These scrolls, named ‘Reworked Penta-
teuch’ (4Q158, 4Q364, 4Q365, 4Q366 and 4Q367), exemplify a larger degree of
scribal intervention than the proto-Samaritan texts, featuring not only harmonizations
with parallel biblical accounts, but also extra-biblical additions. Chapter four is
devoted to the book of Jubilees. The author notes that in comparison with the afore-
mentioned works Jubilees stands even further from the biblical text underlying it,
being a new composition with its own purpose. She briefly discusses various tech-
niques employed by Jubilees in its rewriting of Genesis and Exodus, following the
main themes of chronology, law and ethics, the elevation of Israel’s ancestors, the
Levitical priestly line and eschatology. Chapter five deals with the Temple Scroll.
Concise introductory remarks are followed by a detailed analysis of the paraphrase
of Deuteronomy 12–26 in columns LI–LXVI; this discussion presents the reader
with an example of the reworking of legal sections of the Pentateuch. In Chapter six
Crawford turns to the Genesis Apocryphon, effectively illustrating the exegetical meth-
ods used by its author while rewriting the biblical stories of Noah and Abraham.
Chapter seven considers 4Q252, the Commentary on Genesis A, focusing on col-
umns I–IV, 3, which employ techniques familiar from other ‘Rewritten Bible’ texts.
Since another section of this scroll is written in citation plus comment style (pesher),
Crawford suggests that it ‘signals a transition period’, when ‘the exegetical technique
of rewriting Scripture is fading’ and the ‘citation plus commentary’ form of exegesis
takes over (p. 142). In the concluding chapter the author proposes that all the spec-
trum of texts discussed above, both biblical ones and those paraphrasing the Bible,
Hebrew and Aramaic, sectarian and non-sectarian, belong with what she calls a
‘priestly-Levitical/Essene exegetical tradition’. Regrettably, this intriguing suggestion
is presented rather briefly and therefore fails to convince. Nevertheless, this should not
detract from the value of this book, which will undoubtedly encourage further research
into the fascinating world of Second Temple texts that rework the Hebrew Bible.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp069 ARIEL FELDMAN
LORENZO DITOMASSO, The Dead Sea New Jerusalem Text: Contents and Contexts
(Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 110). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2005.
Pp. xv + 228. Price: /79.00. ISBN: 3-16-148799-0.
This study originated as a McMaster University Dissertation and falls into three
chapters prefaced by an Introduction. The latter introduces the text and the history
318
SHORT NOTICES
of scholarship of the seven manuscripts of the Aramaic New Jerusalem (NJ) text from
Qumran Caves 1, 2, 4, 5, and 11. Chapter 1 presents an edition of 4Q554, 4Q554a,
and 4Q555 accompanied by translations, textual notes and plates. This will now be
studied alongside Emile Puech’s editio princeps of the Cave 4 manuscripts (‘554–
554a–555. 4QJérusalem Nouvellea-c ar’, in E. Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4. XXVII.
Textes araméens deuxième partie [DJD 37], Oxford 2009, pp. 91–152). Chapter 2
comprises a translation of all the major fragments of NJ and addresses issues of
ancient city planning, genre (an apocalypse). DiTomasso concludes that the escha-
tological city described is not heavenly. Chapter 3 explores the relationship of NJ
to the Temple Scroll and Reworked Pentateuch but also to a number of more recently
published Cave 4 compositions. The chapter concludes by evaluating the text’s
provenance (a pre-sectarian priestly milieu) and date (early second century BCE). In
trying to account for the palaeographical dates of the manuscripts (50 BCE – 50 CE)
DiTomasso offers a number of suggestions including the possibility that interest in
NJ was revived in response to Herod’s building projects (p. 194). It is important to
keep in mind, however, that a very large proportion of the non-biblical texts from
Qumran were copied in the Herodian period, and the evidence of NJ is part of a
larger pattern here. In sum, DiTomasso’s monograph makes a substantial scholarly
contribution to the study of the text and interpretation of this important work.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp070 CHARLOTTE HEMPEL
