Lauren A. S. Monroe - Josiah's Reform and The Dynamics of Defilement - Israelite Rites of Violence and The Making of A Biblical Text - Oxford University Press, USA (2011) PDF

Josiah’s Reform and
the Dynamics of
Defilement
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Josiah’s Reform
and the Dynamics
of Defilement
Israelite Rites of Violence and the
Making of a Biblical Text
lauren a.s. monroe
1
3
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Monroe, Lauren A. S.
Josiah’s reform and the dynamics of defilement : Israelite rites of violence and
the making of a biblical text / Lauren A. S. Monroe.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-19-977416-6 (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. Josiah, King of Judah. 2. Bible. O.T. Kings, 2nd, XXII-XXIII—Criticism, interpretation, etc.
3. Bible. O.T. Leviticus XVII-XXVI. 4. Jews—History—To 586 B.C.—Historiography.
5. Deuteronomistic history (Biblical criticism) 6. Violence in the Bible. I. Title.
BS580.J75M66 2011
222'.54066—dc22 2010029059
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed in the United States of America
on acid-free paper
In memory of my father, Stuart Shedletsky,
who taught me to see
Contents
Acknowledgments, ix
Abbreviations, xi
1. Destructive Rituals and the Creative Process: The Dynamics

of Defilement in 2 Kings 22–23, 3
2. Priestly Rites of Elimination and the Holiness Core
of 2 Kings 23:4–20, 23
3. Ḥērem Ideology and the Politics of Destruction: Josiah’s
Reform in Deuteronomistic Perspective, 45
4. The Mechanics of Transformation: The Holiness
Substratum and Deuteronomistic Revision of 2 Kings
23:4–20, 77
5. Literary, Historiographic, and Historical Implications, 121
Notes, 139
Bibliography, 169
Index, 199
Acknowledgments
This book began as a paper on the ritual language of Josiah’s

reform for a graduate seminar on the book of Deuteronomy
with Baruch Levine in the fall of 1998. That paper became
the basis for my 2004 New York University doctoral
dissertation, entitled “Josiah’s Reform and the Dynamics of
Defilement: A Phenomenological Approach to 2 Kings 23.”
Over the past six years the project has continued to evolve
in significant and unexpected ways. It has greatly benefited
from sustained conversations with close colleagues, as well
as from feedback on conference papers from an array of
scholars. It is impossible to acknowledge here all of those
whose input and observations over the years have lent shape
to this work and influenced my thinking on the various
issues this book engages.
I was supremely fortunate that my dissertation-writing
years at NYU coincided with Baruch Levine’s last years
before retirement, Mark Smith’s first years in the Skirball
department, and the constancy of Daniel Fleming’s
supervision. Working with these three scholars as my
committee was a rare gift, as intellectually rewarding as it was
humbling. In shepherding the project from dissertation to
book I have continued to benefit from Mark Smith’s expertise
in Israelite religion, his rigorous questions and critique, and
his kind and genuine concern for the success of his students.
To Dan Fleming I owe a debt of gratitude too great to express.
x acknowledgments
Whatever quality inheres in my work is due largely to the rigors of his

training and his selfless devotion of time and energy. I have learned
from him many of the technical aspects of biblical criticism, but more
significantly, our countless conversations have expanded and deepened
my sense of the dynamic nexus between textual production and ancient
Israelite social history that lends essential shape to this project. Beyond
his roles as adviser and colleague, he has become an uncommon friend.
Special thanks are also due to Bernard Levinson, who saw enough
promise in my work to support making me his colleague at the Uni-
versity of Minnesota upon my completion of the PhD. This book has
benefited greatly from the collegial spirit of his skeptical critique. His
meticulous and accessible scholarship provides a model toward which
this book can only strive. Thanks also go to Peter Machinist for reading
and responding to an earlier draft of the manuscript and to Marc
Brettler for his detailed and considered response to a more recent ver-
sion. In addition I am grateful to my colleagues in the Near Eastern
Studies department at Cornell University for providing a rich and
stimulating intellectual environment, and in particular to Kim Haines-
Eitzen for her encouragement and support of this project over the
course of the past four years. I also thank my graduate student Dustin
Nash who provided both fastidious editorial assistance and a recep-
tive audience for some of the ideas this book sets forth. Any errors
are of course entirely my own. I am ever grateful for my family: my
mother, Judith, and my sister, Emily, who cheer me on and forgive my
occasional excessive absorption in my own world; and my in-laws Jim,
Linda, Jon, Polly, and Nathan Monroe, who have become my family.
Their warm homes and comfortable work spaces on the Maine coast
provided a place in which much of this book finally came to be. Finally,
my husband, colleague, and fellow adventurer, Chris, suffered the
vicissitudes of the writing process with me and gives my life the sense
of balance that made this book possible.
Abbreviations
KTU The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras

Ibn Hani and Other Places. 2nd edition. Edited by
M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. Münster,
Germany: Ugarit-Verlag, 1995.
RES Répertoire d’épigraphie sémitique. Publié par la
commission du Corpus Inscriptiorum Semiticarum 6.
Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1935.
Josiah’s Reform and
the Dynamics of
Defilement
1
Destructive Rituals and
the Creative Process
The Dynamics of Defilement
in 2 Kings 22–23
Second Kgs 22–23 tell a story of how the Judean king Josiah
(c. 639–609 B.C.E.), discovered a lost “scroll of the law”
(ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ) during a routine renovation of the Jerusalem temple.
Hilkiah the high priest finds the scroll and gives it to Shaphan
the scribe, who reads it aloud to Josiah. Upon hearing its
contents, the king tears his clothes and exclaims, “Great is the
wrath of the Lord that is kindled against us, for our fathers did
not heed the words of this scroll, to act according to all that is
written concerning us!” (22:13). In a desperate attempt to
protect his people from divine wrath and certain ruin, Josiah
undertakes a massive reform of Israelite religion; he utterly
destroys the cult places and installations where his own people
worshiped and eliminates their priests, purifying and, many
would argue, centralizing Israelite worship at the Jerusalem
temple. The authors of 2 Kgs 23 portray Josiah’s reign as a
pivotal moment in the development of monotheistic Judaism
and Josiah himself as an agent of what Assmann provocatively
refers to as the “Mosaic Distinction.” Assmann explains:
The space that was “severed or cloven” by this
distinction was not simply the space of religion in
general, but that of a very specific kind of
religion . . . that rejects and repudiates everything that
went before and what is outside itself as “paganism.” It
no longer functioned as a means of intercultural
4 josiah’s reform and the dynamics of defilement
translation; on the contrary, it functioned as a means of

intercultural estrangement. Whereas polytheism, or rather
“cosmotheism,” rendered different cultures mutually
transparent and compatible, the new counter-religion blocked
intercultural translatability. False gods can not be translated.1
Josiah’s destruction of sanctuaries, altars, and divine representa-

tions quite literally cleaved the space in which the Mosaic distinction
could be drawn. Like the Taliban’s destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas
in March 2001, Josiah’s rites of violence served to rid the land of what
Mullah Mohammad Omar referred to as “the gods of the infidels.”2
Scholars generally agree that the account of Josiah’s reform bears
the telltale signs of composition from multiple sources. The particular
interests of this text, coupled with its complex literary history, offer an
opportunity to observe some of the ways in which the biblical authors
continuously redefined the boundaries of Israelite culture by reshaping
narrative. The vocabularies of violence implemented and manipulated
by the authors of 2 Kgs 22–23 cast light on the history of this text’s com-
position and on the essential role that traditions of sanctified violence
played in the enterprise of narrativizing emergent Israelite identity.
Two interrelated processes are implicated: the reification of ritual vio-
lence in recollecting the emergence of ancient Israel both as a people in
the land and as a political state, and the sanctioning of Israel’s memory
of its own religious and cultural identity through narratives that portray
rites of violence.3
As in our own time, in ancient Israel acts of religious violence, whether
performed by pen or by sword, were essential in shaping collective con-
sciousness and establishing community.4 How the authors of 2 Kgs 22–23
variously engaged such traditions in recounting the events of Israel’s past
reveals their perspectives on how they wanted the Israelites to relate to one
another, to their neighbors, and to their God. The layered composition of
2 Kgs 23 provides a window on these shifting social and theological trends.
Simply put, how the story of Josiah’s reform is told reveals important
information about who its storytellers were.
Similarities between Josiah’s reform measures and Deuteronomy’s
instructions for purging local religion from the land of Canaan (e.g.,
Deut 12:2–6), the alleged interest in centralization of worship expressed
in both texts, and other shared linguistic and thematic similarities have
led modern biblical scholars since the time of de Wette, as well as pre-
modern interpreters, to identify Josiah’s lost book of the law with an
early version of Deuteronomy.5 On this basis, Josiah’s reign has become
a terminus ad quem for the introduction of Deuteronomic law in the
destructive rituals and the creative process 5
southern kingdom of Judah, and 2 Kgs 22–23 has become a linchpin for
judging the date and setting of many other biblical texts. As Römer
comments, these may be the most widely discussed chapters in the
Deuteronomistic History, that is, the history contained in the books of
Deuteronomy through 2 Kings.6
Despite widespread acceptance of a connection between Deuter-
onomy and the Josianic reforms, certain significant literary and socio-
historical problems linger. For example, in 2 Kgs 23:4–20, which details
the reform measures themselves, much of the language is without
Deuteronom(ist)ic parallel. This is unexpected if indeed the purpose of
the reform was to implement Deuteronomy’s iconoclastic policies.
Additionally puzzling is the absence of reference to Deuteronomy’s cen-
tralization formula “the place that Yahweh chooses” ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʯʫʹʬ, (“to
place his name”). Neither this Deuteronomic expression nor either of
its deuteronomistic reflexes—ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʭʥʹʬ (“to place his name there”)
and ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʺʥʩʤʬ (“his name to be there”)—occurs as part of an explana-
tion for Josiah’s reform measures.7 Modern scholars tend to see the
implementation of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization as Josiah’s pri-
mary purpose, but the absence of such language raises questions about
whether biblical authors saw it this way.
Essential differences between Josiah’s reform measures and the lan-
guage, diction, and ideology of Deuteronomy leads a significant number
of scholars to question the presumed connection between Deuteronomy
and Josiah’s reform.8 Some try to account for the differences by seeking
authority for the reform and/or its description in texts outside of the
Deuteronom(ist)ic corpus, but none arrive at a satisfactory solution.
Despite considerable doubt, a connection between the reform and
Deuteronomy remains entrenched in the scholarly imagination and has
become a foundation for the analysis of other texts and critical issues.9
Knoppers observes that “critics have largely duplicated how the
Deuteronomist wanted Josiah’s actions to be understood.”10 The tendency
has been to privilege the text’s deuteronomistic imprimatur, allowing it to
dictate, and inadvertently to limit, the types of questions that can be asked
of the text and the intellectual frameworks available for answering them.
The present work approaches the text from a new vantage point, focusing
first on the ritual and cultic dimensions of the reform measures described
in the so-called reform report.11 Josiah’s actions serve to render cult places
and installations forbidden points of divine access by imposing a “skull-
and-crossbones” of sorts, a warning of danger or of poison cultically con-
strued. The spontaneity of Josiah’s responses, the transformative aspect
of the reform, and the specificity and repetitiveness of the language used
to describe it suggest that the authors conceived of this effort in ritual
terms. The text’s particular vocabularies of violence ask its readers to con-
sider the narrative in light of the ritual dynamics it invokes, but these have
received virtually no scrutiny in the sea of scholarship that the reform
account has generated.
By attending to the specific acts of defilement attributed to Josiah in
the Kings account as they resonate within the larger framework of
Israelite ritual, it becomes clear that much of the language of the text
and some of its fundamental interests have their closest parallels not in
Deuteronomy, but in the priestly legal corpus known as the “Holiness
Code” or “Holiness Legislation” (Lev 17–26), as well as in other priestly
texts that describe the ritual elimination of impurity.12 I argue that these
priestly holiness elements reflect an early literary substratum that was
generated close in time to the reign of Josiah, from within the same
priestly circles that produced the Holiness Code. The holiness composi-
tion was reshaped in the hands of a post-Josianic, exilic, or postexilic
deuteronomistic historian who transformed his source material to suit
ideological and theological interests that were a product of his post-
monarchic vantage point. The account of Josiah’s reform is thus
imprinted with the cultural and religious attitudes of two different sets
of authors. Teasing these apart reveals a dialogue on sacred space, sanc-
tified violence, and the nature of Israelite religion that was formative in
the development not only of 2 Kgs 23, but of the historical books of the
Bible more broadly.
Some brief comments on terminology are required before we pro-
ceed. Throughout this book I use the terms “deuteronomistic” and “holi-
ness” with lowercase “d” and “h.” I use these terms in the adjectival
sense, to communicate a style of writing and a set of interests that are
otherwise attested only in the core legal material in the book of
Deuteronomy (Deut 12–26) and in the Holiness Code (Lev 17–26),
respectively. Exceptions to this lowercase style occur in the context of
direct citation of other scholars’ work, in more general discussions of
previous scholarship, and in the designation “Deuteronom(ist)ic,” which
I find to be a convenient way of referring to characteristics attested both
in core Deuteronomy and in deuteronomistic texts. The system I employ
is in defiance of convention, which prefers the uppercase. By using the
lowercase I seek to avoid fixed source-critical categories, which can be too
restrictive to capture the complex realities of textual composition and
transmission. The term “deuteronomistic” thus is applied more nar-
rowly here than is the norm in biblical scholarship, as a word or phrase’s
attestation in a context that scholars have identified as Deuteronomistic
(e.g., in the book of Kings) will not necessarily warrant its attribution as
such here. An element will be considered deuteronomistic only if a
parallel can be found in core Deuteronomy. This conservative approach

provides a check against circular reasoning and allows us to meet
the text on its own terms, unmoored from scholarly expectations of
Deuteronomism. In this way I hope to treat the text as a ceramic vessel
unearthed from ancient ground, whose fabric and wash convey the sig-
natures of artisans whose handiwork is easily overlooked.
In addition, I avoid reference to the “Deuteronomist” and the
“Deuteronomistic History” wherever possible. Implicit in these proper
nouns is an acceptance of Noth’s foundational assertion that the books
of Deuteronomy through 2 Kings constitute a continuous historio-
graphic work by a single author or, in later elaborations of the theory,
that such a work was revised one or multiple times by secondary
Deuteronomistic redactors. As heuristically useful as this model has
been, recent scholarship has begun to call into question the notion that
these books constitute a history composed of whole cloth, by drawing
attention to distinctive traits in the various books that argue for treating
each on its own compositional terms, even while acknowledging that
the books were at some point woven together to give the impression of
a coherent, linear history.13 I do not take on the question of the viability
of the Deuteronomistic History here, and so I have chosen language
and an approach that accommodates my agnosticism on this issue.
Finally, I often employ the term “postmonarchic” in lieu of dif-
ferentiating between exilic and postexilic literature. My use of this
term reflects an interest in the way authors and editors working after
the collapse of the Judahite monarchy grappled with traditions that
originated in and served the agenda of the Davidic monarchy. The
account of Josiah’s reform, indeed the entire Kings history, took its final
shape in an era without kings. By using the term “postmonarchic” I
seek to emphasize this rupture and its effect on the biblical authors’
re-presentation of the past.
A Ritual Approach to 2 Kings 23
In its final form, the account of Josiah’s reform was an essential element
in the process of institutionalizing a theological shift, a shift that the
biblical authors credit to Josiah. Through their portrayal of Josiah’s
destruction of the sacred places where Israel traditionally worshiped,
the text’s authors sought to assert a new doctrine of a singular, image-
less God who ruled on earth through his chosen priests’ steadfast guard-
ianship of his law. The aniconic thrust of this theology demanded the
utter destruction of Israel’s divine images, if not in reality, then in the
telling. The utterly physical enactments that comprise the reform were
part of a familiar ritual “language” through which Josiah and the text’s
authors could perpetrate the acts of violence necessary to establish Israel
as a nation apart.
Ritual acts that involve destruction or defilement engage certain
beliefs regarding suppression of the dangerous forces of the universe
and preservation of the natural order of the cosmos that, in the case of
Israel, was believed to be imposed by Yahweh. To maintain order it was
necessary to eliminate impurity, conceived of as “the actualized form of
evil forces operative in the human environment.”14 Israelite destructive
rituals thus implicitly acknowledged the existence of harm as a
substantive force that could act independently of Yahweh. As such they
were rooted in attitudes that were antithetical to the monotheizing inter-
ests of the late biblical authors. At the same time, such rituals were
essential to the authors’ program of eliminating from the Israelite cult
what they deemed to be non-Yahwistic elements. This ambivalence may
account in part for the absence of critical details regarding the
performance of such rituals from the biblical text.15 For most biblical
authors, in any case, providing accurate descriptions of Israelite ritual
was not a primary interest.
A necessary dependence upon the written word, a form of expres-
sion that in its essence is antithetical to the nature of ritual experience,
is an impediment to any study of Israelite ritual. Bell, citing Lévi-Strauss,
comments: “What is distinctive about ritual is not what it says or sym-
bolizes, but that first and foremost it does things: ritual is always a matter
of ‘the performance of gestures and the manipulation of objects.’ Hence,
ritualization is simultaneously the avoidance of explicit speech and nar-
rative.”16 This study works from the assumption that the authors of 2
Kgs 23 deliberately invoked familiar Israelite ritual and cultic motifs in
order to portray Josiah and his reform in accordance with the specific
ideals they sought to promote.17 My interest lies not in how the account
of Josiah’s reform illuminates the performance and experience of actual
defilement rites in ancient Israel, but rather in how the biblical authors
engaged and manipulated this body of ritual language to suit their
particular narrative interests. Wright’s work on ritual dynamics in the
Ugaritic Tale of Aqhat provides an important precedent for this kind of
investigation. In contrast to “externally oriented” approaches, Wright
“looks at ritual within a story’s context to see how it contributes to the
development of the story, advances the plot, forges major and minor
climaxes, structures and periodicizes the story and operates to enhance
the portrayal of characters.”18 As Bibb observes, while the narratives that
Wright analyzes do not necessarily correspond with any external ritual
reality, his approach communicates important aspects of the ritual

world in which the Tale of Aqhat was produced, by exposing the views
and attitudes of people at the time in which the text was written.19 It is
just such views and attitudes that the present study seeks to illuminate
in its emphasis on ritual language in the account of Josiah’s reform. In
so doing it offers a new perspective on this text’s authorship and evolu-
tion as well as its place within the larger Kings history.
Ritual Language in 2 Kings 22–23 as a

Window on the Text’s Composition
The language of defilement used in the account of Josiah’s reform falls

into two distinct categories: apotropaic rites of riddance, and ḥērem, a
form of consecration to a patron deity.20 Each of these represents a dis-
tinct framework for conceptualizing ritualized destruction.21 Apotropaic
ritual is attested frequently in Leviticus and Numbers, where it is a pre-
scribed method of averting divine wrath or harm caused by contact with
dangerous or contaminating substances, for example, leprosy (Lev
14:45–52) and corpse contamination (Num 19:2–10). Levine explains
that apotropaic rituals served to eliminate destructive or demonic forces
identified as the source of impurity and viewed as an offense to the
deity. Apotropaic and prophylactic magic thus figures in the enterprise
of cleansing or purifying cultic persons, objects, buildings, sacred cities,
and sacrificial materials in order to render them fit for cultic use.22 Texts
that describe such rites employ a particular set of terms of violation that
includes but is not limited to ʠʮʨ (“to defile”), ʳʸʹ (“to burn”), ʸʴʲʬ ʷʷʣ
(“to beat to dust”), and ʪʩʬʹʤ (“to cast”). This language appears repeat-
edly in the account of Josiah’s reform and suggests that this category of
ritual was essential to the process of purifying and centralizing the Isra-
elite cult, as conceived by the text’s authors.
The rite of ḥērem, by contrast, appears most frequently in Deuter-
onom(ist)ic texts, where it refers to the destruction and consecration to
Yahweh of enemy populations and land. Use of ḥērem as a means of
delimiting the physical and cultural boundaries between Israelite and
“other” is a hallmark of Deuteronomy’s ideology of Israelite exception-
alism, according to which Yahweh chose the Israelites from among
all of the nations and granted them the land of Canaan on the condi-
tion that they uphold his covenant with Moses. Destruction through
imposition of the ḥērem demonstrates the Israelites’ commitment to
Yahweh’s law and serves as an assertion of their rightful occupancy
of the land that he promised. It is an affirmation of the tripartite
relationship between people, land, and God, the integrity of which is

essential to the Israelites’ survival. Descriptions of the ḥērem often refer
to the slaying of the enemy “by the sword” (ʡʸʧ ʩʴʬ) and the complete
eradication of population. In Deut 7:5 as part of the ḥērem against the
Canaanites, the Israelites are to “tear down their altars” (ʥʶʺʺ ʭʤʩʺʧʡʦʮ),
“smash their standing stones” (ʥʸʡʹʺ ʭʺʡʶʮ), “cut down their sacred
poles” (ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʸʩʹʠ), and “burn their sacred images” (ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʤʩʬʩʱʴ
ʹʠʡ). The description of Josiah’s reform in 2 Kgs 23 attests much of the
same language, suggesting a literary connection between 2 Kgs 23 and
Deuteronomy’s ḥērem texts.
On the most basic level, parallels between Josiah’s reform and
ḥērem manifest themselves linguistically and syntactically, but these
signify shared theoretical and ideological underpinnings that are
essential to understanding the purpose of the reform described and the
interests of the authors responsible for the final composition of the
text. The Deuteronom(ist)ic ḥērem draws on and elaborates upon usage
of the term in the tribal, political context of early state formation and
invokes the ḥērem in the context of combating cultural contamination
whose sources are external.23 Deuteronomy’s call for the ḥērem against
Israelite idolatry (13:13–16) is no exception, as the text first identifies
such practices as inherently non-Israelite: “If you hear in one of your
towns that Yahweh your God is giving you to dwell there, that trouble-
makers have entered your midst, and have led the inhabitants of your
town astray, saying ‘let us go and serve other gods whom you have not
known . . . you must smite the inhabitants of the town by the sword
of the ḥērem.” Deuteronomy treats the Israelite idolater as the enemy
or “other” within. Similarly, 2 Kgs 23 does not explicitly identify as
“Canaanite” the items Josiah is credited with eradicating; but by echo-
ing Deuteronomy’s ḥērem language the deuteronomistic author draws
a subtle connection between these rejected forms of Israelite worship
and the practices of the peoples whom Israel displaced. In this way
Josiah follows in the footsteps of the great ḥērem warrior Joshua, playing
an equally essential role in establishing the boundaries of Israelite
territorial and collective identity.
In contrast to the Deuteronom(ist)ic war-ḥērem whose targets are
conceived of as external to the Israelite body politic, the apotropaic rites
found in priestly literature are often employed by the priest to eradicate
sources of contamination that come from within the Israelite community.
Despite this difference and the different textual environments in which
apotropaic ritual and ḥērem tend to occur, they emerge from common
anxieties regarding the integrity and sanctity of the Israelite community.
Yet the account of Josiah’s reform is the only instance in the Bible in
which these two modes of elimination are so thoroughly intertwined, a

detail that suggests that, compositionally, something unique is at play.
In the text’s final form, the use of language associated with both types of
ritual has the effect of casting Josiah as the embodiment of both a mili-
tary and priestly ideal, a presentation that is well suited to the post-
monarchic setting in which this deuteronomistic author worked.
While apotropaic ritual language employed in the reform account
reflects deeply entrenched notions of purity and taboo that Israel’s
priests were both heir to and guardians of, there is nothing distinctively
Israelite about such concerns, even as these particular received formu-
lations were preserved through Israelite channels. Ritual texts from
throughout the ancient Near East attest similar anxieties expressed in
local terms.24 The presence of this body of ritual language betrays the
text’s general priestly orientation, but it tells us nothing of which priests
were involved in its composition. Language and themes in 2 Kgs 23 that
are otherwise attested only in the Holiness Code lend greater specificity
to this priestly attribution and tie the reform account to a particular
Jerusalem-centered ideology. Such details in the text include a particular
use of the verb ʠʮʨ (“to defile”) in the piʿel to signify desecration of
sacred precincts (e.g., Lev 18:27–28; 20:3); an emphasis on bāmôt and
their eradication as punishment for transgression (26:30); and elimina-
tion of the cult of mlk, identified by name (20:1–6). Parallels between 2
Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code reflect evolving programmatic interests
related to the control of Israelite behavior and the definition of a distinc-
tively Israelite sacred community that the Holiness Code sought to
establish.25
The linguistic and thematic elements that 2 Kgs 23 shares with the
Holiness Code are not sufficiently precise to point to common author-
ship, nor is it likely that 2 Kgs 23 was written with the Holiness Code
itself in mind. Rather, the language and outlook that these two texts
share point to origins in a similar literary and social milieu. The presence
of holiness themes in 2 Kgs 23, without clear literary dependence on the
Holiness Code, suggests the possibility of a holiness school of thought
more diverse in its interests and engagement in textual production than
the Holiness Code alone might suggest.
It is worthwhile to consider the possibility that priestly language in
the reform account is the product of post-deuteronomistic editing by a
late priestly writer. After all, it is widely recognized that much of the
Bible took its final shape in the hands of priests of the Persian period.26
Scholars have identified late Priestly editing in the book of Kings in the
description of Solomon’s installation of the ark and temple dedication
ceremony in 1 Kgs 8,27 as well as in 12:32–33, where the reference to
Jeroboam’s establishment of a festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth

month is likely associated with the date of Succoth on the fifteenth day
of the seventh month in Lev 23:34.28 Van Seters argues, with Hoffmann,
that the system of collecting funds in the account of Josiah’s temple
repairs in 2 Kgs 22:3–9 and references to the “high priest” and other
temple personnel suggest a close association with the Priestly source of
the Pentateuch and the period of the Second Temple.29 While the possi-
bility of post-deuteronomistic Priestly editing is not to be dismissed
altogether in the account of Josiah’s reign, such an explanation fails to
account for priestly ritual elements deeply entrenched in the reform
narrative itself, in 23:4–20, that are essential to the efficacy of the
reform. These appear to have been revised and transformed by a deuter-
onomistic author whose editorial modus operandi is often transparent.
It is also possible that a deuteronomistic author deliberately emp-
loyed language associated with priestly elimination rites to dress this
singular moment in Israel’s history in the guise of priestly authority.
But this explanation rests on an assumption that the present study seeks
to move beyond, namely, that because 2 Kgs 23 belongs to the so-called
Deuteronomistic History, the Deuteronomist must be responsible for
its content. Let us consider instead that this and other long-noted incon-
sistencies between 2 Kgs 23 and the diction and ideology of Deuteronomy
reflect non-deuteronomistic, indeed quintessentially priestly, interests
embedded in the text.
The relationship I posit between the priestly source material in 2
Kgs 23 and its deuteronomistic recasting may be understood in terms
similar to those articulated by Levinson in his work on Deuteronomy’s
revision of the Covenant Code (Exod 20:22–23:33):
[Deuteronomy] was the composition of authors who
consciously reused and reinterpreted earlier texts to propound
and justify their program of cultic and legal reform, even—or
particularly—when those texts conflicted with the authors’
agenda. Previous scholarship has not fully recognized, let
alone conceptualized, the centrality of this hermeneutical
question to Deuteronomy’s authors, nor the extent to which,
once recognized, it helps to explain a number of long-standing
problems that have otherwise resisted solution.30
Levinson’s description of the way the authors of the legal material in
Deuteronomy positioned themselves vis-à-vis their source material, as
well as his assessment of the state of affairs within scholarship, could
profitably be applied to the account of Josiah’s reform in 2 Kgs 23.31 By
reworking and relying upon priestly material in formulating his account,
the deuteronomistic historian established his reformed version of

Israelite religion on the foundation of traditions already in place. He
thus lent legitimacy not only to his own innovation but also to the
traditions of the Jerusalem temple priesthood, whose exclusive sacred
authority he sought to assert. Recognizing the existence of a holiness
substratum in the account of reform, and the mechanisms by which
this composition was revised, resolves a number of historical and text-
critical problems that have confounded scholars for decades.
The idea of a deuteronomistic author who composed his narrative
from preexistent sources is hardly a new idea. It has been long recog-
nized that the book of Deuteronomy was composed in multiple stages
around an older core legal code. The conquest accounts in Joshua are
understood by many to contain earlier traditions that were transformed
in the hands of a deuteronomistic author.32 The book of Judges is likely
to have evolved out of an earlier cycle of Israelite “savior narratives” that
was revised in the service of deuteronomistic ideology.33 The deuteron-
omistic account of Josiah’s reform itself is widely understood to have
been molded around an earlier report, as I discuss below. The deuteron-
omistic propensity for revision of preexistent written traditions is well
established; but the idea of a holiness substratum in the reform account
is entirely new.
The existence of a pre-deuteronomistic holiness substratum in 2
Kgs 23 severs any direct ties between this text in its earliest form and the
book of Deuteronomy. It thus precludes the use of the Kings account as
a basis for arguing a late-seventh-century date for both the appearance
of Deuteronomy in Judah and for the activity of a deuteronomistic
school responsible for writing and compiling the edition of the kings
history of which 2 Kgs 23 is a part. In addition, the content of this early
account presents a more limited picture of the possible scope and extent
of a historical reform than scholars have tended to recognize. It is
apparent in my reconstruction of the compositional history of 23:4–20
in chapter 4 that the initial holiness account focused primarily on the
eradication of bāmôt (“high places”) around Jerusalem and in Bethel in
specifically priestly terms. This version reflects decidedly preexilic,
indeed Josianic, concerns. Its purpose was to delegitimize particular
shrines whose operation posed a threat to Josiah’s control over the cultic
affairs of the kingdom. It does not appear to have been written in the
service of an ideology of centralization; however, the holiness author is
likely to have been aware of, and possibly influenced by, a growing
interest in centralization among the religious and political elite of sev-
enth-century Jerusalem. Furthermore, when the deuteronomistic addi-
tions to the holiness account are isolated, it becomes clear that for this
postmonarchic author, Josiah’s exceptionalism lay not in is implemen-

tation of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization, as biblical scholarship
tends to assume, but rather in his adherence to Deuteronomy’s ideal of
a limited kingship. While these two ideas are not mutually exclusive,
they resonated differently in the postmonarchic, deuteronomistic
imagination.
Thus deconstructed, the account of Josiah’s reform provides entrée
to a more multifaceted understanding of deuteronomistic implementa-
tion of Deuteronomic law and also reveals some of the interests of the
preexilic “holiness school” and the duration and scope of its literary
activity. In addition, examination of the textual strata in 2 Kgs 23 allows
us to see how the deuteronomistic and holiness schools manipulated
and engaged differently the details of Josiah’s violent reform and reveals
some of the ways in which these two Jerusalem-centered schools partic-
ipated together in the process of narrativizing ancient Israel.
Approaches to the Problem of Composition

in 2 Kings 22–23
The idea that 2 Kgs 23:4–20 reflects an originally independent literary

unit was first proposed by Oestreicher, who suggests that these chap-
ters were composed of an Auffindungsgeschichte (“history of discovery”)
in 22:3–23:3 and a Reformbericht (“reform report”) in 23:4–14, which
differed from each other with regard to narrative style.34 The former, he
suggests, is characterized by elaborate narrative, while the latter is
made up of short episodic events. Oestreicher concludes from this
difference that the compiler of the book of Kings crafted the account
from two separate sources to which he added 22:1–2 and 23:25–30 as
a frame.35 These designations have had considerable influence on
subsequent scholarship, albeit with varying degrees of modification.
Certain structural features in 23:4–20 are identified as particularly
suggestive of redactional activity. For example, many scholars regard
the awkward redundancy of the particle ʭʢ (“also”) in 23:15 as evidence
of a redactional seam, although there is disagreement over the parame-
ters of the interpolation it signifies.36 In addition the seven noncon-
verted vav + perfect verb forms that appear throughout these verses may
be a product of secondary development.37 Barrick draws attention to the
chiastic structure of 23:4–20, as well as to the framing effect of the
phrase ʪʬʮʤ ʥʶʩʥ (“the king commanded”) in 23:4 and 23:21, which sug-
gest that the intervening verses represent a literary unit.38 In addition,
scholars have long noted certain thematic inconsistencies between
22:3–23:3, 21–25, and 23:4–20 that point to these units as separate

literary strata. These tensions may be summarized as follows:
1. The focal point of 22:8–23:3 is the book of the law discovered in the
temple. There is no mention of this book in 23:4–20. On the
contrary, 23:17 seems to indicate that Josiah’s actions, at least
against Bethel, were predicted not by the book of the law but rather
“by the man of God who foretold these things” (cf. 1 Kgs 13).
2. Second Kgs 23:1–3 and 23:21–23 attribute to Josiah the renewal of
the covenant and the performance of the Passover. These verses
document formal, public affirmations of Israel’s exclusive rela-
tionship with Yahweh and easily read together as a single narra-
tive unit. In both 23:1–3 and 23:21–23 Josiah gathers all of the
people (ʭʲʤ ʬʫ) together, and in both it is made explicit that he is
acting in the service of the book discovered in the temple. The
book is characterized in 23:1, 21 as ʺʩʸʡʤ ʸʴʱ (“the book of the cov-
enant”), not ʤʸʥʺʤ ʸʴʱ (“the book of the law”), which is the term
used elsewhere (22:8, 11; 23:24). Second Kgs 23:4–20, with its
focus on desecration, interrupts what would otherwise be a seam-
less narrative.
3. A disjuncture between 23:4–20 and the rest of the narrative is
clear from the performance of the covenant-renewal ceremony at
the temple (23:1–3) before the reform itself has been enacted. In
its current form, the covenant-renewal ceremony takes place in a
temple in disarray, still full of offensive cultic paraphernalia and
persons.39
4. Some scholars find problematic the chronology of the events of
the reform as presented in the text’s current form. The dates
provided in 22:3 and 23:3 imply that renovations to the temple,
the cult reforms, and the performance of the Passover all occurred
during Josiah’s eighteenth year. To many critics this concentration
of events in one year is logistically implausible.40 Eynikel, follow-
ing Lohfink, suggests that the date notices should be read for
their literary effect, as an inclusio introduced by a redactor to
delimit his passage.41 Support for this may reside in a comparison
of 2 Kgs 23 with 2 Chr 34, where Josiah begins his reform in the
twelfth year of his reign and launches his temple purification
initiative in the eighteenth year, the same year in which the scroll
of the law was discovered (34:3–14). In contrast to the author of
Kings, the Chronicler makes no effort to connect Josiah’s
campaign of defilement to the discovery of the scroll. While the
order of events in Chronicles may seem more feasible, it is not
necessarily more credible, a point to which I return in chapter 3.

If anything the tension between the two texts provides a reminder
that each is a product of its authors’ particular exegetical ten-
dencies; neither should be taken at face value. Nonetheless, when
the two presentations are considered in light of the other incon-
sistencies in 2 Kgs 23 discussed above, a case mounts for the idea
that the reform and the discovery of the scroll are conjoined in
the Kings account to serve the rhetorical and etiological interests
of the Kings authors.
These inconsistencies support Oestreicher’s general schema for dividing

the narrative, and taken together, they suggest that 22:3–23:3 and 23:21–
25 represent a literary stratum independent of 23:4–20.
While there is a general consensus regarding this division of the text
along the lines Oestreicher proposes, scholars disagree over whether
these divisions reflect the conjoining of separate sources.42 Among
those who accept the notion of a “reform report” there is debate over its
extent and its precise literary historical relationship to the surrounding
narrative. At one end of the spectrum are those, including myself, who
accept in broad strokes Oestreicher’s model of an early source that was
revised and edited by a later redactor.43 At the other are those who see
23:4–20 as a later addition to an already extant Deuteronomistic compo-
sition.44 Arguments for the lateness of 23:4–20 are based largely on the
continuities that exist between 23:1–3 and 23:21–23, which suggest the
possibility of a preexistent narrative to which 23:4–20 was added. While
this reconstruction is possible, it fails to take into account the well-
documented exegetical Tendenz of the Deuteronomist to transform his
source material by reframing. The book of Deuteronomy itself, which
reframes the Israelites’ receipt of the law at Horeb/Sinai as an address
delivered by Moses to the Israelites east of the Jordan, provides a prime
example.45
Some scholars suggest an early date for the frame narrative based
on Huldah’s promise in 2 Kgs 22:20 that Josiah will be gathered to his
grave in peace (ʭʥʬʹʡ ʪʩʺʸʡʷ-ʬʠ ʺʴʱʠʰʥ). 46T This reference is taken as an
indication that Josiah had not yet met his violent death in the battle of
Megiddo (23:29) at the time the text was written. While it is possible to
argue that the term ʭʥʬʹʡ (“in peace”) contradicts the nature of Josiah’s
death, this is not a forgone conclusion. Josiah is the only king to whom
this promise is made, but the similar expression ʥʮʲʬ ʳʱʠʩʥ (“and he was
gathered to his kin”) appears frequently in the Pentateuch and is
often followed by reference to proper burial. Abraham’s death notice
provides an illuminating example: “Abraham died at a good age, old and
abundant, and he was gathered to his kin [ʥʮʲ˰ʬʠ ʳʱʠʩʥ]. His sons Isaac
and Ishmael buried him [ʥʺʠ ʥʸʡʷʩʥ] in the cave of Machpelah” (Gen
25:8–9).47 In 15:15 the term ʭʥʬʹʡ is used to describe the conditions of
Abraham’s burial: “You shall enter to your fathers in peace [ʭʥʬʹʡ]; you
will be buried [ʸʡʷʺ] in good gray hair.” These passages suggest that
God’s promise to Josiah through Huldah, “and I will gather you to your
fathers, and you will be gathered to your grave in peace,” refers not to
the nature of Josiah’s death, but rather to the manner of his burial.48 The
echo of 2 Kgs 22:10 in the patriarchal narratives may intentionally link
Josiah to Abraham, who sets the biblical standard for faith in Yahweh.
Furthermore, Josiah’s proper burial, as predicted by Huldah, would
contrast with the prophetic oracles predicting the improper burials of
the corrupt kings of the Northern Kingdom, Jeroboam, Baasha, and
Ahab (cf. 1 Kgs 14:11; 16:4; 21:24; 2 Kgs 9:9). These examples suggest
that ultimate judgment of a king’s reign could be encapsulated by refer-
ence to the manner of his burial; the nature of his death was not at
issue.49 Finally, the reference to Josiah’s proper and peaceful burial
would provide a fitting contrast to the unearthing of graves and scattering
of human bones that are attested in 23:4–20.Based on these consider-
ations, Huldah’s oracle does not provide a compelling reason to date the
frame narrative earlier than the reform report in 23:4–20. Oestreicher’s
original proposal that this material predates and was revised by the
Deuteronomist remains convincing.
Josiah’s Reform and the Holiness Code
A majority of biblical scholars agree that Lev 17–26, referred to as the

“Holiness Code” since the time of Klostermann, constitutes a separate
corpus within Priestly literature.50 These chapters reflect a unique
interest in the holiness of God and Israel, expressed with distinctive dic-
tion and terminology that sets them apart.51 As unique as the Holiness
Code is, however, certain of its linguistic and stylistic features are also
attested elsewhere in Priestly Pentateuchal literature. Explaining how
these elements came to be included in both corpora and determining
which passages outside of Lev 17–26 should be attributed to the holi-
ness authors are problems to which scholars have devoted much
attention.52 In order to avoid embroilment in debates over attribution,
the present study will rely only on the Holiness Code itself, that is, Lev
17–26, to illuminate the holiness interests in 2 Kgs 23.
In addition to debates over the extent of the Holiness Code, there is
also considerable disagreement over its date. Many assert a late exilic
or postexilic date for the Holiness corpus, while others attribute at least
some portion to the late monarchic period.53 Among the latter group,
many adhere to the view that at least some of the legal material
contained in the Holiness Code is earlier than the Priestly writings,
which were produced in large part during the exilic and/or postexilic
period.54 Knohl proposes to reverse this general schema, asserting that
the Priestly Torah predates the Holiness Code and was revised by it.
Milgrom adopts Knohl’s reconstruction in broad strokes, finding the
Holiness Code to have “presumed, supplemented and revised P.”55 The
two differ, however, on the question of whether the Holiness Code
should be viewed as a limited “source” (Milgrom’s view) or whether it
represents the work of a more enduring school (Knohl’s “HS”). The
idea proposed here of a holiness substratum in the deuteronomistic
account of Josiah’s reform lends support to the view that a holiness
school was in operation during the late monarchic period and points to
the likelihood that its activity overlapped with the period of Josiah’s
reign. That this composition was not written with a fixed text of the
Holiness Code in mind suggests a diversity of literary activity among
the holiness priests of late preexilic Judah.
Establishing a date for the Holiness Code itself is often dealt with in
terms of the relative chronology of the three legal codes in the Pentateuch,
namely, the Holiness Code, Covenant Code, and Deuteronomy. Even
the relative chronology is debated, however. While there is broad schol-
arly consensus that at least some portion of the Covenant Code dates to
the preexilic period and that it predates the legal material in Deuteronomy,
the relationship between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code is more
contested.56 Stackert makes a fundamental contribution to this debate,
arguing forcefully that in their legal compositions, the holiness authors
exploited literary sources, including the covenant collection and
Deuteronomy.57 Correspondences between Deuteronomy and the
Holiness legislation are too many to enumerate here.58 Of critical import
in the present context are their common interests in centralization of
worship (Deut 11:29–12:31; Lev 17:1–15),59 eradication of cultic installa-
tions (Deut 16:21–22; Lev 26:1–2, 30), proscriptions against child
sacrifice (Deut 18:10; Lev 18:21; 20:1–5), rules governing the performance
of the Passover and other festivals (Deut 16:1–17; Lev 23), and the delin-
eation of blessings and curses (Deut 28; Lev 26). All of these are also
central concerns in 2 Kgs 23.60
Among those who see the correspondences between Deuteronomy
and the Holiness Code as a product of direct literary influence, there is
no consensus regarding the direction of dependence. However, three
general schemata are well represented in the scholarship: (1) the
Holiness Code is a pre-Josianic source that had direct influence on

Deuteronomy;61 (2) the Holiness Code is a post-Josianic source that
depended upon and revised the legal material in Deuteronomy,62 and
(3) the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy are multilayered sources that
span the preexilic, exilic, and postexilic periods and are dependent upon
one another.63
In chapter 5 I argue that a first edition of the Kings history that cast
Hezekiah as its hero was written sometime between the reign of
Hezekiah and the early years of Josiah.64 This would put the composi-
tion of the Kings history and the holiness account of Josiah’s reform
close in time to one another. If the first edition of the Kings history was
in fact deuteronomistic (a possibility but not a foregone conclusion), it
would suggest that deuteronomistic and holiness writers were working
close in time and space to one another, perhaps moving in shared intel-
lectual and social circles, although with different institutional affilia-
tions and literary goals at the fore. This scenario may help to illuminate
and contextualize some of the similarities between the legal codes the
two schools of thought produced.65 The idea that a deuteronomistic
historian wrote 2 Kgs 23 based on an extant holiness reform account
lends support to the idea that the deuteronomistic and holiness schools
were deeply intertwined and mutually influential throughout the period
in which the Bible was taking shape.
In light of the indisputable points of continuity between the
Holiness Code and Deuteronomy, and given the long history of schol-
arship devoted to the question of identifying Josiah’s “scroll of the
law,” it is surprising that more scholars have not proposed the Holiness
Code instead of Deuteronomy as the code found in the temple. The
one notable exception to this trend is a 1920 article by Berry, who
questions the “practically unanimous opinion of adherents to the doc-
umentary theory of the Hexateuch” that the book of the law discovered
by Josiah was the book of Deuteronomy.66 Drawing attention to the
very same similarities between Deuteronomy and Holiness Code out-
lined above, Berry argues that there are insufficient grounds to assume
that Josiah’s book of the law was Deuteronomy and not the Holiness
Code. Pointing to what he sees as Deuteronomy’s direct literary
dependence on both the Holiness Code and Jeremiah, he dates
Deuteronomy to at least as late as the time of the exile and, based
on this date, determines that it was too late a document to be the
code found in the temple. The Holiness Code was the more likely
candidate.67
In the early twentieth century, debate over the degree of connec-
tion between Josiah’s reform and Deuteronomy was formulated
almost exclusively around the question of the identity of Josiah’s lost

scroll of the law. The proper identification of this text was seen as a
deciding factor in a larger debate over the date of Deuteronomy. In
1928 Paton commented on the obligation incumbent upon scholars
who believe in the general historical credibility of 2 Kgs 22–23 but
deny that Deuteronomy was written before the exile, to show what
book was found in the eighteenth year of Josiah and how it was the
basis for his reformation.68 At length he dismisses the proposals of
many of his contemporaries, including Berry, before concluding:
Josiah’s reformation was the most important event in the
religious history of the period of the monarchy. It marked the
partial victory of Prophetism and the birth of Judaism. The
book on which this reformation was founded was the first book
of the Old Testament to be recognized as canonical. A book of
such importance, of such influence upon history can not have
been lost. It must have been cherished and preserved, whatever
else was allowed to perish. . . . From the time of Josiah onward
the Old Testament writers unanimously assert that Josiah’s
book was Deuteronomy, and not a trace of any other book that
will explain Josiah’s reformation is found either in tradition or
in the extant literature of the Old Testament.69
Paton’s comments illuminate at once how pervasive skepticism was
within the scholarly community regarding the Deuteronomic book hy-
pothesis and, at the same time, how persuasive sentimental scholarship
was in silencing those voices. This state of affairs has changed little in
the intervening eighty years.
Berry’s identification of the Holiness Code as Josiah’s scroll of the
law was uniformly rejected by his contemporaries, as it failed to
account for language and ideology the text clearly shares with
Deuteronomy.70 Having produced his work before the appearance of
Noth’s Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien, which drew attention to the
enormous role of the Deuteronomist in shaping biblical narrative,
Berry had little recourse to defend his premise.71 That he and his con-
temporaries were unaware of the idea of deuteronomistic literature
made his proposal untenable. Yet blissful ignorance may have also
allowed him to think outside the parameters of modern scholarly
convention.
The work of Berry and others of that earlier generation lacks the
nuance that has come with our deepened understanding of the Bible’s
compositional history, and the preoccupation with identifying the
code found in the temple is now understood to assume a greater
degree of historicity than the biblical text can sustain. However, at the
heart of the argument over the identity of the scroll is a larger, more
difficult question: exactly whose interests did Josiah’s rites of violence
serve? In challenging the status quo and suggesting that the Holiness
Code, not Deuteronomy, provided the impetus for Josiah’s reform,
Berry touches on an important set of evidence that requires fresh
attention.
2
Priestly Rites of
Elimination and the
Holiness Core of
2 Kings 23:4–20
Since the early nineteenth century, scholars have asserted a

connection between Josiah’s reform as described in 2 Kgs
22–23 and Deuteronomy’s laws involving the abolition of
rival, Canaanite sanctuaries and the centralization of Israelite
worship. In Deut 12 Yahweh commands the Israelites through
Moses:
ʹʠʡ ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʤʩʸʹʠʥ ʭʺʡʶʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʸʡʹʥ ʭʺʧʡʦʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʶʺʰʥ
ʯʥʹʲʺ-ʠʬ :ʠʥʤʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʯʮ ʭʮʹ-ʺʠ ʭʺʣʡʠʥ ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʩʤʬʠ ʩʬʩʱʴʥ
ʭʫʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʧʡʩ-ʸʹʠ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʬʠ-ʭʠ ʩʫ :ʭʫʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʯʫ
ʤʮʹ ʺʠʡʥ ʥʹʸʣʺ ʥʰʫʹʬ ʭʹ ʥʮʹ-ʺʠ ʭʥʹʬ ʭʫʩʨʡʹ-ʬʫʮ
Tear down their altars, smash their standing stones,
burn their sacred posts with fire, cut down the statues
of their gods, and wipe out their name from that place.
Do not act this way to Yahweh your God. Rather, seek
out the place that Yahweh your God shall choose from
among your tribes to place his name there, to place it,
and there you will come. (Deut 12:3–5)1
When 2 Kgs 23 reports that Josiah “smashed” the standing
stones, “tore down” the altar at Bethel, and “burned” the
asherah (23:14–15), the text clearly conjures Deuteronomy’s
destructive imagery and taps into an ancient Israelite tradition
of sanctified violence that Deut 7:2 interprets as ḥērem. The
deuteronomistic origin of this language in 2 Kgs 23 is
apparent. However, many of the modes of defilement that Josiah

employs in his reform have no precedent in the laws of Deuteronomy.
For example, in 2 Kgs 23:6 Josiah does not simply burn the asherah or
cut it down, as Deut 12:3 and 7:5 respectively command the Israelites
to do to the asherim.2 Rather he burns the asherah, beats it to dust, and
casts the dust on the graves of the people. In 2 Kgs 23:12, not only does
he tear down the altars of Manasseh, an act that would have been con-
sistent with Deuteronomy’s injunctions, he casts their dust in the
Wadi Kidron.
References to burning, beating, scattering, casting of dust, and
defiling in the reform account reflect apotropaic rites of riddance
intended to contain contagion and eliminate dangerous forces perceived
to be antithetical to Yahweh.3 Such rites are common in priestly texts
of Leviticus and Numbers, but are almost entirely unattested in
Deuteronomy and deuteronomistic texts. Besides 2 Kgs 23, the only
other example of apotropaic ritual language in a Deuteronom(ist)ic con-
text is Deut 9:21, which describes Moses’s destruction of the golden
calf. Here Moses recalls:
ʯʥʧʨ ʥʺʠ ʺʫʠʥ ʹʠʡ ʥʺʠ ʳʸʹʠʥ ʩʺʧʷʬ ʬʢʲʤ-ʺʠ ʭʺʩʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʭʫʺʠʨʧ-ʺʠʥ
ʸʤʤ-ʯʮ ʣʸʩʤ ʬʧʰʤ-ʬʠ ʥʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʪʬʹʠʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣ-ʸʹʠ ʣʲ ʡʨʩʤ
As for your sinful thing that you made, the calf, I took it, and
I burned it with fire and beat it thoroughly until it was fine as
dust, and I cast its dust into the river that comes down from
the mountain.
Scholars have long noted a parallel between Moses’s elimination

of the golden calf and Josiah’s destruction of the asherah. The connec-
tions between these two texts are addressed in chapter 4; however, a
few observations are relevant in the present context. In these passages
a single cult object is utterly destroyed near a ʬʧʰ (“river, riverbed”)
through burning, beating, and scattering its dust. These acts of aggres-
sion constitute a rite intended to eliminate the object’s potency and to
protect the integrity of Yahweh’s cult and the Israelite community.
Since both appear in deuteronomistic texts, it is possible that they
originate with a common deuteronomistic author. However, this
explanation fails to account for (a) the language describing these
events being otherwise unattested in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature, and
(b) there being an obvious, direct literary relationship between the two
texts—suggesting a single tradition rather than a deuteronomistic
trope. Identifying the origin of that tradition and its literary historical
development within the Bible will be undertaken later on. For now,
priestly rites of elimination 25
suffice it to say that the apotropaic ritual language used in the descrip-
tions of the elimination of the asherah and the golden calf is not other-
wise characteristic of Deuteronom(ist)ic writing and may not have
entered the Bible through deuteronomistic channels.
In addition to the modes of defilement Josiah employs, many of
which do not accord with a Deuteronom(ist)ic approach to the problem
of cultic contamination, many of the targets of Josiah’s reform fall
outside the purview of Deuteronomy. Most notable in this regard are
bāmôt (“high places”), which receive no mention in Deuteronomy but
are a preoccupation in 2 Kgs 23 and the larger Kings history. Other
points of discontinuity include repeated reference to defilement signi-
fied by the root ʠʮʨ; the prohibition against mlk offerings, referred to by
name; the possible reference to ʭʩʸʲˈ (“goat demons”) in 23:8; and the
consumption of ʺʥʶʮ (“unleavened bread”) as a rite disconnected from
the Passover festival in 23:9. None of these concerns finds expression in
Deuteronomy or anywhere else in the Kings history.
When the words used to describe the acts and objects of Josiah’s
defilement are situated within their appropriate textual contexts, close
connections to priestly literature and to the Holiness Code in particular
begin to emerge. Priestly interests are not immediately apparent in the
received reform account, as they have been well camouflaged by the
nimble pen of the Deuteronomist. Bringing these elements to light cre-
ates a kind of literary pentimento, revealing the shadow of an earlier
composition and a story of the origins of 2 Kgs 23 that has escaped
scholarly attention.
Josiah’s Elimination of Impurity

and Priestly Elimination Rites
Rituals for the eradication of leprosy and corpse contamination, in Lev

14 and Num 19, respectively, shed light on aspects of the ritual intention
of Josiah’s reform measures and bring into relief their priestly character.
In Lev 14, if there is suspicion that a house has been contaminated by
leprosy, a priest is to come and make an investigation. If he finds green-
ish or reddish spots that appear to be deeper than the surface, the house
is to be quarantined for seven days. On the seventh day, if the contami-
nation has spread, the stones of the house are to be removed and the
walls scraped and replastered. If the contamination continues to spread,
the house is declared ʠʮʨ (“defiled”). Leviticus 14:45 states that the priest
is to destroy the house and bring its stones, wood, and mortar outside
the city to a place that is ʠʮʨ:
ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ ʺʩʡʤ ʸʴʲ-ʬʫ ʺʠʥ ʥʩʶʲ-ʺʠʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰʥ
ʠʮʨ ʭʥʷʮ-ʬʠ
He shall tear down the house, its stones, its timbers, and all of
the mortar of the house, and he shall take (them) outside the
town to an unclean place.
The use of the verb ʵʺʰ (“to tear down”), reference to ʸʴʲ (used here in
the sense of “mortar”), the transporting of the debris ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside
of the city”), and the presence of the root ʠʮʨ are all features that this
passage shares with 2 Kgs 23. In 23:8 the verbs ʵʺʰ and ʠʮʨ are used to
describe Josiah’s destruction of the Judahite high places:
ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʤʮʹ-ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ

. . . ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʠʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ
He brought out all of the priests from the towns of Judah, and
he defiled the high places where the priests burned incense,
from Geba to Beer-sheba, and he tore down the high places of
the goats.4
In 23:12 Josiah tears down (ʵʺʰ) the altars made by Ahaz and
Manasseh and casts their dust (ʸʴʲ) in the Wadi Kidron. Like the priest
in Lev 14, in 2 Kgs 23:12 Josiah transports the ʸʴʲ outside of the city.5
That the Wadi Kidron should be understood in this light is made clear
in 23:6. Here Josiah removes the asherah from the temple and brings it
ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside Jerusalem”) to the Wadi Kidron, where he beats it
to dust (ʸʴʲ). In 23:12, implicit in Josiah’s casting the dust of the altars
in the Wadi Kidron is his casting them ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ or, otherwise stated,
ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside the city”). Lev 14:45 and 2 Kgs 23:12, with their shared
themes of tearing down and removing contaminated ʸʴʲ from the city,
rely on the same ritual categories and share language typical of priestly
literature and exceptional in Deuteronom(ist)ic texts.
Numbers 19 also shares certain key terms with 2 Kgs 23. According
to this text, if an individual comes in contact with a corpse, a brown
cow is to be taken outside the camp and slaughtered before the priest.6
The priest is to take some of the cow’s blood on his finger and sprinkle
it toward the tent of meeting seven times. The cow—along with cedar,
hyssop, and scarlet cloth—is to be burned in sight of the priest. The
ashes are then gathered, deposited in a pure place outside the camp,
and mixed with pure water in order to serve as the water of cleansing.
Any time a person comes in contact with a corpse he is required to
have this mixture thrown upon him in order to be purified from
contamination.
Much as the priest brings the cow outside the camp to be killed
(ʤʺʠ ʨʧʹʥ ʤʰʧʮʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ ʤʺʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ), in 2 Kgs 23:6 Josiah “brought the
asherah” (ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ) “outside Jerusalem” (ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ) “and burned
it” (ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ). A similar statement appears in 23:4, where Josiah com-
mands Hilkiah “to bring out of the temple of the Lord (ʤʥʤʩ ʬʫʩʤʮ ʠʩʶʥʤʬ)
all of the utensils used in the worship of Baal, Asherah, and all the host
of heaven and to “burn them outside of Jerusalem” (ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʭʴʸʹʩʥ).
In Num 19:6–7 “the priest is to take” (ʯʤʥʫʤ ʧʷʬʥ) cedar, hyssop, and
crimson cloth “and cast them” (ʪʩʬʹʤʥ) into ʤʸʴʤ-ʺʴʩʸʹ (lit. “the cow con-
flagration”). Burning the cow and other ingredients renders the priest
unclean (ʠʮʨ) until evening. Second Kgs 23:16 attests a similar conflu-
ence of motifs. Here, Josiah turned and saw the graves on the mount,
“and he sent and he took” (ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ) them from their graves, and “he
burned them on the altar” (ʧʡʦʮʤ ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ), thus “defiling it” (ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ). In
Num 19:6–7 and 2 Kgs 23:16, the potency of a substance is eliminated
through the act of burning, and the procedure causes a state of ʠʮʨ
(“defilement”). In both cases the use of the substance that defiles is inte-
gral to the process of purification from either contracted contamination
(Numbers) or cultic contamination (2 Kgs 23). A summary of parallels
between 2 Kgs 23 and priestly apotropaic ritual texts in Leviticus and
Numbers appears in table 2.1.
TABLE 2.1 Priestly Apotropaic Ritual Language in 2 Kings 23

Leviticus 14:45 2 Kings 23:6
ʸʴʲ-ʬʫ ʺʠʥ ʥʩʶʲ ʺʠʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ
ʠʮʨ ʭʥʷʮ-ʬʠ ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ ʺʩʡʤ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ
He shall tear down the house, its stones, He brought the asherah out of the temple
its timbers, and all of the mortar of the of Yahweh, outside of Jerusalem to the
house, and they shall bring (them) Wadi Kidron.
outside the town to an unclean place.
2 Kings 23:8
ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ
ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʠʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʤʮʹ-ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ
ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ
He brought out all of the priests from the
towns of Judah and he defiled the high
places where the priests burned incense,
from Geba to Beer-sheba and he tore down
the high places of the goats.
(continued )
TABLE 2.1 Continued
Leviticus 14:45 2 Kings 23:12
ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʦʧʠ-ʺʩʬʲ ʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ

ʺʥʸʶʧ ʩʺʹʡ ʤʹʰʮ ʤʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ
ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʭʹʮ ʵʸʩʥ ʪʬʮʤ ʵʺʰ ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ
ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ
The king tore down the rooftop altars of
the upper chamber of Ahaz that the kings
of Judah had made, and the altars that
Manasseh had made in the two courts of
the temple of Yahweh, and he ran from
there (?), and he cast their dust into the
Kidron Valley.
Numbers 19:3 2 Kings 23:4
ʤʺʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ ʯʤʫʤ ʸʦʲʬʠ-ʬʠ ʤʺʠ ʭʺʺʰʥ ʩʰʤʫ-ʺʠʥ ʬʥʣʢʤ ʯʤʫʤ ʥʤʩʷʬʧ-ʺʠ ʪʬʮʤ ʥʶʩʥ
ʥʩʰʴʬ ʨʧʹʥ ʤʰʧʮʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʬʫʩʤʮ ʠʩʶʥʤʬ ʳʱʤ ʩʸʮʹ-ʺʠʥ ʤʰʹʮʤ
ʠʡʶ ʬʫʬʥ ʤʸʹʠʬ ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʥʹʲʤ ʭʩʬʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ
ʯʥʸʣʷ ʺʥʮʣʹʡ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʭʴʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʮʹʤ
ʬʠ-ʺʩʡ ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʠʹʰʥ
You shall give it [the brown cow] The king commanded Hilkiah the high
to Eleazar the priest, and he shall bring priest, and the priests of the second order,
it outside of the camp and shall slaughter and the guardians of the threshold to bring
it before him. out of the temple of Yahweh all the objects
made for Baal, Asherah, and all the host of
heaven. He burned them outside
Jerusalem in the fields of the Kidron and
he carried their ashes to Bethel.
Numbers 19:6–7 2 Kings 23:12
ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʺʲʬʥʺ ʩʰʹʥ ʡʥʦʠʥ ʦʸʠ ʵʲ ʯʤʫʤ ʧʷʬʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ
ʥʸʹʡ ʵʧʸʥ ʯʤʫʤ ʥʩʣʢʡ ʱʡʫʥ :ʤʸʴʤ ʺʴʸʹ ʪʥʺ-ʬʠ
ʡʸʲʤ-ʣʲ ʯʤʫʤ ʠʮʨʥ ʤʰʧʮʤ-ʬʠ ʠʥʡʩ ʸʧʠʥ ʭʩʮʡ
The priest shall take cedar wood, hyssop He cast their dust in the Wadi Kidron.
and scarlet silk and cast them into the
cow conflagration. After that the priest
shall wash his clothes and bathe his skin
with water. Afterward he may enter the
camp, but the priest shall be unclean
until the evening.
Numbers 19:6–7 2 Kings 23:16
ʧʬʹʩʥ ʸʤʡ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʺʠ ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ

ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ
ʸʹʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ ʹʩʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʡʣʫ ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ
ʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷ
Josiah turned and saw the graves that
were there on the mount, and he sent and
he took the bones from their graves and
he burned them on the altar, and he
defiled it according to word of Yahweh
that the man of God declared, who
foretold these things.
That apotropaic ritual language is used in Leviticus and Numbers

but not in core Deuteronomy indicates that while such rites were at
home in ancient Israel they were not a concern for the Deuteronomic
authors. With the exception of 2 Kgs 23 and Deut 9:21, this disinterest
carried over into deuteronomistic literature. Were the original purpose
of Josiah’s violent attack on the Israelite cult to implement Deuteronomic
law, the modes of defilement the authors attribute to him might be
expected to better accord with those sanctioned in Deuteronomy’s call
for the elimination of idolatry and rival sanctuaries. The presence of
apotropaic ritual language in the reform account suggests a more com-
plicated development and loosens the ties that bind the reform to
Deuteronomy. In effect Josiah’s implementation of the scroll of the law
is at odds with the injunctions Deuteronomy bestows.
The parallels between Josiah’s reform measures in 2 Kgs 23 and the
apotropaic rituals in Lev 14 and Num 19 have the effect of imbuing
Josiah himself with the authority of a priest. In 2 Kgs 23:5–24 it is Josiah
and not Hilkiah who instinctively takes the appropriate ritual actions,
eliminating sources of contamination that he perceives to threaten the
security of the Israelite community. The books of Samuel and Kings
include other instances of Israelite and Judahite kings performing
priestly duties; however, no other example attests the detail or ritual
specificity of 2 Kgs 23.7 The implications of Josiah’s priestly role for
identifying the religiopolitical interests of the text’s authors is taken up
in subsequent chapters. For the time being it is necessary to note only
that inasmuch as Josiah’s purification of the Israelite cult resonates

with the language of apotropaic ritual, his reform measures are cast in
terms of traditions to which Israel’s priests were otherwise heir and in
which the deuteronomists were otherwise uninterested.
Additional evidence for a priestly ritual orientation in 2 Kgs 23
resides in Josiah’s treatment of the Judahite bāmôt priests. In 23:8
Josiah brings all of the priests out of the towns of Judah, from Geba to
Beer-sheba, and defiles the cult places where they once officiated. A
side note in 23:9 states: -ʭʠ ʩʫ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʡ ʤʥʤʩ ʧʡʦʮ-ʬʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʥʬʲʩ ʠʬ ʪʠ
ʭʤʩʧʠ ʪʥʺʡ ʺʥʶʮ ʥʬʫʠ. This verse is most often translated, “But the
priests of the high places did not come up to the altar of Yahweh in
Jerusalem, but rather [ʭʠ ʩʫ] they ate unleavened bread with their
brethren.”8 Interpreted this way, the verse is often seen to contradict
the stipulation in Deut 18:6–8 that allows any priest to minister at the
temple in Jerusalem. Second Kgs 23:8–9 thus is central in discussions
of the history of the Israelite priesthood in the late preexilic period and
also was a crucial factor in the identification of Deuteronomy as
Josiah’s book of the law.9 However, as Barrick rightly observes, there
is “nothing beyond the sheer weight of exegetical convention but-
tressed by historical/theological presupposition” to suggest that the
bāmôt priests in 23:9 were forbidden to minister at the altar.10 The
impulse to understand these two passages as related to one another is
rooted in the assumption of a fundamental connection between
Josiah’s reform measures and Deuteronomic law. If this connection is
taken as compositionally secondary in the Kings account, then we are
free to turn to extra-Deuteronom(ist)ic sources to illuminate the
underlying intention of the passage.
In an effort to clarify the meaning of 2 Kgs 23:9, Barrick analyzes
the 134 occurrences of the ʭʠ ʩʫ + verb idiom in Biblical Hebrew and
finds that the accepted interpretation of 23:9 would require both verbs
ʤʬʲ and ʬʫʠ, which appear in the imperfect and perfect respectively, to
be in the same aspect. Were the verse translated in accordance with
other attestations of the conjunction where the imperfect-perfect
sequence is used, it would be rendered best, “But the bāmôt-priests
would/could not go up to the altar of Yahweh in Jerusalem unless/until
they had eaten unleavened bread with their brethren.”11 Based on this
translation, Barrick suggests that the eating of unleavened bread “served
as (re)ordination ritual of some sort (as in Exod 29:1–37 or Lev 8:22–28,
31–35) conceivably in conjunction with the special Passover (2 Kgs
23:21–23), rendering both the dispossessed bamoth-priests and the res-
ident priests ritually fit to serve at the altar.”12 Barrick’s proposed trans-
lation is grammatically and contextually convincing and lends support
to the notion that a priestly ritual undercurrent pervades the account of

the reform enactments.
If Barrick is correct that the reference to ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9 should be asso-
ciated with a reordination or purification rite for the bāmôt priests, it
seems unlikely that this rite was related to the Passover mentioned in
23:21–23, contrary to Barrick’s contention.13 First, there is no other in-
stance in the Bible in which the consumption of ʺʥʶʮ as a purification/
reordination rite occurs in the conjunction with the observance of the
Passover festival. In addition, if indeed 23:4–20 constitutes a discrete
literary unit that has undergone some significant degree of transforma-
tion, as most scholars contend, then a connection between the reference
to ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9 and the Passover in 23:21–23 would have to have been
forged deliberately by a redactor. If this were the case, it is peculiar that
the connection was not made more explicit; the word ʺʥʶʮ is not men-
tioned in 23:21–23, nor is the Passover referred to in 23:9. Finally,
though hardly conclusive evidence, it seems inconsistent with the spirit
of the text that after their sanctuaries were violently destroyed and
defiled, the bāmôt priests were expressly invited to come from their
towns to attend the festival in Jerusalem. It is more likely that the refer-
ences to ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9 and the Passover in 23:21 are compositionally
unrelated.
If the consumption of unleavened bread in 23:9 is not associated
with the Passover, the reference to it here brings 2 Kgs 23 into closer
alignment with priestly legislation in Leviticus. In Deuteronomy ʺʥʶʮ
is never mentioned outside the context of the festivals of Passover and
ʺʥʶʮ. In Leviticus, however, ʺʥʶʮ appears in nonfestal contexts as a
type of grain offering (e.g., Lev 2:4–5; 6:9) and, as Barrick notes, is
associated with the purification and ordination of Aaron and his sons
in 8:26.
If the working hypothesis of this study is correct—that an earlier
priestly reform account underlies the deuteronomistic composition—
then we may posit that the reference to ʺʥʶʮ in 2 Kgs 23:9 belongs to this
earlier stratum. In this context it signified a purification/reordination
ritual required of any Judean priest who wished to minister at the
Jerusalem temple. Understood in this light, the question of a possible
contradiction between 2 Kgs 23:9 and Deut 18:16–18 becomes irrelevant.
The two texts emerged in different circles, served different interests, and
need not be related to one another. The centralized Passover described in
2 Kgs 23:21–23 belongs to a secondary deuteronomistic redaction whose
author is likely to have understood the significance of the reference to
ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9, found nothing in it that contradicted his own interests, and
saw no need to bring the two verses into closer alignment.
The parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and priestly legislation in Leviticus,

including the language associated with purification from corpse contam-
ination and leprosy and the possible reference to the consumption of
unleavened bread as a rite of ordination, are all associated with matters
of purity positively enjoined upon the priests. The purpose of such rites
was to circumscribe the spread of contamination, conceptualized in
substantive terms. The contrast between the elimination of contracted
contamination in Leviticus and Numbers and cultic contamination in 2
Kgs 23 is significant. The former reflects anxieties over the control of
contagion that are primal, practically motivated, deeply embedded in an
ancient Near Eastern consciousness and not necessarily unique to Israel.
The latter reflects an interest in imposing boundaries around Israelite
culture that is programmatic and ideologically motivated. It involves the
rejection of indigenous practices in favor of a newly defined conception
of Israelite orthopraxis. It is, in part, the programmatic aspects of Josiah’s
reform measures that led to the identification of the reform with
Deuteronomy. But try as we may to make that glass slipper fit, a more
suitable match hides in plain sight, in the legal code produced by the
holiness priests.
The Holiness Code, like Deuteronomy, contains programmatic fea-
tures that reflect a deliberate interest in shaping Israelite behavior and
identity.14 In contrast to Deuteronomy, however, the Holiness Code is
deeply and explicitly rooted in the traditions of the Israelite priesthood.
In this way it may provide a more fitting legal corollary to the ritual mea-
sures that Josiah undertakes. This hypothesis finds support in the array
of correspondences between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code discussed
in the pages that follow.
The Verb ʠʮʨ and Bāmôt Eradication as Punishment

for Transgression in 2 Kings 23, Ezekiel,
and the Holiness Code
The verb ʠʮʨ (“to defile”) occurs four times in the account of Josiah’s
reform, in a span of nine verses (2 Kgs 23:8–16), and nowhere else in
the Kings history. This term is most common in priestly texts, where it
signifies the condition that ensues when an impure, contaminating
substance enters the realm of the pure (e.g., Lev 5:3; 11:24–36; 17:15;
22:4; Num 6:12; 19:13ff.; 35:34).15 Its frequent use in these contexts
reflects a priestly concern with preserving the integrity of sacred space,
the dwelling place of Yahweh.16 By contrast, ʠʮʨ appears only a handful
of times in Deuteronomy (12:15, 22; 14:7ff.; 15:22; 21:23)—almost all in
the context of dietary and sacrificial laws, laws that are inherent to the
priestly domain (21:23 is the one exception; see below). Besides 2 Kgs
23, the root occurs only twice in the entire deuteronomistic history: in
Judg 13:4, where it refers to the dietary restrictions imposed upon the
Nazirite, and in Josh 22:19, a text that bears signs of priestly author-
ship.17 This distribution strongly suggests that the root is most at home
in a priestly setting and highlights its exceptionality in 2 Kgs 23.
There is, however, an essential difference between the concept of
defilement as it manifests itself in the account of Josiah’s reform and in
the priestly writings of the Pentateuch. In Lev 14 and Num 19, for
example, ʠʮʨ describes an undesirable condition that the priests must
properly manage. This sense of the verb is usually communicated by the
adjectival form of the root and by finite forms of the qal stem, for
example, ʡʸʲʤ-ʣʲ ʠʮʨʩ (“he shall be unclean until evening”) in Lev 14:46
(also Lev 11:24, 27, 31, 39; 15:10, 19, 23; Num 19:31). In 2 Kgs 23, by con-
trast, the root appears in the piʿel and signifies deliberate desecration.
Through the act of ʠʮʨ Josiah desacralizes the high places in the towns
of Judah (23:8) and those facing Jerusalem (23:13), the Topheth in the
Hinnom Valley where the Israelites made mlk offerings (23:10), and the
altar at Bethel (23:16). While Josiah’s actions may render a condition
comparable to the one the priests seek to control, in 2 Kgs 23, defile-
ment is actively and deliberately perpetrated and is essential to the effi-
cacy of the reform.
Eynikel suggests that this use of the word ʠʮʨ is unique in the
Hebrew Bible, with the one exception of Isa 30:22:18
ʤʥʣ ʥʮʫ ʭʸʦʺ ʪʡʤʦ ʺʫʱʮ ʺʣʴʠ ʺʠʥ ʪʴʱʫ ʩʬʩʱʴ ʩʥʴʶ-ʺʠ ʭʺʠʮʨʥ
ʥʬ ʸʮʠʺ ʠʶ
You shall defile the plating of your sculpted images of silver
and the sheathing of your molten images of gold. You shall
expel them like menstrual blood; “be gone!” you shall say to it!
Here, as in 2 Kgs 23, the verb ʠʮʨ signifies the desecration of rejected
cult objects. In both contexts the act of defilement itself becomes a rite of
riddance, redressing the sin of cultic transgression. Dating the Isaiah
passage to the exilic period with Schoors, Eynikel posits that the use of
this term to mean “to desecrate” rather than “to defile” was a
Deuteronomistic innovation.19 Were 2 Kgs 23 and Isa 30:22 in fact the
only two attestations of this specialized usage it would be difficult enough
to make a sound case that they represent a Deuteronomistic development.
However, the difficulty is compounded by similar references to the
root in the book of Ezekiel that escape Eynikel’s attention. Ezekiel’s
particular use of the verb ʠʮʨ illuminates the concept of defilement in 2

Kgs 23:8–16 and forges a link to priestly traditions, and to the holiness
school in particular, that cast doubt on Eynikel’s Deuteronomistic
attribution.
Ezekiel’s priestly heritage is established in the book’s superscrip-
tion, which identifies him as “Ezekiel ben Buzi the priest” (Ezek 1:2).
His affiliation with the Jerusalem temple priesthood is apparent in the
particular terminology he employs in his prophecies as well as his
interest in the temple as the dwelling place of Yahweh (e.g., Ezek 8–10,
43), his concern for preserving its purity (Ezek 44–45), and his preoccu-
pation with the physical details of the temple enclosure (Ezek 40–43).
In Ezek 40–48, Ezekiel’s whole vision of restoration centers on the
temple itself, another indication of his priestly orientation.
Ezekiel 8–11, set in the period before the Babylonian exile, describes
Ezekiel’s visit to the polluted temple, where a figure with the appear-
ance of fire shows the prophet “the terrible abominations” (ʺʥʬʣʢ ʺʥʡʲʺ)
that the house of Israel has committed. In Ezek 9 a man clothed in linen
with a writing implement in his hand is commanded to mark the fore-
heads of those who grieve the abominations committed in Yahweh’s
temple. Those who are marked are to be spared, while the guilty are
slaughtered without compassion.
There are a number of significant thematic similarities between 2
Kgs 23 and Ezek 9. First, both texts invoke the authority of the written
word to justify rites of violence enacted against those guilty of transgres-
sion. Second, both are concerned with purity within the city of Jerusalem.
This is expressed in Ezek 9:4 by the phrases ʸʩʲʤ ʪʥʺʡ (“in the midst of
the city”) and ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʪʥʺʡ (“in the midst of Jerusalem”) and in 2 Kgs 23
by the contrasting expression ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside of Jerusalem”) as
the place where contaminating substances are eliminated. Third,
Josiah’s proper burial as a reward for his remorse upon discovering
Israel’s transgressions (2 Kgs 22:18–20) corresponds to the marked
Israelites in Ezekiel, whose grief protects them from the fate of their
brethren (Ezek 9:4, 6). Ezekiel 9:7 graphically articulates this fate when
Yahweh commands the prophet to defile the temple by strewing the
dead bodies of the guilty who have failed to lament:
ʸʩʲʡ ʥʫʤʥ ʥʠʶʩʥ ʥʠʶ ʭʩʬʬʧ ʺʥʸʶʧʤ-ʺʠ ʥʠʬʮʥ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠ ʥʠʮʨ ʭʤʩʬʠ ʸʮʠʩʥ
He said to them, “Defile the temple and fill the courts with
corpses. Go forth.” So they went forth and attacked the city.
Like Josiah, who uses human bones to desecrate sacred space, ren-
dering it unfit for cultic use (2 Kgs 23:14, 16, 19, 20), Ezekiel deliberately
defiles the temple of Yahweh in order to communicate, incontrovert-

ibly, its contaminated status. In contrast to Ezekiel, however, Josiah
does not defile the Jerusalem temple; rather he seeks to safeguard its
sanctity through his defilement of competing structures: the high places
in Judah, the altar in Bethel, and the Topheth in the Hinnom Valley.20
Josiah assumes that there is still a chance to avert God’s wrath if only he
can rid the land of cultic contaminants. In contrast, Ezekiel operates
with the understanding that the land has become too toxic for Yahweh
to dwell in his holy abode:
ʪʩʶʥʷʹ-ʬʫʡ ʺʠʮʨ ʩʹʣʷʮ-ʺʠ ʯʲʩ ʠʬ-ʭʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʣʠ ʭʠʰ ʩʰʠ-ʩʧ ʯʫʬ
ʬʥʮʧʠ ʠʬ ʩʰʠ-ʭʢʥ ʩʰʩʲ ʱʥʧʺ-ʠʬʥ ʲʸʢʠ ʩʰʠ-ʭʢʥ ʪʩʺʡʲʥʺ-ʬʫʡʥ
Therefore, as I live, speaks Adonai Yahweh: “Indeed you have
defiled my sanctuary with all of your detestable things and with
all of your abominations, thus I will withdraw and my eye will
not have pity, nor will I show compassion. (Ezek 5:11)21
In Ezekiel, Yahweh fulfills his promise in that saddest of moments,
when he finally removes his radiant glory (ʣʥʡʫ) from the Jerusalem
temple and alights at the entrance to its eastern gate (Ezek 10:19). In
this instant, Ezekiel witnesses precisely what Josiah seeks to avoid—
Yahweh’s abandonment of his place among his people. Josiah’s reform
and Ezekiel’s prophecies give symbolic expression to the same theology
and employ the same specialized concept of defilement. In both texts
human remains provide the “skull-and-crossbones” that mark sacred
space unfit for cultic use, and in both the drama hinges on the active
verb ʠʮʨ.
In Ezek 5:11 and 9:7 and 2 Kgs 23, religious practices deemed idol-
atrous compromise sacred space and, by extension, the security of the
Israelite people. The idea that idolatry has a defiling effect on the land
and God’s sanctuary is introduced for the first time in the Bible in the
Holiness Code. Milgrom notes that the Holiness Code provides the
only explicit statements to this effect in the Torah.22 In Lev 18:27–28
Yahweh warns:
ʠʩʷʺ-ʠʬʥ :ʵʸʠʤ ʠʮʨʺʥ ʭʫʩʰʴʬ ʸʹʠ ʵʸʠʤ-ʩʹʰʠ ʥʹʲ ʬʠʤ ʺʡʲʥʺʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʩʫ
ʭʫʩʰʴʬ ʸʹʠ ʩʥʢʤ-ʺʠ ʤʠʷ ʸʹʠʫ ʤʺʠ ʭʫʠʮʨʡ ʭʫʺʠ ʵʸʠʤ
The people of the land before you did all of these abominable
things and the land became defiled. So do not let the land spew
you out for defiling it as it spewed out the nation before you.
Leviticus 20:3 is more specific. Here, as part of a prohibition against mlk
offerings, Yahweh promises:
ʯʲʮʬ ʪʬʮʬ ʯʺʰ ʥʲʸʦʮ ʩʫ ʥʮʲ ʡʸʷʮ ʥʺʠ ʩʺʸʫʤʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʹʩʠʡ ʩʰʴ-ʺʠ ʯʺʠ ʩʰʠʥ
ʩʹʣʷ ʭʹ-ʺʠ ʬʬʧʬʥ ʩʹʣʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨ
I will set my face against that man and will cut him off from
among his people, because he gave his offspring to/as a mlk
and so defiled my sanctuary and profaned my holy name.
The significance of the biblical term mlk is hotly debated. A copious
literature is dedicated to the question of whether this term refers to a
specific type of sacrifice or to a deity by that name.23 The first possibility,
originally proposed by Eissfeldt, is based largely on the appearance of
the Punic molk/mulk, a technical term known from inscribed stele in
the infant burial grounds at Carthage.24 Most Bible translations, and
many scholars, however, understand the term to designate a divine
name.25 This position is based in part on evidence of deities named mlk
(variously vocalized) in places closer to Israel; for example, mlk who
dwells in Ashtoreth attested in a handful of Ugaritic texts, and on the
elements malik, milku/i, malki, and muluk which occasionally appear
with the divine determinative in onomastic evidence from Ebla and
Mari.26 Edelman argues that the term mlk may in fact embrace both
meanings and that it may survive as a divine name or epithet in a hand-
ful of biblical passages (Amos 5:26; Zeph 1:5, 8; Isa 8:21; 57:9).27 Smith
comments that “the connection between Ugaritic mlk and Biblical
Hebrew mlk as epithet is possible, but neither appears related to child
sacrifice, to judge from the extant evidence.”28 However the term itself
is to be understood, it is clear that the mlk offering involved the sacrifice
of children, either to Yahweh (e.g., Jer 7:31; Ezek 20:25–26) or to other
deities within the Israelite pantheon, and that it was a contested issue
within certain circles in late preexilic Judah.29
Prohibition of child sacrifice is a theme that appears in both
Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code, but the term mlk itself does not
appear in association with prohibitions against child sacrifice anywhere
in Deuteronomy,30 nor is it used anywhere in deuteronomistic literature
except 2 Kgs 23:10.31 It appears five times in the Holiness Code (Lev
18:21; 20:2, 3, 4, 5) and nowhere else in Leviticus.32 The absence of the
term in Deuteronomy and its presence in Leviticus suggest that a differ-
ent set of intentions and concerns underlies the prohibitions in each
text. If the intention of Deuteronomy’s authors was to prohibit offerings
to a particular deity by this name, the absence of the name itself is odd.
In general the deuteronomists are hardly reticent to point out Israel’s
acts of faithlessness to Yahweh. The appearance of the term mlk in only
Leviticus, where an interest in cultic regulations is most pronounced,
may support Eissfeldt’s original identification of mlk as a technical
sacrificial term. Whatever the case, it seems clear that the aspect of the
sacrifice signified by the term mlk was not a concern for the Deuteronomic
authors. Attestation of the term in 2 Kgs 23:10 and the Holiness Code
and nowhere else in the Pentateuch or historical books links 2 Kgs 23
more directly to the Holiness Code than to Deuteronomy.33
In Lev 26:30 mlk offerings are not simply inimical to Yahweh, they
threaten the very sanctity of his holy abode. This notion may illuminate
the mentality that underlies Josiah’s defilement of the Topheth in the
Hinnom Valley in 2 Kgs 23:10. By defiling the place where mlk offerings
were made, Josiah not only renders the Topheth unfit for cultic use and
eliminates an elicit form of Israelite worship, he also takes steps toward
purifying the Jerusalem temple itself. Support for this idea resides in
the organization of themes in 23:10–11:
ʹʠʡ ʥʺʡ-ʺʠʥ ʥʰʡ-ʺʠ ʹʩʠ ʸʩʡʲʤʬ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʰʤ-ʩʰʡ ʩʢʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʴʺʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʥ
ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ ʠʡʮ ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ :ʪʬʮʬ
ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ ʹʮʹʤ ʺʥʡʫʸʮ-ʺʠʥ ʭʩʸʥʸʴʡ ʸʹʠ ʱʩʸʱʤ ʪʬʮ-ʯʺʰ ʺʫʹʬ-ʬʠ
He defiled the Topheth in the Valley of Ben-hinnom to prevent
a man from passing his son or daughter through fire as a mlk.
He did away with the horses that the kings of Judah had
dedicated to the sun, at the entrance of the temple of Yahweh,
near the chamber of the eunuch Nathan-melech, which was in
the precincts. He burned the chariots of the sun.
The rationale governing the movement in these verses from the