UNIVERSITY OF BIRMINGHAM
ANTTI LAATO and JACQUES VAN RUITEN (eds), Rewritten Bible Reconsidered: Proceed-
ings of the Conference in Karkku, Finland, August 24–26 2006 (Studies in Rewrit-
ten Bible 1). Åbo Akademi University, Turku; Eisenbrauns, Winona Lake, 2008.
Pp. iv + 287. Price: $49.00 paperback. ISBN: 978-952-12-2019-7.
The very diverse essays in this first volume of a new series are arranged under four
headings. The first is a methodological study by E. Koskenniemi and P. Lindqvist
which argues for the label ‘Rewritten Bible’ to be used not of a particular genre, but
as an umbrella term for the many afterlives of biblical material. But is such an
umbrella of any use? It makes the term little different from ‘use of scripture’ which
is in fact what most of the essays in the other three parts of the volume are con-
cerned with — they certainly do little to clarify what Rewritten Bible is, though
most are interesting in themselves. There are four studies of Jewish traditions. J. van
Ruiten continues his work on Jubilees by expounding how its author handles the
depiction of Moses and his parents in Exod. 1:22–2:10: he discerns how Jubilees is
sometimes close to its scriptural source and at other times introduces new material.
This is Rewritten Bible in a strict generic sense: the sequence of Exodus is followed
paraphrastically throughout. M. Becker does not consider the use of particular scrip-
tural pericopae, but reviews the overall mosaic use and adjustment of scriptural
tradition in 4 Ezra. Using Psalm 145 as a starting point L. Bormann reflects on
some of the characteristics of God in a variety of texts; this is little more than mus-
ings about the subsequent use of certain items of vocabulary that happen to be
found in Psalm 145. E. Koskenniemi considers Gen. 19:1–29 as providing a pattern
of spiritual emigration in early Jewish and New Testament interpretation; this is
motif analysis. Five essays look at the use of the Old Testament in early Christian
sources: B. Kowalski considers Psalms 22 and 69 in the Gospel of John, M. Jauhi-
ainen comments on the use of prophecy in Revelation, V. Auvinen studies Psalm 22
in early Christian literature, A. Laato reflects on Justin Martyr’s use of Isaiah 53, and
T. Nisula reads Augustine’s use of Lot. In the fourth section M. Tamcke considers
319
SHORT NOTICES
how Giwargis Warda hymnically retells the book of Jonah and J. Hämeen-Anttila
describes Jesus’ teachings in Islamic tradition. We can ask for greater methodological
clarity in subsequent volumes in the series — and indexes, please.
DAVID T. RUNIA and GREGORY E. STERLING (eds), The Studia Philonica Annual:
Studies in Hellenistic Judaism Volume XX.2008. Society of Biblical Literature,
Atlanta 2008. Pp. viii + 258. Price: $42.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-399-6.
This volume of the Annual contains four articles, a special section on De Abrahamo,
the customary Philo bibliography section (annotated for 2005), a collection of long
reviews on relevant volumes, and some news and notes. B.L. Mack considers Philo’s
highly structured argumentation in De Sacrificiis in which Gen. 4:2–4a is decoded
as moments in the soul’s quest for the knowledge of God in which the self is offered
to God and reciprocally acknowledged as a gift from God. J.M. Scott continues his
work on Dionysus through a study of De Vita Contemplativa in which he shows
that the practices of the Therapeutae are comparable with the highest form of the
Dionysiac mysteries. I.L.E. Ramelli discusses in detail the extensive legacy of Philo’s
philosophical allegories of scripture in Gregory of Nyssa, especially as mediated
through the writings of Origen. C. O’Regan sets out Hegel’s retrieval of Philo, even
if it was only largely indirect rather than based on an extensive first-hand knowledge
of Philo’s writings. G.E. Sterling introduces the two studies on De Abrahamo: the
first by D.T. Runia on its place in Philo’s oeuvre, with Abraham illustrating excellent
character and action, in terms of both piety and humanity, as one who performed
the law; and the second by J.R. Royse on its text, with detailed comments both on
the Armenian version and also on the biblical quotations in the treatise.
FRANCES FLANNERY, COLLEEN SHANTZ and RODNEY A. WERLINE (eds), Experientia,

Volume 1: Inquiry into Religious Experience in Early Judaism and Early Christianity
(SBL Symposium Series 40). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta, 2008. Pp. ix +
261. Price: $32.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-368-5.
This is the first volume of papers to derive from the SBL consultation on religious
experience in early Judaism and early Christianity which seeks to ‘take seriously the
articulation (whether explicit or indirect) of ancient authors’ experiences of the
divine’ (p. 1). The group is highly sensitised to the hazards of what it is attempting
and strives to keep texts in their cultural and historical contexts, to operate with
broad yet clear definitions, especially of mysticism, to acknowledge that experience
does not have to be a-rational, and to look afresh at myth, symbol, and ritual. Four
essays in Part 1 reflect on the embodiment of experience: F. Flannery comments on
Bell, Turner and Bordieu in a methodological introduction; A. Segal considers the
angelic alter-ego in Paul’s ascent experience as an apocalyptic resurrection body, an
anticipation of transformative martyrdom; R. Horsley reads demonic possession as
an expression of imperial oppression; and R. Werline considers Markan narrative
reflections of the religious experience of early Christian apotropaic prayer. Four
essays in Part 2 explore how experience can be derived from texts: S.M. Wasser-
strom considers textuality itself; C. Deutsch rereads the text work of Philo and
Clement as their contemplation of the divine; R. Griffith-Jones insightfully pro-
poses that to read the mystagogic Gospel of John receptively as its author intended
320
SHORT NOTICES
was to experience new life; C. Fletcher-Louis argues that the apocalypses are the
classic texts that attest the popular piety of temple-centered Jewish practice and belief.
Five essays in Part 3 engage with religious experience in Paul: T. Engberg-Pedersen,
B.J.L. Peerbolte, J.B.F. Miller, C. Shantz and R.A. Ramsaran all take seriously Paul’s
experiences as real events, with Shantz seeing correspondence between sufferings and
ecstasy. Overall it seems that these biblical scholars are trying to articulate, sometimes
very successfully, matters that are as old as the hills but which have been studiously
avoided for a couple of generations. Also of considerable use for those wanting to
reflect on the issues raised in these essays is the extensive overall bibliography. Sadly,
for readers of this journal, the one word in the whole book that is printed in Hebrew
characters (p. 27) is misspelled: hmsblym for hmsklym (Dan. 12:3).
BART D. EHRMAN, Whose Word is It? The Story Behind Who Changed the New Testa-
ment and Why. London and New York, Continuum, 2008. Pp. x + 242. Price:
£12.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-8470-6314-4.
This book is about ancient manuscripts of the New Testament and the differences
found in them. It is a guide to the textual criticism of the New Testament for
a non-academic audience. Written in a lively style, it considers the beginnings of
Christian scripture as a distinctive religious phenomenon in antiquity, issues of
literacy in the ancient world, the vagaries of scribal practices, and the impossibility
of ever knowing the original text; John 7:53–8:12 and the end of the Gospel of
Mark are used to highlight the problems. There are then chapters on the texts of
the New Testament that introduce some of the 5,700 Greek manuscripts now
known and some of their variant readings, on the story of the development of tex-
tual criticism from the work of Mill to Westcott and Hort, on the principles of
textual criticism for establishing through rational eclecticism the oldest attainable
form of a text, on theologically motivated alterations of the text (anti-adoptionist,
anti-docetic, anti-separationist readings), and on the influence of social factors on
the text, such as debates about the role of women or the place of Jews or how scribes
coped with pagan misconceptions of Christianity. The deliberately provocative
emphasis throughout is on scribal changes and the differences between manuscripts.
A list of websites for further resources and a brief overview of the main characteris-
tics of the principal editions of the Greek New Testament now available would
enhance this worthwhile resource for students and others wanting to take things
further. Is the manuscript illustrated on p. 176 really papyrus?
JULIUS HEINRICH PETERMANN, The Great Treasure or Great Book, commonly called “The
Book of Adam”, the Mandaeans’ work of Highest Authority (Gorgias Mandaean
Studies 2). Gorgias Press, Piscataway, NJ 2008. Price: $349.00 (3 volumes).
ISBN: 978-1-59333-525-0.
The Ginza Rba remains one of the most unjustly neglected texts of antiquity. As its
name implies, it is a true treasure house of the Gnostic thought of Babylonia in the
Sassanian and early Arabic period, and one of the few early works to have been
preserved in their original Aramaic form. However, since its original publication in
1867, the scarcity of Petermann’s critical edition of the text has proved a challenge
for many interested in the field of Mandaic studies. Such students of Mandaean
321
SHORT NOTICES
thought who have mastered the language have generally had to remain content with
photostats of this standard edition, which even on its first and only previous print-
run was reproduced on the basis of hand-written lithographic plates in a mere
hundred copies, of which only seventy-five were made available for sale. In spite of
its rarity, Petermann’s edition has long provided the basis of all scholarly work on
this text, and provides the standard pagination by which the Ginza is cited.
We thus owe a great debt to the Gorgias Mandean Studies series, and to its
general editors, Dr Jorunn Buckley and Dr Charles Häberl, for making this seminal
work readily available to the scholarly world for perhaps the first time ever. In three
handsome volumes, the publishers have reproduced the three parts of Petermann’s
work: the two ‘sides’ of the Ginza and the critical apparatus that accompany them.
The reprint is accompanied by a brief introduction by Häberl, wherein he outlines
the history of scholarship on the text and provides a short description of the con-
tents of its various chapters. In addition, Häberl has translated Petermann’s Latin
introduction into English.
The reproduction of the edition is generally clear, and even the small and crammed
script of the colophons can be read with relative ease. It is therefore particularly regret-
table that a few technical errors mar the quality of the reproduction. For reasons that
are unclear, the order of pages 210–14 of the Ginza Yamina has become confused,
such that p. 214 of the original addition has been printed after p. 210 (without a page
number), while p. 211 of the original edition has been printed after p. 213 but
bearing the number 214! Since all the pages are correctly numbered in the original,
it is hard to understand how such a mistake could have taken place. Moreover, the
right-hand edge of the text of the Ginza Smala pp. 22–3 has not been reproduced,
and the reader has to guess what the first letter or two of the line might have been. It
is to be sincerely hoped that the publishers will emend these errors in a future edition,
and in the meantime will distribute the book with an insert that provides the necessary
corrections. In brief, the user would be wise not to throw away his or her old photo-
copy of the Petermann edition upon purchasing this pricey reprint.
Another regret is that while reprinting this work, the opportunity might have
been taken to provide some line numbers for the pages (perhaps at intervals of ten),
thus easing the burden of those citing the text or hunting citations presented in the
scholarly literature, and perhaps running headers which would have accorded with
the section division numbering provided in Häberl’s introduction (which is itself
based upon the divisions within the text and in Lidzbarski’s translation thereof). It
is interesting that one of the users of the edition from which this reproduction was
photocopied already felt the need to add line numbers at certain points in the work.
Nonetheless, it cannot be doubted that the renewed availability of this text, in a
distribution that surpasses that of its original publication, will provide a great boon
to research into Mandaic literature and language for another generation. In particu-
lar, it is certain to encourage renewed interest into this fascinating work.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp075 MATTHEW MORGENSTERN
UNIVERSITY OF HAIFA
BENJAMIN RICHLER, Hebrew Manuscripts in the Vatican Library Catalogue (Studi E