“Topheth in the Valley of Ben-hinnom” to the “entrance of the temple
of Yahweh” is not immediately apparent. However, when read in light
of Lev 20:3 it becomes more intelligible. Both the defilement of the
Topheth and the eradication of the horses and chariots of the sun serve
to restore the sanctity of Yahweh’s temple. The internal logic governing
the description of the reform is clarified in light of the Holiness Code.
In 2 Kgs 23 Josiah’s desecration of bāmôt constitutes punishment
for cultic transgression. This is evident in Josiah’s response to hearing
the words of the book of the law. The king rends his garments and
exclaims, “Great is the wrath of the lord that is kindled against us
because our fathers have not obeyed the words of this book.” Josiah’s
acts of defilement are connected to his fear of divine retribution. He
undertakes his reform measures with the idea in mind that it is better
for him to take matters into his own hands than to wait for Yahweh to
act. In light of this we might expect Josiah’s actions to find parallel in
Yahweh’s own promises of destruction. And indeed they do, in both the
Holiness Code and the book of Ezekiel.
In Lev 26, amid the curses sworn against the Israelites if they fail to
obey God’s commands, Yahweh promises:
ʩʸʢʴ-ʬʲ ʭʫʩʸʢʴ-ʺʠ ʩʺʺʰʥ ʭʫʩʰʮʧ-ʺʠ ʩʺʸʫʤʥ ʭʫʩʺʮʡ-ʺʠ ʩʺʣʮʹʤʥ
ʭʫʺʠ ʩʹʴʰ ʤʬʲʢʥ ʭʫʩʬʥʬʢ
I shall destroy your bāmôt, cut down your incense altars, and
cast your carcasses upon the carcasses of your idols. My very
being shall abhor you. (Lev 26:30)
While the curse sections of Leviticus and Deuteronomy share many
common features, both linguistic and syntactic, only Leviticus refers to
bāmôt eradication as punishment for transgression. In fact, Deuteronomy
never makes reference to bāmôt, nor does it refer to the destruction of
Israelite cult places of any sort as a response to breach of covenant (see
chapter 4). That Lev 26 refers not only to bāmôt but also to their defile-
ment as recompense for Israelite transgression suggests that, on this
point as well, 2 Kgs 23 has more in common with the concerns of the
Holiness Code than it does with Deuteronomy.
The prophet Ezekiel forewarns of a punishment similar to that
promised in Lev 26:
ʺʥʲʡʢʬʥ ʭʩʸʤʬ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʣʠ ʸʮʠ-ʤʫ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʣʠ-ʸʡʣ ʥʲʮʹ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʸʤ ʺʸʮʠʥ
ʭʫʩʺʥʧʡʦʮ ʥʮʹʰʥ :ʭʫʩʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʣʡʠʥ ʡʸʧ ʭʫʩʬʲ ʠʩʡʮ ʩʰʠ ʩʰʰʤ ʺʩʠʢʬʥ ʭʩʷʩʴʠʬ
ʩʰʴʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ ʩʸʢʴ-ʺʠ ʩʺʺʰʥ :ʭʫʩʬʥʬʢ ʩʰʴʬ ʭʫʩʬʬʧ ʩʺʬʴʤʥ ʭʫʩʰʮʧ ʥʸʡʹʰʥ
ʭʫʩʺʥʧʡʦʮ ʺʥʡʩʡʱ ʭʫʩʺʥʮʶʲ-ʺʠ ʩʺʩʸʦʥ ʭʤʩʬʥʬʢ
Say, “Mountains of Israel, hear the word of Adonai Yahweh.
Thus says Adonai Yahweh to the mountains and hills, to the
valleys and streams: ‘Look! I am bringing sword against you,
and I will eradicate your bāmôt. Your altars will be destroyed,
and your incense altars will be shattered, and I will cast your
slain in front of your idols. I will place the corpses of the
Israelites in front of their idols, and I will scatter your bones
around your altars.’” (Ezek 6:3–5)
The notion of desecration by corpse contamination of bāmôt, altars,
and idols represented in these texts provides an uncanny parallel to
Josiah’s reform measures in 2 Kgs 23. Greenberg notes that, like 2 Kgs
23:16 and Lev 26:30, Ezekiel foresees the corpses of the Israelites strewn
unburied among their impotent idols on the sites of their illicit worship,
their altars polluted by the presence of their own bones.34
There is widespread agreement among scholars that the parallels
between Ezek 6:3–5 and Lev 26:30 reflect direct borrowing. Greenberg
argues convincingly that Ezek 6 is a gloss, deliberately linking the image
to Lev 26:30. This is based on the absence of Ezek 6:5a from the
Septuagint, as well as the third-person formulation in this part of the
verse, which creates a break with 6:4b and 6:5b.35 He speculates that
the glossator’s purpose was to create a direct link to the Leviticus passage
and to clarify that the pronoun of “your slain” is the inhabitants of the
land (ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ), not the mountains themselves. Milgrom shares this
view, suggesting that Ezekiel, as the first interpreter of Lev 26, supplies
ʭʫʩʬʬʧ where Leviticus reads ʭʫʩʸʢʴ in order to clarify the meaning “your
(slain) corpses.”36 Milgrom suggests that that the purpose of the glossa-
tor’s reference to ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ ʩʸʢʴ (“the corpses of the Israelites”) was to
restore the original Leviticus term.
In addition to Ezek 6:3–5 and Lev 26:30, other points of contact bet-
ween Ezekiel and Leviticus lead many scholars to identify a connection
between the two.37 Because Ezekiel’s prophecies can be dated with some
accuracy to the first half of the sixth century B.C.E., providing a terminus
ante quem for the book named after him, the relationship between the
two collections has received much attention.38 Milgrom identifies nine
parallels between Lev 26 and Ezekiel and thirteen parallels between
Ezekiel and other passages in the Holiness Code where he finds clear
evidence of direct borrowing. According to Milgrom’s analysis, in all
twenty-two instances Ezekiel expanded, omitted, and refashioned in
novel ways based on Leviticus. He finds no example in which borrowing
took place in the other direction.39 Milgrom’s conclusion that Ezekiel
had before him a version of Lev 17–26 that closely resembled the
received text is largely convincing. However, the shared phrasing of
certain widespread taboos—for example, the prohibitions against con-
suming corpses in Lev 22:8a and Ezek 44:31, where Milgrom argues
that Ezekiel expands the Leviticus law—may be a product of the two
texts’ origins within the same priestly milieu and not a matter of direct
literary dependence.40 It falls outside the scope of this study to consider
all of the arguments brought to bear on the question of the literary his-
torical relationship between Ezekiel and the Holiness Code. For our
purposes it suffices to say that there are strong indications that these
two literary corpora reflect a common strand of priestly thought and that
the book of Ezekiel took its shape in part under the influence of holiness
legislation.
The attitudes toward defilement and desecration of sacred space
that 2 Kgs 23 shares with the Holiness Code and with Ezekiel may be
explained in one of two ways. Either they are the product of late priestly
editing of a deuteronomistic composition, under the influence of an
extant Holiness Code and possibly also an extant Ezekiel scroll, or they
originate in an account of Josiah’s reform generated from within the
same priestly circles that produced the other two texts. If the former
were the case, we would expect to find formulations in 2 Kgs 23 that are
identical to those in the Holiness Code and Ezekiel. This is not the
situation; the connections with 2 Kgs 23 are thematic, not necessarily
linguistic, arguing against direct literary influence. In addition, if the
parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code originated at an edi-
torial phase in the composition of the former, we would expect to find
evidence of redaction of an earlier source in the verses in 2 Kgs 23 where
the rarified use of the verb ʠʮʨ occurs, with ʠʮʨ as part of the later
stratum. This also is not the case; language of defilement appears to be
deeply embedded in the fabric of the Kings narrative. In light of this evi-
dence, it is likely that the particular concept of defilement of sacred
space expressed in 2 Kgs 23 reflects a fundamental connection with the
same strand of priestly tradition that produced both Ezekiel and the
Holiness Code.
Gates or Goats in 2 Kings 23:8?
The phrase ʭʩʸʲˇʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high places of the gates”), which appears in
the Masoretic Text of 2 Kgs 23:8, has been a thorn in the side of inter-
preters for millennia. There are two interconnected issues at stake in
the translation of this verse. The first is the plural form ʺʥʮʡ (“high
places”), which if read together with ʭʩʸʲˇ suggests the presence of
multiple high places in multiple gates located at the entrance of Josh-
ua’s gate. From an architectural standpoint this is difficult to envision,
although Barrick notes that the plural is not impossible if one supposes
that ʺʥʮʡ were small installations that could be clustered.41 Biran’s exca-
vation of a cultic installation located between the double gates at Tel
Dan leads Emerton to suggest that the “gates” in 23:8b indicate that the
city of Joshua was entered through just such a double-gate complex.42
Along with others he proposes emending the plural ʺʥʮʡ to the singular
ʺʮʡ, a reading provisionally supported by the Targum and Peshitta.43
Thus he postulates a bāmâ situated between the inner and outer gates of
the city. Emerton’s suggestion is attractive; however, as Barrick rightly
observes, it is not at all clear that gate bāmôt were typical of Iron Age
cities in Palestine; only Tel Dan and Bethsaida offer analogues, and
these are both northern sites with north Syrian attributes.44 In addition,
the reliability of the Targum and Peshitta is compromised by both their
lateness and the possibility that they had as much difficulty making
sense of the verse as modern commentators.45 In 1882 Hoffmann pro-
posed to resolve this difficulty by repointing the second term to ʭʩʸʲˈ,
yielding the translation “high places of the satyrs.46 Hoffmann’s reading

was widely accepted by his contemporaries and by subsequent scholars
and is suggested as an alternative reading in the apparatus to Biblia
Hebraica Stuttgartensia.47 Nonetheless, many scholars and most English
Bible translations persist in reading “high places of the gates.”48 Some
of those who reject Hoffmann’s proposal do so on the basis that satyrs
are not a concern of the Deuteronomists.49 This rationale does not apply,
however, if one suspends the assumption that 2 Kgs 23 is an essentially
deuteronomistic composition. In light of its grammatical, text-critical,
and practical simplicity, the reading ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ (lit. “high places of the
goats”) requires further consideration.50
The term ʭʩʸʲˈ is used frequently in the Hebrew Bible in reference
to a type of goat offered as a regular part of the Israelite sacrificial cult
(Lev 4:24; Num 7:16; Gen 37:31; Ezra 43:22).51 In addition to the possible
reference to ʭʩʸʲˈ in 23:8, the term appears four times in the Bible in
reference to animals not intended for sacrifice (Lev 17:7; Isa 13:21; 34:14;
2 Chr 11:15). Finally, there is an entirely unique reference to ʭʩʸʲˈ in
Deut 32:2 where it describes a downpour of rain.
Leviticus and Chronicles use the term similarly to one another; the
former prohibits sacrifices to ʭʩʸʲˈ, and the latter uses the term in
parallel with ʭʩʬʢʲ (“calves”) to describe the cult objects installed by
Jeroboam I in the sanctuary at Bethel. In Isa 13:21 ʭʩʸʲˈ is used in
conjunction with jackals (ʭʥʧʠ) and ostriches (ʤʰʲʩ ʺʥʰʡ) and in 34:14 with
hyenas (ʭʩʩʠ) and the creature designated as Lilith. Reference to Lilith, a
mythological figure well attested in Mesopotamia and in later Jewish
texts but a hapax in Biblical Hebrew, leads some scholars to suppose
that ʭʩʸʲˈ were legendary animals that populated the desert regions.52
Whether the Israelites believed in such creatures is the subject of debate.
Snaith, for example, argues against a belief in the existence of so-called
satyrs in ancient Israel and suggests, correctly in my view, that this
translation reflects the importation of Greek and Roman images into
the ancient Israelite world by biblical scholars.53 Based largely on the
unusual use of the term in Deut 32:2 in reference to a downpour of rain
and the reference to Lilith in Isa 34, Snaith concludes that the ʭʩʸʲˈ
were “the rain gods, the fertility deities, the baals of the rain-storms.”
Snaith’s model seems overly reductive and leaves open the semantic
relationship between these fertility deities and the goats designated by
the term ʭʩʸʲˈ that were a regular part of the sacrificial cult. Nonetheless,
his line of thought may be worth pursuing with some refinement.
The term ʭʩʸʲˈ in Deut 32 appears in parallelism with ʸʺʮ (“rain”),
ʬʨ (“dew”), and ʭʩʡʩʡʸ (“showers”) and clearly refers to the water itself
that falls upon the grass. It is quite possible that by metonymy the word
comes to refer to both the water and the divine being that produces it,
just as the name Mot connotes both the name of a deity and the
phenomenon with which he was associated. If this were the case, we
might speculate that the ʭʩʸʲˈ referred to in Leviticus and Chronicles
were divine images associated with fertility that took the form of a goat.
This proposal might find support in glyptic evidence from Iron II
Israel. Keel and Uehlinger’s analysis of Iron Age seal impressions
depicting caprids is instructive.54 A calcite conoid from Dor shows two
suckling horned caprids facing each other, with the rudimentary form
of a goddess between them.55 The authors comment that these and other
images featuring cows arranged similarly “is clear evidence for the
relatively fragile status of the anthropomorphic ‘Mistress of the Mother
Animals’ in Iron Age IIA Syro-Palestinian glyptic art.”56 On a conoid
from Tell en Nasbeh a worshiper with upraised arms is shown in a
horizontal position beneath two suckling caprids that face each other.57
Regarding this image Keel and Uehlinger assert: “The goddess is
missing, which means this collection of figures depicts an impersonal,
numinous power that brings blessing and has, as such, itself become
the object of worship.”58 In addition to these images of the suckling
mother animals, in which female gender is implicit and the image is
clearly associated with fertility, single caprids are also featured on locally
produced limestone conoids. Keel and Uehlinger draw attention to a
whole group of locally produced limestone seal amulets that show a
human figure standing in front of a single caprid with arms raised in
worship.59 Five pieces of this type were found at Beth Shemesh, at least
four in a tomb that contained material from the end of Iron Age
I through the beginning of Iron Age IIB.60
While there is no way to be certain that an ancient Israelite would
have identified the caprids represented in these glyphs as ʭʩʸʲˈ, when
the images are considered in light of references such as those in
Leviticus and Chronicles, a case begins to mount for the idea that ʭʩʸʲˈ
were either objects of worship or at the very least symbols of divine
presence in some ancient Israelite circles during the monarchic period.61
Eynikel asserts that all of the occurrences of ʭʩʸʲˈ in the Old
Testament are found in exilic or postexilic texts.62 The reference in
Chronicles is surely late and, as Barrick notes, anachronistically asso-
ciates the practice with the northern cult.63 Isaiah 34 is also likely to be
postexilic.64 The lateness of the references to ʭʩʸʲˈ in Isa 13:21 and Lev
17, however, is hardly a foregone conclusion.65 In light of the evidence
discussed here, which suggests that the goat had divine associations in
Iron II Israel, it is feasible that cult installations associated with the
image of the goat existed in Josiah’s Jerusalem. Textual, grammatical,
and material considerations point to ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high place[s] of the

goats”) as the most plausible rendering of 2 Kgs 23:8. If this reading is
correct, Josiah’s eradication of these installations constitutes another
important connection between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code, as Lev
17:7 provides the only specific prohibition against offerings to ʭʩʸʲˈ in
the Hebrew Bible.
Although 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code share certain specific
common interests—including the prohibition of mlk offerings, the
elimination of bāmôt as punishment for transgression, and possibly the
elimination of offerings to ʭʩʸʲˈ—they do not express these ideas using
shared linguistic conventions or formulaic turns of phrase. Indeed the
absence of such common conventions may explain why the connections
between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code tend to escape scholarly
attention. It does not seem likely that the two texts are the work of a
common author, nor is it probable that 2 Kgs 23:4–20 was generated
with a fixed text of the Holiness Code in mind. Rather these two compo-
sitions appear to share a common socioreligious and intellectual orien-
tation that transcends authorship. This situation may be contrasted with
the parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and Deuteronomy, where the use of
explicitly Deuteronomic conventions in the received reform account
indicates that the author “either retouched his source to conform to
Deuteronomy or that he composed the reforms himself, imitating the
style of his source.”66 It seems that the details 2 Kgs 23 shares with the
Holiness Code reflect a diffuse and highly influential holiness-school of
thought whose origins date back to the late preexilic period, but whose
activity continued at least into the exile and perhaps beyond.
The identification of a holiness substratum in the deuteronomistic
account of Josiah’s reform illuminates some of the ideological under-
pinnings of the reform measures themselves and brings into clearer
relief some of the religiopolitical interests of the text’s authors and the
social milieus in which the reform account was produced. The credibility
of the holiness hypothesis hinges on our ability to answer four essential
questions: What would have been the purpose of the original holiness
account? How much of this material is preserved in the received text?
What would have been the deuteronomist’s motivation for revision?
And what text-critical evidence is there for the deuteronomist’s transfor-
mation of an earlier source? I have indirectly touched on some of these
questions here, and they receive more explicit attention in chapters 4–5.
First, however, the deuteronomistic orientation of 2 Kgs 23 must be
more clearly defined.
3
Ḥ ērem Ideology and the
Politics of Destruction
Josiah’s Reform in Deuteronomistic
Perspective
In the previous chapter I demonstrated that 2 Kgs 23 attests

certain key terms, themes, and underlying interests that are
otherwise most at home in priestly literature. Language
associated with apotropaic and purification ritual connects
the reform account to priestly elimination rites attested in
Leviticus and Numbers. The notion of deliberate defilement
of sacred space creates a link to the prophecies of Ezekiel and
the traditions of the priestly holiness school. Ties to the
Holiness Code inhere in the particular targets of Josiah’s
reform: his elimination of high places in Jerusalem and
Bethel, including the ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high places of the goats”)
and the Topheth in the Hinnom Valley where mlk offerings
were made.
The priestly holiness undercurrent in this text has gone
largely undetected by biblical scholars, thanks in no small
part to the heavy hand of the deuteronomistic authors.
Deuteronomistic editing in 2 Kgs 23:4–20 is most immediately
apparent in parallels between Josiah’s reform measures and
descriptions of the warfare ban, or ḥērem. These details are
editorial to the core narrative and reflect the efforts of a
postmonarchic author to account for late monarchic traditions
associated with Josiah and his reign. It is clear that on some
level the deuteronomistic authors conceived of the reform in
ḥērem terms; yet the root ʭʸʧ (“to dedicate to destruction”)
never occurs in their rendering of the events.1
This chapter focuses at once on the specific connections between

Josiah’s reform and ḥērem and the significance of the term’s absence for
understanding the historiographic interests of the text’s deuteronomis-
tic authors. Toward that end, I examine aspects of the origins and
development of the ḥērem concept in biblical and extrabiblical texts,
with particular attention to patterns of usage in Deuteronom(ist)ic con-
texts. A substantial literature exists on the subject of the ḥērem, yet
certain attributes of the phenomenon in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature
have not been adequately addressed.2 In addition to its contribution to
research on 2 Kgs 23 then, this chapter treats a range of interpretive
issues related to the ḥērem that require fresh attention.
Lohfink argues that the deuteronomistic ḥērem does not appear to
have been necessary to legitimize Josiah’s campaigns of destruction
against cultic institutions in Judah and in the former northern kingdom.
Rather, he contends, “the ancient commandments requiring destruc-
tion of the Canaanite cults, now enshrined in Deuteronomy, sufficed.”3
Niditch too finds it surprising that the word ḥērem does not appear in 2
Kgs 22–23.4 I argue here that the absence of the term is consistent with
a clear tendency in deuteronomistic literature to situate the ḥērem in the
context of Israel’s pre- and early-monarchic wars. At the same time, it is
precisely these associations that make it a powerful metaphor for
Josiah’s attack on the Israelite cult. Language associated with the ḥērem
represents a deliberate effort to forge a connection between the period
of Josiah’s reign and the era of Israel’s divine conquest of the land.
Through such language the deuteronomistic author presents Josiah as
fulfilling Deuteronomy’s call for the eradication of idolatry and at the
same time creates a link between Josiah and Israel’s great ḥērem warrior
Joshua, who cleansed the land of foreign contaminants and established
the cultural and physical boundaries of the Israelite nation.
There are fourteen references to ḥērem in Deuteronom(ist)ic texts
(Deut 2:34; 3:6; 7:2, 26; 13:16; 20:16; Josh 6, 7, 8, 10; Judg 21:11; 1 Kgs 15;
20:40; 2 Kgs 19:11). In deuteronomistic narratives ḥērem is strongly
associated with war and often denotes the complete destruction of
enemy populations and towns and the consecration of these to the deity.
In this setting, imposition of the ḥērem constituted an assertion of vic-
tory and a rite of purification that allowed the new population and its
deity to take up residence. In the book of Deuteronomy the Israelites’
inheritance of the land of Canaan is dependent upon their enactment of
the ḥērem to eradicate preexistent non-Israelite cults and idolatry in
their own midst.
Deuteronomy 13:16 is the only text that presents the ḥērem as means
of eradicating Israelite idolatry. It is also the only text that belongs to
ḥ ē r em ideology and the politics of destruction 47
core Deuteronomy; all of the other references are deuteronomistic.5

From this distribution, it appears that Deuteronomy was familiar with
the specific political and military applications of the ḥērem, but rein-
vented it as means of dealing with the problems of idolatry and the
“indigenous other.” The idea that a tactic generally used against one’s
enemies could be used within the Israelite community would have rep-
resented a significant and terrifying departure from normal expecta-
tions and would have driven home one of Deuteronomy’s central
messages; namely, that proper Yahwistic worship was a prerequisite for
the Israelites’ life in the land. The authors of Deuteronomy are not
interested in the ḥērem as a tactic in war; and in the absence of such
references, the law in Deut 13 takes on more powerful significance.
Remarkably, the deuteronomistic historians never pick up on Deuter-
onomy’s ḥērem against Israelite idolatry and apply it in their own com-
positions. For them, ḥērem always serves as a means of dealing with
the problem of non-Israelite cults and cultures.
In both Deuteronomy and deuteronomistic texts, through imposi-
tion of the ḥērem the Israelites demonstrate their commitment to
Yahweh by asserting themselves as the rightful occupants of the land
that he promised. In this way they affirm the tripartite relationship bet-
ween people, land, and God, the integrity of which was essential to the
Israelites’ survival.6 If they fail to obey God’s military, civic, or cultic
commands, they themselves might be destroyed by the ḥērem.
In all of the texts in which the word ḥērem appears, both in the Bible
and in extrabiblical sources, the devotion of property or populations
served to establish the boundaries of collective identity. In deuteron-
omistic thought, the wartime ḥērem and ḥērem against idolatry repre-
sented two sides of the same coin. Each served to delimit the physical
and cultural boundaries between Israelite “self ” and Canaanite “other.”
Archeological and epigraphic evidence reveals the artificiality of this
distinction; the inaccuracy of the designation “Canaanite” (i.e., “not
Israelite”) to describe the cult objects and installations whose eradica-
tion Deuteronomy calls for is well documented.7 Nevertheless, present-
ing these and the associated practices as exclusively belonging to the
previous inhabitants of the land served the deuteronomists’ interests in
delimiting a more distinctively Israelite religion.
As a purification rite, the war-ḥērem shares some of its terminology
with the priestly elimination rites discussed in chapter 2. In particular
the verb ʳʸʹ (“to burn”) is at home in both contexts. In addition ḥērem
often provides a means of averting divine wrath and in this way serves a
protective function not unlike priestly rituals for purification from
corpse contamination and leprosy. However, the ḥērem is distinct from
these rituals, vis-à-vis the particular phenomenology it attests, the socio-

political circumstances with which it is most strongly associated, and
the literary contexts in which it occurs. At the same time, that these two
types of elimination rite share certain attributes facilitated the deuteron-
omistic authors’ transformation of the apotropaic ritual attested in their
source material into an account infused with ḥērem ideology.
Lohfink asserts that a deuteronomist working during the time of
Josiah applied the concept of ḥērem to Israel’s conquest traditions and
in so doing undergirded the sense of religious and national identity of
the readers of his own time.8 I argue here that the deuteronomistic
authors may not simply have applied the ḥērem to their accounts of
Israel’s conquest so much as they worked from sources that preserved
more ancient ḥērem traditions.9 Nonetheless Lohfink’s suggestion
points to the notion that the circumstances of Josiah’s reign were
readily imagined in ḥērem terms.
The War-Ḥērem and Early State Formation
The biblical war-ḥērem accounts are generally understood to have been

composed long after the period in which they are set, during a time
when Israel’s tribal origins may have represented a collective cultural
memory more than a social reality. For this reason they are often taken
to reveal more about the ideological interests of the Bible’s deuteron-
omistic authors and editors than they do about any real events in
emergent Israel’s history.10 I argue elsewhere that, while this may
indeed be the case for a large majority of the biblical references to the
ḥērem, Iron Age II textual evidence from Moab and South Arabia attests
to the war-ḥērem being a part of the lexicon and social consciousness of
the world to which ancient Israel belonged, long before the literary
activity of the deuteronomistic school.11 Already in Moabite and Sabaean
contexts, ḥērem served as an affirmation of the exclusive relationship
between a people on its land and the patron deity who granted that land.
Understood in this light, the notion of covenant would naturally inhere
in the concept of the war-ḥērem, making it particularly ripe for deuteron-
omistic application.
In contrast to the biblical war-ḥērem texts, which reflect a long and
complicated history of transmission, the Moabite and Sabaean texts,
though perhaps no less colored by agenda or ideology, appear to have
been composed immediately after the events they portray. These texts
describe periods in which each nation was, to use terms Routledge
applies to Moab, “a tribal confederacy . . . dominated by relations of
kinship and charisma rather than by class or institutions.”12 The Sabaean

text RES 3945 credits the ruler, Karib-ilu, with having consolidated
power and expanded considerably the Sabaean kingdom. Mesha played
a similar role in the political life of Moab. The Moabite kingdom arose
at approximately the same time as the kingdoms of Ammon and Edom
in the wake of the dissolution of traditional powers at the end of the Late
Bronze Age.13 Each state sought to defend and expand its borders, and
the history of Moab and the definition of its territorial borders are inti-
mately linked to the fortunes of other regional states.14
Such conflicts are well attested in the Hebrew Bible, for example, in
Judg 3, which describes Israel’s service to Moab and the Israelites’ even-
tual defeat of the Moabites under the leadership of Ehud, and in 2 Kgs
3:4–27, which describes the Israelite King Jehoram’s Moabite campaign.
The picture depicted in biblical and extrabiblical sources is of an unstable
political atmosphere in which the fate of particular nations on their land
was regularly threatened by potential expansion by rival states. Routledge
notes that recent scholarship on the Mesha Inscription is characterized
by a particular emphasis on the “fragile, emergent or even nonexistent
nature of Moabite statehood as witnessed in the Mesha Inscription” and
“the absence of unequivocal evidence in either Mesha or the Hebrew
Bible for a territorially integrated state of Moab before Mesha.”15
The closest biblical parallel to the ḥērem as attested in Moabite and
Sabaean sources occurs in the account of the conquest of Ai in Josh 8.
In this text, after a failed first attempt at taking the city, Yahweh enjoins
Joshua not to be discouraged and to take the whole Israelite army with
him to attack the city a second time. This time he promises, “I have
given the king of Ai, his people, his city, and his land into your hand.”
So Joshua and the Israelite army go up to Ai, and Joshua commands,
“You shall rise up in ambush and you shall take possession of the land
for Yahweh, your God has given it into your hand; and when you have
taken the city, you shall set the city on fire as the Yahweh your God has
commanded you” (8:7–8). When the Israelites reach Ai, God com-
mands Joshua to hold out his javelin toward the city. Joshua follows
the directive, and the Israelites rise in ambush against the city, setting
it on fire, killing all of its inhabitants, and putting the whole
population—12,000 men, women, and children—to the ḥērem. Once
the land was conquered, its population destroyed, and its king’s body
hung from a tree as a symbol of defeat, Joshua builds an altar to
Yahweh on Mount Ebal, the Israelites offer sacrifices, and Joshua
leads the people in a ceremonial renewal of their commitment to
Yahweh. Joshua inscribes the laws of Moses and reads them aloud
before the entire community.16
Joshua’s performance of this ceremony provides important infor-

mation regarding the function of the ḥērem and its underlying ideology.
Instructions for carrying out the ceremony are contained in Deut 27.17
This chapter opens with the instruction that when the Israelites cross
the Jordan and enter the land, they are to set up two large stones upon
which they are to inscribe the law that God commanded the Israelites
through Moses. They are to build an altar and offer burnt offerings and
peace offerings to Yahweh. At this ceremony the twelve tribes of Israel
are to be divided into two groups, one standing on Mount Gerizim and
one standing on Mount Ebal. The Levites are to declare a series of curses
and thus conclude the ceremony. Deuteronomy’s prescriptions are fol-
lowed almost precisely in Josh 8, including the central role played by the
Levitical priests and the division of the tribes into two groups, each
group standing atop a different mount.
The accounts of the battle at Ai and the commitment ceremony on
Mount Ebal serve similar functions. Both describe the moment of offi-
cial transfer of land by God to the Israelites. In Deut 27 and Josh 8:30–35
this transfer of land is expressed in cultic terms through the building of
an altar and the reading of the law, while in Josh 8:1–29 enactment of the
ḥērem constitutes the ultimate expression of Israelite entitlement.18
Joshua 8:1–30 attests four key elements that are also essential in
ḥērem texts from Moab and South Arabia:19
1) Ḥērem denotes destruction wrought on a massive scale and effec-
tuated by conflagration.
2) Ḥērem is performed locally, not regionally. Destruction and reset-
tlement by the victors are tied specifically to the occupation of
individual towns, so that town in effect becomes like an empty
vessel ready to receive the new population.
3) At least some segment of the population of the conquered town
is killed and consecrated to the deity.
4) A cult installation is erected signifying that a new population and
its god have set up residence.
The similar social and political circumstances underlying the
Moabite and Sabaean ḥērem texts, and the structural and thematic par-
allels these texts share with Josh 8, suggest the possibility that the
account of the ḥērem on Ai, including the building of the Ebal altar in
8:30, preserves an early Israelite tradition that the deuteronomist inher-
ited and integrated into his account of the Israelites’ sweeping and
miraculous conquest of the promised land.20
In many of the Bible’s ḥērem texts and in the Mesha Inscription,
enemy populations are to be utterly destroyed. This is communicated
most clearly in Josh 8, where the word ʬʫ (“all, every”) appears sixteen
times in twenty-nine verses, used in reference to both the inhabitants
of Ai who are put to the ḥērem and the Israelites themselves, at whose
hands the destruction of the city is wrought.21 The comprehensive-
ness of the destruction meted out against the inhabitants of the city is
articulated in a number of ways. Joshua 8:22 reads: ʩʺʬʡ-ʣʲ ʭʺʥʠ ʥʫʩʥ
ʺʩʬʴʥ ʣʩʸʹ ʥʬ-ʸʩʠʹʤ (“and they smote them until neither survivors nor
fugitives remained”). Then in 8:24,
ʭʥʴʣʸ ʸʹʠ ʸʡʣʮʡ ʤʣʹʡ ʩʲʤ ʩʡʹʩ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʢʸʤʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʺʥʬʫʫ ʩʤʩʥ
ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʤʺʠ ʥʫʩʥ ʩʲʤ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʬʫ ʥʡʹʩʥ ʭʮʺ-ʣʲ ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʭʬʫ ʥʬʴʩʥ ʥʡ
When Israel had finished killing all of the inhabitants of Ai in
the wilderness where they pursued them, and all of them, up
to the very last one had fallen by the sword, all of Israel
returned to Ai and smote it by the sword.
Finally, 8:26 reiterates,
ʩʲʤ ʩʡʹʩ-ʬʫ ʺʠ ʭʩʸʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʣʲ ʯʥʣʩʫʡ ʤʨʰ ʸʹʠ ʥʣʩ ʡʩʹʤ-ʠʬ ʲʹʥʤʩʥ
Joshua did not withdraw his hand that stretched out the javelin
until he had put all of the inhabitants of Ai to the ḥērem.
It is clear in Josh 8 that extermination of Ai’s population as part of
the ḥērem is essential in order for Yahweh to assert himself as the one
true god of the land and for the Israelites to establish themselves as his
people. The same idea is expressed in the Mesha Inscription, where
Mesha boasts,
[ʤ]ʬʫ ʢʸʤʠʥ ʤʦ/ʧʠʥ :ʭʸʤʶʤ ʣʲ ʺʸʧʹʤ ʤʷʡʮ ʤʡ ʭʤʺʬʠʥ ʤʬʬʡ ʪʬʤ/ʠʥ
22
ʤʺʮʸʧʤ ʹʮʫ ʸʺʹʲʬ ʩʫ :ʺʮʧʸʥ ʺ/[ʸʢ]ʥ ʺʸʡʢʥ ʯʸ[ʢ]ʥ ʯʸ[ʡ]ʢ ʯʴʬʠ ʺʲʡʹ
And I went at night and I fought against it [Nebo] from the
break of the morning until noon / and I took it and I killed all:
7,000 male citizens and foreign men / female citizens women,
foreign women, and female slaves. / For ʿAštar-Kemoš I put it
to the ḥērem. (Mesha Inscription 15–17)23
A similar scenario appears in the Sabaean Karib-ilu Inscription:
whgrn / nšn / yhḥrm / bn / mwptm ̣ / wCtbhw / hrš / bythw/ Cprw /
whrš / hgrhw / nšn / wbd / bẓhr / nšn / slʾm / ʿpklt / wCtb / bn /
C
nšn / ʿl / wḍʾt / šptmw / nsrn / ʿlʾltn / wyhrgw / wCtb / smhypC /

wnšn / kd / yḥwr / sbʾ / bhgrn / nšn / wkd / ybny / smhypC / wnšn
/ byt / ʿlmqh / bwst / hlrn / nšn / 24
And he devoted the city of NŠN to the ḥērem by burning, and

he instructed him to destroy his palace ʿFRW and his city NŠN
and imposed on NŠN a tribute for the priests, and he gave
command concerning those of NŠN whose dedication to the
gods was allotted(?) so that they were killed, and he instructed
SMHYFC and NŠN that Sabaeans should settle in the city NŠN
and that SMHYFC and NŠN should build a temple for ʿLMQH
in the midst of the city NŠN.25
Here there is no reference to the complete eradication of population,

but like the biblical and Moabite ḥērem accounts, a specific point is made
of the slaughter of the local inhabitants and their consecration to the
deity. This is expressed in the Karib-ilu Inscription by the comment “he
gave command concerning those of NŠN whose dedication to the gods
was allotted, so that they were killed.” Reference to Karib-ilu’s decree
that the Sabaeans should settle in NŠN and SMHYPC suggests that here,
too, the ḥērem is conceptualized as rendering the land an empty vessel
in which the conquering population could settle and erect a temple to its
patron god.
This confluence of motifs may be contrasted with well-known
descriptions of war from the major powers of the ancient Near East, a
difference that reflects the distinct social and political settings in which
the ḥērem traditions emerged. While the idea of a conquered territory as
both granted by a particular deity and devoted to that deity is well attested
in Mesopotamian literature, in the context of empire, conquest served
rational imperialist interests. Its purpose was to control land and people
and to maximize their potential to generate revenue, not to obliterate
them altogether. That land was conceived in this way is communicated
by the word mātu(m), which signifies land as population, not simply
land as territory.26 So, for example, a royal inscription that records the
campaign of Sargon I against the area of the Upper Euphrates and Ebla
attests:“Sargon the king bowed down to the god Dagān in Tuttul. He
gave to him the Upper Land [ma-tam a-lí-tám]: Mari, Iarmuti, and Ebla
as far as the Cedar Forest and the Silver Mountain.”27 The term ma-tam
a-lí-tám implies that Sargon effectively became ruler of these lands
granted (nadānum) to him by Dagan. In other words, there were popula-
tions in place over whom Sargon asserted dominion.
Numerous Assyrian and Babylonian royal inscriptions describe ter-
rible atrocities wrought against land and people during times of war,
but the root ḫrm itself is never attested in these texts.28 They tend to refer
to the exacting of taxes, tribute, and slave labor, implying that a
significant portion of the population remained on the land once the
battles were over.29 A particularly explicit example of this occurs in a