Testi 438). Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Città del Vaticano 2008. Pp. xxv +
678 + 28*. ISBN: 978-88-210-6823-8.
The publication of this catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts in the Vatican Library is
a landmark occasion for the field of Hebrew codicology and palaeography. After
publishing a similar catalogue for the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma (2001), Malachi
322
SHORT NOTICES
Beit-Arié and Benjamin Richler have again joined forces to produce this wonderful
and long-awaited catalogue. The catalogue replaces the Latin catalogues of Assemani
(1756), Sacerdote (1893) and Cassuto (1956). Unfortunately, Cassuto was only able
to finish descriptions of Vaticani ebraici 1–115, which are, however, remarkably
accurate and thorough. The present catalogue describes more than 600 items of the
Vaticani ebraici collection, as well as the other well-known Vatican collections, such
as the Borgiani, Neofiti and Urbinati ebraici. Many of these manuscripts consist of
several codicological units, all of which have been separately described to the high-
est standards. A little warning in advance for those who want to purchase the cata-
logue: the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana have published it in an old-fashioned
manner, which means that each group of pages has to be cut open, often on three
sides, before their precious contents can be revealed.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp076 RENATE SMITHUIS
SETH S. SANDERS (ed.), Margins of Writing, Origins of Cultures (Oriental Institute