cylinder inscription of Tiglath-Pileser I, who boasts:
I destroyed the lands of Sarauš and Ammauš, which from
ancient times had not known submission (so that they looked)
like ruin hills (created by) the deluge. I fought with their
extensive army in Mount Aruma and brought about their
defeat. I spread out like grain heaps the corpses of their men at
arms on mountain ledges. I conquered their cities, took their
gods, and brought out their booty, possessions (and), property.
I burnt, razed, and destroyed their cities (and) turned them into
ruin hills. I imposed a heavy yoke of domination upon them
(and) made them vassals of the god Aššur, my Lord. (3.73–87)30
The language of this passage bears a marked resemblance to the lan-
guage associated with ḥērem, including the term “heap of ruins” (DU6
a-bu-be), which is similar to Hebrew ʭʬʥʲ-ʬʺ, a phrase that appears in a
number of the biblical ḥērem texts, including Josh 8:28. In addition,
the scattering of bodies (dáb-da-šu-nu áš-kun), the removal of gods
(DINGIR.MEš-šu-nu áš-ša-a), the taking of spoil (šal-la-su-nu bu-ša-šu-nu
nam-kur-šu-nu u-še-ṣa-a), and the burning of cities (URU.MEš-šu-nu i-na
IZI.MEš aš-ru-up)—all resonate with ḥērem language. However, in con-
trast to the Moabite, Israelite, and Sabaean ḥērem texts, there is no refer-
ence to the devotion of the cities to the deity, nor do we find specific
reference to the slaughter of population. Killing is limited to fighting
men (muq-tab-li-šu-nu), and the people of Sarauš and Ammauš are made
subjects of the king.
Saggs suggests that many Assyrian war tactics were intended not as
“terrorism for sadistic purposes,” but rather as a kind of psychological
warfare.31 He may overstate the case when he hypothesizes that “had
more attention been paid to such strategic aspects of Assyrian warfare
some of the indignation voiced by modern commentators against
Assyrian atrocities might have been seen to be unjustified.”32 However,
his observation that the atrocities wrought by Assyrian armies were
intended to traumatize those who remained on the land once the battles
were over speaks to the idea that conquest in Mesopotamia involved
assertion of control, not only over land, but over people as well. In con-
trast to this strategy, the ḥērem represents a distinct notion of warfare
associated with an eastern Levantine tribal political milieu, with connec-
tions as far south as the Arabian Peninsula.
In order to better understand how a ḥērem that produced land
without people might have served the particular interests of a con-
quering people, the Hittite Anitta Inscription is illuminating. Although
the Hittite text attests no equivalent to the Semitic root ḥrm, this inscrip-
tion provides a rare example of an ancient Near Eastern text that
describes the complete eradication and consecration of a town and its
inhabitants in terms akin to the Israelite, Moabite, and Sabaean war-
ḥērem texts.33 Together with his father, Pithana, King Anitta of Kussura
in all likelihood was responsible for establishing the foundations of the
Hittite kingdom.34 The inscription records his and his father’s struggle
for power against the rival cities of Neša, Zalpuwa, Purušanda, Šattiwara,
and Hatti (Hattuša) and commemorates the king’s expansion of control
from a small area around Kaneš to include most of central Anatolia,
from Hattuša in the north to Purušanda in the south.35 These cities were
subdued, and Hattuša, which would later become capital of the Hittite
kingdom, was given over to Anitta by the goddess Halmaššuit,36 sewn
with cress, and cursed in order to prevent its resettlement (Anitta
Inscription 48–51). In this detail the account of Anitta’s conquest of
Hattuša may be compared with the biblical account of Joshua’s attack
on Jericho, which also concludes with a curse against anyone who
attempts to reestablish the city. Additional parallels between the Anitta
Inscription and biblical and extrabiblical ḥērem texts include taking the
city at night (cf. Mesha Inscription 15; Josh 8:9), carrying off the cult
objects of the patron god of the conquered city (cf. Mesha Inscription
17), and the building of a cult place dedicated to the deity who insured
his/her people’s military success (cf. Josh 8:30; Mesha Inscription 3;
RES 3945.16). In its setting, as well as in many of its details, the Anitta
Inscription bears a striking resemblance to the ḥērem texts from Moab,
Saba, and Israel.
Bryce observes that Anitta’s ban on resettlement of the city was
short lived as, only 150 years following Anitta’s conquest, it was rees-
tablished as a new seat for the Hittite royal dynasty under Hattušili I,
the first clearly attested Hittite king.37 Goetze comments that it is “a
curious fact that Hattuša itself was subjected to such treatment by
Anitta of Kussar, nevertheless it had been rebuilt and in fact became
the capital of a prosperous empire.”38 What Goetze calls a “curious
fact” may actually be a significant feature in the Anitta text. According
to Bryce, this inscription is preserved in fragmentary form in three cop-
ies, allegedly from an original carved on a stele and set up in the gate of
the king’s city.39 The earliest surviving version was written in Old
Hittite and was made some 150 years after the original. Certain ele-
ments of the text’s phraseology unique to Mesopotamia lead some
scholars to suggest that an original version of the text was written in
Old Assyrian.40 This explanation, however, is much disputed. Gurney,
for example, takes issue with the assumption that the inscription is
simply a late copy of an original that was composed by the king him-
self.41 He suggests instead that the deeds of Anitta became legendary
and were later worked into the form of an apocryphal royal inscription.
This interpretation gains credibility when one considers that the ear-
liest copy of the inscription dates to approximately the same period as
the reign of Hattušili I, who is responsible for consolidating Hittite
control in the capital at Hattuša. Whether or not Gurney’s reconstruc-
tion is correct, that the received text was written in Old Hittite and pre-
served well into the Late Bronze Age suggests that it was significant in
the Hittites’ construction of their national identity, at least in hind-
sight. Much like the biblical ḥērem texts then, the Anitta Inscription
provides a retrospective account of the complete destruction of what
was to become an important city, originally occupied by a foreign
population. Although Jericho and Ai do not have the political signifi-
cance associated with Hattuša, they are comparable ideologically, for
their conquest was essential in the construction of both Israelite
national identity and the Israelite state, as these processes are remem-
bered in biblical narrative.
Based on the Anitta Inscription and another early Hittite text, known
from its colophon as “The Manly Deeds of Hattušili,” Hoffner com-
ments that references to deportees carried back to Hattuša by the Hittite
king are conspicuously lacking in texts from this early date and that the
permanent subjugation of foes and the imposition of regular troop lev-
ies are also missing but are found commonly in later ones.42 Stern sees
this change over time as unsurprising, simply “because such cus-
toms . . . tend to fade out as time passes and circumstances change.”43
Stern here underestimates the importance of Hoffner’s observation.
While there is no equivalent to the word ḥērem in the Anitta Inscription,
the Hittite text suggests that, in the context of a national literature, the
memory of conquest as producing a land without people constitutes one
means by which a nation in the early stages of state formation or expan-
sion, without the infrastructure to support the administration of subject
populations, could assert political control.44
The idea that the war-ḥērem creating land without people belongs to
the early phases of state formation is supported in the Bible by the fre-
quency with which the root ʭʸʧ occurs in the books of Deuteronomy
and Joshua. These references relate primarily to the treatment of local
non-Israelite populations and their cults in the period before the rise of
the Israelite monarchy. Once the monarchy was established, references
to the ḥērem virtually disappear from deuteronomistic texts. This distri-
bution suggests that in the narrative presentation of Israel’s history,
once the Israelite monarchy was strong enough to conduct trade and
diplomatic and military operations both at home and abroad, the ḥērem
was no longer a necessary or viable tactic.
Explicit evidence in support of this is found in a summary of
Solomon’s building initiatives in 1 Kgs 9:20–21:
ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡʮ-ʠʬ ʸʹʠ ʩʱʥʡʩʤʥ ʩʥʧʤ ʩʦʸʴʤ ʩʺʧʤ ʩʸʮʠʤ-ʯʮ ʸʺʥʰʤ ʭʲʤ-ʬʫ
ʭʮʩʸʧʤʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ ʥʬʫʩ-ʠʬ ʸʹʠ ʵʸʠʡ ʭʤʩʸʧʠ ʥʸʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʤʩʰʡ :ʤʮʤ
ʤʦʤ ʭʥʩʤ ʣʲ ʣʡʲ-ʱʮʬ ʤʮʬʹ ʭʬʲʩʥ
All the people who were left of the Amorites, the Hittites, the
Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites who were not from
the Israelites, their descendants who were left after them in the
land, whom the Israelites were unable to put to the ḥērem,
Solomon set them up as a forced levy as they are to this day.
The significance of this statement is clear: according to the deuter-
onomistic narrative, ḥērem had become an outdated mode of domina-
tion by the time of Solomon. Using local populations for conscripted
labor was more beneficial to the state than implementing a policy of
extermination. The association of ḥērem with early state formation is
inconsistent with the late monarchic setting of Josiah’s reign, and this
goes part of the way toward explaining the term’s absence in 2 Kgs 23.
However, it is precisely its prestate associations that render the ḥērem a
powerful metaphor in the deuteronomistic author’s double-edged pre-
sentation of Josiah’s reign as a moment of religious and political renewal
and the effective end to Israel’s monarchic history.
Agents of Renewal: Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra
In the biblical drama of Israel’s emergence in the land of Canaan,

Joshua plays the leading role on the battlefield, while Yahweh ensures
Israel’s success from on high. As the military leader par excellence who
vanquishes his people’s enemies and ensures their occupation of a god-
given land, Joshua stands in the company of kings Mesha, Karib-ilu,
and Anitta. In contrast to this cohort, Joshua is not a king as such; yet
his actions and aspects of his character are echoed in the deuteronomis-
tic portrayal of King Josiah. With Josiah’s reform, Joshua’s violent pur-
gation of the cities of Canaan provides a bookend in the biblical story of
Israel’s life as a landed nation.
One of the clearest points of contact between Joshua and Josiah is
that both undertake covenant-renewal ceremonies, performed before
Yahweh in the presence of the entire community (Josh 24:1–28; 2 Kgs
23:1–3). The idea that a deuteronomistic historian intended for us to

draw a connection between the two ceremonies is supported by refer-
ence to a ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ (“book of the law”) in both texts (Josh 24:26; 2 Kgs
22:11). Nelson notes that reference to the law having been encapsulated
in a book is used by the Deuteronomist eleven times in 2 Kgs 22–23 and
is not mentioned before this except in regard to Joshua.45
As discussed above, Joshua also reads aloud a ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ in the atten-
dance of the entire community in Josh 8 after the conquest of Ai.46 Just
as the ceremony performed by Joshua on Mount Ebal expresses in cultic
terms what the ḥērem expresses physically—namely, the integrity of the
relationship between people, land, and God—Josiah’s renewal of the
covenant at the Jerusalem temple communicates the idea of Yahweh as
the one true God of Israel, who is the guarantor of Israel’s safety and
security. When Joshua builds an altar according to ʤʹʮ ʺʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ (“the
book of the law of Moses”), the reference is likely intended to conjure
the same book that inspires Josiah’s destruction of illegitimate altars in
the deuteronomistic reform account.
In contrast to Joshua’s commitment ceremony, which takes place
after ḥērem has been imposed on the city of Ai, Josiah’s covenant renewal
occurs before his reform enactments. This contrast creates a kind of
narrative chiasm consistent with the idea of a bookend effect in the por-
trayal of the two figures. Barrick and others note that it is peculiar that 2
Kgs 22–23 features Josiah and the Judahite community renewing the
covenant with Yahweh in a temple that is still undergoing renovations
and that is contaminated by illegitimate forms of the cult.47 Chronicles
dates the reform measures to the twelfth year of Josiah’s reign and the
temple renovations and covenant-renewal ceremony to his eighteenth
year, thus providing a more feasible, though not necessarily more
original, order of events.
In placing the covenant-renewal ceremony before Josiah’s violent pur-
gation of the cult, the reform account bears a certain structural similarity
to the Mesha Inscription, where reference to the building of a bāmâ for
Kemosh occurs before the description of Mesha’s military exploits, despite
any underlying historical reality, which would have demanded the
opposite.48 By referring to the erection of a cult installation prior to the
account of the conquest, the author of the text draws attention to this
particular act and communicates the idea that transfer of land into Mesha’s
hands was divinely sanctioned and divinely mediated. The predictive refer-
ence in Deut 27 to Joshua’s building of an altar on Mount Ebal and his
commitment ceremony, carried out in Josh 8, have a similar effect, as does
the ordering of events in 2 Kgs 23.49 The deuteronomistic reform account
situates the events within a ḥērem framework, thereby interpreting them
as ḥērem. In light of this, it seems likely that the Chronicler, with his dis-
tinct historiographic interests, either sought to harmonize the semantic
difficulties in the Kings account by rearranging the order of events or
worked from a different reform account altogether—one that did not attest
the same connections to the ḥērem.
Joshua and Mesha impose the ḥērem and build cult installations to
their respective gods as expressions of national identity and as asser-
tions of their exclusive relationships with the deities ultimately respon-
sible for the transfer of land into their hands. The setting for Josiah’s
reform during a period when resurgent Judean independence was a
possibility but hardly a guarantee makes the use of ḥērem imagery in the
reform account particularly fitting. The reform measures affirmed
Israel’s commitment to Yahweh, who granted the land, the religious
and political boundaries of which Josiah rightfully, though ultimately
unsuccessfully, sought to articulate more clearly. From this deuteron-
omistic vantage point, the connection between Josiah and Joshua dem-
onstrated the heroic righteousness of Josiah himself, the end of Judean
royal authority, and the beginning of new postmonarchic era when
Israel would once again be dependent upon the sacral authority of its
charismatic leaders.
Additional similarities between Joshua and Josiah support the idea
that the deuteronomistic writer deliberately forged a connection bet-
ween them. In Josh 7:6, after the Israelites’ first failed attempt to take
the city of Ai, Joshua tears his clothes (ʥʩʺʬʮʹ ʲʹʥʤʩ ʲʸʷʩʥ). Similarly in 2
Kgs 22:11, upon hearing the words of the book of the law, Josiah tears
his clothes (ʥʩʣʢʡ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷʩʥ). The different terms for clothing in these two
texts suggest the possibility that this echo is the product of neither
common authorship nor direct literary influence, but rather derives
from a tradition with which the scribe was familiar and upon which he
could draw from memory.50 In both cases the tearing of garments is an
expression of failure and remorse reflecting the realization that
something has gone awry between Israel and God, and in both the tear-
ing of the garment is followed by an inquiry to Yahweh (Josh 7:7; 2 Kgs
22:13). In Joshua, God rebukes the Israelites for their sin: transgressing
his covenant by taking from the ḥērem despite his explicit instructions,
lying, stealing, and concealing what they stole. He then provides an
oracle:
-ʣʲ ʪʩʡʩʠ ʩʰʴʬ ʭʥʷʬ ʬʫʥʺ ʠʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʪʡʸʷʡ ʭʸʧ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠ ʤʫ ʩʫ
ʭʫʡʸʷʮ ʭʸʧʤ ʭʫʸʩʱʤ
For thus says Yahweh, God of Israel, “There is ḥērem in
your midst, Israel. You will not be able to prevail against your
enemies until you remove the ḥērem from your midst.”

(Josh 7:13)
According to this promise, if the Israelites perform the requisite rites of
elimination, they can restore the broken covenant and overcome their
foes. In 2 Kgs 22 God also provides an oracle, this time through the
prophetess Huldah, introduced by the phrase ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠ ʤʫ ʩʫ.
Here too a list of transgressions is enumerated, but now Israel’s fate is
sealed:
ʤʺʶʰʥ ʭʤʩʣʩ ʤʹʲʮ ʬʫʡ ʩʰʱʩʲʫʤ ʯʲʮʬ ʭʩʸʧʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʬ ʥʸʨʷʩʥ ʩʰʥʡʦʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʧʺ
ʤʡʫʺ ʠʬʥ ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʡ ʩʺʮʧ
Because you have forsaken me and burned incense to other
gods in order to anger me with all of the works of your hands,
my anger will be kindled against this place and will not be
extinguished. (2 Kgs 22:17)
Where Joshua, in his grief, is mollified by a promise of God’s
renewed protection of his people, Josiah’s remorse only secures his own
noble end (22:20); the Israelite nation is doomed.
While the apparent conflict between Josiah’s efforts and the content
of Huldah’s prophecy make it tempting to see the latter as secondary to
the deuteronomistic reform account, such a conclusion is not required.
If the working hypothesis of this study is correct, then a postmonarchic
deuteronomistic historian inherited a set of preexilic traditions that pre-
served a memory of Josiah’s reign as a period of reform and consolida-
tion of religious and political authority in Jerusalem. The deuteronomistic
author revised these traditions with their decidedly preexilic concerns,
reinterpreting Josiah’s reform in terms of ḥērem and situating his reign
within the more sweeping scope of Israel’s salvation history. Where
Joshua succeeded, Josiah failed. Yet this does not diminish Josiah’s
valor for his steadfast adherence to Yahweh’s torah; like Joshua, Josiah
never turned from it “to the right or to the left” (Josh 1:7; 2 Kgs 22:2).51
For such a writer, Josiah’s faithfulness to Deuteronomic law would have
been seen as necessary and appropriate in his day and as model behavior
in preexilic Israel; yet ultimately it was not enough to interrupt Israel’s
eternal cycle of transgression, punishment, repentance, and return.52
The links created between the figures of Joshua and Josiah reify this
metahistorical pattern.
In chapter 5 I undertake a detailed discussion of the arguments in
favor of a postmonarchic deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23. However,
it is worthwhile to note in the present context the oft-observed parallels
between the account of Josiah’s reign and certain key details in the
postexilic books of Ezra and Nehemiah. Both Josiah and Ezra read a
book of the law in the hearing (ʩʰʦʠ) of the entire Judean community
(ʭʲʤ ʬʫ) (2 Kgs 23:1–2; Neh 8:2–3); and in both the reading of the law is
associated with a reconsecration of the Jerusalem temple and a recom-
mitment to Yahweh’s law (Ezra 6:16–17; 2 Kgs 23:3). Both perform the
Passover at the newly rededicated temple (Ezra 6:19–22; 2 Kgs 23:21–
23). In Nehemiah the festival of booths is observed, as was not done
since the time of Joshua (Neh 8:14–17), much as Josiah’s Passover was
the first since the days of the judges (2 Kgs 23:22). In both cases the
observance of the festival is done according to the words of the scroll of
the law (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ).
The parallels between the figures of Josiah and Ezra may be
explained in one of two ways. It is possible that the author of the books
of Ezra and Nehemiah deliberately drew on the deuteronomistic re-pre-
sentation of Josiah, in which case it seems likely that this author saw in
Josiah the same ideal model of postmonarchic governance that I pro-
pose was the intention of the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 22–23. It
is also possible, however, that the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs
22–23 and the author(s) of Ezra and Nehemiah, both of them working
in scribal schools of the postmonarchic period, were familiar with the
same incarnation of Josiah as the ideal postmonarchic model of gover-
nance—as a figure with ties to the Davidic line who represented an ideal
amalgam of priestly and royal authority. The author(s) of the books of
Ezra and Nehemiah may have drawn on this model in the representa-
tion of Ezra, without direct literary dependency on 2 Kgs 22–23. In
either case, for the final biblical authors and editors, Josiah’s preexilic
reign and ḥērem-like reform mark a new beginning that at once hearkens
back to Israel’s more perfect past and is fully realized under the leader-
ship of Ezra and his compatriots in the postexilic period.
Like Josiah and Ezra, Joshua also performs the Passover at a specific
sanctuary before the entire Israelite community, and the parallels bet-
ween these three traditions are illuminating. Joshua 5:10–12, which
refers to the Passover at Gilgal, is not generally treated as deuteron-
omistic,53 and Joshua is not explicitly made the officiant at this cere-
mony. Nelson comments that, “while Joshua is not present in the text
of Joshua 5:10–12, he was certainly there in the Deuteronomist’s con-
ception of things.”54 While this is surely the case, it requires further
explication, as does the literary relationship between the portrayals of
Joshua and Josiah in these passages.
Joshua’s Passover takes place on the heels of the Israelites’ crossing
of the Jordan and entering the promised land. According to Josh 4:14,
on the day the Israelites crossed the Jordan and arrived on dry land,
Yahweh “exalted Joshua in the eyes of all Israel,” and the Israelites
“feared him as they feared Moses, all the days of his life.” Joshua 5 opens
with a second circumcision of the Israelites at Gilgal. It is here that the
Passover is performed. In this context, the Passover offering marks a
transition between the Israelites’ sojourn in the desert and their arrival
and settlement in the land that God promised. The idea of the Passover
as a transitional moment is emphasized in 5:11–12, where it is explained
that manna ceased on the day after the Passover; from this day forward
the Israelites ate from the produce of the land.
While the circumstances of Josiah’s Passover are different, the event
may be understood by the deuteronomistic author to mark a similar
transition. Support for this comes from Josh 5:4–6, which explains why
the second circumcision was necessary. Joshua 5:4–5 reports that all of
the men of military age who had come out of Egypt had died during the
forty years of wandering in the desert, and none of the people born
after the exodus had been circumcised. This explanation seems to be
sufficient; but 5:6 elaborates:
ʭʩʠʶʩʤ ʤʮʧʬʮʤ ʩʹʰʠ ʩʥʢʤ-ʬʫ ʭʺ-ʣʲ ʸʡʣʮʡ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʩʰʡ ʥʫʬʤ ʤʰʹ ʭʩʲʡʸʠ ʩʫ
ʵʸʠʤ-ʺʠ ʭʺʥʠʸʤ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʤʬ ʤʥʤʩ ʲʡʹʰ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʬʥʷʡ ʥʲʮʹ-ʠʬ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʶʮʮ
ʹʡʣʥ ʡʬʧ ʺʡʦ ʵʸʠ ʥʰʬ ʺʺʬ ʭʺʥʡʠʬ ʤʥʤʩ ʲʡʹʰ ʸʹʠ
Because the children of Israel traveled in the desert for forty
years, until all of the nation, the men of fighting (age) who had
left Egypt, had died who had not heeded the voice of Yahweh,
to whom Yahweh swore not to show them the land that
Yahweh had sworn to their fathers to give us,55 a land flowing
with milk and honey.
Deuteronomistic redaction of Josh 5:4–6 is widely recognized,

based on the repetition of references to the men of fighting age who left
Egypt in 23:5b and 23:6a, echoing reference to the natural deaths of
these men in 5:4b and reference to “a land flowing with milk and honey”
in 5:6.56 The latter, though not a distinctively deuteronomistic trope,
occurs more frequently in the book of Deuteronomy than anywhere else
in the Bible.57 It is likely that through editorial insertion a deuteron-
omistic author transformed the natural death of the Israelite males into
death as punishment for transgression. The second circumcision, which
might otherwise have been understood as the finishing of old business,
thus is presented as repairing Israel’s broken relationship with Yahweh.
With this addition, Josh 4–5 takes on a character similar to 2 Kgs 22–23.
In both texts, performance of the Passover comes on the heels of trans-
gression, and in both cases a ceremony of recommitment to Yahweh
precedes the Passover. In the deuteronomistic formulation, both Joshua

and Josiah are compared to Moses, who was unsurpassed in his faithful-
ness to Yahweh and who led the Israelites to freedom. In both cases the
Passover functions as a rite of purification that reflects Israel’s renewed
commitment to Yahweh’s law and secures a new era in Israel’s life in
the land.58 In this way, both texts, but especially 2 Kgs 23 with its focus
on rededicating the Jerusalem temple, resemble the Passover performed
in Jerusalem by Ezra and the returnees from exile.
As part of their efforts to reconsecrate the Jerusalem temple, both
Josiah and Ezra read a scroll before the entire Judean community, and
each does so from a podium of sorts, designated in Neh 8:4 by the
term ʵʲ ʬʣʢʮ (lit. “wooden tower”) and in 2 Kgs 23:3 by the more difficult
term ʣʥʮʲ, which usually signifies a pillar, although here this translation
is insufficient. The only other occurrence of this term to designate
something upon which one stands is in 2 Kgs 11:14, a text whose late
features suggest the likelihood either of literary dependence or common
authorship with the deuteronomistic text of 2 Kgs 23. The context and
imagery in Neh 8 and 2 Kgs 23 are similar, yet the language is different,
and the unusual choice to use the word ʣʥʮʲ raises questions about what
the author of 2 Kgs 23 had in mind.
In Exodus the term ʣʥʮʲ refers to the pillar of cloud that is the locus
of divine theophany in the desert. The term occurs in this sense in Deut
31, at the moment when authority is transferred from the hands of Moses
to Joshua. In Deut 31:15, after Moses and Joshua have presented them-
selves at the tent of meeting, ʬʤʠʤ ʧʺʴ-ʬʲ ʯʰʲʤ ʣʮʲʩʥ ʯʰʲ ʣʥʮʲʡ ʬʤʠʡ ʤʥʤʩ ʠʸʩʥ
(“God appeared at the tent in a pillar of cloud, and the pillar of cloud
stood at the entrance of the tent”). The language of this verse may be
compared with that of 2 Kgs 23:3: ʣʥʮʲʤ-ʬʲ ʪʬʮʤ ʣʮʲʩʥ. In the Kings passage
it is clearly Josiah who stands upon the ʣʥʮʲ, while in Deuteronomy, God
himself, embodied in the pillar of cloud, stands at the entrance to the
tent; the semantics of the two verses are totally different. Nonetheless the
language in Deut 31:15 and 2 Kgs 23:3 seems too close for coincidence.
Certain other elements shared by these two texts suggest that that a
deuteronomistic historian deliberately forged a connection between
Josiah’s covenant renewal and the reaffirmation of the covenant as
Moses passed the mantle of his authority to Joshua in the days immedi-
ately preceding the Israelite conquest. In Deut 31:16–22 God foretells of
the Israelites forsaking his covenant and prostituting themselves to
other gods. He provides them with a song (presumably the Song of
Moses in Deut 32) as a testimony to their covenant obligation. Moses
writes down the song and teaches it to the Israelites. In 32:23 Joshua
commands the people to be strong and resolute as they enter the land
that God has promised them. Then Moses commands the priests to take
the scroll he has written down, now referred to as a ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ, and to
place it in the ark of the covenant to serve as a witness to Israel’s cove-
nant obligation. Deuteronomy 32:15 sets all of this at the tent of meet-
ing, at whose entrance stands the pillar of cloud.
In Deut 31 and 2 Kgs 23, a scroll, described in both texts as a
ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ, provides a reminder of the Israelites covenant obligation, and
in both texts the scroll is put into effect in response to Israel’s history of
transgression. In Deuteronomy, these transgressions have yet to tran-
spire, while in 2 Kgs 23 Josiah looks at them in horrified retrospect; the
promise of Deut 31 has been fulfilled and Josiah’s ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ provides
witness. In light of these parallels it is surprising that the word ʣʲ
(“witness”) does not occur in 2 Kgs 23, nor are their particularly strong
linguistic connections between the two chapters. The reference to
Josiah’s standing upon the ʣʥʮʲ, however, may deliberately recall the
events of Deut 31, with the ʣʥʮʲ in both texts marking the site of Israel’s
affirmation of its covenant and the place where Moses’s authority passes
into the hands of his successors. Understood in this light, Josiah comes
to embody the character of Israel’s earliest charismatic leaders. The
imagery of 2 Kgs 23 evokes Ezra’s covenant renewal, while the language
of the text evokes the era of Moses and Joshua. Josiah thus becomes a
link in an enduring chain of tradition that originates in premonarchic
Israel and culminates with Ezra in postmonarchic Jerusalem. (The par-
allels between Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra are summarized in table 3.1.)
The temporal, social, and political conditions of Josiah’s reign differ
considerably from those that characterize the period of Joshua on the
one hand and Ezra on the other. Yet the pivotal moments in Israel’s his-
tory represented by these three prototypical figures are presented in
similar terms. The link created between Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra has
the effect of casting Josiah as reconqueror and reunifier of Israel, in
terms that are decidedly nonmonarchic.
Inasmuch as he is modeled on a premonarchic ideal, the deuterono-
mist’s Josiah may be compared with Ezekiel’s Nasi, a position otherwise
most strongly associated with Israel’s tribal leadership during the period
of wandering in the desert (e.g., Num 7, 25, 34). Ezekiel envisions a
return to this form of authority after Israel has been restored to its land
(Ezek 34:24). In his utopian imagination the Nasi will be descended
from the line of David and will be king (37:24), but only in the most
limited sense, with Yahweh as shepherd of his people (34:11–31) and
juridical and cultic authority resting solely in the hands of the priests
(44:24). As in Ezekiel, the postmonarchic authors who gave us Josiah as
we know him did so as part of a process of legitimating forms of
TABLE 3.1 Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra as Agents of Covenant Renewal

Feature Joshua Josiah Ezra
public reading from a scroll Josh 8:34 2 Kgs 23:2 Neh 8:2–3
(ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ) (ʺʩʸʡʤ ʸʴʱ) (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ)
association with a scroll of the Josh 1:8; 8:34 2 Kgs 22:8, 11 Neh 8:3
law (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ)
public affirmation of Israel’s Josh 24:25–26 2 Kgs 23:3 —
ancient covenant (ʺʩʸʡ) bond
with Yahweh
tearing of clothes as an expression Josh 7:6 2 Kgs 22:11 Ezra 9:13–15
of remorse for past behavior (ʥʩʺʬʮʹ) (ʥʩʣʢʡ) (ʬʩʲʮʥ ʣʢʡ)
fear of divine punishment Josh 7:7 2 Kgs 22:13 Ezra 9:13–15
expressed through inquiry to
Yahweh
devotion to Yahweh expressed as Josh 1:7 2 Kgs 22:2 —
not turning “to the right or left”
Jerusalem temple as locus of — 2 Kgs 23:1–3 Ezra 6:16–17
dedication to Yahweh, with
reference to written tradition (ʸʴʱ)
performance of pēsaḥ Josh 5:10–12 2 Kgs 23:21–23 Ezra 6:19–22
ʣʥʮʲ as locus of commitment Deut 31:15–29 2 Kgs 23:2–3 —
to ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ
“podium” as locus of covenant — 2 Kgs 23:3 Neh 8:4
renewal
authority and political structures that provided Israelite self-definition

in a time without kings.
Josiah’s Reform and Ḥērem Phenomenology
In the deuteronomistic imagination, Joshua ben Nun, the great ḥērem

warrior who reclaimed the land from the clutches of the Canaanites,
provides a powerful model on which to redraw Josiah’s contours. Con-
sistent with this interest, interspersed throughout the deuteronomistic
reform account is language closely associated with the Deuteronom-
(ist)ic ḥērem. The most explicit linguistic connection between Josiah’s
reform and the war-ḥērem is found in Deut 7:1–5, where the root ʭʸʧ is
used to describe the destruction of the cult places of local populations,

upon the Israelites’ entry into the land:
ʭʩʡʸ-ʭʩʥʢ ʬʹʰʥ ʤʺʹʸʬ ʤʮʹ-ʤʡ ʤʺʠ-ʸʹʠ ʵʸʠʤ-ʬʠ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʪʠʩʡʩ ʩʫ
ʭʩʡʸ ʭʩʥʢ ʤʲʡʹ ʩʱʥʡʩʤʥ ʩʥʧʤʥ ʩʦʸʴʤʥ ʩʰʲʰʫʤʥ ʩʸʮʠʤʥ ʩʹʢʸʢʤʥ ʩʺʧʤ ʪʩʰʴʮ
ʺʸʫʺ-ʠʬ ʭʺʠ ʭʩʸʧʺ ʭʸʧʤ ʭʺʩʫʤʥ ʪʩʰʴʬ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʭʰʺʰʥ :ʪʮʮ ʭʩʮʥʶʲʥ
ʩʫ :ʪʰʡʬ ʧʷʺ-ʠʬ ʥʺʡʥ ʥʰʡʬ ʯʺʺ-ʠʬ ʪʺʡ ʭʡ ʯʺʧʺʺ ʠʬʥ :ʭʰʧʺ ʠʬʥ ʺʩʸʡ ʭʤʬ
:ʸʤʮ ʪʣʩʮʹʤʥ ʭʫʡ ʤʥʤʩ-ʳʠ ʤʸʧʥ ʭʩʸʧʠ ʭʩʤʬʠ ʥʣʡʲʥ ʩʸʧʠʮ ʪʰʡ-ʺʠ ʸʩʱʩ
ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʸʩʹʠʥ ʥʸʡʹʺ ʭʺʡʶʮʥ ʥʶʺʺ ʭʤʩʺʧʡʦʮ ʭʤʬ ʥʹʲʺ ʤʫ-ʭʠ-ʩʫ
ʹʠʡ ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʩʬʩʱʴʥ
When Yahweh your God brings you into the land that you are
entering to occupy, when he drives out the many nations
before you—the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the
Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven
nations greater and more powerful than you—Yahweh, your
god, will give them over to you for you to defeat them. You
shall put them utterly to the ḥērem. Do not make a treaty with
them and do not have mercy on them. Do not marry with
them, do not give one of your daughters to one of their sons,
do not take one of their daughters for one your sons, for they
will turn your children away from me to serve other gods, and
the anger of Yahweh will be kindled against you and he will
quickly destroy you. Rather, thus you shall do to them: tear
down their altars, smash their standing stones, hew down their
asherim, and burn their idols with fire.
While Deut 7 is set in the context of war, the purpose of the ḥērem is
not eradication of population; in fact, there is no reference at all to the
killing of people, and the prohibition against intermarriage suggests
Israelites cohabiting with their Canaanite neighbors. In this text ḥērem
refers to the irrevocable destruction of cult places and objects associated
with Canaanite religion; it is not a call to genocide. A similar injunction
for the Israelites to eradicate local indigenous cults occurs in Deut 12:3–
5, except here the treatment of the asherim and idols is reversed, with the
former burned and the latter hewn down. In addition, the word ḥērem
does not appear:
ʩʬʩʱʴʥ ʹʠʡ ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʤʩʸʹʠʥ ʭʺʡʶʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʸʡʹʥ ʭʺʧʡʦʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʶʺʰʥ

ʠʥʤʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʯʮ ʭʮʹ-ʺʠ ʭʺʣʡʠʥ ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʩʤʬʠ
You shall tear down their altars, smash their standing stones,
burn their asherim with fire, and hew down their idols, and so
erase their names from that place.
Three verbs of destruction found in Deut 7:5 and 12:3 (ʸʡʹ, ʵʺʰ and
ʳʸʹ) and their objects (ʺʥʧʡʦʮ, ʺʥʡʶʮ and ʭʩʸʹʠ) appear repeatedly in the
description of Josiah’s reform. For example, in 2 Kgs 23:6 Josiah
removes the asherah from Yahweh’s temple and burns it (ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ) in
the Wadi Kidron. In 23:12 he tears down altars (ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ . . . ʵʺʰ) set up by
Judah’s kings and does likewise to the Bethel altar in 23:15. In 23:14 he
smashes the standing stones (ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠʸʡʹʥ). The description of Josiah’s
actions is clearly informed by this deuteronomistic language of destruc-
tion, expressed in terms of ḥērem in Deut 7.
Deuteronomy 12, where the root ʭʸʧ is not used, belongs to what
scholars identify as core Deuteronomy. The absence of the root here is
consistent with Deuteronomy’s use of the ḥērem to refer only to the
eradication of Israelite idolatry. Deuteronomy 7, where the term appears,
reflects a later, deuteronomistic interpretation.59 Details in 2 Kgs 23 that
connect Josiah’s reform to ḥērem likewise reflect a secondary deuteron-
omistic interpretation of an earlier tradition. Whether or not Deut 7 and
2 Kgs 23 belong to same deuteronomistic stratum (an association that
should not be taken for granted), they both reflect a deuteronomistic
application of the ḥērem theme in traditions that were not originally cast
in ḥērem terms.60 Where Deut 7 is military in its setting and attests the
term, 2 Kgs 23 is not an account of war and the term is absent in it. The
absence of the term in 2 Kgs 23 and its presence in Deut 7 are in keep-
ing with deuteronomistic patterns of usage. That both texts attest a
secondary application of the ḥērem theme reflects the degree to which
the tradition of ḥērem was essential to the construction of ancient Israel
as a remembered entity and to the structure and theology of a deuteron-
omistic history that cast Josiah as its hero.
In Deuteronom(ist)ic thought, the Israelites’ receipt of divine favor
comes first and foremost in the form of protection from enemies (e.g.,
Deut 7:6–11; 12:5–9). In the event of Israel’s breach of covenant, the
threat of Yahweh’s severed ties with Jerusalem is presented as an
assurance of Israel’s destruction by enemy hands. For the deuteron-
omistic writers this ideology provides an interpretive lens through
which all of Israel’s fortunes and adversities are filtered. Within this
framework, ḥērem serves to affirm Israel’s covenant with Yahweh
through the eradication of forms of worship and populations whose
practices are offensive to the deity.
Many of the narratives in the deuteronomistic history are shaped by
covenant ideology and are framed in terms of the tenuousness of the
Israelites’ occupation of the land. Josiah’s reform sets the standard in
this regard. His reign takes place against the backdrop of Assyrian hege-
mony, when the destruction and exile of the northern kingdom were
still recent memories and the threat of Assyria, however diminished,

was still a reality. From the standpoint of the postmonarchic deuterono-
mist, however, living in the aftermath of the Babylonian exile, Josiah’s
reform measures would have represented a last desperate attempt to
stave off the Babylonian assault. Huldah’s prophecy of doom in 2 Kgs
22:15–20, itself a deuteronomistic element, reinforces the futility of
Josiah’s efforts and the inevitability of Israel’s downfall. Within the nar-
rative setting, as well as for the text’s audience, the discovery of a lost
scroll of the law promising retreat of divine presence as punishment for
transgression would have been a disturbing reminder of those troubled
times and the precariousness of the Israelite condition.
It is apparent in 2 Kgs 23:26–27 that these ideas inform the reform
narrative and were a primary motivation for the reform measures as
conceived by the text’s deuteronomistic authors:
ʭʩʱʲʫʤ-ʬʫ ʬʲ ʤʣʥʤʩʡ ʥʴʠ ʤʸʧ-ʸʹʠ ʬʥʣʢʤ ʥʴʠ ʯʥʸʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʡʹ-ʠʬ ʪʠ
ʩʺʸʱʤ ʸʹʠʫ ʩʰʴ ʬʲʮ ʸʩʱʠ ʤʣʥʤʩ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠʩʥ :ʤʹʰʮ ʥʱʩʲʫʤ ʸʹʠ
ʸʹʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ-ʺʠ ʩʺʸʧʡ-ʸʹʠ ʺʠʦʤ ʸʩʲʤ-ʺʠ ʩʺʱʠʮʥ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ
ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ ʩʺʸʮʠ
But Yahweh did not turn from his great wrath that burned
against Judah because of all of the acts of provocation that
Manasseh had committed. And Yahweh said, “I will also
remove Judah from before me, just as I removed Israel, and
I shall reject this city that I chose, Jerusalem, and the temple
about which I said, ‘My name will be there.’”
In this verse, rejection of the Jerusalem temple by metonymy comes
to represent rejection of all Israel. This formulation is decidedly late and
reflects the perspective of an exilic or postexilic deuteronomist, as Cross
suggests.61 Within this ideological framework, Josiah’s rites of violence,
described in ḥērem language, would have represented an attempt to
draw more restrictive boundaries around Israel and thereby to avert
divine wrath and attendant disaster.
The idea that ḥērem can serve this function is explicit in Deut 13:16–18:
ʤʡ-ʸʹʠ-ʬʫ-ʺʠʥ ʤʺʠ ʭʸʧʤ ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʠʥʤʤ ʸʩʲʤ ʩʡʹʩ-ʺʠ ʤʫʺ ʤʫʤ
ʹʠʡ ʺʴʸʹʥ ʤʡʧʸ ʪʥʺ-ʬʠ ʵʡʷʺ ʤʬʬʹ-ʬʫ-ʺʠʥ :ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʤʺʮʤʡ-ʺʠʥ
:ʣʥʲ ʤʰʡʺ ʠʬ ʭʬʥʲ ʬʺ ʤʺʩʤʥ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʬʩʬʫ ʤʬʬʹ-ʬʫ-ʺʠʥ ʸʩʲʤ-ʺʠ
ʭʩʮʧʸ ʪʬ-ʯʺʰʥ ʥʴʠ ʯʥʸʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʡʥʹʩ ʯʲʮʬ ʭʸʧʤ-ʯʮ ʤʮʥʠʮ ʪʣʩʡ ʷʡʣʩ-ʠʬʥ
ʪʩʺʡʠʬ ʲʡʹʰ ʸʹʠʫ ʪʡʸʤʥ ʪʮʧʸʥ
Indeed you are to kill the inhabitants of that city by the sword.
You are to put it to the ḥērem by the sword, with all that is in it,
along with its beasts. All of the booty you are to gather into the
midst the its street, and you are to burn with fire the city and all
of the booty, a whole burnt offering to Yahweh your God, and it
shall be a permanent heap; it shall never be rebuilt. Nothing
from the ḥērem may cling to your hand, so that Yahweh will
turn from his anger and show you mercy; and he will be
merciful to you and multiply you as he swore to your ancestors.
In this passage, imposition of the ḥērem as a means of eradicating

idolatry appeases Yahweh’s anger and ensures that he will fulfill his
promise of protection. Josiah’s rites of violence are wrought to achieve
the same end.
Through the motif of the lost scroll of the law, Josiah’s whole reform
is presented as an attempt to restore Israel’s broken covenant. This
point is emphasized through repeated use of the term ʺʩʸʡ in 2 Kgs
23:2–3. In 23:2 Josiah reads ʺʩʸʡʤ ʸʴʱ (“the book of the covenant”) in its
entirety to all of the inhabitants of Judah and Jerusalem. Second Kgs
23:3 attests to Josiah’s making a covenant with Yahweh (ʺʩʸʡ ʺʸʫ) and
ends with the comment that the people committed themselves to the
covenant (ʺʩʸʡʡ ʭʲʤ ʬʫ ʣʮʲʩʥ).62TThese references present the reform as
motivated by an interest in reestablishing Israel’s exclusive status as
Yahweh’s chosen people who rightfully occupy the land that he
promised. As the primary purpose of the ḥērem was to assert the integ-
rity of the relationship between people, land, and God, ḥērem language
in the reform account is fitting.
An essential effect of the ḥērem as described in Deuteronom(ist)ic
texts is the elimination of ʤʡʲʥʺ (“abomination”). For example, in Deut
20:16–18, upon entering a town that Yahweh promised to the Israelites,
they were to completely destroy the town by the ḥērem, so that nothing
that breathed would remain alive. This was in order to prevent the ʺʥʡʲʥʺ
of the nations from infecting the Israelite people. The imposition of
ḥērem to control ʤʡʲʥʺ is also attested in 7:25–26 and 13:15. In the book of
Kings ʤʡʲʺ appears only in reference to non-Israelite practices that might
tempt the Israelites to sin (1 Kgs 14:24; 2 Kgs 16:3; 21:2, 11). Its attestation
in 2 Kgs 23 is consistent with this pattern. In 23:13–14 Josiah defiles the
high places that were east of Jerusalem in order to eradicate from them
the detestation (ʵʷʹ) of the Sidonians, Moabites, and ʯʥʮʲ-ʩʰʡ ʺʡʲʥʺ (“the
abomination of the Ammonites”). He “breaks the standing stones, cuts
down the asherim, and fills their place with human bones.” Josiah seeks
to eliminate ʤʡʲʥʺ from the city of Jerusalem, and he does so in part
using methods that Deuteronomy associates with the ḥērem. As in
the ḥērem texts in Deuteronomy, in 2 Kgs 23 the elimination of ʤʡʲʥʺ is
associated with clarifying the boundaries of Israelite identity and assert-

ing claims to legitimacy in relation to neighboring peoples.
The term ʤʡʲʥʺ occurs seventeen times in Deuteronomy, with a
wide range of applications. For example, it appears in reference to a
blemished ox or sheep intended as an offering (17:1), cross-dressing
(22:5), the fee of a whore dedicated to the temple (23:19), consulting
ghosts (18:12), and idolatry (27:15; 32:16).63 Deuteronomy’s wide range
of uses for the term reflects its import in Deuteronomic thought. This
may be contrasted with the Holiness Code, where ʤʡʲʥʺ appears only in
the context of sexual misconduct (Lev 18:22, 26, 27, 29, 30; 20:13). The
Holiness Code’s rarified usage receives elaboration in the book of
Ezekiel, where the term occurs more often than in any other biblical
book. It appears in reference to both real sexual misconduct (e.g., Ezek
22:11; 33:26) and Israel’s innumerable transgressions against Yahweh,
conceived metaphorically in terms of promiscuous behavior (e.g., 16:2,
22, 36). Use of the term ʤʡʲʥʺ in reference to sexual misconduct consti-
tutes an important point of contact between the Holiness Code and
Ezekiel and lends support to the notion that these two corpora share a
similar priestly outlook. That the concept of ʤʡʲʥʺ is of critical import in
the theologies of both the priestly holiness school represented by the
Holiness Code and Ezekiel, and in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature consti-
tutes a notable link between these two schools of thought.
Inasmuch as ḥērem is associated with the appeasement of divine
wrath and complete destruction by fire, it may be understood in sacrifi-
cial terms. The sacrificial implications of the ḥērem are clear in Lev
27:28, which stipulates that anything dedicated to Yahweh as ḥērem is
ʤʥʤʩʬ ʭʩʹʣʷ ʹʣʷ (“most holy to Yahweh”). This verse constitutes the only
reference to ḥērem in the priestly literature of the Pentateuch, and it is
widely regarded as part of a Priestly editorial appendix to the book of
Leviticus.64 It appears in the context of regulations governing particular
types of dedicatory offerings, and it gives no indication that the devoted
items are to be destroyed. Despite its lateness, this verse indicates that at
least within certain ancient Israelite circles ḥērem was conceived as a form
of sacrifice to Yahweh. The sacrificial intent of the ḥērem is also expressed
through the term ʬʩʬʫ to describe those items to be burned in Deut 13:17.
This term, like ʤʬʥʲ, signifies a sacrifice consumed wholly on the altar (cf.
Deut 33:10; 1 Sam 7:9; Lev 6:15; Ps 51:21).65 Lohfink cautions that it is not
certain whether ʬʩʬʫ is intended in a sacrificial sense here.66 It seems
unlikely, however, that the term was chosen with no thought to its sacri-
ficial implications; thus I translate “as a whole burnt offering,” above.
A particularly explicit example of the connection between ḥērem and
sacrifice occurs in Isaiah’s prophecy against Edom:
ʭʩʬʩʠ ʺʥʩʬʫ ʡʬʧʮ ʭʩʣʥʺʲʥ ʭʩʸʫ ʭʣʮ ʡʬʧʮ ʤʰʹʣʧ ʭʣ ʤʠʬʮ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʡʸʧ
ʭʥʣʠ ʵʸʠʡ ʬʥʣʢ ʧʡʨʥ ʤʸʶʡʡ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʧʡʦ ʩʫ
The sword of Yahweh is full of blood and gorged with fat, from
the blood of lambs and goats, from the fat of the kidneys of
rams, for there is a sacrifice to Yahweh in Bozrah and a great
slaughter in the land of Edom. (Isa 34:6)
As with Deut 13, Lohfink argues against a cultic interpretation of the
ḥērem in Isa 34, suggesting that the common element of the comparison
to sacrifice is probably the killing and abundance of blood and fat, not
the cultic aspect.67 This interpretation is tenuous in light of the clear sac-
rificial context suggested by reference to sheep and goats, both of them
sacrificial animals, as well as use of the term ʧʡʦ (“sacrifice”) to describe
the devastation wrought on Edom.
Stern also rejects the notion of ḥērem as sacrifice in Isa 34:6, arguing
that the word ʧʡʦ was chosen for its assonance with ʧʡʨ, which appears
in the same verse. He then goes on to exclaim, “In any case Yahweh
does not sacrifice to Yahweh!”68 While it is likely that the verbs ʧʡʨ and
ʧʡʦ were chosen in part for their rhyming effect, it is neither possible
nor productive to speculate on which word has conceptual priority;
rather the terms and their connotations should be considered as a pair.
One could argue that ʧʡʦ simply denotes “slaughter,” on analogy with
ʧʡʨ, but this English distinction is artificial when the Hebrew word ʧʡʦ
encompasses both.69 The sacrificial implications of this verse are clear.
The idea of ḥērem as ʧʡʦ may illuminate use of the term ʧʡʦ in the
description of Josiah’s attack on the towns of Samaria in 2 Kgs 23:20:
ʭʤʩʬʲ ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʧʡʦʩʥ
ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʡʹʩʥ
And he slaughtered/sacrificed on the altars all of the priests of
the high places that were there, and he burned human bones
on them, and he returned to Jerusalem.
The word ʧʡʦʩʥ here is most often translated “he slaughtered,”70 but as
with Isa 34, this translation does not sufficiently reflect the term’s sacrifi-
cial nuances. Like the idolatrous cities of Deut 13, burnt as an offering to
the Lord in accordance with the law of ḥērem, these priests were not
simply slaughtered; they were consecrated as a ceremonial offering to
Yahweh. This interpretation is supported by the text’s explicit reference to
ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ (“the altars”) as the locus of slaughter. While the purpose of slay-
ing the priests here would also have been to eliminate them as a source of
contamination and to decommission the altars permanently, the words
ʧʡʦ and ʺʥʧʡʦʮ strongly suggest sacrificial intent.71 Like the elimination of
ʤʡʲʥʺ in 2 Kgs 23:13, Josiah’s “sacrifice” of the priests on the altars of
Samaria reflects the text’s tendency to cast the reform in ḥērem terms.
According to 23:20, after eliminating the Samaria priests, Josiah
burns human bones on the altars.72 The verb ʳʸʹ occurs repeatedly in
the reform account in reference to the destruction of the asherah (23:6),
the chariots of the sun (23:11), the bāmâ at Bethel (23:15), and the bones
exhumed at Bethel (23:16) and in Samaria (23:20). In addition, in
23:24 Josiah removes (ʸʲʡ) “the necromancers, mediums, household
gods, idols, and all of the abominations seen in the land of Judah and
Jerusalem . . . in order to uphold the words of the law written on the
scroll that Hilkiah the priest found in the temple of Yahweh.” Use of the
verb ʸʲʡ to describe the elimination of “wickedness” (ʤʲʸ) is common in
deuteronomistic texts, where it signifies the restoration of order within
the Israelite community following breach of covenant (e.g., Deut 13:6;
17:7, 12; 19:13, 19; 21:21). The primary sense of this root, however, is “to
burn” or “to consume.” The specialized meaning employed in deuter-
onomistic sources develops from the idea of fire as an effective mode of
elimination and separation of the sacred from the profane. The presence
of this idiom in 2 Kgs 23 is in keeping with the theme of burning mani-
fested elsewhere in the text.
Destruction by fire is an essential element in many descriptions of
the ḥērem. For example, the phrase ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ occurs in Deut 13:17, cited
above, as well as in reference to the destruction of the city of Jericho
(Josh 6:22), Ai (8:28), and the Canaanite idols (Deut 7:5). In these con-
texts fire serves two distinct but related functions: it utterly destroys the
items singled out for dedication to the ḥērem, thereby purifying and pro-
tecting the Israelites from cultic and cultural contamination; and it
physically removes these items from their human setting and transfers
them into the divine realm. In this way the verb ʭʸʧ may be compared
to the verb ʹʣʷ, which also denotes separation.73
In the received text, Josiah’s reform serves to definine more clearly
the boundaries of Israelite culture and restore the sanctity of the cove-
nant by eliminating forms of worship identified as anathema to the
deity. Destruction by fire is an essential element in this process and
constitutes a significant link between the reform account and the
Deuteronom(ist)ic ḥērem. From the standpoint of textual composition,
the verb ʳʸʹ represents a pivot point for the deuteronomistic transfor-
mation of an early priestly account, where elimination by fire is also
represented as a key phenomenological element.
Drawing on ḥērem language allows the deuteronomistic author to
present Josiah’s reform as a critical moment in the development of
Israel’s commitment to the covenant and cult of Yahweh alone. Yet

despite his best efforts, even Josiah could not save Judah from its fate.
From the standpoint of deuteronomistic historiography, his failed
reform marks the effective end of the Israelite monarchy and the
beginning of a new postmonarchic era. In addition, then, these authors
tapped into the ḥērem’s powerful and enduring political resonances to
recall a time before kings when Yahweh trusted in his people and Israel
still had its best days ahead.
Ḥērem in the Book of Kings
The deuteronomistic author employs language that connects Josiah’s

reform to the phenomenology of ḥērem, and the associations of the
ḥērem with Israel’s pre- and early-monarchic history make it a powerful
metaphor for describing the period of Josiah’s reign. At the same time
the ḥērem’s prestate associations may help to explain why 2 Kgs 23 never
attests the term itself. This factor alone, however, does not account for
the term’s absence, as ḥērem is attested in two instances in the book of
Kings: the account of Ahab’s defeat of the Aramean army under Ben-
hadad of Damascus (1 Kgs 20), and the words of the messenger sent to
Hezekiah by the Assyrian Rabshakeh (2 Kgs 19). These texts provide an
illuminating counterpoint to the absence of the term in 2 Kgs 23.
First Kgs 20 describes the Israelites and Arameans encamped across
from one another for seven days. On the seventh day the Israelites
approach for battle and slay 100,000 Aramean foot soldiers. The rest of
the Aramean army escapes to Aphek, where a wall collapses, killing
27,000 more of them. The Aramean king, BenHadad, survives the
onslaught and is approached by his officials who, having heard that the
kings of the house of Israel are merciful, suggests that they go to Ahab
and beg him to spare the life of Ben-Hadad. Ahab responds to their
request, with the question, “Is [Ben-Hadad] still alive? He is my brother”
(20:32). Ben-Hadad’s officials are encouraged by this response and bring
him before the Israelite king. In 20:34, in a charged moment, as the two
kings stand before one another, Ben-Hadad suggests to Ahab:
ʯʥʸʮʹʡ ʩʡʠ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠʫ ʷʹʮʣʡ ʪʬ ʭʩʹʺ ʺʥʶʥʧʥ ʡʩʹʠ ʪʩʡʠ ʺʠʮ ʩʡʠ-ʧʷʬ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʲʤ
(“I will return the cities my father took from your father so that you can
set up your own outside areas [markets?] in Damascus as my father did
in Samaria”). Ahab accepts Ben-hadad’s offer and declares: ʺʩʸʡʡ ʩʰʠʥ
ʪʧʬʹʠ (“then I, on the basis of the treaty, will let you go”).
Nothing in this narrative fits the pattern of ḥērem, and up to this point
the word does not appear. But in 20:42 an unidentified prophet pro-
nounces ʥʮʲ ʺʧʺ ʪʮʲʥ ʥʹʴʰ ʺʧʺ ʪʹʴʰ ʤʺʩʤʥ ʣʩʮ ʩʮʸʧ-ʹʩʠ-ʺʠ ʺʧʬʹ ʯʲʩ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠ ʤʫ
(“thus says the Lord, ‘Because you have set free a man I had assigned to
the ḥērem, therefore it is your life for his life, your people for his people’”).
Reference to the ḥērem is completely unexpected here. The battle already
has taken place with no mention of ḥērem or associated language; neither
would we expect to find such references in this context, as the mercy of
the Israelite kings and Ahab’s willingness to conduct diplomatic negotia-
tions with Ben-Hadad are focal points of the narrative. In addition, use of
the ḥērem as a particular claim on a ruler’s life is otherwise unprecedented
in biblical literature. Unlike other ḥērem texts, there are no instructions
for how the ḥērem against Ben-Hadad is to be carried out, nor is any
punishment for failing to impose the ḥērem realized. Taken together,
these details suggest that, at least conceptually, reference to the ḥērem is
secondary.74
The introduction of the prophet, “a certain man,” in 20:35 marks an
uneasy transition from the preceding verse, which is concerned with
kings’ diplomatic negotiations. Walsh suggests that the discordance
between 20:1–34 and 20:35–41 reflects the original independence of the
Ahab stories and their subsequent expansion within prophetic circles.75
He understands the story of Ahab’s victories in the Aramean war to be
symmetrically structured and narratively complete without the scene of
prophetic condemnation.76 These factors point to the possibility that ref-
erence to the ḥērem in 20:42 is compositionally secondary. The addition
would have provided support for the deuteronomistic rejection of Ahab.
This is suggested by certain connections between 20:35–41 and other
deuteronomistic narratives.
The prophet’s denunciation of the king comes on the heels of a
peculiar episode in 20:35–36 in which one prophet threatens another
with attack by a lion. Walsh draws attention to the striking similarities
between this episode and 13:11–32: “In both, prophetic figures are in
conflict with one another; one prophet occasions another’s unwitting
disobedience to Yahweh, then condemns him for disobeying; the con-
demnation involves a lion attacking the disobedient prophet, and the
attack takes place.”77 He suggests that these links invite us to read 1 Kgs
20 with one eye on the whole Jeroboam narrative in 1 Kgs 13 and to ima-
gine Ahab with the same distain as the evil Jeroboam.78
There are also similarities between the prophet’s condemnation of
Ahab for failure to enact the ḥērem in 1 Kgs 20:42 and Samuel’s con-
demnation of Saul in 1 Sam 15:16–23. Both stories recount events where
a king is engaged in military operations against a foreign population,
in both cases the king wages war under divine command, and in both
he is condemned for failing to impose a proper ḥērem. Both narratives
end with the king returning in shame to his home. It seems likely that,
just as 1 Kgs 20:35–36 links Ahab to Jeroboam and so establishes his
sinfulness, 20:42–43 links Ahab to Saul and so predicts God’s rejection
of Ahab as king.
These parallels suggest that reference to ḥērem in 1 Kgs 20:42 should
be associated with a deuteronomistic historian working at a late stage in
the composition of the Kings history, who sought to infuse his work
with a certain thematic continuity. It is difficult to determine whether
this historian is the same one who created the received account of
Josiah’s reform. In the present context we need only emphasize that
that the relationship between the historian and the source material is
comparable in the two compositions, indicating that when a deuteron-
omistic historian wanted to, he might choose to introduce the ḥērem,
despite its being somewhat out of place. Where the reference to ḥērem
in 20:42 is jarring in its incompatibility with the rest of the narrative, in
2 Kgs 23 the term is conspicuous by its absence.
A similar situation occurs in 2 Kgs 19. Here, the Assyrian Rabshakeh
sends a messenger from Libnah to Hezekiah in Jerusalem with a
message:
:ʬʶʰʺ ʤʺʠʥ ʭʮʩʸʧʤʬ ʺʥʶʸʠʤ-ʬʫʬ ʸʥʹʠ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʠ ʺʲʮʹ ʤʺʠ ʤʰʤ
ʯʣʲ-ʩʰʡʥ ʳʶʸʥ ʯʸʧ-ʺʠʥ ʯʦʥʢ-ʺʠ ʩʺʥʡʠ ʥʺʧʹ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʥʢʤ ʩʤʬʠ ʭʺʠ ʥʬʩʶʤʤ
ʤʥʲʥ ʲʰʤ ʭʩʥʸʴʱ ʸʩʲʬ ʪʬʮʥ ʣʴʸʠ ʪʬʮʥ ʺʮʧ-ʪʬʮ ʥʩʠ :ʸʹʠʬʺʡ ʸʹʠ
“Behold you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to
all lands, putting them to the ḥērem; and you should be
delivered?” Did the gods of the nations that my fathers wiped
out save them? Gozan, Haran, Rezeph, and the people of Eden
in Telassar? Where was the king of Hamath and the king of
Arpad, and king of the city of Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivvah?
(2 Kgs 19:11–13)79
This speech is the second of two directed to Hezekiah from the king
of Assyria. The first is delivered by the Rabshakeh himself (18:19–23), in
which he urges Hezekiah to surrender to Sennacherib. This speech is
followed by an address to the people of Judah, advising them against
putting their trust in Hezekiah. The messenger’s speech in 19:11–13
forms a doublet with the Rabshakeh’s address to the people in 18:33–35,
where the Rabshakeh asks: “Did any of the gods of the nations save his
land from the hand of the king of Ashur? Where were the gods of
Hamath and Arpad? Where were the gods of Sepharvaim, Hena, and
Ivvah? Did they save Samaria from my hand?” Two points of divergence
between the Rabshakeh’s speech in 2 Kgs 18 and his messenger’s
speech in 2 Kgs 19 are significant. First, where the Rabshakeh mentions

the powerlessness of the gods of the lands vanquished by Assyria, his
messenger refers to the powerlessness of their kings. Second, the
Rabshakeh makes no mention of the ḥērem.
There are striking parallels between the messenger’s speech to
Hezekiah in 19:11–13 and the speech delivered to the Israelites by Rahab,
the Canaanite prostitute, in Josh 2:10:
ʸʹʠʥ ʭʩʸʶʮʮ ʭʫʺʠʶʡ ʭʫʩʰʴʮ ʳʥʱ-ʭʩ ʩʮ-ʺʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʹʩʡʥʤ-ʸʹʠ ʺʠ ʥʰʲʮʹ ʩʫ

ʭʺʥʠ ʭʺʮʸʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʢʥʲʬʥ ʯʧʩʱʬ ʯʣʸʩʤ ʸʡʲʡ ʸʹʠ ʩʸʮʠʤ ʩʫʬʮ ʩʰʹʬ ʭʺʩʹʲ
For we have heard of how Yahweh dried up the waters of the
Sea of Reeds before you when you went out from Egypt, and
what he did to the two kings of the Amorites, Sihon and Og,
who were across the Jordan, putting them to the ḥērem.
Both speeches open with a reference to hearing (ʲʮʹ) the news of a

great conquest, and in both the hiphʿil of the root ʭʸʧ describes the impo-
sition of ḥērem on the victims. In addition, both refer to the kings of
foreign lands. The Assyrian messenger, however, inverts these themes
as they appear in the speech of Rahab, so that where Rahab refers to the
ḥērem against the kings Sihon and Og and thus to the inevitability of the
Israelites’ conquest and inheritance of the land, the messenger refers to
the kings of lands that fell victim to the ḥērem and thus to the inevitability
of the Israelites’ demise and disinheritance. When the parallels between
these verses are considered in light of the repetition in 2 Kgs 18:33–35
and 19:11–13, it appears that the latter picks up on the language of the
former, with the messenger’s words also mimicking and inverting the
structure of Rahab’s speech. Taken together, the speeches of Rahab and
the messenger of the Rabshakeh create an echo chamber of sorts, in
which the whole of Israel’s landed history reverberates.
In both 2 Kgs 19 and 1 Kgs 20 the deuteronomistic authors intro-
duce the theme of ḥērem despite it not being at home in the political
environments in which the narratives are set. These references serve
the rhetorical, ideological, and political interests of the text’s authors,
much as the parallels with ḥērem in 2 Kgs 23 serve the interests of the
deuteronomistic authors who produced this text. At first blush the
term’s absence in 2 Kgs 23 is peculiar in light of its presence in 2 Kgs 19
and 1 Kgs 20. However, the account of Josiah’s reform differs from the
other two texts in that while it is infused with military language and
imagery, it does not describe a military conflict per se. The absence of
the term in 2 Kgs 23 and its presence in the other two Kings texts is in
fact consistent with the deuteronomistic tendency to situate the ḥērem
in the context of war. Since there is no other instance in the deuteron-

omistic corpus in which the ḥērem is used to eliminate Israelite forms of
the cult, it is fitting that the term does not occur in the account of Josiah’s
reform.
It is possible that by recasting Josiah’s reform as an act of ḥērem,
even without using the term itself, an exilic deuteronomist sought to
reject Deuteronomy’s notion that the ḥērem against Israelite idolatry
could ensure Israel’s continued occupation of the promised land. For
the deuteronomistic author responsible for 2 Kgs 23, it would have been
all too obvious that this approach did not work, and his account of the
Josianic reforms would provide the proof-text. Whether this is the case,
the use of language and imagery associated with the ḥērem in 2 Kgs 23
allowed the authors of the text at once to set up reverberations with
Deuteronomy’s ḥērem against idolatry and to cast Josiah in the garb of
Joshua, Israel’s great ḥērem warrior. Ḥērem language thus provided a
mechanism for the deuteronomists to re-present Josiah’s reform in
terms of sanctioned and idealized patterns of behavior and to situate the
rites of violence ascribed to Josiah within the larger framework of
Israel’s landed history.
4
The Mechanics
of Transformation
The Holiness Substratum
and Deuteronomistic Revision
of 2 Kings 23:4–20
In the two preceding chapters I demonstrated that the Kings

account of Josiah’s reform is shaped by both priestly holiness
and deuteronomistic interests. Parallels between 2 Kgs
23:4–16 and the language and ideology of the Holiness Code
suggest that underlying the narrative in 2 Kgs 22–23 is a
holiness source that presented Josiah’s reform measures
themselves in terms of apotropaic rites of riddance. This
account was generated close in time to the period of Josiah’s
reign and reflects concerns that are deeply rooted in preexilic
Judah. The holiness source was reinterpreted and recast by a
postmonarchic historian who invoked the ritual language and
ideology of ḥērem to bring the account into alignment with a
deuteronomistic historiographic agenda.
This chapter begins with a reconstruction of the holiness
source presented alongside its deuteronomistic redaction. My
purpose here is to illuminate both the scope and parameters
of this early document and aspects of the hermeneutic process
by which the deuteronomistic author reworked it to create the
received text. It is not my intention to reconstruct the exact
process by which the text was composed. I identify post-
deuteronomistic additions only in cases where this is the best
possible explanation for a verse’s compositional history. This
does not preclude the possibility of other late editorial activity
that the particular focus of my analysis does not reveal.
Disentangling primary and secondary material in the reform
account not only exposes the remains of a text whose focus was mark-
edly different from that of 2 Kgs 23 in its final form, it also reveals
aspects of this particular text’s deuteronomistic ideology that are often
overlooked or misconstrued and that contribute to a deeper, more
nuanced understanding of the nature of deuteronomistic writing.
Table 4.1 lays out the priestly and deuteronomistic compositional
phases in 2 Kgs 23:4–20. Deuteronomistic revisions are indicated in
bold, and post-deuteronomistic additions are underlined.
TABLE 4.1 Holiness and Deuteronomistic Strata in 2 Kings 23:4–20

Holiness Account Deuteronomistic Transformation
ʬʥʣʢʤ ʯʤʫʤ ʥʤʩʷʬʧ-ʺʠ ʪʬʮʤ ʥʶʩʥ4 4

The king commanded
ʳʱʤ ʩʸʮʹ-ʺʠʥ ʤʰʹʮʤ ʩʰʤʫ-ʺʠʥ Hilkiah the high priest, and
ʭʩʬʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʬʫʩʤʮ ʩʶʥʤʬ the priests of the second
ʠʡʶ ʬʫʬʥ ʤʸʹʠʬ ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʥʹʲʤ order, and the guardians of
ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʭʴʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʮʹʤ the threshold to bring out of
ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʠʹʰʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʺʥʮʣʹʡ the temple of Yahweh all the
ʬʠ-ʺʩʡ objects made for Baal,
Asherah, and all the host of
heaven. He burned them
outside Jerusalem in the
fields of the Kidron and he
carried their ashes to Bethel.
ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ5 ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ5 5
He did away with the
ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ ʺʥʮʡʡ ʸʨʷʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ idolatrous priests whom the
ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ -ʺʠʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʩʱʮʥ kings of Judah appointed
ʠʡʶ-ʬʫʬʥ ʺʥʬʦʮʬʥ ʧʸʩʬʥ ʹʮʹʬ when they burned incense at
ʭʩʮʹʤ the high places in the cities
of Judah and around
Jerusalem, and those who
burned incense to Baal, the
sun, moon, stars, and the
whole host of heaven.
ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ6 ʵʥʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ6 6
He brought the asherah out
ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ of the temple of Yahweh,
ʬʧʰʡ ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʺʠ ʪʬʹʩʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰʡ outside Jerusalem to the
ʺʠ ʪʬʹʩʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʭʲʤ-ʩʰʡ ʸʡʷ ʬʲ ʤʸʴʲ Wadi Kidron, and he burned
ʭʲʤ-ʩʰʡ ʸʡʷ ʬʲ ʤʸʴʲ it in the Wadi Kidron, and he
beat it to dust and he cast the
dust on the graves of the
common people.
the mechanics of transformation 79
ʭʩʹʣʷʤ ʩʺʡ-ʺʠ ʵʺʩʥ7 ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʹʣʷʤ ʩʺʡ-ʺʠ ʵʺʩʥ 7 7

He tore down the houses of
ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʤʸʹʠʬ ʭʩʺʡ ʭʹ ʺʥʢʸʠ ʭʩʹʰʤ ʸʹʠ the cult prostitutes that were
ʭʩʺʡ ʭʹ ʺʥʢʸʠ ʭʩʹʰʤ ʸʹʠ in the temple of Yahweh,
ʤʸʹʠʬ where the women wove
coverings for Asherah.
ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ8 ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ8 8
He brought all of the priests
ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʤʮʹ-ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ out of the towns of Judah and
ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʤʮʹ–ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ he defiled the high places
ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ ʸʲʹ ʧʺʴ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ where the priests burned
ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ ʬʥʠʮʹ-ʬʲ-ʸʹʠ ʸʩʲʤ-ʸʹ ʲʹʥʤʩ incense, from Geba to
ʲʹʥʤʩ ʸʲʹ ʧʺʴ-ʸʹʠ ʸʩʲʤ ʸʲʹʡ ʹʩʠ Beer-sheba, and he tore down
ʬʥʠʮʹ-ʬʲ-ʸʹʠ ʸʩʲʤ-ʸʹ the high places of the goats
ʸʩʲʤ ʸʲʹʡ ʹʩʠ that were at the entrance to
the gate of Joshua, minister
of the city, that was on a
person’s left side [as he
entered] the gate of the city.
ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʥʬʲʩ ʠʬ ʪʠ9 ʧʡʦʮ-ʬʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʥʬʲʩ ʠʬ ʪʠ9 9The priests of the high
ʩʫ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʡ ʤʥʤʩ ʧʡʦʮ-ʬʠ ʺʥʶʮ ʥʬʫʠ ʭʠ ʩʫ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʡ ʤʥʤʩ places did not come up to the
ʭʤʩʧʠ ʪʥʺʡ ʺʥʶʮ ʥʬʫʠ ʭʠ ʭʤʩʧʠ ʪʥʺʡ altar of Yahweh until they ate
unleavened bread with their
brethren.
ʩʢʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʴʺʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʥ10 ʩʢʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʴʺʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʥ10 10He defiled the Topheth in
ʸʩʡʲʤʬ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʰʤ-ʩʰʡ ʹʩʠ ʸʩʡʲʤʬ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʰʤ-ʩʰʡ the Valley of Ben-hinnom to
ʹʠʡ ʥʺʡ ʺʠʥ ʥʰʡ-ʺʠ ʹʩʠ ʪʬʮʬ ʹʠʡ ʥʺʡ ʺʠʥ ʥʰʡ-ʺʠ prevent a man from passing
ʪʬʮʬ his son or daughter through
fire as a mlk.
ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ11 ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ11 11
He did away with the horses
ʠʡʮ ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʺʫʹʬ-ʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ ʠʡʮ ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ that the kings of Judah had
ʪʬʮ-ʯʺʰ ʺʫʹʬ-ʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ ʭʩʸʥʸʴʡ ʸʹʠ ʱʩʸʱʤ ʪʬʮ-ʯʺʰ dedicated to the sun, at the
ʭʩʸʥʸʴʡ ʸʹʠ ʱʩʸʱʤ ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ ʹʮʹʤ ʺʥʡʫʸʮ-ʺʠʥ entrance of the temple of
ʹʮʹʤ ʺʥʡʫʸʮ-ʺʠʥ Yahweh, near the chamber of
ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ the eunuch Nathan-melech,
which was in the precincts,
and he burned the chariots of
the sun.
(continued )
TABLE 4.1 Continued

ʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ12 ʦʧʠ-ʺʩʬʲ ʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ12 12

The king tore down the
ʵʺʰ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ-ʸʹʠ altars that were on the roof,
ʭʸʴʲ ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʪʬʮʤ -ʺʩʡ ʺʥʸʶʧ ʩʺʹʡ ʤʹʰʮ ʤʹʲ-ʸʹʠ the upper chamber of Ahaz,
ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ -ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʭʹʮ ʵʸʩʥ ʪʬʮʤ ʵʺʰ ʤʥʤʩ that the kings of Judah had
ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʸʴʲ made, and the altars that
Manasseh had made in the
two courts of the temple of
Yahweh, and he ran from
there(?), and he cast their
dust into the Kidron Valley.
ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ13 ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ13 13
The high places that were
ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʤʰʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ facing Jerusalem, that were
ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ ʵʷʹ ʺʸʺʹʲʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʪʬʮ ʤʮʬʹ to the south of the Mount of
ʭʫʬʮʬʥ ʡʠʥʮ ʵʷʹ ʹʥʮʫʬʥ ʭʩʰʣʶ the Destroyer that Solomon
ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ ʯʥʮʲ-ʩʰʡ ʺʡʲʥʺ king of Israel had built for
Ashtoreth the abomination of
the Sidonians, for Kemosh
the abomination of the
Moabites, and for Milcom the
detestation of the
Ammonites, the king defiled
ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʬʮʩʥ14 -ʺʠ ʺʸʫʩʥ ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʥ14 14 and he smashed the sacred
ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʬʮʩʥ ʭʩʸʹʠʤ pillar and he cut the sacred
ʭʣʠ-ʺʥʮʶʲ post and he filled their place
with human bones.
ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ15 ʤʮʡʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ15 15
And also, the altar that was
ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ in Bethel the high place made
ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ -ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ by Jeroboam ben Nebat, who
ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ caused Israel to sin, also that
ʤʸʹʠ ʳʸʹʥ altar and the high place he
tore down and broke its
stones and beat it to dust, and
he burned the asherah.
ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ16 -ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ16 16
Josiah turned and saw the
ʸʤʡ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʺʠ -ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ ʸʤʡ ʭʹ graves that were there on the
-ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ mount, and he sent and he
ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ ʹʩʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʡʣʫ took the bones from their
ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ graves and he burned them
on the altar, and he defiled it
according to word of Yahweh
that the man of God declared,
who foretold these things.
ʤʠʸ ʩʰʠ ʸʹʠ ʦʬʤ ʯʥʩʶʤ ʤʮ ʸʮʠʩʥ17 17

And he said, “What is the
-ʹʩʠ ʸʡʷʤ ʸʩʲʤ ʩʹʰʠ ʥʩʬʠ ʥʸʮʠʩʥ marker I see there?” And the
-ʺʠ ʠʸʷʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩʮ ʠʡ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ men of the town replied,
ʧʡʦʮ ʬʲ ʺʩʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ “The grave of the man of God
ʬʠ-ʺʩʡ who came from Judah and
foretold these things that you
have done to the altar at
Bethel.”
ʲʰʩ-ʬʠ ʹʩʠ ʥʬ ʥʧʩʰʤ ʸʮʠʩʥ18 18And he said to them, “Let
ʺʥʮʶʲ ʺʠ ʥʩʺʮʶʲ ʥʨʬʮʩʥ ʥʩʺʮʶʲ him rest. Let no one disturb
ʯʥʸʮʹʮ ʠʡ-ʸʹʠ ʠʩʡʰʤ his bones.” So they left his
bones undisturbed, together
with the prophet who came
from Samaria.
ʩʸʲʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʺʡ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ19 19And also all of the temple
ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʯʥʸʮʹ high places that were in the
ʭʤʬ ʹʲʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʸʩʱʤ ʱʩʲʫʤʬ cities of Samaria, that the
ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʹʲʮʤ-ʬʫʫ kings of Israel had made to
provoke, Josiah removed and
he did to them according to
all that he had done in Bethel.
ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʧʡʦʩʥ20 20And he sacrificed all of the
-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ priests of the high places that
ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʡʹʩʥ ʭʤʩʬʲ ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ were there, on the altars, and
he burned human bones on
them and he returned to
Jerusalem.
The Scope and Parameters of the Pre-Deuteronomistic

Holiness Account
The accessible remains of the holiness account are reconstructed in