Seminars 2). The Oriental Institute, Chicago. Pp. xi + 300. Price: $24.95. ISBN:
1-885923-39-2.
This book results from a seminar held at the University of Chicago’s Oriental Institute
in 2005. The expertise of the fourteen participants, including both philologists and
theorists, was concentrated on diverse areas and periods in the ancient Near East but
ranged also as far as Egypt, India and China. The general aim was to brainstorm the
nature of the various influences and functions of literacy within human societies. The
book opens with an introductory chapter by the editor in which he explains that the
organisers of the seminar set the ball rolling by encouraging the philologists to talk to
the theorists ‘about how their material matters’ (p. 3) and this has indeed lead to some
original thinking about the actual function of individual documents or groups of
documents in the areas covered. Sanders is candid about the difficulties inherent in
marrying theory to philological fact, quoting the Sinologist and Indologist contributor
John Kelly’s joking suggestion that ‘one title that might sum up the problem of social
theory for the study of pre-modern’ societies is ‘Why is this stuff so useless?’ Although
the book is comprised of academic articles — not transcripts of what was said — it is
set out in the manner of the conference itself with three panels and a final round table.
The three panels, of which the work of each is represented by four articles, are on the
topics ‘Institutions’, ‘Publics’ and the ‘Cosmopolitan and Vernacular’. The fourth
paper in each panel is a ‘response’ for that session. What is important about this
volume is not only the range and depth of its scholarship but the manner in which
different opinions and approaches are laid out, but also the presentation of the schol-
arly mediation between them. The book provides a wealth of material and will be
particularly useful for postgraduate students working their way into a particular field
of enquiry. The Oriental Institute has now organised and published four seminars in
this series, the three others being: OIS 1, Changing Social Identity with the Spread of
Islam: Archaeological Perspectives, ed. Donald Whitcombe (2004); OIS 3, Performing
Death: Social Analyses of Funerary Traditions in the Ancient Near East and Mediterra-
nean, ed. Nicola Lanery (2007); OIS 4, Religion and Power: Divine Kingship in the
Ancient World and Beyond, ed. Nicole Brisch (2008). It is to be hoped that other top-
ics will be covered in the future by this Series in an equally broad, provocative and
seminal manner as the volume here under review.
doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp077 ALASDAIR LIVINGSTONE
UNIVERSITY OF BIRMINGHAM
323
92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv 08-03-2010 11:22 Pagina 2
SUBSCRIPTIONS
INFORMATION FOR AUTHORS
A subscription to Journal of Semitic Studies comprises 2 issues. Prices include postage by surface mail, or for
subscribers in the USA and Canada by airfreight, or in India, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, by Air
Speeded Post. Airmail rates are available on request. Contributions, books for review, and other editorial communications should be
Annual Subscription Rate (Volume LIII, 2 issues, 2008) addressed to:
Institutional The Editors
Print edition and site-wide online access: £166//249/US$315
Print edition only: £152//228/US$289 Journal of Semitic Studies
Site-wide online access only: £138//207/US$262
Personal
Middle Eastern Studies
Print edition and individual online access: £54//81/US$103 School of Languages, Linguistics and Cultures
Please note: £ Sterling rates apply in UK, / rates apply in Europe, US$ elsewhere
University of Manchester
There may be other subscription rates available, for a complete listing please visit www.jss.oupjournals.org/
subinfo. Manchester M13 9PL
Full prepayment, in the correct currency, is required for all orders. Orders are regarded as firm and payments UK
are not refundable. Subscriptions are accepted and entered on a complete volume basis. Claims cannot be
considered more than FOUR months after publication or date of order, whichever is later. All subscriptions Article Length
in Canada are subject to GST. Subscriptions in the EU may be subject to European VAT. If registered, please
supply details to avoid unnecessary charges. For subscriptions that include online versions, a proportion of the Editorial policy is normally to favour shorter articles, i.e. no longer than 10,000 words.
subscription price may be subject to UK VAT. Personal rate subscriptions are only available if payment is made
by personal cheque or credit card and delivery is to a private address. Typescript layout
The current year and two previous years’ issues are available from Oxford University Press. Previous volumes Articles and reviews should be typed on one side of the paper (A4 or 8.5 x 11 inches)
can be obtained from the Periodicals Service Company, 11 Main Street, Germantown, NY 12526, USA. with double spacing and generous margins on one side of the paper only. Authors of
Email: psc@periodicals.com. Tel: +1 (518) 537 4700. Fax: +1 (518) 537 5899.
articles should submit TWO COPIES, and disk, if available. Non-Roman script is to
For further information, please contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press,
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK. Email: jnls.cust.serv@oxfordjournals.org. Tel (and answer- be written as clearly as possible and used as sparingly as possible. Notes should be