English below:
5
He did away with the idolatrous priests whom the kings of
Judah dedicated to the sun. 6He brought the asherah out of the
temple of Yahweh, outside Jerusalem to the Kidron Valley, and
burned it in the Kidron Valley. He beat it to dust and he cast
the dust on the graves of the common people. 7He tore down
the houses of the cult prostitutes that were in the temple of
Yahweh, where the women wove coverings for Asherah.8
He brought all of the priests out of the towns of Judah and

defiled the high places where the priests burned incense, and
the high places of the goats that were at the entrance to the
gate of Joshua, minister of the city, that was on a person’s left
side [as he entered] the gate of the city. 9The priests of the high
places did not come up to the altar of Yahweh until they had
eaten unleavened bread with their brethren. 10He defiled the
Topheth in the Valley of Ben-hinnom to prevent a man from
passing his son or daughter through fire as a mlk. 11He did
away with the horses that the kings of Judah devoted to the
sun, at the entrance to the temple of Yahweh, near the
chamber of the eunuch Nathan-melech, which was in the
precincts, and he burned the chariots of the sun. 12The king
tore down the altars that were on the roof, that the kings of
Judah made, and he cast their dust in the Kidron Valley. 13The
high places that were facing Jerusalem, to the south of the
Mount of the Destroyer, the king defiled 14and filled their place
with human bones. 15The high place made by Jeroboam ben
Nebat he tore down and broke its stones and beat it to dust.
16
Josiah turned and saw the graves that were there on the
mount, and he sent and took the bones from their graves and
he burned them on the altar and he defiled it.
Based on this reconstruction, the reform measures in Judah consist
of these narrative elements:
• 2 Kgs 23:5–7: purification of temple worship (elimination of komer
priests involved in astral worship; elimination of the asherah)
• 2 Kgs 23:8–9: defilement of Judahite bāmôt and dispensation of
their priests
• 2 Kgs 23:10–11: purification of temple worship (elimination of mlk
offerings1 and astral worship, including horses and chariots of the
sun)
• 2 Kgs 23:13–14: defilement of bāmôt on the Mount of Olives
through corpse contamination
The reform measures in Israel include:
• 2 Kgs 23:15–16: destruction of Bethel bāmâ and defilement of its
altar through corpse contamination
It is difficult to discern a rational structure or organizing principle
based on these preserved elements; however, certain structural patterns
are worth noting. In the account of the Judahite reforms, references to
destructive measures taken against bāmôt (23:8–9, 13–14) alternate with

destructive measures taken in the service of purifying Jerusalem temple
worship (23:5–7, 10–11). In addition, in the descriptions of the decom-
missioning of the Judahite and Bethel bāmôt, the verbs ʠʮʨ (“to defile”)
(23:8, 13) and ʵʺʰ (“to tear down”) (23:9, 15) are also alternated. Whether
these patterns reflect the actual structure of the underlying composition
or are an accident of preservation is impossible to determine. The ratio-
nale governing the separation of 23:5 and 23:11 by five intervening verses
is also difficult to discern. Both verses refer to royal patronage of the
astral cult and open with a form of the verb ʺʩʡʹʤ (lit. “to enforce
sabbatical upon”).2 It is tempting to wonder whether 23:5 and 23:11–12
constituted bookends in the description of the Judean reforms, but
linguistic and thematic and factors suggest that these continue in 23:13,
with the king’s destruction of the bāmôt facing Jerusalem. The original
text may not have come down to us sufficiently intact to allow for an
evaluation of the structural and thematic relationships between its var-
ious elements.
As discussed in chapter 2, priestly and holiness themes in the first
edition of the account include defilement of bāmôt as a response to a
history of transgression, elimination of ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high places of the
goats”) (23:8), eating of unleavened bread as a rite of ordination not
connected to the Passover (23:9), and defilement of the Topheth in the
Hinnom Valley to eliminate offerings to mlk (23:10). In addition, the
breaking and tearing down of the stones of the Bethel altar that appears
in the earliest version of 23:14–15 accords with the ritual for eliminating
building contamination described in Lev 14:45, a point to which I return
below.
Along with themes that associate the original account with the
priestly holiness school, the early version also includes motifs that have
no parallel the Bible’s priestly writings. These are the elimination of
astral worship (2 Kgs 23:5, 11, 12) and the cult of Asherah (23:6, 7) from
the Jerusalem temple and the definition of Judah’s boundaries as
extending “from Geba to Beer-sheba” (23:8).3 Linguistic cues indicate
that these elements are primary in the text’s composition. Their early
attribution may also be supported by application of lectio difficilior.
According to this rule of textual criticism, a textual tradition that pro-
vides a more difficult reading is more likely to be correct (i.e., original)
than a simpler textual witness. While the rule of lectio difficilior is usually
applied to corruptions that occur in the process of textual transmission,
the logic can be applied profitably to questions of compositional history.
In the absence of compelling evidence to the contrary it may be posited that
more difficult (i.e., less well attested) terminology is more likely to be
original than added, as an addition usually serves the purpose of the

bringing a text into alignment with larger theological, ideological, histo-
riographic, or narrative interests that are part and parcel of later edito-
rial processes. Unique features may be witness to literary creativity that
is not motivated by integration into an extended collection or ideological
program but rather served the author’s more limited narrative goals.4
The disparities between the content of the reform account and the
Holiness Code become more comprehensible when we consider the cir-
cumstances and motivations that underlie the original composition.
The early text should not be taken to be a priestly account of royal
reform, but rather a royal account of a priestly reform undertaken by the
king. This distinction is not a matter of splitting hairs. The former
implies a text produced by priests to serve their own interests; the
original reform account, however, would have served the political and
economic interests of Josiah himself, not those of the priests he favored.
By consolidating priestly authority in the hands of the Jerusalem temple
priests, Josiah would have secured his own hold on the operation and
oversight of the Jerusalem temple. While the effect of his consolidation
would have been to elevate the status of the Jerusalem temple priest-
hood above all others, the autonomy of the priests themselves would
have been significantly circumscribed as the king used his royal
authority to establish them as a loyalist faction. It therefore is likely that
the reform account was produced from within the royal court by a scribe
who portrayed Josiah in the role of a priest—as one having a natural
facility for the performance of ritual—in order to establish the king’s
authority over Jerusalem’s priestly domain. This author would have
been commissioned by the royal court, but would have been trained in
the circles of the Jerusalem-centered holiness school, in whose idiom
wrote. If this picture approximates the circumstances under which the
original reform account was produced, the holiness writer would have
worked with a purpose that differed considerably from that of the
authors of the Holiness Code itself, thus accounting for some of the dif-
ferences between the two compositions.
Destruction of bāmôt is a prominent leitmotif in the original account,
providing the focus of five out of the eleven preserved verses. At this
stage the bāmôt theme has no discernible connection to an ideology of
centralization.5 The emphasis on bāmôt is perpetuated in the deuteron-
omistic revision, so that the term, in either the singular or plural, occurs
ten times in the received text of 23:4–20, far exceeding references to
these installations in any other single biblical text. While bāmôt eradica-
tion may be associated with a centralizing agenda in some texts in the
book of Kings, it is not at all clear that the deuteronomistic author who
transformed the account of Josiah’s reform did so with the idea in mind
of casting Josiah as an agent of centralization, a point to which I return
later on in this chapter.
The importance of the theme of bāmôt eradication in the book of
Kings presents something of a conundrum to biblical scholars. All of
the positive evaluations of Judah’s kings include the qualification “nev-
ertheless the bāmôt were not removed” (1 Kgs 15:14; 22:44; 2 Kgs 12:3;
14:4; 15:3, 35),6 with the exception of Hezekiah, whose removal of bāmôt
is referred to in the opening lines of the account of his reign.
Paradoxically, Josiah is the only positively evaluated Judean king for
whom bāmôt eradication is not mentioned at all in his regnal formula.7
The use of bāmôt is cited as an essential reason for the destruction of the
northern kingdom (1 Kgs 17), and the perpetuation and proliferation of
bāmôt constitute a primary basis for the negative evaluations of the
reigns of the Judean kings Ahaz and Manasseh.
In contrast to the emphasis on bāmôt in the Kings history, there are
no references to these cult installations anywhere in the book of
Deuteronomy itself.8 This tension has not escaped the attention of bib-
lical scholars. For example, Barrick comments that a connection bet-
ween the reform and Deuteronomy would imply that Josiah’s actions
were related in some fashion to the proscriptions in Deut 12, but those
proscriptions do not mention bāmôt.9 Knoppers suggests that “even
though the Deuteronomist applied the law of centralization to cover
bmwt, the very fact that Deuteronomy does not mention them suggests
some distance between this work and the Deuteronomistic History.”10
Indeed, inasmuch as the term “deuteronomistic” designates material
that derives from and relies upon language and ideology set forth in the
book of Deuteronomy, a concern over bāmôt is not a deuteronomistic
theme. The preoccupation with bāmôt constitutes a particular interest
unique to the deuteronomistic historians that was independent of their
reliance on Deuteronomic law and ideology. But this begs the question
of the socioreligious context in which this idea emerged and why it
came to be a defining feature in the historiography of Israel’s kings.
The focus on bāmôt eradication in the holiness account and its elab-
oration in 2 Kgs 23 in its final form provide new information regarding
the development of the bāmôt theme within the larger Kings history.
In the early reform account a connection was wrought between Josiah
and the elimination of bāmôt that either reflected real events that took
place during Josiah’s reign or served the religiopolitical interests of the
text’s authors who, themselves, were writing to promote the agenda of
the Josianic court. The preexilic bāmôt-centered account provided the
source material for a postmonarchic deuteronomistic historian who
identified Josiah as the ideal Deuteronomic king. It is possible that the

deuteronomistic idea of bāmôt eradication as the gold standard by which
all of Israel’s kings were judged originates with Josiah and the earliest
holiness account of the events of his reign. However, it is also possible
and, as I argue in chapter 5, more probable that the deuteronomistic and
holiness schools shared an interest in the bāmôt eradication that
reflected the particular social, political, and economic circumstances of
late preexilic Jerusalem and that this interest manifested itself differ-
ently in the texts that these two schools of thought produced.
The Mechanics of the Deuteronomistic Transformation
Where the holiness account of Josiah’s reform was steeped in the

political and material realities of preexilic Judah and Jerusalem and
the Josianic court in particular, the deuteronomistic revision connects
the composition to more universal themes in Israel’s landed history as
articulated in the book of Kings and elsewhere in the historical books.
Among these are Israel’s unique and ancient covenant bond with Yah-
weh as mediated by the laws of Moses, the agency of Israel’s earliest
leaders in realizing Yahweh’s covenant promise through the conquest
and settlement of the land of Canaan, and the repeated failure of Israel’s
kings after David to fulfill the potential that Moses and Joshua embodied.
The themes introduced in the deuteronomistic revision are also
expressed in the frame narrative in 2 Kgs 22:1–23:3 and 23:21–27. The
role attributed to Hilkiah the high priest and the Jerusalem temple
priests in 23:4 connects the deuteronomistic reform account to 22:4–14,
where Hilkiah also plays an essential role. Huldah’s prophecy of doom
in 22:15–20, which is often understood to be at odds with the actions
taken by Josiah, in fact articulates some of the very same ideas expressed
in the deuteronomistic revision of the holiness account; namely, that
Israel’s monarchic history was tainted by illicit cultic practices, including
the burning of incense to other gods; that Israel’s kings were complicit;
and that Josiah, whose righteousness was matched only by his ances-
tors, was exceptional for his deep understanding of Yahweh’s law.
Josiah’s renewal of the covenant in 23:1–3 achieves ceremonially what
his reform measures achieved ritually, and his performance of the
Passover in 23:21–23 likens him to Joshua, much as does the language
of conquest in the reform account. Finally, in both the deuteronomistic
revision in 23:4–20 and in the surrounding narrative, Josiah’s reform is
presented as an admirable yet ultimately ineffective stopgap; Judah’s
fate was sealed. A new, postmonarchic model of governance was needed,
and Josiah—transformed from an agent of priestly reform to the only

figure since Joshua to truly understand the dictates of Mosaic law—
provided an ideal frame upon which the flesh of a new regime could be
fashioned.
Deuteronomistic additions are concentrated at the beginning and
the end of the original account. Second Kgs 23:6–11 remains entirely
unchanged, while 23:5 and 23:12–16 are the focus of substantive revi-
sion, creating brackets around the earlier source. Revisions in 23:5 and
23:12 anchor the deuteronomistic composition, shifting the focus from
royal patronage of the astral cult to the problem of idolatry more gener-
ally, which the text’s authors saw as endemic among preexilic Judah’s
kings and priests. Four major categories of revision can be discerned in
the deuteronomistic text:
1. The association of the kings of Judah with the astral cult in the
original account becomes a foundation upon which an accusa-
tion of idolatry on the part of specific Judahite kings is built (23:5,
11, 12, 13).11 In this way the deuteronomistic author establishes a
history of apostasy that characterized the monarchic era, and he
sets Josiah apart as distinct from all of his predecessors in his
strict adherence to Yahweh’s cultic law. This characterization is
consistent with the superscription and postscript to the account
of Josiah’s reign, in which his steadfastness is likened to that of
David (22:2), and he is lauded for turning to Yahweh with all of
his heart and being (23:25).
2. Apotropaic ritual defilement of bāmôt is transformed into destruc-
tion of cult places and installations by ḥērem (23:13–16). The cult
installations that Josiah removes thus come to be treated as non-
Israelite, and Josiah’s reform comes to represent an ideal
fulfillment of Deuteronomy’s laws governing the treatment of
Canaanite cults upon the Israelites’ entry into the land. The deu-
teronomistic author thus connects Josiah to Israel’s ancient, pre-
monarchic ḥērem tradition and so creates bookends in his history
of Israel as a landed nation.
3. Josiah’s destruction of the Bethel calf cult is expanded into a
polemic against Jeroboam and the cult at Bethel (23:6, 15, 16, 17,
18). This shift ties the reform account to a penetrating critique of
traditional Israelite religious observance as epitomized by the
Bethel cult and links Josiah’s reign and reform to other significant
moments in Israel’s cultic history.
4. Josiah’s attack on Bethel is expanded to include cult reforms
throughout all of Samaria (23:19–20). This contributes to a
picture of Josiah as reuniting north and south and restoring the

boundaries of Israel to what they were in bygone eras. The notion
of sweeping territorial expansion into Samaria reflects a late,
ideologically motivated interest in Josiah’s reign as a period of
national renaissance, not the political reality of the late seventh
century.12 Through this motif, the deuteronomistic historians
restored Israel to its more ancient glory, at least in the collective
imagination of their audience. Josiah is remembered as Joshua
of his day and the only king in Israel’s history to live up to, indeed
to surpass, the standard set by David.
The first three categories of revision involved internal editorial
insertions and other manipulations of the source material to bring it
into alignment with deuteronomistic interests and ideology, while the
fourth was produced through the addition of two new verses. This
chapter focuses on the mechanics and modi operandi that governed
some of these transformations. In so doing it helps clarify the deuter-
onomist’s particular interests in Josiah and his illustrious reform and
illuminates certain overlooked aspects of deuteronomistic writing more
generally.
Transforming Rejection of Royal Patronage of the Astral Cult into

Blanket Accusations of Institutionalized Apostasy among Judah’s
Kings and Priests
The holiness account places a clear emphasis on delegitimizing non-
Jerusalemite priesthoods in order to consolidate sacred authority in the
hands of Josiah and the Jerusalem temple priests. At this stage Josiah
himself acts in a priestly capacity, performing apotropaic rites of rid-
dance and single-handedly decommissioning sacred places, installa-
tions, and personnel that belonged to the priestly domain. Josiah’s
priestly role at this early stage was in keeping with the interests of the
text’s postmonarchic, deuteronomistic revisers, who made little effort to
obscure it. However, in their retelling Josiah’s agency is made subser-
vient to Mosaic law, which from their perspective fell under priestly, not
royal jurisdiction, and his authority is circumscribed by Hilkiah the
high priest, who discovers the book of the law and in whose hands
the responsibility for carrying out the reforms is placed (2 Kgs 23:4).
Where the deuteronomists’ source material used priestly language to
promote the extension of royal authority into the priestly realm, in the
deuteronomistic reform account the power of the king is subordinate to
the authority of the priests. Thus the deuteronomistic authors effec-
tively imposed a sanction on Israelite memory, bringing the past into
alignment with the ideals of the present by recasting Josiah as the ulti-
mate fulfillment of Deuteronomy’s royal ideology. They rework the pre-
existent themes of purification of the Jerusalem cult and consolidation
of priestly authority into a scathing critique of Judah’s civic and reli-
gious leadership, and they re-present Josiah as the only king in Israel’s
history to abide in the law of Moses “with all of his heart and all of his
being” (23:25).
In contrast to the righteousness of Josiah and his priestly counter-
part, Hilkiah, in the deuteronomistic imagination preexilic Judah was
teeming with heretical priests and tainted by a legacy of kings who failed
to grasp Mosaic law. This picture is developed in part through the
addition of references to Ahaz and Manasseh in 23:12 and the attribu-
tion of the high places facing Jerusalem to Solomon’s syncretistic pol-
icies in 23:13—details that lend greater specificity to the more general
references to “the kings of Judah” in the original account. The guilt of
Manasseh is further emphasized in 23:26, where his sins are singled
out as the justification for Yahweh’s rage unleashed.
The phrase “the kings of Judah” occurs three times in the original
composition (23:5, 11, 12)—all in reference to royal patronage of the
astral cult. It is often suggested that the lack of specificity in this termi-
nology points to the lateness of these references.13 However, there is no
textual basis for this assertion; it rests entirely on an assumption that
the rationale underlying the convention is transparent to the modern
reader. That all of these references occur in the context of astral worship,
a point that has not been adequately addressed, suggests that this gen-
eralizing tendency is not random. While we may not fully understand
the authors’ narrative purpose in their use of this phrase, at the most
basic level its use in reference to royal patronage of the astral cult sets
Josiah apart from his predecessors in this regard and emphasizes his
reform as a moment of transition in the life of the Jerusalem temple and
its cult.
The original version of 23:12 situates the rooftop altars on the roof of
the chamber of Nathan-melech and in this way associates them with the
astral cult described in 23:11.14 Josiah’s destruction of these altars would
have been part of a targeted attack on astral worship in the Jerusalem
temple.15 While the kings of Judah are held accountable at this stage, the
purpose of the verse in its original form was less to lay blame at their feet
than to assert that these practices known to have been supported by
Judah’s kings were now deemed illegitimate by a Josianic regime that
was in league with the Jerusalem temple priests. According to the per-
spective of this text, by eliminating such practices from Jerusalem, Josiah
set himself apart as unique among “the kings of Judah.”16
The deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23 used this trope as a basis for

accusing specific kings of Judah of institutionalized apostasy. This
transformation is particularly evident in the awkward phrase ʦʧʠ ʺʩʬʲ ʢʢʤ
(“the roof, the upper chamber of Ahaz”) in 23:12, which moves the
rooftop altars from the Jerusalem temple precincts to the royal domain
and associates them with Ahaz in particular.17 By adding the reference
to Ahaz, the author shifts the focus of the text’s critique from the astral
cult itself, with its royal patronage, to Ahaz specifically and his syncre-
tistic policies, also enumerated in 2 Kgs 16. The additional reference to
the altars of Manasseh serves a similar function. Together these details
implicate specific, notoriously corrupt Judahite kings and create a direct
link between Josiah’s reign and other critical moments in Judah’s pre-
exilic history; they impress upon us that Josiah’s aim was to reverse the
sins of his royal predecessors.
A similar, though more complicated process of refocusing is evi-
dent in the deuteronomistic transformation of 23:5. Several text-critical
problems in the received text of this verse have captured the interest of
interpreters. Reference to “the sun, moon, stars, and whole host of
heaven,” which appears in 23:5b, suggests deuteronomistic authorship.
This phrase is also attested in Deut 4:19 and 17:3, both part of the book’s
deuteronomistic frame. However, the inclusion of Baal at the beginning
of the list is unique. Many suggest that the absence of a copula before
the phrase ʹʮʹʬ (“to the sun”) reveals ʬʲʡʬ (“to Baal”) to be a later inser-
tion, possibly in response to a tradition of burning incense to Baal
already attested in Jeremiah (e.g., 7:9; 11:13, 17; 32:29).18 Most problem-
atic is the third-person masculine singular imperfect verb ʸʨʷʩʥ (lit. “he
burned incense”) modifying a presumably plural subject in 2 Kgs
23:5b.19 Two alternatives to this reading are attested in the manuscript
traditions, and most commentators adopt one or the other in lieu of the
Masoretic Text. Most Septuagint manuscripts and the Targum attest a
third-person masculine plural finite form of the verb. Commentators
who adopt this reading tend to identify the subject as the komer priests
and translate along the lines of “he eliminated the komer priests whom
the kings of Judah appointed, who burned incense.”20 This rendering
corrects for the problem of number agreement between subject and
verb; however, the translation “who burned incense” would require a
participle or infinitive construct, not a finite form of the verb. In addition,
given that ʸʨʷʩʥ is a vav consecutive + imperfect form, it should share its
subject with one of the verbs that precedes it. The subjects of the two
preceding verbs, however, are Josiah and the kings of Judah, respec-
tively; the komer priests are the object of these verbs and therefore, from
a grammatical standpoint, should not be the subject of ʸʨʷʩʥ. The

Peshitta, Vulgate, and Lucianic recensions of the Septuagint attest an
infinitive form of the verb ʸʨʷ, inviting the translation “whom the kings
of Judah appointed to burn incense.”21 While this alternative is gram-
matically preferable, the lateness of the manuscripts in which it appears
raises the question of whether the variant was introduced to correct for
a problem already inherent in the text.
Based on these considerations, Uehlinger suggests that the entire
phrase beginning with ʸʹʠ and ending with ʺʠʥ is a later addition, so
that the verse might have originally read ʹʮʹʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ
ʭʩʮʹʤ ʠʡʶ-ʬʫʬʥ ʺʥʬʦʮʬʥ ʧʸʩʬʥ (“he eliminated the komer priests who
burned incense to the sun, moon, stars, and to the whole host of
heaven”).22 This reconstruction satisfies the need for a participial form
by making ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ the term characterizing the activity of the idolatrous
priests. However, there are no textual cues to suggest that the ʸʹʠ
clause was added. In addition, Uehlinger’s solution sidesteps the gram-
matically difficult form ʸʨʷʩʥ, whose presence in the received text still
requires explanation. Furthermore, there are no other instances in the
Hebrew Bible where the astral bodies are the recipients of incense
offerings, and while this problem also inheres in the verse in the
received text, it may not have been a feature in the original
composition.
In light of these difficulties, I propose that the ʸʹʠ clause is original
and that the problematic verb form ʸʨʷʩʥ marks the beginning of an edi-
torial insertion. Based on the Septuagint and Targum traditions this
insertion would have originally read ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʱʮʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ ʺʥʮʡʡ ʥʸʨʷʩʥ,
with the final vav having been lost through scribal error. Rather than
treat this finite verb form as if it were a participle, as many commenta-
tors do, it may be preferable to take the vav consecutive prefixed form as
an example of what Lambdin identifies as “anticipatory subordina-
tion.”23 According to Lambdin, such constructions occur in the context
of punctual, habitual sequences and introduce circumstantial
information about action that occurred prior to the time of the sequence.
In the examples he cites, the temporal subordinate clause introduces
information that takes place prior to the clause that follows, and so he
suggests translating “and when he had done so and so.” If the original
verb ʥʸʨʷʩʥ in 23:5 is taken as an example of such anticipatory subordina-
tion, it would differ from Lambdin’s examples in that it introduces a
temporal clause whose action takes place prior to the clause that pre-
cedes it. An example comparable to the construction in 23:5 may be
found in 1 Kgs 2:5:24
ʺʥʠʡʶ ʩʸʹ-ʩʰʹʬ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʩʥʸʶ-ʯʡ ʡʠʥʩ ʩʬ ʤʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʺʠ ʺʲʣʩ ʤʺʠ ʭʢʥ
ʩʮʣ ʯʺʩʥ ʭʬʹʡ ʤʮʧʬʮ-ʩʮʣ ʭʹʩʥ ʭʢʸʤʩʥ ʸʺʩ-ʯʡ ʠʹʮʲʬʥ ʸʰ-ʯʡ ʸʰʡʠʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ
ʥʩʬʢʸʡ ʸʹʠ ʥʬʲʰʡʥ ʥʩʰʺʮʡ ʸʹʠ ʥʺʸʢʧʡ ʤʮʧʬʮ
You yourself know what Joab ben Zeruiah did to me, what he
did to the two heads of the army of Israel, to Abner ben Ner
and to Amasah ben Jeter, when/that he killed them and shed the
blood of war in peacetime and placed the blood of war on the
girdle on his loins and on the sandals on his feet.
In both this verse and 2 Kgs 23:5, a vav consecutive prefixed form
follows a relative clause marked by ʸʹʠ in which a simple perfect verb
governs the action (ʯʺʰ in 2 Kgs 23:5 and ʤʹʲ in 1 Kgs 2:5). In each case
the vav consecutive on the imperfect introduces a subordinate clause
providing information that occurred prior to the action in the clause that
precedes it and elaborating on the circumstances to which the ʸʹʠ
clause alludes.
While the syntax of 2 Kgs 23:5 and 1 Kgs 2:5 is not identical, in light
of the limited available options for analyzing the form [ʥ]ʸʨʷʩʥ and the
problems inherent in the most common solutions, anticipatory subordi-
nation may provide the best possible grammatical explanation. Thus
I translate “whom the kings of Judah appointed when they burned incense
at the high places in the towns of Judah and around Jerusalem.” This
translation has the advantage of keeping the komer priests in the object
position and “the kings of Judah” in the subject position, thus pre-
serving the syntax established earlier in the verse. In addition it is in
keeping with the redactor’s retrospective vantage point. The implication
of Judah’s kings in offering incense is consistent with the reference to
the altars of Ahaz and Manasseh in the deuteronomistic revision of 2
Kgs 23:12. Both verses call to mind the condemnation of Ahaz in 16:4,
in which the king is also accused of offering incense at bāmôt. In addition
the insertion in 23:5 is consistent with Huldah’s prophecy of doom in
22:16–17, where burning incense is one of the primary reasons for
Judah’s demise. The deuteronomistic additions in 23:5 and 23:12 com-
pliment one another and function together to transform the critique of
royal patronage of the astral cult in the original account into a pointed
condemnation of particular Judahite kings.
If [ʥ]ʸʨʷʩʥ marks the beginning of a deuteronomistic insertion and
the list of astral bodies is also a deuteronomistic element, it suggests
that the beginning of 23:5, ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ (“he did
away with the idolatrous priests whom the kings of Judah appointed”),
is original. A number of factors support this attribution. First, the shift
from “Hilkiah the high priest, the priests of the second order, and the
guardians of the threshold” in 23:4, to a third-person masculine

singular subject, presumably referring to Josiah in 23:5, suggests that
23:5 marks the beginning of a separate source upon which the deuter-
onomistic author of 23:4 relied—a source that featured Josiah as the
chief executor of the reform. The identification of the komer priests
with the original account is supported by the absence of this term else-
where in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature. It is unlikely that a deuteron-
omistic author would have introduced the term in his recasting the
events of the reform when these priests are not otherwise an object of
his critique.25 In addition, the term ʺʩʡʹʤ used in reference to the elim-
ination of tangible objects is not attested anywhere else in the
Deuteronom(ist)ic corpus.26 Use of the verb ʯʺʰ with the specific sense
of appointing cultic functionaries is unusual in the deuteronomistic
literature.27 However, Eynikel rightly argues—based on the frequent
occurrence of this word with the simple meaning “to appoint per-
sonnel” in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History as well as
its occasional appearance in the Tetrateuch—that the term “does not
allow us to draw conclusions on redactional origin.”28 While this spe-
cialized use of the verb does not preclude its deuteronomistic origin,
that it governs the action in a phrase otherwise atypical of deuteron-
omistic diction suggests that the entire phrase belongs to the text’s pre-
deuteronomistic stratum.
In other passages in which the verb ʯʺʰ is used in the sense of
appointing functionaries, it always takes a preposition, so that it carries
the meaning “to appoint to” or “to appoint over” (e.g., 1 Kgs 2:35; 14:7;
16:2). Thus it is likely that the original version of 2 Kgs 23:5 also included
a preposition. Since the phrase ʬʲʡʬ is likely to be a post-deuteronomis-
tic addition to the list of astral bodies, the only prepositional phrase that
is a candidate for association with the verb ʯʺʰ is ʹʮʹʬ (“to the sun”).
Therefore I assign this element to the original account and reconstruct
an early version of 23:5 that read ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ
(“he did away with the idolatrous priests whom the kings of Judah
appointed to the [service of] the sun”). Reference to “the sun” would
have provided the impetus for deuteronomistic elaboration, so the
received text includes the entire list of astral bodies: “the sun, moon,
stars, and whole host of heaven.”
If the proposed elements of 23:5 are original it would situate the ref-
erence to ʭʩʸʮʫ in a seventh-century context. According to Uehlinger,
this term is of north Syrian origin and is attested in two seventh-century
Aramaic funerary inscriptions from Neirab set up by priests of the
moon god (kmr šhr).29 All of the gods mentioned on the steles belong to
the astral realm. The reference to ʭʩʸʮʫ in 23:5 would provide another
example of the association of these priests with the astral cult in a sev-
enth-century Levantine text.
In the foregoing discussion, the only element in 23:5 unaccounted
for is the phrase ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ ʺʠʥ (“and those who burned incense to
Baal”). According to Eynikel, the piʿel of ʸʨʷ, when used for illegitimate
sacrifices is typical of Deuteronomistic redaction of the book of Kings.30
However, since the name Baal is not associated with the list of astral
bodies elsewhere in deuteronomistic literature, it is unlikely that the
text’s deuteronomistic authors are responsible for the entire phrase
“who burned incense to Baal, the sun, moon, stars, and whole host of
heaven.” I therefore take ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ-ʺʠʥ as a post-deuteronomistic
addition that was influenced by deuteronomistic diction and that echoes
the verb ʸʨʷ, used earlier in the verse.
In its earliest form, then, 23:5 describes Josiah’s elimination of the
idolatrous komer priests whom the kings of Judah appointed to the
worship of the sun. In its final, deuteronomistic form, the verse expands
the critique of Judah’s kings to include their participation in other syn-
cretistic practices, including burning incense at bāmôt and making
offerings to the heavenly host. Rare terminology coupled with common
deuteronomistic tropes and muddled grammar attest the verse’s com-
plicated history of transmission. The compositional strata tell their own
story of how the reform account was transformed from a description of
Josiah’s targeted elimination of particular cultic personnel and practices
to a comprehensive critique of preexilic Judah’s royal and religious
establishment.
If the reconstruction of 23:5 proposed here is correct, 23:5 in its
original form would have been structurally parallel to and thematically
consistent with 23:11a, which reads ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ
ʹʮʹʬ (“he eliminated the horses that the kings of Judah appointed to
[the service of] of sun”). Both would refer to the elimination of function-
aries of the astral cult, appointed by the kings of Judah. Both employ
hiphʿil ʺʡʹ, although in 23:5 the verb is in the vĕqāṭal form while 23:11
uses the vayiqṭôl, and both attest the verb ʯʺʰ in the somewhat special-
ized sense of appointing or dedicating functionaries. It is difficult to
understand why there would have been so much material separating
23:5 and 23:11 in the original account, given their common structure and
shared interest in astral worship. However, as noted earlier, this source
may not have survived sufficiently intact to allow us to draw conclusions
regarding the rationale behind the order of its presentation. It is impor-
tant to note that, while internal cues suggest that the theme of astral
worship is original in 23:5 and 23:11, this feature has no parallel in the
Holiness Code. This should not impede its identification with the
earliest holiness stratum, however. The theme of astral worship in the

original reform account and its absence in the Holiness Code indicate
that it was integral to this text’s specific narrative goals and not tied to
the implementation of a particular ideological or more extended narra-
tive agenda.
The received reform account shows certain formal similarities bet-
ween 23:5, which describes the enforcement of sabbatical upon the
komer priests, and 23:8, which describes Josiah’s treatment of the
Judahite priests who burned incense at bāmôt. Both refer to high places
(ʺʥʮʡ) in the towns of Judah (ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ) where a particular group of
priests made incense offerings (ʸʨʷ). Translations of 23:5 that identify
the komer priests as the subject the verb [ʥ]ʸʨʷʩʥ and render “the idola-
trous priests who burned incense” produce a text that attributes the
same behaviors to the two sets of priests; both are accused of burning
incense at bāmôt. On this basis, some interpreters argue that 23:5 and
23:8 refer to the same Judahite priests.31 Others point to important dif-
ferences between these verses that argue against this association.32 For
example, in 23:5 Josiah “eradicates” (ʺʩʡʹʤ) the priests, whereas in 23:8
he brings them out (ʠʩʶʥʤ) of the towns where they ministered and
defiles (ʠʮʨ) their high places. Second Kgs 23:9 contains a provision for
how the bāmôt priests might integrate themselves into the Jerusalem
priestly establishment, while 23:5 implies that the ʭʩʸʮʫ were given a
permanent sabbatical.
The identification of a holiness substratum in the deuteronomistic
reform account complicates this discussion by requiring that we first
consider whether the ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ were related in the original reform
account and, then, whether and how the deuteronomistic author sought
to recast that relationship. In my reconstruction of 23:4–10, 23:8 in its
entirety is attributed to the pre-deuteronomistic stratum. This is based
on the themes of removal (ʠʩʶʥʤ) of contamination, defilement (ʠʮʨ) of
high places, and the likely reference to the high places of the ʭʩʸʲˈ
(“goats”)—all of which have their closest parallels in priestly literature
and in the Holiness Code in particular (see chapter 2). At this stage
there would have been no connection between the ʭʩʸʮʫ of 23:5 and the
ʭʩʰʤʫ of 23:8. The former were functionaries dedicated to the service of
Jerusalem’s astral cult, and the latter were responsible for the operation
of the high places in the towns of Judah.
If the phrase ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʱʮʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ ʺʥʮʡʡ ʥʸʨʷʩʥ (“when they burned
incense at the high places in the towns of Judah and around Jerusalem”)
is a deuteronomistic insertion and an example of anticipatory subordina-
tion, as argued above, then the activity condemned by the deuterono-
mists is not that of the komer priests, but rather of Judah’s kings. Even at
the level of the received text, then, there is no connection between ʭʩʸʮʫ
of 23:5 and ʭʩʰʤʫ of 23:8. However, the deuteronomistic insertion in 23:5
does deliberately echo the description of the Judahite kohen priests who
officiated at bāmôt in 23:8 in its earliest form. The effect of this appropri-
ation is that Judah’s kings come to be portrayed not just as tolerant of the
proliferation of bāmôt, as some deuteronomistic texts contend, but as
equally guilty of cultic transgression as the priests who served at those
illicit sanctuaries and, therefore, as equally complicit in Judah’s demise.
While the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23 did not explicitly
equate the ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ, they may have been associated by some early
biblical interpreters. The term ʭʩʸʮʫ occurs only three times in the Bible
(2 Kgs 23:5; Hos 10:5; Zeph 1:4). Only the Zephaniah passage refers to
ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ together. This verse is situated within an account of the
destruction that shall be wrought on the “Day of Yahweh” (1:2–18).
Zephaniah 1:4–5 focus on syncretistic, idolatrous practices that were
rampant in preexilic Judah:
ʸʠʹ-ʺʠ ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʯʮ ʩʺʸʫʤʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʹʥʩ-ʬʫ ʬʲʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ-ʬʲ ʩʣʩ ʩʺʩʨʰʥ
ʭʩʮʹʤ ʠʡʶʬ ʺʥʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʭʩʥʧʺʹʮʤ-ʺʠʥ:ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ ʭʹ-ʺʠ ʬʲʡʤ
ʭʫʬʮʡ ʭʩʲʡʹʰʤʥ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʭʩʲʡʹʰʤ ʭʩʥʧʺʹʮʤ-ʺʠʥ
I will spread out my hand against Judah and against all of the
inhabitants of Jerusalem, and I shall cut out from this place
the remnant of Baal, the name of the komer priests together
with the kohen priests, those who bow down upon rooftops to
the host of heaven, those who swear by Yahweh and those who
swear by Milcom.33
Scholars often read the book of Zephaniah as reflecting efforts on

the part of the late-seventh-century prophet Zephaniah to marshal
support for the Josianic reforms.34 This is based in part on the book’s
superscription, which situates Zephaniah’s prophetic career during the
reign of Josiah. The superscript, however, is the work of an editor and
may reflect a literary and theological interest in associating Zephaniah’s
prophecies of doom with the failed attempt of Josiah to turn back
Yahweh’s wrath.35 Others argue that the book’s fundamental concern
for the threat of judgment posed to Jerusalem and Judah on the Day of
Yahweh is better situated in the period following the Babylonian destruc-
tion and exile than in the days of Josiah.36 Most scholars, regardless of
their dating of the core material in the book, identify extensive exilic or
postexilic redaction.
The emphasis on alien cult practices in 1:4–5 is unique in Zephaniah.
Many scholars note that the key terms in this passage also appear in the
account of Josiah’s reform.37 Only Zeph 1:4–5 and 2 Kgs 23 refer to ʭʩʸʮʫ
and ʭʩʰʤʫ together. In addition, both texts refer to Baal and possibly
Milcom, and they share a common interest in worship of the host of
heaven at rooftop altars, a motif attested only once outside of these texts
(Jer 19:3). Nowhere else in the Bible besides Zephaniah and 2 Kgs 23
does this entire cluster of terms occur. Ben-Zvi comments that the
theme of idolatrous cult practices and the use of the terms “Baal” and
“host of heaven” point to what may be considered a literary or tradi-
tional constraint, suggesting a secondary development in a literary work
that may or may not represent the sayings of Zephaniah himself.38 The
language that the Zephaniah passage shares with 2 Kgs 23, as well as
the idolatrous cult practices not otherwise being a focus in the book of
Zephaniah, favors attributing these verses to the editorial framework of
the book. I would go one step further than Ben-Zvi, and suggest that
they were written with the deuteronomistic text of 2 Kgs 23:4–20 in
mind.39
Based on the rarity of the term ʭʩʸʮʫ in the Bible, it is often sug-
gested that the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ in Zeph 1:4 is a gloss explaining the
more difficult term ʭʩʸʮʫ. Support for this hypothesis comes from the
absence of this phrase in the Septuagint, that it disturbs the metrics of
the unit, and that it stands outside the structure built upon the pair
ʭʹ-ʸʲʹ.40 Ben-Zvi rightly suggests, however, that while the term ʭʩʸʮʫ is
rare in the Hebrew Bible, it may not have required explanation for the
text’s ancient audience, as it appears in Aramaic from as early as the
seventh century B.C.E. as well as in Elephantine texts, Genesis Rabbah,
and both Talmuds. I suggest that the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ is indeed a late
addition to 1:4, but that it is not an explanatory gloss. Rather it reflects
the editor’s awareness of the text’s literary dependence on 2 Kgs 23. The
addition of ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ may constitute a midrash of sorts on the deuteron-
omistic account of Josiah’s Judean reform, representing the earliest
preserved attempt to equate the idolatrous ʭʩʸʮʫ of 23:5 and the ʭʩʰʤʫ
of 23:8.
Use of the particle ʭʲ to denote the semantic equivalence of two oth-
erwise oppositional entities reflects a late and rarified usage. Besides
Zeph 1:4 it occurs only five times in the Hebrew Bible (Eccl 2:16; Ps
26:9; 28:3; 69:28; Gen 18:23). In the three Psalm passages it signifies
Yahweh’s apparently unjust equation of the “righteous” (ʭʩʷʩʣʶ in Ps
69) and the “wicked” (ʭʩʲʹʸ in Ps 28 and ʭʩʠʨʧ in Ps 26). All three of
these verses call to mind Abraham’s intercession with God at Sodom,
where Abraham demands, “Will you really sweep away the righteous
along with the wicked [ʲʹʸ ʭʲ ʷʩʣʶ]?” It is not necessary in the present
context to attempt to discern the literary-historical relationship between
these verses; all four are likely to reflect the postmonarchic biblical
authors’ grappling with the problem of Yahweh’s capricious nature.
Within this late setting, the Sodom story remembers Abraham alone as
having had the power to mediate divine justice.
If the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ is an addition in the Zephaniah text, the
semantic equivalence it denotes may belong to this same literary-
theological matrix. Like the passages in Psalms, Zeph 1:4 may evoke,
albeit more subtly, Abraham’s pregnant moment at Sodom. If at the
same time Zeph 1:4–5 deliberately recalls Josiah’s Jerusalem, the
addition of the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ would forge a connection between that
city and iniquitous Sodom and between Josiah himself and Abraham,
each of whom offered too little too late in his effort to intercede on
behalf of his city. The idea that the authors of Zephaniah envisioned the
day of Yahweh as a reenactment of the destruction of Sodom finds
support in 2:9, where Yahweh promises, “Moab will become like Sodom
and Ammon like Gomorrah.”
The book of Zephaniah ends with a vision of God’s restoration of
his people in an era when Yahweh’s righteousness alone will replace
Israel’s corrupt rulers, prophets, and priests (3:3–4). Picking up on
motifs in the deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform, the book of
Zephaniah in its final form associates the ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ with the ills of
monarchic Israel and promises the elimination of these illegitimate
leaders in a new postmonarchic era. Both texts see the responsibility for
the destruction of Judah as resting squarely on the shoulders of Judah’s
corrupt priests and kings, and both texts envision a future in which
Yahweh is restored to his position as supreme ruler of his people Israel.
In 2 Kgs 23 these themes are effectuated through carefully placed addi-
tions to the original priestly composition, which shifted the text’s
emphasis from the rejection of particular practices and places that
impeded Josiah’s control over the priestly domain to the outright
rejection of Judah’s civic and religious leadership, with the singular
exception of Josiah himself and the Jerusalem temple priests to whose
authority Josiah willingly submitted.
2 Kings 23:13–16: Transforming Apotropaic Ritual into

Destruction by Ḥērem
Among the original elements in the reform account is Josiah’s attack on
the cult center at Bethel, identified as “the high place made by Jeroboam
ben Nebat.” This detail reflects the concerns of a preexilic author, for
whom Bethel, with its ancient cult site in close proximity to Jerusalem,
was a natural and politically significant target. There is no evidence that
for the author of this text apostasy was the problem the Bethel sanctuary
posed, as it was for the later, deuteronomistic writers; rather Bethel and
its priesthood represented a threat to the singular authority of the Jerusa-
lem establishment that Josiah sought to assert. The original reference to
Jeroboam, which located the high place and altar in Bethel, provided a
basis for deuteronomistic embellishment, so that Josiah’s attack came to
represent an attempt to reverse the sin of Jeroboam and thereby to safe-
guard Judah from the fate that befell Israel. The oppositional link
established between the reigns of Josiah and Jeroboam in the deuteron-
omistic account is made explicit in 2 Kgs 23:16b–17 through reference to
“the man of God who foretold these things” and in 1 Kgs 13:2 through the
man of God’s prediction that Josiah would destroy the Bethel altar. In
addition the “prophet who came from Samaria” in 2 Kgs 23:18 is likely a
reference to the “prophet who lived in Bethel” referred to in 1 Kgs 13:11.41
The tension between Josiah and Jeroboam is intensified by reference to
Jeroboam, “who led Israel to sin” (2 Kgs 23:15aβ), in contrast to Josiah,
who “walked in the path of his ancestor David” (22:2). Rejection of Jero-
boam and his calf cult is a deuteronomistic leitmotif and structuring
element in the Kings history, and it comes to a crescendo in the account
of Josiah’s reform (1 Kgs 12:30; 13:34; 14:16, 22; 15:3, 26, 30, 34; 16:2, 13,
19, 26, 31; 2 Kgs 3:3; 13:2, 6, 11; 14:24; 15:9, 18, 24, 28; 17:22).
In reformulating the attack on the Bethel cult, the deuteronomist
transformed a description of Josiah’s destruction of the altar and high
place in apotropaic ritual terms typical of priestly literature into a
description of destruction by ḥērem. In his rendering, Josiah does more
than eliminate the potency of these installations; he wages holy war
against them, just as the Israelites were commanded to do to the
Canaanite cult places in their midst (Deut 7, 12). By treating this ancient
Israelite cult place as if it were Canaanite, Josiah’s assault on Bethel—
or, more accurately, the text that describes it—represents a pivotal
moment in the process of constructing an Israelite identity hewn from
its Canaanite roots.
Josiah’s elimination of the Bethel cultus is described in 2 Kgs 23:15–
16. These are particularly difficult verses from text-critical standpoint,
and much ink has been spilled over their compositional relationship.
Here is 23:15–16 as it appears in the Masoretic Text:
ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ
ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʤ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ
ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ ʸʤʡ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʺʠ ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ :ʤʸʹʠ ʳʸʹʥ
ʹʩʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʡʣʫ ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ
:ʤʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ
And also the altar that was in Bethel, the high place that
Jeroboam ben Nebat made that caused Israel to sin, also that
altar, and the high place he tore down, and he burned the high
place and beat (it) to dust, and he burned the asherah. And
Josiah turned and saw the graves that were there on the
mount, and he sent and took the bones from the graves, and
he burned (them) on the altar and defiled it, according to word
of Yahweh, which the man of God proclaimed who proclaimed
these words.
The two verses appear to contradict one another, as 23:16 features

Josiah burning bones on the very altar that he destroyed in 23:15.
Interpretation of 23:15 centers on two key issues: the likelihood that
some portion of the verse was added secondarily, although there is dis-
agreement regarding exactly which portions, and the reliability of the
Septuagint reading, καὶ συνέτριψεν τοὺς λίθους αὐτοΰ καὶ ἐλέπτυνεν,
which appears in place of the Masoretic Text’s ʷʣʤ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ. The
Septuagint variant is retroverted into Hebrew by the editors of Biblia
Hebraica Stuttgartensia as ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ (“and he broke its stones and
beat [it]”).42
Because the Septuagint provides an alternative text from which to
work, the question of the reliability of this reading is addressed first, fol-
lowed by a discussion of how 23:15 might have been altered in a
secondary phase of transmission. The verse as it appears in the Masoretic
Text is both logically and syntactically problematic. First, there is no
other instance in the Hebrew Bible in which the verb ʵʺʰ (“to tear down”)
appears in conjunction with a second verb of destruction when it refers
to the elimination of a single object. The idea that Josiah would tear
down and then burn the bāmâ is inconsistent with the semantics of this
particular verb as attested elsewhere in the Bible. Second, it is peculiar
that Josiah tears down both the altar and high place, but burns only the
high place. Finally, the perfect verb form ʷʣʤ with no conjunctive vav is
suspicious. In light of these problems in the Masoretic Text, we may
understand either that the Septuagint variant reflects an effort to correct
a corrupt Hebrew text or that the Greek is correct and there was a
corruption in the transmission of the Masoretic Text.
This problem provides fertile ground for debate, with many inter-
preters taking the Septuagint as the more reliable reading.43 The trans-
lators of the Revised Standard Version and Jerusalem Bible, for example,
render some variation of “he tore down the high place, broke its stones,
and beat it to dust.” Objections to such readings are raised by scholars
on several grounds. Barrick sees the Greek text as suspect due to its
exegetical Tendenz. He postulates that the Greek translator saw the

object of destruction as the Bethel altar alone, with the Hebrew . . . ʤʮʡʤ
ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ becoming adjectival modifiers of the altar. The bāmâ having
disappeared, the Septuagint translator read ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ as ʸʡʹʩʥ
ʥʩʰʡʲ-ʺʠ, producing a reading that gave a logical sequence of events to
the altar’s complete obliteration.44 Eynikel argues against the Septuagint
reading on the basis of lectio facilior, asserting that the Greek translator
manipulated the Hebrew text by combining the altar and high place in
one elevated altar.45 Cogan and Tadmor object to a translation based on
the Greek because the expression ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ (“he broke its stones”) is
unattested in the Hebrew Bible.46 However, it is precisely this factor that
lends credibility to the Septuagint reading and argues against lectio
facilior as the principle governing the Greek variant. Were the Greek
translators emending the verse in order to render it more logical based
on their understanding of biblical destructive ritual, it would be odd for
them to choose a phrase that describes a mode of elimination otherwise
unattested.
Moreover, there is a thematic basis for the possibility that the
Septuagint reading is correct. While the phrase ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ would be
unique in the Hebrew Bible, the Greek version of 2 Kgs 23:15 bears a
strong resemblance to Lev 14:45, which describes the treatment of a
house contaminated with leprosy. In both the retroverted Hebrew text
of the Septuagint and in Lev 14:45 the verb ʵʺʰ governs the destruction
of an installation that is a source of contamination. In addition, both
passages make explicit reference to the dismantling of the structure’s
stones as part of the purification process. In light of the Leviticus
passage, use of the verb “to tear down” in the Greek version of 2 Kgs
23:15 may preserve a text that described a known mode of eradicating
building contamination. The verb “to tear down” denotes the destruc-
tion of a contaminated structure whose stones are dismantled as part of
the process of purification. That the two texts express the elimination
process differently reflects their literary independence. Given the apo-
tropaic ritual tendency in 2 Kgs 23:4–16 and the other parallels between
these verses and phenomenology attested in Lev 14 in particular (see
chapter 2), the Septuagint reading is credible. The plausibility of this
reading finds additional support in the verb ʵʺʰ also appearing in 2 Kgs
23:8, where it governs the destruction of ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“the high places of
the goats”), a detail that suggests that this mode of destruction was
essential to the reform measures as conceived by the text’s authors.47
If the Septuagint provides the more reliable textual witness, how
might the Masoretic rendering of 23:15 have come to be? The writing
ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ (“and he burned the high place”) is more likely to reflect
a scribal error than a deliberate change to the text, as there is no reason

to see the reading provided by the Septuagint as any more objection-
able than that furnished by the Masoretic Text. Since neither phrase is
specifically attested elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, there is no reason
why the Masoretic Text should be favored over the Septuagint. Given
that the words ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠ appear twice in 23:15 before their appearance in
the phrase in question, it is not difficult to imagine them accidentally
finding their way into the verse a third time. The similarities in spelling
between ʳʸʹʩʥ and ʸʡʹʩʥ and the verb ʳʸʹ appearing at the end of the
verse in reference to the asherah lend additional support to the idea
that a scribe inadvertently rendered ʳʸʹʩʥ (“he burned”) in lieu of ʸʡʹʩʥ
(“he broke”). This error could have come about in one of two ways. It
is either a case of metathesis, wherein the scribe reversed the letters ʡ
and ʸ while copying the word ʸʡʹʩʥ and corrected his error by ren-
dering ʳʸʹʩʥ instead, or he mistook ʡ for ʸ and corrected similarly.48
While ʡ and ʸ are generally easy to distinguish in early Hebrew script,
their stance is different and the base of ʡ tends to hook toward the left,
as it does in the later, formal Jewish hand—the two letters appear
quite similar in a second-century B.C.E. Leviticus fragment.49 There is
also a marked similarity between these two letters in the classical
Aramaic cursive of the late Persian Empire.50 Taken together, these
factors support the Septuagint as the more reliable textual witness.
Let us turn our attention now to the possibility that some portion of
23:15 was added secondarily. Even with the better text provided by the
Septuagint, the verse as it stands cannot possibly be correct. The absence
of a dissociative particle such as ʺʠʥ separating references to the altar and
high place is problematic, and there is a narrative discontinuity between
23:15 (in which the altar is destroyed) and 23:16 (where it appears to be
intact and awaiting defilement).51 Emendation of the text is required to
make sense of these difficulties. Barrick suggests an original version that
made no reference to the activities of Jeroboam and also may not have
mentioned Bethel as the location of the altar.52 He proposes that an
original version of 23:15 read ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ ʺʠ ʭʢʥ (“and
even the altar that was in Bethel and the high place [Josiah] demolished”;
or simply, “even the altar [Josiah] demolished”). Based on this recon-
struction, Barrick posits that 23:15 as it currently appears in the Masoretic
Text “transformed a ritualistic decommissioning of the altar by contam-
ination by human bones (found in 23:16) into a physical destruction at
the expense of narrative continuity.”53 Based on the presence of the par-
ticle ʭʢʥ, which Barrick identifies here as indicative of a redactional seam,
he suggests that 23:15 was added to the reform account during a secondary
phase of its composition.54
The particle ʭʢʥ in this verse is indeed a likely indicator of redaction,

and Barrick is correct that redactional activity in 23:15 transformed the
nature of the decommissioning of the cult installations at Bethel.
However, the verse as it stands is too convoluted to be the product of a
single, secondary author. Barrick’s hypothesis would require a tertiary
phase of redaction in which additional difficulties were introduced, a
scenario that while not impossible, may be unnecessarily complicated.
It is more likely that some portion of 23:15 is original and that the phases
ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ (“and also the altar that was in Bethel”) and
ʧʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ (“and also that altar and the high place”), both
of which are marked by the element ʭʢ, are late additions.55 If this is the
case, 23:15 features Josiah tearing down the high place built by Jeroboam,
and 23:16 describes his defilement of the Bethel altar. Removing the ʭʢ
clauses from the text alleviates the problems of the absence of the par-
ticle ʺʠʥ and the narrative discontinuity between 23:15 and 23:16. These
elements, along with the typically deuteronomistic turn of phrase
ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ (“who caused Israel to sin”), are likely to have been
introduced to the text by a deuteronomistic author who sought to bring
the account into line with Deuteronomy’s centralizing agenda. An
original version of 23:15 thus would have contained reference only to the
high place and not to the altar, and both installations would have been
associated with Jeroboam and Bethel in the earliest compositional
phase.
If the proposed elements of 23:15 are indeed late additions and the
reading provided by the Septuagint is correct, then an original version
of the verse (hereafter referred to as “phase 1”) might have read
ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʨʡʰ ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ (“the high place
made by Jeroboam ben Nebat he tore down and broke its stones and
beat [it] to dust”). The original reform account thus would have included
the tearing down of the Bethel high place and the breaking of its stones
in 23:15 and the strewing of human bones on the altar, thus irrevocably
defiling it, in 23:16. The verse in its earliest form would have reflected
interests that were decidedly priestly in character: eradication of con-
tamination and the power of human bones to defile.
Phase 1 preserves the reference to Jeroboam, without the deuteron-
omistic judgment “who caused Israel to sin,” and the association with
him situates the installation under attack in Bethel. Until this point,
every cult place and installation in 23:4–20 is identified by its specific
location.56 Without reference to Jeroboam, 23:15 attests the only uniden-
tified cult installation in the reform account.57
If phase 1 read ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʨʡʰ ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ,
then a deuteronomistic editor might have transformed 23:15 as follows:
ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ
ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ
And also, the altar that was in Bethel, the high place made by
Jeroboam ben Nebat, who caused Israel to sin, also that altar
and that high place he tore down, broke its stones, and beat it
to dust.
Mention of burning the asherah, which appears at the end of 23:15
in the Masoretic Text, is omitted from the above reconstruction, as this
element is widely recognized as a late addition to the text.58 Knoppers
posits that in attacking this cult symbol, Josiah removed the last vestiges
of Ahab’s transgression, noting that according to 13:6, the asherah
remained standing in Samaria after Jehu’s cleansing of the northern
cult (10:25–26).59 It is possible that the final editors of 2 Kgs 23 meant to
draw a connection between the asherah erected by Ahab and the one
eradicated by Josiah; but if this were the intention, it is odd that this was
not made more explicit. It is unlikely that the deuteronomistic historian,
or someone writing in the deuteronomistic mode, would have passed
up the opportunity to implicate a northern king. In addition, the sudden
appearance of the perfect ʳʸʹ gives the impression that reference to the
destruction of the asherah was an afterthought.
If the reading ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʥ reflects a scribal error that occurred
much later in the course of textual transmission so that the deuterono-
mist’s source looked something like the text as reconstructed in phase
1 above, then the addition of references to the altar and the burning of
the asherah as they now appear lends the verse a distinctively deuter-
onomistic character. In the command in Deut 12:2 to enact the ḥērem
upon the dispossessed local populations of the land, the requisite
actions include tearing down the altar (ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰ), smashing sacred
stones (ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹ), and burning the asherim with fire (ʳʸʹ
ʹʠʡ ʭʩʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ). With the correction provided by the Septuagint, 2 Kgs
23:15 calls for tearing down of the altar (ʵʺʰ), breaking its stones (ʸʡʹ),
and burning the asherah (ʳʸʹ)—in that order, the same order in which
the verbs appear in Deut 12:2. Thus, like the verb ʳʸʹ (see chapter 3),
the verb ʸʡʹ provides a pivot point for the deuteronomistic transfor-
mation of priestly apotropaic ritual into destruction by ḥērem. While
the phrase ʤʸʹʠ ʳʸʹʥ is peculiar and it is difficult to be certain of its
location in the redactional history of the verse, its position at the end
of the verse after references to the tearing down of the altar and the
smashing of stones suggests that its inclusion was at the very least
inspired by Deuteronomy’s formulation, although it may represent a
post-deuteronomistic expansion.
From the above analysis it may be posited that a deuteronomistic

author/editor had before him a text that described Josiah’s desecration
of the Bethel high place and altar in priestly terms. With a few strategi-
cally placed additions, he was able to transform this priestly description
into a fulfillment of deuteronomistic ideology and Josiah into a hero of
the deuteronomistic movement. While the resulting verse remains
somewhat awkward, this may reflect a deuteronomistic interest in pre-
serving an extant textual tradition. By making only the smallest alter-
ations, the postmonarchic author effectively replaced the priestly notion
of apotropaic ritual as a means of defiling sacred space with
Deuteronomy’s ḥērem model, with its pan-Israel perspective.
A similar transformation may be evident in 2 Kgs 23:13–14. These
verses describe the defilement of high places and destruction of standing
stones and asherim located on the Mount of Olives. The verses in their
final form read:
ʤʮʬʹ ʤʰʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ
ʯʥʮʲ-ʩʰʡ ʺʡʲʥʺ ʭʫʬʮʬʥ ʡʠʥʮ ʵʷʹ ʹʥʮʫʬʥ ʭʩʰʣʶ ʵʷʹ ʺʸʺʹʲʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʪʬʮ
ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʬʮʩʥ ʭʩʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʺʸʫʩʥ ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʥ :ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ
ʭʣʠ-ʺʥʮʶʲ
As for the high places that were facing Jerusalem, to the right
of the Mount of the Destroyer, which Solomon, the king of
Israel, built for Ashtoreth the detestation of the Sidonians, for
Kemosh the detestation of the Moabites, and for Milcom the
abomination of the Ammonites, the king defiled. He shattered
the maṣṣebot, cut down the asherim and filled their places with
human bones.
Barrick notes that “the language of verse 14 is stereotypical, but not

‘Deuteronomic.’”60 While the verb ʸʡʹ (“to break”) appears together
with ʺʥʡʶʮ (“standing stones”) in Deut 7:5 and 12:3, the use of the verb
ʺʸʫ (“to cut”) with asherim as its object is unattested in Deuteronomy.
The only other place where this sequence occurs is in reference to
Hezekiah’s reforms in 2 Kgs 18:4. Here the resemblance is almost exact.
The only significant difference lies in the verb governing the elimina-
tion of bāmôt: ʠʮʨ (“to defile”) in 23:14 and ʸʩʱʤ (“to remove”) in 18:4.
Use of the verb ʸʩʱʤ conforms to the deuteronomistic convention applied
in the evaluation of kings Jehoshaphat (1 Kgs 22:44), Joash (2 Kgs 12:4),
Amaziah (14:4), Azariah (15:4), and Jotham (15:35). The account of
each king’s reign begins with a four-part, four-verse formula that
includes these elements: (1) the year in which the king came to the
throne and his age, (2) the duration of his reign and the name of his
mother, (3) whether he did good or evil in the eyes of Yahweh, and (4)
whether he removed the bāmôt. In the case of Hezekiah, reference to his
reform measures occurs in precisely the position in the formula where
a statement regarding his removal of the bāmôt is expected. A deuteron-
omistic attribution for 18:4 is therefore all but certain. Such an attribu-
tion is less secure in 23:14, however, as Josiah’s defilement of bāmôt has
no Deuteronom(ist)ic parallel.
Let us consider the possibility that reference to Josiah’s defilement
of the high places in 23:14 belongs to a pre-deuteronomistic stratum and
that, as with 23:15–16, 23:13–14 was later expanded to include the
destruction of maṣṣebot and asherim. If this were the case, the deuteron-
omistic expansion of these verses would also have included the refer-
ence to Solomon in 23:13, a detail that sets up a contrast between Josiah
the pious king and Solomon, whose apostasy set the Davidic monarchy
on a course of self-destruction. The close correspondence between this
verse and Ahijah’s promise of doom in 11:33 point to the likelihood that
23:13 and 11:33 belong to the same deuteronomistic hand.61
Support for this hypothesis resides in the appearance of the vĕqāṭal
form ʸʡʹʥ in 23:14, a construction that is often, though not always, an
indication of lateness.62 Barrick demonstrates the necessity to evaluate
each individual passage where this formulation appears on its own
terms.63 The sequence is used seven times in 2 Kgs 23 (23:4bβ, 5a, 8b,
10a, 12bβ, 14a, 15bβ). In the reconstruction presented above, two of these
verses are identified as part of the Josianic priestly composition (23:8b,
10a), and five are identified as secondary additions. The presence of the
vĕqāṭal sequence in the original reform account suggests that where it
appears as part of a late addition, the editor may have been deliberately
mimicking the style of his source material.64
When the deuteronomistic elements are removed from 23:13–14, a
significantly different picture emerges of Josiah’s rites of violence on
the Mount of Olives. An original version of the text might have read:
ʠʬʮʩʥ ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ
ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ
And as for the high places that were facing Jerusalem to the
right of the Mount of the Destroyer,65 the king defiled and he
filled their places with human bones.
According to this reconstruction, Josiah was originally depicted tar-

geting only the high places on the Mount of Olives and not the maṣṣebot
or asherim. Reference to the latter would belong to a later, deuteron-
omistic expansion of the verse. Whereas in the received reform account
defilement of the high places is an act distinct from the scattering of

human bones where the maṣṣebot and asherim once stood, in an original
version the scattering of human bones would have been the mode by
which Josiah defiled the high places. The original verse accords with the
interest in eradication and defilement of bāmôt attested in the holiness
strand of tradition represented by Lev 26:30 and Ezek 6:3–5 and 9:7 (see
chapter 2).66 In the deuteronomistic text, like the cult place at Bethel,
that which was Israelite comes to be conceived as Canaanite and as such
becomes a target of destruction by ḥērem.
Taken together, 2 Kgs 23:13–16 provides a window on the process by
which the deuteronomistic author constructed the received account of
Josiah’s reform. He inherited a text characterized by an interest in the
elimination of specific bāmôt whose operation impeded Josiah’s consol-
idation of royal and sacred authority in Jerusalem. This text was steeped
in the Realpolitik of the preexilic period, and it described the events of
the reform in ritual terms that were typical of the Jerusalem-centered
priestly holiness school. The revised version, by contrast, drew on
Deuteronomy’s ḥērem ideology to transform this source into a call for a
new religious order, dissociated from the temporal, social, and political
trappings of monarchic Israel.
2 Kings 23:6, Deuteronomy 9:21, and Exodus 32:20: Josiah’s

Destruction of the Asherah and the Weaving of a Polemic against
Jeroboam and the Bethel Cult
The deuteronomistic author’s use of the figure of Josiah in an evolving
polemic against Jeroboam and the Bethel cult involved internal develop-
ments within the reform account, as well as more complicated editorial
processes that engaged a web of textual traditions. Central among these
is the description of Josiah’s removal and eradication of the asherah
from the Jerusalem temple in 2 Kgs 23:6. This verse provides a quintes-
sential example of apotropaic ritual destruction of an object for the sake
of eliminating its potency. As such it fits well within the ritual orienta-
tion of the original holiness reform account. However, 23:6 has its clos-
est biblical parallel not in priestly literature, but in the account of
Moses’s destruction of the golden calf in Deut 9:21, a passage that reca-
pitulates events described in Exod 32:20 (see table 4.2).
These texts feature a similar series of destructive acts (see chapter 2):
a sacred object is seized, burned with fire, beaten to a pulp, and disposed
of. There are, however, important differences between the three accounts.
Most notably, they all diverge on the matter of the location where the
debris is disposed. In addition, while Exod 32:20 and 2 Kgs 23:6 attest a
TABLE 4.2 Ritual Elimination of the Golden Calf and the Asherah
Exodus 32:20 Deuteronomy 9:21 2 Kings 23:6
ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʬʢʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʭʺʩʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʭʫʺʠʨʧ-ʺʠʥ ʵʥʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ
ʭʩʮʤ ʩʰʴ ʬʲ ʸʦʩʥ ʷʣ-ʸʹʠ ʣʲ ʯʧʨʩʥ ʥʺʠ ʳʸʹʠʥ ʩʺʧʷʬ ʬʢʲʤ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ
ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ-ʺʠ ʷʹʩʥ ʣʲ ʡʨʩʤ ʯʥʧʨ ʥʺʠ ʺʫʠʥ ʹʠʡ ʪʬʹʩʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰʡ ʤʺʠ
ʺʠ ʪʬʹʠʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣ-ʸʹʠ ʭʲʤ ʩʰʡ ʸʡʷ-ʬʲ ʤʸʴʲ-ʺʠ
ʸʤʤ-ʯʮ ʣʸʩʤ ʬʧʰʤ-ʬʠ ʥʸʴʲ
He took the calf that they had As for your sinful thing He brought the asherah out
made, and he burned it with that you made, the calf, I of the temple of Yahweh,
fire and beat it until it was fine took it and burned it outside Jerusalem to the
and sprinkled (it) on the with fire and beat it, Wadi Kidron, and he
surface of the water and forced ground well, until it was burned it in the Wadi
the Israelites to drink it. a fine dust, and cast the Kidron and beat it to dust
dust into the river that and cast its dust on the
descended from the grave of the people.
mountain.
similar phenomenology, they employ a different set of terms. For

example, where Moses “takes” the calf, Josiah “brings out” the asherah.
They both beat the detestable object, but the two texts express this using
entirely different turns of phrase. In addition, whereas Josiah “casts” the
debris, Moses “sprinkles” it. Exodus and Deuteronomy differ from one
another with regard to the mode by which the debris of the calf is elimi-
nated: in Deuteronomy it is cast in a nearby stream, whereas in Exodus
it is made into a solution that Moses forces the Israelites to drink. In
addition Deuteronomy refers to the debris as dust (ʸʴʲ) and features
Moses casting it (ʪʩʬʹʤ), two details that are absent from the Exodus
account. Finally Deuteronomy refers to the calf as “your sin” (ʭʫʺʠʨʧ), a
term that is absent in Exodus. How are we to explain the differences bet-
ween the two accounts of the same event in Exodus and Deuteronomy,
and how should we account for the closeness of the language in Deute-
ronomy and Kings?
Scholars generally assume that the shared language in Deut 9:21
and 2 Kgs 23:6 reflects their common deuteronomistic origin.67
However, the language of burning, beating, and casting used to describe
the elimination of the asherah and the golden calf in Deut 9:21 is not
attested anywhere else in the corpus of Deuteronom(ist)ic literature,
even in passages that describe the eradication of cult images. This
argues against its identification as a deuteronomistic formulation. In
addition, the use of this vocabulary of violence to describe Josiah’s
removal of the asherah from the Jerusalem temple in and of itself calls
into question a deuteronomistic attribution. In its final form, Moses’s
destruction of the golden calf is woven into a polemic against Jeroboam
and the calf-cult at Bethel. If the account of Josiah’s destruction of the
asherah were a deuteronomistic invention, it is peculiar that the very
language that echoes Moses’s destruction of the calf with its implicit
rejection of the Bethel cultus would have been used in reference to
Josiah’s purification of the Jerusalem temple and not his attack on the
Bethel. While this oddity by itself is not evidence, it suggests the possi-
bility that at some point in the evolution of these traditions, Josiah’s
destruction of the asherah existed independently of the deuteronomistic
golden calf account.
Two oft-cited references in the Ugaritic Baal Cycle (KTU 1.6; see
table 4.3)68 to the goddess Anat’s destruction of her rival Mot in terms
markedly similar to the biblical descriptions of the elimination of the
golden calf and the asherah leads some scholars to conclude that the
destructive acts committed by Moses and Josiah represent a fixed rite
of elimination that was at home in a second/first-millennium Syro-
Palestinian cultural milieu.69 The attestation of the same ritual at Ugarit
employed by Moses and Josiah in the Bible suggests that, while a deu-
teronomistic author may have drawn on this ritual motif, it was not his
TABLE 4.3 Anat’s Destruction of Mot

KTU 1.6 ii 30–35 tiḫd/bn.ilm.mt She seizes divine Mot
c
bḥrb/tbq nn./ With a sword she splits him
bḫṯr.tdry/nn With a sieve she winnows him
bišt.tšrpnn With a fire she burns him
brḥm.tṭḥnn With millstones she grinds him
c
bšd/tdr .nn. In a field she sows him
KTU 1.6 v 12–19 c

lk.pht/dry.bḥrb. Due to you I faced splitting with a sword
c Due to you I faced burning with fire
lk.pht.šrp.bišt
c
lk.[pht.ṭḥ]n.brḥ/m. Due to you [I faced grin]ding with
millstones
c
[lk.]pht[.dr]y.bkbrt Due to you I faced [winnowing] with a
riddle
c
lk[.]pht.[ ]l[ ]/bšdm. Due to you I faced . . [.] in a field
c c
[ l]k[.]p[ht]/dr .bym Due to you I fa[ced] scattering in the sea
invention. In fact, it is rooted in the very Canaanite heritage he sought

to disavow.
Much scholarship on the biblical golden calf traditions focuses on
three essential issues: the relevance of the Ugaritic parallel for illumi-
nating the evolution of the biblical tradition,70 the literary historical rela-
tionship between Exod 32 and Deut 9,71 and the relationship between
these texts and the account of Jeroboam’s establishment of the Bethel
cult in 1 Kgs 12–13.72 In this literature 2 Kgs 23:6 tends to enter the
discussion as something of an afterthought. However, the unique ritual
phenomenology attested in Exod 32:20, Deut 9:21, and 2 Kgs 23:6, with
its specific parallel in the Baal Cycle, invites their systematic treatment
in tandem.
In the Ugaritic Baal myth, Mot, cast as the divine personification
of death, is one of the primary antagonists of Baal. According to a
seasonal interpretation of the myth, Baal may be understood to repre-
sent the life-giving aspect of the autumn rainfall, while Mot is a
source of death associated with the summer heat.73 But Mot is anti-
thetical to Baal in more than just meteorological terms. While Baal
holds a position as one of the chief gods of the pantheon, Mot’s name
is absent from Ugaritic pantheon lists and onomastica, and this leads
to the conclusion that he was not in fact a deity worshiped like others.
Healey, for example, argues that Mot is to be understood as a dan-
gerous, demonic force, not as a legitimate cult-receiving deity.74
Anat’s burning, beating, and scattering of Mot is undertaken as a
means of eradicating this threat to all life, both human and divine.75
That Mot may be understood in this light is apparent when he
describes himself taking Baal in his mouth like a lamb and “crushing
him in the chasm of his throat”76 and in his repeated threats to con-
sume human flesh; Mot is a threat to the security of the pantheon and
by extension to human society.
The golden calf may be viewed in a similar light. In Exod 32 it is clear
from the repetition of the phrase ʭʩʸʶʮ ʵʸʠʮ ʪʥʬʲʤ ʸʹʠ (“who brought you
up from the land of Egypt”)—used in reference to both Moses, servant of
Yahweh, and the golden calf—that the calf was to serve as a proxy for
Yahweh, not as an antagonistic deity.77 However, the golden calf narra-
tives present the image as an idol and as such it is inimical to Yahweh.
By burning, beating, and scattering the golden calf as Mot was burned,
beaten, and scattered, Moses treats the image as if it were a dangerous,
even demonic power whose presence threatens both the legitimate
worship of Yahweh and the integrity of the Israelite community.
From the parallel with Mot and the golden calf, we may surmise that
Josiah’s destruction of the asherah constituted a response to a perceived
threat the object posed to the deity (in this case Yahweh), his cult, and
ultimately his people. Much like the debate over the cultic function of
the golden calf, scholars disagree on whether the asherah in the
Jerusalem temple was an installation associated with the cult of Yahweh
or whether it represented a separate deity, Asherah; indeed this question
constitutes a major crux in the study of Israelite religion.78 It is not
necessary to engage the details of that debate here. The salient point is
that the object had a dangerous potency that Josiah sought to eliminate
through a known apotropaic rite of riddance.
As in the biblical passages, both Ugaritic texts refer to the destruc-
tion of a divine image by means of burning, beating or grinding, and
scattering, and here too the passages differ on the matter of the location
where the debris is deposited. The similarities between these texts sug-
gest that they describe a fixed rite of elimination known to both Ugaritic
and Israelite authors. That all five texts diverge in their final element
suggests that this rite incorporated a degree of flexibility that allowed it
to fit an array of cultic—and, by extension, narrative—contexts.
In light of this evidence, and given the reasons to doubt the deuter-
onomistic origin of the shared vocabulary of violence in 2 Kgs 23:6 and
Deut 9:21 articulated above, I posit that Exod 32:20 and Josiah’s elimi-
nation of the asherah in 2 Kgs 23:6 reflect two originally independent,
pre-deuteronomistic witnesses to an elimination rite practiced in
ancient Israel, although it is not attested in any ritual texts. The Exodus
and Deuteronomy traditions differ from one another due to their diver-
gent narrative contexts and the separate literary environments in which
they emerged. The author of Deut 9:21 had access to both traditions and
imported the language associated with Josiah’s disposal of the dust of
the asherah in his rendering of Moses’s destruction of the calf, thereby
establishing Moses as a model for Josiah’s behavior and Josiah as the
fulfillment of Mosaic promise.
Begg and Hayes convincingly demonstrate that Deut 9:21 is
dependent upon Exod 32:20 and that when Deuteronomy’s wording
diverges from Exodus, the former evidences verbal links with a wide
range of texts in Kings recounting significant moments (both positive
and negative) in the cultic history of Israel.79 Among the examples these
authors cite are Deuteronomy’s reference to the calf as “your sin”
(ʭʫʺʨʧ), the term repeatedly applied to Jeroboam’s calves in the book of
Kings, and the word ʸʴʲʬ (“to dust”) added to the phrase ʷʣ ʸʹʠ ʣʲ,
which links Deut 9:21 to 2 Kgs 23:4, 6, 12. Hayes concludes: “In short,
Deut 9:21’s unique terminology and formulations are not random or
capricious, but establish verbal contacts between Deuteronomy and
later cultic developments: Jeroboam’s fatal offense (1 Kings 12:26ff.)
and the four major Judean cultic reforms in 1 Kings 15:13; 2 Kings 11:18b,
18:4b and 23:4ff.”80
While there are indeed echoes of later cultic developments in
Deuteronomy’s golden calf account, Begg and Hayes do not devote
sufficient attention to the linguistic and phenomenological parallels
between Deut 9:21 and 2 Kgs 23:6 specifically. Begg does note that the
phrase ʸʴʲ ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤ (“he cast the dust”) occurs only three times in the
Bible (Deut 9:21; 2 Kgs 23:6, 12), but he sees this cluster of references
as the product of deuteronomistic editing. He suggests that the for-
mulation of Moses’s fourth action in Exod 32:20 was deliberately
altered in Deut 9:21 with a view toward creating a connection between
Moses’s actions and those of Josiah later on. I would modify this hypo-
thesis somewhat and suggest that the phrase ʸʴʠ ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤ in 2 Kgs
23:6, 12, along with the other similarities between 2 Kgs 23:6 and Deut
9:21, preserves apotropaic ritual language associated with the elimina-
tion of the potency of a cult image, present already in the priestly holi-
ness reform account. The deuteronomistic author of Deut 9:21 used
this language in his reformulation of Exod 32:20, setting up
sympathetic reverberations between Moses and Josiah that suited his
historiographic agenda. While Begg and Hayes are correct that the
deuteronomist’s transformation of Exod 32 brings the calf event into
alignment with significant moments in Israel’s monarchic history,
this transformation, at least in part, is undertaken in response to a
specific, preexistent, independent tradition of Josiah’s elimination of
the asherah. Put otherwise, the differences between Deut 9:21 and
Exod 32:20 are mediated in part by a pre-deuteronomistic account of
Josiah’s reform that presented Josiah’s elimination of the cult object
in quintessentially apotropaic ritual terms.
As Begg and Hayes suggest, the term ʭʫʺʨʧ (“your sin”) in reference
to the golden calf in Deut 9:21 reflects an effort on the part of the deuter-
onomistic author to connect Moses’s destruction of the calf to Jeroboam’s
calves and to the larger themes of the Kings history. By creating a literary
connection between Exod 32:20; Deut 9:21; and 2 Kgs 23:6, the deuteron-
omistic author casts Josiah as reenacting Moses’s ritual annihilation of the
calf and establishes him as the embodiment of Mosaic adherence to
Yahweh’s law. In addition all three texts come to be incorporated into an
evolving polemic against Jeroboam and the Bethel cult. The circle is closed
in 1 Kgs 12:28, when Jeroboam exclaims ʵʸʠʮ ʪʥʬʲʤ ʸʹʠ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʬʠ
ʭʩʸʶʮ (“these are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land
of Egypt”), thus reenacting the Israelites’ breach of faith at Sinai.81 For the
authors of the Kings history, Moses and Aaron at Sinai represent the two
poles of behavior that could be embodied by Israel’s leaders. Within this
schema, Jeroboam stands as the ultimate monarchic realization of Aaron’s

apostasy—and the figure to whom all of Israel’s kings as well as the worst
of Judah’s are compared—while Josiah stands alone as the supramonar-
chic fulfillment of Mosaic promise. This effect is wrought less through
changes made to the reform account itself than through the importation of
language associated with Josiah into the descriptions of other key moments
in Israel’s past.
The foregoing analysis demonstrates how the deuteronomistic
author of 2 Kgs 23 used strategically placed additions, elaborations, and
echoes of earlier moments in Israel’s landed history to recast Josiah as
the ideal Deuteronomic king. This association was so convincingly
wrought that many modern scholars have taken it as historical fact. By
reworking and relying on priestly material in formulating his account of
Josiah’s reform, this author rooted his reformed version of Israelite
civic and religious leadership in the firm foundation of traditions already
in place. He thus lent legitimacy both to his own innovation and to the
Jerusalem temple priesthood, whose exclusive sacred authority he
sought to establish in an era without kings.
The Centralization Theme in 2 Kings 22–23
In examining the specific themes and modes of transformation the deu-

teronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23 employed, it becomes clear that he did
not undertake revision of this particular text with the idea in mind of
promoting a program of centralization. This is an unexpected discovery,
given both the degree to which centralization is seen as a defining
characteristic of deuteronomistic writing and the widely held assump-
tion that centralization of worship in Jerusalem was a Josianic
development, or at the very least a product of postexilic deuteronomistic
authors who sought to cast Josiah as the progenitor and primary agent
of the centralization movement. From the textual analysis presented
here, it appears that the deuteronomistic authors transformed the holi-
ness account not with the intention of casting Josiah as an agent of
Deuteronomy’s centralization law, but rather with a primary interest in
the nature of his governance. In their retelling, the king acted first and
foremost as an advocate for the priority of priestly authority, and his
adherence to ʤʹʮ ʺʸʥʺ (“the law of Moses”) would ensure Yahweh’s ulti-
mate kingship, even after Josiah and the Judahite monarchy were a
thing of the past.
The idea that Josiah represents this Deuteronomic ideal is expressed
through parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and the law of the king in Deut 17.
Hilkiah’s role as custodian of the “book of the law” (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ) is reminis-
cent of Deuteronomy’s Levite priests before whom the king was to copy
the “second law” (ʤʸʥʺ ʤʰʹʮ) in Deut 17:18.82 Like the ideal king in Deut
17:20, Josiah never “strays to the right or left” (2 Kgs 22:2); and much as
the king in Deuteronomy is to observe all of the words of the torah that
he has written before the priests upon a scroll, Josiah upheld the words
of the torah that were written on the scroll that Hilkiah the priest found
in the temple of Yahweh.
Many scholars note tension between Josiah’s royal prerogative on
the one hand and the limitations placed on the power of the king in
Deut 17 on the other. Efforts to grapple with this problem reveal
fundamental flaws in the way that biblical scholarship tends to treat the
reform account. Sweeney’s comments are illuminating in this regard:
Insofar as the “book of the Torah” found in Josiah’s temple

restoration is identified as a form of the book of Deuteronomy,
scholars maintain that Josiah tempered the Judean ideology of
unconditional monarchic authority based on divine election
with the northern ideology of divine favor conditioned by
adherence to Mosaic law—that is, Josiah’s reform was
intended to limit the power of the monarchy by subjecting
it to Mosaic Law.
Putting aside the question of the northern origin of Deuteronomic

ideology, which is ancillary in the present context, Sweeney’s represen-
tation of previous scholarship on 2 Kgs 22–23 resembles the proposal
offered here, but with a critical difference. His summary reflects the
tendency among biblical scholars to assume the historicity of the
reforms and their rootedness in Deuteronomy, thus replicating the bib-
lical authors’ presentation of Josiah as an exceptional king in his adher-
ence to Deuteronomic law. According to this model, in his devotion to
Yahweh, Josiah did what no other king before him had done; namely, he
implemented a legal code with the express purpose of restricting his
own authority. Were we not dealing with a biblical king, such an expla-
nation would never gain traction.83 While a limited kingship may be
Deuteronomy’s prerogative, it is unlikely to have been Josiah’s.
In contrast to those scholars he cites, Sweeney sees Josiah’s reform
as having sought to reestablish Davidic rule over the former northern
kingdom and thus to have extended, not restricted, royal authority; he
thus rejects the idea that Josiah sought to limit his own powers.
However, his explanation of the relationship between Josiah’s actions
and Deuteronomic law is equally problematic. He posits: “Because
Deuteronomy defines ideal kingship in terms that anticipate Josiah’s