phone outside normal working hours): +44 (0)1865 353907. Fax: + 44 (0)1865 353485. In the US, please numbered consecutively, double spaced and placed at the end. The Editors will not
contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press, 2001 Evans Road, Cary, NC accept for publication any typescripts which do not conform to these standards. For
27513, USA. Email: jnlorders@oxfordjournals.org. Tel (and answerphone outside normal working hours):
800 852 7323 (toll-free in USA/Canada). Fax: 919 677 1714. In Japan, please contact: Journals Customer
detailed instructions please see the style sheet.
Services, Oxford University Press, 1-1-17-5F, Mukogaoka, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, 113-0023, Japan. Email: oku-
daoup@po.iijnet.or.jp. Tel: (03) 3813 1461. Fax: (03) 3818 1522.
Abstracts
Methods of payment. (i) Cheque (payable to Oxford University Press, to Oxford University Press, Cashiers Authors of articles are required to provide an abstract, which should be a single para-
Office, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK) in GB£ Sterling (drawn on a UK bank), US$ Dol- graph, not exceeding 150 words.
lars (drawn on a US bank), or EU/ Euros. (ii) Bank transfer to Barclays Bank Plc, Oxford Group Office,
Oxford (bank sort code 20-65-18) (UK), overseas only Swift code BARC GB 22 (GB£ Sterling to account no. Submission
70299332, IBAN GB89BARC20651870299332; US$ Dollars to account no. 66014600, IBAN GB27BARC
20651866014600; EU/ Euros to account no. 78923655, IBAN GB16BARC20651878923655). (iii) Credit We will also normally require the final revised version to be supplied in hard copy and
card (Mastercard, Visa, Switch or American Express). electronically. Whilst we can accept most wordprocessor formats the preferred option
Journal of Semitic Studies is published two times a year in April and October by Oxford University Press, is Word. The files should be submitted in the wordprocessor's native format and as an
Oxford, UK. Annual subscription price is £166//249/US$315. Journal of Semitic Studies is distributed by RTF (Rich Text Format).
Mercury International, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. Periodicals postage paid at Rahway, NJ and
at additional entry points. Illustrations
US Postmaster: send address changes to Journal of Semitic Studies (ISSN 0022-4480), c/o Mercury Interna-
tional, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. Electronic submission of illustrations. We can accept 3.5-inch floppy disks, CD-
PERMISSIONS
ROMs and email attachments. High-quality print-outs of all figures are still essential,
For information on how to request permissions to reproduce articles/information from this journal, please visit
as they will be scanned for reproduction in the event of problems with the electronic
www.oxfordjournals.org/permissions. files. Figures must be saved as high-resolution TIF files (at least 300 pixels per inch for
ADVERTISING photographs, and 1200 pixels per inch for black and white line drawings).
Inquiries about advertising should be sent to Helen Pearson, Oxford Journals Advertising, PO Box 347, Offprints and Proofs
Abingdon OX14 1GJ, UK. Email: helen@oxfordads.com. Tel: +44 (0)1235 201904; Fax: +44 (0)8704
296864. Authors of articles will receive one copy of the issue containing their article and
DISCLAIMER twenty-five offprints of their article free of charge. Alteration on the proofs, other
Statements of fact and opinion in the articles in Journal of Semitic Studies are those of the respective authors than the correction of printer's errors, may be disallowed.
and contributors and not of Journal of Semitic Studies or Oxford University Press. Neither Oxford University
Press nor Journal of Semitic Studies make any representation, express or implied, in respect of the accuracy of Copyright and Permissions
the material in this journal and cannot accept any legal responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions Manuscripts submitted will be expected to contain original work and should not have
that may be made. The reader should make his/her own evaluation as to the appropriateness or otherwise of
any experimental technique described. been published in abridged or other form elsewhere. It is a condition of publication
© The University of Manchester 2008 in the Journal that authors grant an exclusive licence to The University of Manches-
All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted ter. Any requests from third parties to reproduce articles are handled on behalf of the
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior journal by Oxford University Press. This will also allow the article to be as widely dis-
written permission of the Publishers, or a licence permitting restricted copying issued in the UK by the seminated as possible and will protect the rights of the author and OUP. In granting
Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 9HE, or in the USA by the an exclusive licence, authors may use their own material in other publications pro-
Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923.
Typeset by Drukkerij Peeters, Herent, Belgium
vided that the journal is acknowledged as the original authority for publication, and
Printed by Bell & Bain Ltd, Glasgow, UK Oxford University Press is notified in writing and in advance.
92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv 08-03-2010 11:22 Pagina 1
EDWARD LIPINSKI ISSN 0022-4480 (PRINT)

‘Le Gérondif en Phénicien’ 1
SPRING 2010
ISSN 1477-8556 (ONLINE)
ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA
‘“Orphaned” Converted Tense Forms in Classical Biblical Hebrew
Prose’ 11
‘Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes du temple de Nannay à Hatra’ 37
GERRIT BOS
‘Medical Terminology in the Hebrew Tradition: Shem Tov Ben
JOURNAL OF
Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, Book 30’
AARON D. RUBIN
53 JOURNAL OF
‘The Development of the Amharic Definite Article and an Indo-
Semitic
nesian Parallel’ 103
‘Identifying the (Iba∂i/Omani) Siyar’ 115
SAM LIEBHABER
Semitic Studies
‘Rhythm and Beat: Re-evaluating Arabic Prosody in the Light of
Mahri Oral Poetry’ 163
Studies
SADOK MASLIYAH
‘The Folk Songs of Iraqi Children: Part One’ 183
JAMES DICKINS
‘Basic Sentence Structure in Sudanese Arabic’ 237
REVIEWS 263
SHORT NOTICES 311
VOLUME LV. NO. 1

SPRING 2010
VOLUME LV. NO. 1

Journal of Semitic Studies-Vol. 1-2010 PDF

Caricato da

Informazioni sul documento

Titolo originale

Copyright

Formati disponibili

Condividi questo documento

Condividi o incorpora il documento

Opzioni di condivisione

Hai trovato utile questo documento?

Questo contenuto è inappropriato?

Copyright:

Formati disponibili

Journal of Semitic Studies-Vol. 1-2010 PDF

Caricato da

Copyright:

Formati disponibili

92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv 08-03-2010 11:22 Pagina 1

EDWARD LIPINSKI ISSN 0022-4480 (PRINT)

VOLUME LV. NO. 1

A single Latin manuscript, Berne codex 123 (folio 7a), preserves a

Isidore de Séville (c. 560–636), connu en latin sous le nom d’Isidorus

modum decimam partem putauerunt, quia non habet certam personam

s’emploie en guèze,4 tigrigna,5 amharique,6 argobba7 et dans les dia-

L’usage du gérondif a connu un grand développement dans les

au combat». Les deux gérondifs l¢}ikom et }aktitom sont constitués

L’inscription de Çineköy comprend deux gérondifs employés avec

l’objet peut être attaché au verbe. L’emploi du pronom indépendant

Ceci semble être aussi le cas de certains infinitifs ugaritiques24.

Deux autres exemples de cette construction se rencontrent en

Deut. 15:2.34 Une étude systématique des cas semblables aboutira

Address for correspondence: elip@telenet.be

From Saussure’s distinction between diachronic and synchronic

A century ago, Ferdinand de Saussure laid the foundation for that

does not admit of any historical dimension, that it consists of syn-

in favour of his now famous synchronic distinction between two lin-

inaugurated by Noam Chomsky, is to represent formally what he calls

the willingness to freely replace a synchronic explanation ‘on logical

verbs, but verb phrases consisting of a conjunction (the so-called

however, while interesting, are mostly prosodic, which raises prob-

adverbial ‘now’. The latter is the ‘generic’ present (related to no

On }az yiqtol as an ‘orphaned’ converted imperfect

The most common form of the orphaned converted imperfect is }az

we will see, the diachronic hypothesis is almost certainly false. But as

well their fixed collocation of a particular verb with a particular com-

resumed evolving as a regular linguistic form — in other words, that

1 Sam. 6:3; 20:12; 2 Sam. 5:24; 2 Kgs 5:3.40 If this construction

wattasar — i.e., }az yiqtol and wayyiqtol — are syntactically parallel.

and unconverted }az yiqtol corroborates, in turn, the distinction I

Gen. 15:18: bayyôm hahû} karat yhwh }et }abram berît

Other Orphaned Converted Imperfects

Num. 35:20: we}im besin}â yehdapennû }ô hislîk ¨alayw biÒdiyyâ

weqatal, but wayyiqtol; and in 2 Kgs 20:14, Isaiah’s question (yabo}û)

In order to account for these anomalous occurrences of yiqtol, one

Orphaned Converted Perfects

The converted perfect (weqatal ),64 as a verb phrase, is subject to the

syntactic equivalent of either yiqtol or weqatal. In the list of examples

as weyada¨nû; i.e., it is an orphaned converted perfect.77 Correct anal-

In this way, seemingly disparate particular phenomena become

categorizations of qatal and yiqtol are now accounted for by a single

Address for correspondence: rsk@ufl.edu

BAHAA AMER AL-JUBOURI

The inscriptions discussed here were discovered during excavations

Ces inscriptions étaient découvertes dans les fouilles entreprises par

La numérotation des inscriptions est celle de Sumer et continue la

kmr} dy nny rb}. C’est la première attestation de l’existence

†hmh. Il s’agit d’un nom nouveau attesté pour la première fois

1. bsnt 400+20+3 }qymtny nny

Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue en marbre

1. [Òlm} dy….] br brnny d}qym lnpsh

Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue trouvé à

L.1: mqymsms. Ibrahim lit mqwmsms. mqymsms serait attesté deux

Inscription de quatre lignes gravée sur une frise de banc incomplet

1. ¨bd wqrb gdyhb [br] }by rby[t}]

Inscription de trois lignes en caractères grands gravée sur une pièce

1. [Òlm} dy … br b]rsms kmr}

1. [Statue de … fils de b]rsms le prêtre

Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur la base d’une statue représentant

1. [bsnt] 400+20+20+20+10? Ò[lm} dy }qym]

L.1: [bsnt]. L’espace libre devant ‘400+20+20+20+10’ nous permet