policies, Deuteronomy was apparently composed to support King
Josiah’s program of religious reform and national restoration.” This
begs the question of why a law code that seeks to subject the powers of
the king to Mosaic law and priestly jurisdiction would have been writ-
ten with the express purpose of supporting a royal reform that sought
to expand royal control. The fault in this logic is both striking and per-
vasive in biblical scholarship on Josiah’s reform.
The reconstruction proposed in this study alleviates the problem by
situating Josiah’s efforts to tighten royal control and extend royal
authority in the preexilic period in a composition commissioned by the
Josianic court. From the perspective of the postmonarchic deuteron-
omistic author, Josiah was indeed a great king; perhaps the greatest in
Israel’s preexilic history, but his ultimate failure to protect Judah from
destruction provides the necessary proof that governance by kings is
insufficient. This author draws on Deuteronomy’s law of the king to
recast Josiah as the ideal monarch for his subservience to priestly
authority represented by the law of Moses. This subservience was not
historical fact; it was the ideological innovation of an author working
after Josiah the king was long gone.
It is clear that a primary effect of the deuteronomistic transforma-
tion was the establishment of Josiah as the embodiment of Mosaic
exceptionalism and as unique among Israel’s kings. There is nothing
particularly new about this observation, although many see this
theme as originating in the Josianic period, whereas my analysis sit-
uates it in a postmonarchic milieu. It is less widely recognized that,
in modeling Josiah on the figures of Moses and Joshua, the deuteron-
omistic author effectively bypassed David as the ideal model of
Israelite governance, establishing Josiah’s authority on the basis of
earlier, premonarchic archetypes. It is in keeping with this interest,
although nonetheless surprising, that the deuteronomistic author
does not introduce into his account any of the typical language of cen-
tralization that we might expect if his purpose were to re-present
Josiah as the embodiment of a Deuteronomic ideal. The absence of
centralization language in the deuteronomistic revision of 2 Kgs
23:4–20 suggests that deuteronomistic writing could be undertaken
in the service of other Deuteronomic themes, without an explicit
interest in centralization as such.
The association of Josiah with the centralization movement is based
in part on the text’s emphasis on bāmôt eradication, which is taken to
indicate the elimination of all outdoor sanctuaries and shrines where
Israelites worshiped and the restriction of cultic activity to one temple in
Jerusalem.84 However, my analysis suggests that the bāmôt theme was a

prominent feature in the pre-deuteronomistic reform account, with no
discernible connection to centralization, and that this carries over into
the deuteronomistic composition. In the text in its final form, Josiah tar-
gets bāmôt in Judah that operated under their own priests (2 Kgs 23:8–9),
particular cult places and installations in Jerusalem that were deemed
illegitimate (23:6, 7, 10, 11, 12, 13a, 14b), the high place at Bethel (23:15–
16a), and the ʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʡ (“high place temples”) in Samaria (23:19–20).85 It
is difficult to ascertain the precise meaning of the term ʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʡ, but there
is some agreement among scholars that it referred to a particular type of
public and permanent cult place as opposed to the outdoor shrines that
one might find “on every hill and under every green tree.”86 The latter are
not at issue in the deuteronomistic composition. The theme of bāmôt
eradication does not appear to be intrinsically connected to centralization
as an ideological and theological imperative and should not be used as a
basis for identifying Josiah with the centralization movement.
Many interpreters contend that the short form of the centralization
formula—“the place that Yahweh chooses [from one of your tribes]”—
originates in the Josianic period.87 As Sweeney, Richter, and others
note, this language, which is first introduced in Deut 12:2–13:19, is inti-
mately connected to the Davidic/Zion tradition, in which David is
“chosen” by Yahweh and Zion is the place where Yahweh dwells.88 The
idea of a Josianic origin for this complex is rooted in the assumption of
a historical connection between Deuteronomy and Josiah’s reform. In
general, scholars do not take into consideration that neither the short
form of the centralization formula nor the deuteronomistic reflexes of
this idiom—ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʭʥʹʬ (“to place the name”) and ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʺʥʩʤʬ (“my
name to be there”)—appears as a rationale for Josiah’s actions. This and
other language associated with the Zion tradition is conspicuous by its
absence in the reform account. That the deuteronomistic author did not
add such language when he revised his source material at the very least
calls into question the importance of this theme to his editorial agenda.
The absence of centralization language in the reform narrative may
be contrasted with the deuteronomistic account of the reign of the cor-
rupt King Manasseh. Second Kgs 21:4 refers to altars erected in the
temple of Yahweh, “about which Yahweh said, ‘in Jerusalem I shall
place my name.’” Similarly in 21:7 Manasseh is accused of installing an
image of Asherah in Yahweh’s temple, “about which Yahweh said to
David and to Solomon his son, ‘In this temple and in Jerusalem, which
I chose from among all of the tribes of Israel, I have placed my name in
perpetuity.’”89 Use of the centralization formula in 2 Kgs 21 makes
explicit that Manasseh’s perverse policies were in direct conflict with
the ideology of a centralized Yahwistic cult. From the deuteronomistic

perspective, Josiah’s elimination of these same installations should
have served to restore the sanctity of Zion as the place of Yahweh’s
choosing; but we find no such statement in 2 Kgs 22–23. Whereas the
deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 21 regarded centralization as a bell-
wether for judging the quality of Manasseh’s reign, the author of 2 Kgs
23 applied no such standard to Josiah.
The references to the placing of the name in 2 Kgs 21 are the first to
appear in the Kings history since 1 Kgs 14:21, where Rehoboam ascends
to the throne in Jerusalem, “the city that Yahweh chose to place his
name.” Curiously, all references to bāmôt eradication in the regnal
formulas in the book of Kings occur between these two chapters, so that
the reigns of Rehoboam and Manasseh constitute brackets around the
bāmôt-centered history of the divided monarchy.90 From the perspective
of the deuteronomistic author of the book of Kings, Josiah’s reign stands
outside of this closed circuit, a point made explicit in 2 Kgs 23:26–27:
ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʲʫʤ-ʬʫ ʬʲ ʤʣʥʩʡ ʥʴʠ ʤʸʧ-ʸʹʠ ʬʥʣʢʤ ʥʴʠ ʯʥʸʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʡʹ-ʠʬ ʪʠ
ʩʺʸʱʤ ʸʹʠʫ ʩʰʴ ʬʲʮ ʸʩʱʠ ʤʣʥʤʩ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠʩʥ :ʤʹʰʮ ʥʱʩʲʫʤ
ʸʹʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ-ʺʠ ʩʺʸʧʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʠʦʤ ʸʩʲʤ-ʺʠ ʩʺʱʠʮʥ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ
ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ ʩʺʸʮʠ
But Yahweh did not turn from his fierce wrath by which his
anger burned against Judah because of all of the provocations
that Manasseh committed. So Yahweh said, “I will also remove
Judah from before me as I removed Israel, and I will spurn
this city that I chose—Jerusalem and the temple about which
I said, ‘My name shall be there.’”
From the deuteronomistic perspective represented in this passage,

Manasseh’s reign marks the effective end of the Davidic promise of
Zion. Through no fault of his own, Josiah’s reform was too little too late.
The dissolution of the Davidic covenant with its promise of central-
ization also finds expression in Huldah’s prophecy, where the phrase
ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ (“this place”) appears five times, once in each of the five verses
that comprise the pericope. The term ʭʥʷʮ is strongly associated with
the Davidic covenant and the associated call for centralization. This is
evident in Yahweh’s two-pronged assurance to David: first, “I will make
your name great” (ʬʥʣʢ ʭʹ ʪʬ ʩʺʩʹʲʥ), “and I shall establish a place for my
people Israel” (ʬʠʸʹʩʬ ʩʮʲʬ ʭʥʷʮ ʩʺʮʹʥ) (S
2 Sam 7:10); and then “I shall
raise up your offspring after you (ʪʩʸʧʠ ʪʲʸʦ-ʺʠ ʩʺʮʩʷʤ), and “it shall be
he who builds a house for my name” (ʩʮʹʬ ʺʩʡ-ʤʰʡʩ ʠʥʤ) (7:12–13).
Through repetition of the phrase ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ in Huldah’s oracle, the
prophet reflects on the whole of Judah’s monarchic history and sees a

downward spiral of idolatry and transgression that ultimately results in
Judah’s demise and the failure of Yahweh’s aspiration for centralization
to materialize. That her prophecy reflects this long view is exemplified
in the use of the phrase ʩʰʥʡʦʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʧʺ (“because you have forsaken me”),
which appears only one other time in the book of Kings (1 Kgs 11:33: ʯʲʩ
ʩʰʥʡʦʲ ʸʹʠ). Here it provides an explanation for the division of the Davidic
monarchy. Huldah’s use of this phrase serves as a reminder that
throughout its history, Israel consistently disappointed Yahweh’s expec-
tations for faithfulness; punishment was therefore inevitable.
Huldah’s prophecy and Yahweh’s promise to destroy his people
in 2 Kgs 23:27 stand at a conceptual distance from the reform account
itself; neither is intended to provide a rationale for Josiah’s reform
measures. Nowhere in the deuteronomistic text of 2 Kgs 22–23 is the
language of centralization employed to communicate the idea that
Josiah’s purpose was to realize the notion of Zion as Yahweh’s
dwelling place and the only legitimate cult site in his kingdom. If
anything, the language associated with centralization in 22:16–20
and 23:27 emphasizes the failure, not the aspirations, of the central-
ization movement. Use of the phrase ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ (“my name will be
there”) elsewhere in the deuteronomistic history illustrates this
point. Besides 23:27, the only other attestation of this idiom is in
Solomon’s prayer upon dedicating the temple. In 1 Kgs 8:15–19
Solomon proclaims:
ʭʥʩʤ-ʯʮ :ʸʮʠʬ ʠʬʮ ʥʣʩʡʥ ʩʡʠ ʣʥʣ ʺʠ ʥʩʴʡ ʸʡʣ ʸʹʠ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʪʥʸʡ
ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʨʡʹ-ʬʫʮ ʸʩʲʡ ʩʺʸʧʡ-ʠʬ ʭʩʸʶʮʮ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʩʮʲ-ʺʠ ʩʺʠʶʥʤ ʸʹʠ
ʣʥʣ ʡʡʬ-ʭʲ ʩʤʩʥ :ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʮʲ-ʬʲ ʺʥʩʤʬ ʣʥʣʡ ʸʧʡʠʥ ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʺʥʩʤʬ ʺʩʡ ʺʥʰʡʬ
ʤʩʤ ʸʹʠ ʯʲʩ ʩʡʠ ʣʥʣ-ʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠʩʥ :ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʭʹʬ ʺʩʡ ʺʥʰʡʬ ʩʡʠ
ʩʫ ʺʩʡʤ ʤʰʡʺ ʠʬ ʤʺʠ ʷʸ :ʪʡʡʬ-ʭʲ ʤʩʤ ʩʫ ʺʡʩʨʤ ʩʮʹʬ ʺʩʡ ʺʥʰʡʬ ʪʡʡʬ-ʭʲ
ʩʮʹʬ ʺʩʡʤ ʤʰʡʩ-ʠʥʤ ʪʩʶʬʧʮ ʠʶʩʤ ʪʰʡ-ʭʠ
Praise be to Yahweh, the God of Israel, who spoke with his
mouth with my father David, and by his own hand brought
fulfillment, saying: “Since the day I brought my people, that is,
Israel, out of Egypt, I have not chosen a city from any of the
tribes of Israel to build a temple for my name to be there, but I
have chosen David to be over my people Israel.” It was in the
heart of David, my father to build a temple for the name of
Yahweh, the God of Israel. But Yahweh said to my father
David, “Because it was in your heart to build a temple for my
name, you did well because this was in your heart. Only, it
shall not be you who builds the temple, but your son, who
came forth from your loins; he is the one who will build the
temple for my name.”
Richter argues convincingly that the phrase ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ (“my name
shall be there”), a reflex of the idiom “to place the name,” was “pio-
neered by the author of 1 Kings 8:16 in order to make the association
between Yahweh’s election of the place and his election of David (and
thus Solomon’s temple) blatant.”91 Through the use of the phrase ʺʥʩʤʬ
ʭʹ ʩʮʹ in 2 Kgs 23:27, the postmonarchic deuteronomistic author shines
a harsh light on the failure of Israel’s kings to live up to the expectations
associated with those intertwined promises. This disillusion is empha-
sized in the deuteronomistic rendering of 23:13–14, where the bāmôt
facing Jerusalem are attributed to Solomon’s apostasy. The destruction
of these installations constitutes the grande finale of Josiah’s Judahite
reforms and communicates in no uncertain terms that Yahweh’s expec-
tations of the line of David have been irrevocably dashed.
Scholars often point to parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and the call for
centralization in Deut 12:1–5 as evidence for the notion that Josiah was
an agent of the Deuteronomic centralization movement. However, the
elements that 2 Kgs 23 shares with Deut 12 are concentrated in Deut
12:3, which calls for the destruction of Canaanite cult places upon the
Israelites’ entry into the land, interpreted as ḥērem in Deut 7. The
reform account does not employ the ʭʥʷʮ (“sacred place”) terminology
or the “placing the name” idiom that appears in 12:5. This sets it at a
distance from Deuteronomy’s ideology of centralization. While Deut 12
associates the destruction of Canaanite cult places with centralization
of the Israelite cult, in Israelite thought as represented in deuteron-
omistic texts such as Josh 6–8, the ḥērem against the Canaanites had its
own semantic and ideological implications that were unrelated to cen-
tralization and inextricably bound to Israel’s landed relationship with
Yahweh. While the notion of centralization is connected to a similar
understanding of Israel as Yahweh’s elect, its rootedness in the Davidic
covenant sets it apart. That 2 Kgs 23 has parallels in the ḥērem language
of Deut 12:3 and not in the centralization language of 12:5 is deeply
significant, as it links Josiah less to the time-bound traditions of the
Davidic monarchy than to an eternal bond between Israel, Yahweh,
and the land that he promised, which could be sustained in an era
without kings.
5
Literary, Historiographic,
and Historical
Implications
In the preceding pages I demonstrated that by approaching

the account of Josiah’s reform from the standpoint of the
dynamics of defilement, that is, by considering the ritual
language of the text within its appropriate literary traditional
contexts, new fault lines emerge that reveal aspects of the
text’s compositional history, its Sitze im Leben, and its political
and ideological purposes that to this point have not been fully
understood. Apotropaic ritual language in the reform account
reflects a composition generated by a scribe trained within
the circles of the Jerusalem-centered holiness school. This
early narrative was connected to concerns intimately tied to
the material, social, and political realities of preexilic Judah
and the Josianic court. Language that recalls the ḥērem in 2
Kgs 23 reflects the work of a deuteronomistic author who
sought to transform Josiah into the paradigmatic example of
ideal royal leadership in preexilic Judah. In this edition the
king is portrayed not as extending royal authority into the
priestly domain, as the original composition portrays Josiah
doing, but rather as restoring sacred authority to the exclusive
domain of the Jerusalem temple priests. In this way the
deuteronomistic authors pave the way for a postmonarchic
era when royal prerogative would be replaced by priestly rule
and when figures like Ezra and Jeshua ben Jozadak would
come to inherit the guardianship of Israel’s legal and sacred
obligations. In this revised version of Josiah’s reform, the
king stands together with Moses and Joshua as progenitor of an ideo-

logical movement whose aim was to (re)establish the Israelites as a
congregation set apart from the surrounding nations by their covenant
bond with Yahweh.
These conclusions have implications that extend beyond the text of
2 Kgs 22–23 itself to certain larger issues central to biblical criticism: the
nature of “holiness” writing and the duration of the activity of the
so-called holiness school, the relationship between the holiness and
deuteronomistic schools, the use of 2 Kgs 23 as a basis for arguing a
seventh-century date for Deuteronomy, the idea of a Josianic redaction
of the book of Kings, and the import of the idea of centralization within
the literary traditions of the Deuteronom(ist)ic school. In addition, this
study calls into question the deeply entrenched historical claim that
in the late-seventh-century B.C.E. King Josiah, acting as an agent of
Deuteronomic law, implemented a series of reforms aimed at revolu-
tionizing the nature of Israelite religious practice and centralizing
worship at the Jerusalem temple. This chapter addresses these literary
historical and historiographic concerns and concludes with some reflec-
tions on the traditions of sanctified violence that stand at the core of the
account of Josiah’s reform and the essential role that the preservation
and manipulation of these traditions played in the process of narrativ-
izing emergent Israelite identity.
Revisiting the Question of a Josianic Redaction

of the Book of Kings
The idea that the deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform was molded
around a core text produced close in time to Josiah’s reign within the
preexilic circles of the Jerusalem temple holiness school pushes the
introduction of deuteronomistic elements in 2 Kgs 22–23 into the post-
Josianic period. In his celebrated volume Canaanite Myth and Hebrew
Epic, Cross posits that the contrast between the exceptionally positive
stance toward Josiah in 2 Kgs 22–23 and the awareness of his failure to
save Judah from its unfortunate fate, as well as other theological incon-
sistencies in the so-called deuteronomistic history, point to the existence
of preexilic and postexilic strata.1 According to Cross, a preexilic edition
of this historical work was intended as a programmatic document of
Josiah’s reform and of his revival of the Davidic state.2 An exilic edition
(Dtr2) was completed about 550 B.C.E., and it updated this history by add-
ing a chronicle of events subsequent to Josiah’s reign. Cross’s hypothesis
had significant influence on subsequent scholarship and was further
literary, historiographic, and historical implications 123
developed and more systematically argued by adherents to his “double

redaction” model.3 The present work brings new evidence to bear on
the question of a Josianic redaction of the book of Kings, as well as on the
notion of a preexilic history that sought to cast Josiah as reviving the
Davidic state.
The Cross school of thought by and large takes for granted the via-
bility of Noth’s Deuteronomistic History hypothesis. Recently, however,
the idea of a continuous historiographic work beginning in Deuteronomy
and ending in 2 Kings has been called into question (see note 13 in
chapter 1). In light of this scholarship, as well as new, more nuanced
models for thinking about the production of literature in ancient Israel
by scholars such as Carr and van der Toorn,4 I limit my comments here
to the question of a double redaction as it pertains to 2 Kgs 22–23 and
the book of Kings alone.
According to the model proposed here, the tone of optimism in 2
Kgs 22–23, which suggests a preexilic date of composition, is attributed
to the deuteronomistic author’s inheritance of a reform account that was
commissioned by the Josianic court to serve the propagandistic interests
of that institution and already presented Josiah in glowing terms. The
focus on priestly reform in this text provided the raw materials from
which a subsequent author crafted a new image of Josiah as the ultimate
fulfillment of the Deuteronomic ideal of limited kingship. While it is
possible that this literary activity took place in the final two and half
decades of the Judean monarchy and was updated in the exilic or postex-
ilic period, once the positive stance toward Josiah is accounted for, no
details in the deuteronomistic composition require a preexilic attribu-
tion. To the contrary, themes such as Josiah’s failure to stem the tide of
divine wrath, the intense critique of Judah’s kings and priests, the disap-
pointed hope for the centralization of worship in Jerusalem, the emphasis
on premonarchic themes such as the ḥērem, and the parallels drawn bet-
ween Josiah on the one hand and Moses and Joshua on the other, which
circumvent the Davidic promise of Zion as the dwelling place of
Yahweh—all point to a postmonarchic perspective for the author.
Second Kgs 22–23 alone then provides no basis for the assertion of
a Josianic deuteronomistic redaction updated in the postexilic period,
and it argues against a preexilic deuteronomistic edition of the Kings
history that included the account of Josiah’s reform.
Cross’s hypothesis that a first Deuteronomistic redaction derived
from the period of Josiah is based primarily on his interpretation of the
message of this work: that the destruction of the north was tied to the
apostasy of Jeroboam, and that David’s faithfulness was matched only
by that of Josiah. Under the leadership of Josiah, Israel would at last
return to Judah and to Yahweh’s sole legitimate shrine in Jerusalem.

Cross concludes that “the Deuteronomistic History, insofar as these
themes reflect its central concerns, may be described as a propaganda
work of the Josianic reformation and imperial program.”5 He identifies
Huldah’s prophecy in 2 Kgs 22:16–20 and the comment on the failure
of Josiah’s efforts to stem the tide of divine wrath in 23:25–27 as part of
the contribution of Dtr2, who transformed the work into a sermon on
history directed toward the Judean exiles.6
In general Cross’s engagement with 2 Kgs 22–23 itself is limited,
and while he may be correct that the deuteronomistic author respon-
sible for the composition of this text presents Josiah as a bastion of faith-
fulness and a hero in Israel’s covenant history, he overstates the degree
to which the king’s behavior is modeled on that of David:
Even King David and Hezekiah had peccadilloes. Josiah alone
escaped all criticism. Josiah “did that which was right in the
eyes of Yahweh and walked in all the ways of David his father
and did not turn aside to the right or the left. And like him
there was no king before him turning to Yahweh with his
whole mind and soul and strength according to the laws of
Moses.” . . . He attempted to restore the kingdom or empire of
David in all detail. The cultus was centralized according to the
ancient law of the sanctuary, and Passover was celebrated as it
had not been “since the days of the judges.”7
Most of the language Cross cites here in support of the idea of Josiah
as a fulfillment of Davidic promise in fact is never used in reference to
David. Rather, as discussed in chapters 3–4, phrases such as “he did not
turn aside to the right or the left” and “turning to Yahweh with his whole
mind and soul” are used only of Israel’s premonarchic leaders, Joshua
and Moses; in this way they bypass the monarchic model of leadership
established by David. In addition, while Josiah’s actions are interpreted
by modern scholars as evidence of an effort to centralize the cult, lan-
guage associated with “the ancient law of the sanctuary” (i.e., the “plac-
ing of the name” idiom) is never used to describe Josiah’s reform. Josiah
surpasses David in faithfulness; however, he represents an entirely dif-
ferent model of leadership, one rooted in Israel’s premonarchic tradi-
tions. Reference to the Passover in 2 Kgs 23:22–23, the likes of which
had not been performed since the period of the judges, contributes to
this picture. Such a portrayal hardly argues for Josiah’s “restoration
of the kingdom of David in full detail.”8 Reference to Josiah following in
the path of his ancestor David creates an obvious but superficial correla-
tion between the two kings that is not borne out elsewhere in the account
of Josiah’s reign, and it need not have its origins in a Josianic redaction
of the book of Kings.
Eynikel notes that Cross’s distinction between Dtr1 and Dtr2 is not
supported by a critical analysis of the text.9 Others after him go further
in providing a textual foundation for Cross’s conclusions and their own,
with specific attention devoted to stylistic variations in the judgment
formulas that introduce each king’s reign in the book of Kings, as well
as variations in the attitudes toward bāmôt.10 While there is agreement
among scholars of the Cross school regarding the existence of a preex-
ilic version of the Deuteronomistic History, as Provan demonstrates,
none of this work proves that the redactional break in the text occurs
after the account of Josiah’s reign.11
Among those who accept the notion of a double redaction of the
Deuteronomistic History, a handful of scholars argue for a preexilic
account written during the time of Hezekiah.12 This explanation finds
its strongest support in the regnal formulas in the book of Kings, which
show a decisive break following Hezekiah.13 In addition, it is provision-
ally supported by the absence of reference to Hezekiah’s death, which
suggests the possibility of an author/editor who was active during
Hezekiah’s lifetime. The idea of a Hezekian redaction, however, fails to
account for certain peculiarities in the descriptions of the reigns of the
last four kings of Judah that suggest strongly that these belong to the
same editorial hand. In view of these difficulties, Provan proposes an
alternative solution that blends together both Josianic and Hezekian
attributions, without the cumbersome introduction of a second preexilic
redactor. He agrees with the assertion that variations within the judg-
ment formulas imply that more than one Deuteronomistic redactor was
at work, and he finds in favor of those who argue that the first
Deuteronomistic edition of Kings was preexilic and ended with the
account of Hezekiah’s reign. He argues, however, that this edition of
Kings was produced during the period of Josiah, as most scholars who
support the hypothesis of a preexilic edition think.14
Provan’s argument in favor of Hezekiah’s reign as the end point for
the first redaction of the book of Kings is based on two observations.
First, the use of David as a comparative figure is an important feature of
the judgment formulas up to and including Hezekiah, after which point
it is completely absent, except in 2 Kgs 22:2, which according to Provan
is a later addition.15 On the basis of this, as well as linguistic and thematic
similarities between Hezekiah and David that are stronger than any
specific connections between Josiah and David, Provan argues that
Hezekiah, not Josiah, was regarded as the “modern day” David and the
hero of the first Deuteronomistic History.
The parallels drawn in 2 Kgs 18 between Hezekiah and David can be

summarized as follows: only of David and Hezekiah among the kings of
Judah is it said ʥʮʲ ʤʥʤʩ ʤʩʤʥ (“Yahweh was with him”); it is said of only
these two that the king “prospered” (ʬʩʫʹʩ) in war; and only David and
Hezekiah are said to have “defeated [ʤʫʤ] the Philistines.” Sennacherib’s
Prism credits Hezekiah with taking prisoner King Padi of Ekron, and
Sennacherib boasts of granting Hezekiah’s despoiled cities to the
Philistine kings of Ashdod, Ekron, and Gaza.16 It seems from these ref-
erences that relations between Israel and Philistia were tense during
Hezekiah’s reign. Reference to Hezekiah’s defeat of the Philistines in 2
Kgs 18:8 may reflect this underlying reality; however, use of the verb ʤʫʤ
to describe Hezekiah’s military engagement with the Philistines delib-
erately underscores his likeness to David in this respect.
The several points of contact between Hezekiah and David may be
contrasted with the single passing remark in the evaluation of Josiah’s
reign that the king “did right in the eyes of Yahweh and followed in
every path of his ancestor David, turning neither to the right or left”
(22:2). This comment seems to echo and elaborate on the evaluation of
Hezekiah, of whom it is also said that the king “did right in the eyes of
Yahweh according to all that his ancestor David had done.” Provan’s
assertion that 22:2 is secondary in the account of Josiah’s reign is con-
vincing.17 Josiah appears to be modeled on David only as an after-
thought, part and parcel of the rhetorical process of replacing Hezekiah
with Josiah as the hero of the Kings history.18 The closer parallels bet-
ween Hezekiah and David are not accounted for in a model in which
Josiah is the hero of a first edition of the Kings history.
Second, Provan asserts that two clearly discernible attitudes toward
bāmôt are present in the book of Kings. In 1 Kgs 22–2 Kgs 15, where
according to Provan the case for common authorship is virtually undis-
puted, the bāmôt are viewed as Yahwistic shrines. Based on the formu-
laic expression ʥʸʱ ʠʬ ʺʥʮʡʤ (“he did not remove the high places”) being
used in reference only to Judean kings who are otherwise judged posi-
tively, Provan concludes that, while bāmôt were regarded as a threat to
centralization, failure to remove them did not constitute sufficient cause
for negative judgment. A different, later view of the bāmôt is detectable
elsewhere in Kings, both in redactional additions within 1 Kgs 3–2 Kgs
18 and at the end of the Kings history (2 Kgs 17:7aα–12). Here worship
at bāmôt is viewed as tantamount to idolatry.19 Provan suggests that the
primary theme comes to a close with Hezekiah, after which there is a
marked shift in attitude. He asserts that this should be taken as evi-
dence of a preexilic edition of the book that ended with Hezekiah, not
with Josiah.
The shift in attitude toward bāmôt that Provan posits is difficult to

track in the text, as references to these installations disappear entirely
from the regnal formulas for Judah’s kings after Manasseh. How then
are we to know that the association of bāmôt with idolatry is a post-
Hezekian development and therefore compositionally secondary where
it appears in 1 Kgs 3–2 Kgs 18? There is a certain circularity to this
reasoning. Nonetheless, the disappearance of the bāmôt theme in the
descriptions of the reigns of Josiah, Jehoiahaz, Jehoiakim, and Zedekiah
strongly suggests a separate author responsible for the accounts of the
reigns of Judah’s last four kings. In addition, Provan notes a critical
difference in references to the queen mothers in Kings and Chronicles.
In the latter these references cease after the reign of Hezekiah, while in
the former they continue down to the exile. From this Provan posits that
Chronicles’ Vorlage named no queen mothers after Hezekiah.20 Halpern
and Vanderhooft expand on this observation, noting that in Kings the
praenomina of the queen mothers up to and including Hezekiah’s are
identified either by patronym or place of origin but never by both;
whereas after Manasseh’s reign the regnal formula includes both patro-
nym and place of origin.21 Taken together, this evidence strongly argues
for a change in authorship in the book of Kings after the account of
Hezekiah’s reign.
In proposing a Josianic date for the writing of a preexilic Kings his-
tory ending with Hezekiah, Provan understands two pieces of evidence
to be decisive. The first is the attribution of Jerusalem’s deliverance to
Sennacherib’s death, which dates the composition of the narrative to a
point after 681 B.C.E. Understanding this passage to be preexilic, he con-
cludes that the composition of Kings must be placed no earlier than the
same period.22 Provan is correct in his contention that the reference to
Sennacherib’s death is decisive and provides a terminus post quem for
the composition of the Hezekiah narrative; this does not, however,
necessitate a date during the reign of Josiah.
Second, Provan asserts that the statement in 2 Kgs 18:5, ʤʩʤ ʠʬ ʥʩʸʧʠʥ
ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʬʫʡ ʥʤʮʫ (“and after him there was none like him among all the
kings of Judah”), is unlikely to have been written after the reign of
Josiah, but is also unlikely to have been written before it, as the reigns
of Manasseh and Amon must have already passed in order for this
expression, with its plural ʩʫʬʮ, to have made any sense.23 This last
argument is tenuous, as use of the term ʩʫʬʮ may be understood hyper-
bolically to emphasize the king’s unsurpassable faithfulness to Yahweh.
The author may not have been casting judgment on specific subsequent
kings so much as imagining their inferiority in relation to Hezekiah. It
is reasonable, however, to argue that the phrase “and after him there
was none like him among all the kings of Judah” is unlikely to have
been written after the reign of Josiah, of whom it is asserted ʤʩʤ ʠʬ ʥʤʮʫ
ʥʩʰʴʬ (“there was no king like him before”). These factors suggest that
Provan’s proposal of a Josianic date for the first deuteronomistic redac-
tion of the Kings history might be modified to allow for the possibility of
composition during the reign of Manasseh.24
Having asserted a date early in Josiah’s reign for the composition of
the first edition of Kings, Provan must explain the absence of references
to Hezekiah’s death and the reigns of Manasseh and Amon. He sug-
gests that the preexilic edition of Kings finished on a high note, with
Hezekiah, not Josiah, as the Davidic hero. Hezekiah, whom Yahweh
helped (2 Kgs 18:7) and who survives the Assyrian threat, is contrasted
with Sennacherib, whom Yahweh opposed (19:6–7) and who is finally
killed by his own sons.25 From a literary standpoint, the presence of a
death/burial notice for Hezekiah would have diminished the force of
this distinction, and the reigns of Amon and Manasseh would have
been structurally superfluous.26
In the previous chapter I noted that use of the centralization formula
“to place the name” occurs in 1 Kgs 14:20 and 2 Kgs 21:4, 7 and nowhere
else in the intervening chapters. These references to the Davidic promise
of a centralized Yahwistic cult in Jerusalem bracket the bāmôt-centered
account of the divided monarchy. If indeed a first edition of the kings
history that ended with the reign of Hezekiah and cast him as the ulti-
mate fulfillment of Yahweh’s promises to David was produced during
the reign of Manasseh or early in the reign of Josiah, the account of
Manasseh’s reign would per force have been the product of the post-
monarchic author also responsible for the accounts of the reigns of the
last four kings of Judah. The postmonarchic deuteronomist’s use of the
centralization formula in 2 Kgs 21 would have deliberately recalled its
use in 1 Kgs 14:20 to emphasize the erosion of the Davidic covenant that
began with the division of the monarchy and ended with Manasseh’s
syncretistic policies. The idea that the accounts of Manasseh and Josiah’s
reigns are the work of a single author is supported by the close correla-
tion between the cultic crimes attributed to Manasseh and Josiah’s
corrective measures. For example, where Manasseh “rebuilt the high
places” (2 Kgs 21:3), Josiah “defiled” them; Manasseh erected altars for
Baal and Asherah (21:3), while Josiah “brought out of the temple of
Yahweh all of the vessels made for Baal and Asherah” (23:4); Manasseh
burned his son as an offering (21:6), while Josiah defiled the Topheth so
that no one would offer his son or daughter to/as a mlk (23:10).27 In the
revised and expanded postmonarchic Kings narrative, Manasseh’s reign
would have marked the final breach in the Davidic covenant and the
dashing of all hope for the installation of a singular cult of Yahweh cen-
tralized at the temple in Jerusalem. On the foundation of those ruins
Josiah became as the phoenix, who rose from the ashes of his own nest
to constitute himself anew, in a new era of postmonarchic governance.
The brief reference to Amon’s reign in 22:19–25 was a necessary element
in the postmonarchic, deuteronomistic expansion of the Hezekian his-
tory simply because this king’s existence had to be accounted for.
Likewise the brief and dispassionate regnal formulas used in reference
to the last four kings of Judah reflect this author’s need to account for the
reigns of kings in whom he was ultimately disinterested.
Provan assumes, with Lemaire, that the first edition of the Kings
history is likely to have been produced in the royal court and that its
purpose was not simply to inform readers about the past but also to
influence their attitudes and behavior in the present.28 He further spec-
ulates that the author of this narrative refers back to Hezekiah as a pre-
cedent for the behavior of the present king. Given the generally
distrustful stance toward the monarchy exhibited in Deuteronom(ist)ic
texts, the attribution of a first deuteronomistic edition of Kings to an
author working within the royal court is dubious.29 Ascertaining the
social locus of this would-be composition is a problem with no clear
solution. Perhaps of more substantive significance for our under-
standing of literary production in the seventh century, however, is the
question of whether a preexilic edition of Kings that ended with the
reign of Hezekiah need necessarily be identified as deuteronomistic at
all. The Deuteronomistic attribution of the first edition of Kings tends to
be taken for granted in double redaction scholarship, but it has not been
systematically argued.30 It would be worthwhile to consider what lan-
guage, if any, in texts assigned to the first edition of Kings is tied closely
enough to Deuteronomy to warrant the identification of this historio-
graphic work as deuteronomistic. Might certain formulaic turns of
phrase, for example, “he smashed the maṣṣebot and cut down the ash-
erah” (2 Kgs 18:4), reflect a synthesizing effort on the part of a post-
monarchic redactor of Deuteronomy through 2 Kings, who incorporated
these books into a coherent history of preexilic Israel? The theme of
bāmôt eradication, while certainly tied to an interest in the consolidation
of public worship, is not necessarily tied to the ideology of centralization
envisioned in Deuteronomy, as I argued in chapter 4. Bāmôt eradication
is a deuteronomistic theme only by virtue of its inclusion in what
scholars identify as the Deuteronomistic History. There is a danger here
of entrapment in our own self-fulfilling prophecy. The impulse to iden-
tify a first edition of Kings with the deuteronomistic movement may be
a product of too limited a view of literary productivity in seventh-century
Judah. While it may have been in this period that Deuteronomic law
came to be of interest, we should not allow the weight of Deuteronomic
innovation to obscure from view other sorts of literary activity that might
have gone on simultaneously. It is quite possible that an edition of the
Kings history was produced under the auspices and designed to pro-
mote the interests of the royal court in Jerusalem, but was not explicitly
tied to the Deuteronom(ist)ic movement. Such a hypothesis obviously
requires rigorous testing; for the time being we may simply bear it in
mind as we consider the evolution of the Kings traditions.
These cautions aside, Provan’s arguments in favor of a first edition
of the Kings history that ended with the reign of Hezekiah and was pro-
duced early in the reign of Josiah (or possibly, I would argue, during the
reign of Manasseh) account well for many features of the book of Kings
that Cross’s model of a Josianic redaction fails to explain, including the
absence of reference to bāmôt in the regnal formulas of the last four
kings of Judah, the shift in the style of references to the queen mother
after the reign of Hezekiah, and the impression that the figure of
Hezekiah is more closely modeled on the figure of David than is Josiah.
In addition, such a reconstruction accords well with the evidence
brought to bear in the present work, which points away from a Josianic
deuteronomistic redaction in 2 Kgs 22–23.
Temporal and Literary-Traditional Connections between

the Holiness and Deuteronomistic Schools
If the central hypothesis of this study is correct—that a preexilic account

of Josiah’s reform was commissioned by the Josianic court and written
by holiness priests—then this text would have been produced close in
time to the first edition of the book of Kings (i.e., within the same half
century), and both would have placed an emphasis on the elimination of
bāmôt. In the Kings history, reference to the failure to remove the bāmôt,
which occurs in the evaluations of Asa (1 Kgs 15:14), Jehosaphat (22:44),
Joash (2 Kgs 12:4), Amaziah (14:4), Azaria (15:4), and Jotham (15:35),
would have served the interests of a Jerusalem-oriented consolidation
and/or centralization movement that may or may not have been tied to
Deuteronomic ideology. In the holiness account of Josiah’s reform,
Josiah is portrayed as targeting specific bāmôt whose operation inter-
fered with the consolidation of his relgiopolitical control, with no evi-
dence of a Deuteronomic agenda. It thus becomes clear that the theme
of bāmôt eradication need not necessarily be tied to the implementa-
tion of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization, nor to the monotheizing
tendencies of late biblical authors and editors. A picture begins to

emerge of bāmôt eradication as a theme that evolved in both the holi-
ness and history-writing circles of the late preexilic period, but for dif-
ferent reasons and with different literary and historiographic goals at
the fore. This is not to say that the theme developed independently in
these two intellectual circles, and here Carr’s recent work on textuality
in ancient Israel is instructive. Whether the preexilic historians and
holiness scribes would have been trained in the same scribal schools
is difficult to know. However, it is likely that the texts they produced
became part of an Israelite scribal curriculum that fostered cross-
fertilization.31 In part, this may account for the elaboration of common
themes within the two corpora, including an interest in the destruction
and defilement of bāmôt.
In order to better understand such cross-fertilization, consider the
web of relationships that exists between the book of Ezekiel and the
holiness and deuteronomistic accounts of Josiah’s reform. In the preex-
ilic period the work of the historian responsible for the first edition of
Kings took place simultaneously with the activity of the holiness writers
who produced first account of Josiah’s reform and possibly Holiness
Code itself. The preexilic reform account shares essential aspects of its
ritual attitudes and ideology with the book of Ezekiel (see chapter 2).
The book of Ezekiel preserves an expression of holiness interests that
shares its postmonarchic Sitz im Leben with the deuteronomistic
recasting of Josiah’s reform. The latter is based on a preexilic holiness
composition, and it too shares certain interests with the book of Ezekiel.
For example, both the deuteronomistic reform account and Ezekiel rely
heavily on premonarchic imagery and forms of governance. In Ezekiel
this manifests itself most notably in the prophet’s interest in the estab-
lishment of a Nasi, a form of leadership that had its origins in the pre-
monarchic period, as well as in his visions of Yahweh’s fiery chariot,
which were rooted in descriptions of the tabernacle in Leviticus. These
may be compared, for example, with the parallels drawn between Josiah
and Joshua in 2 Kgs 22–23 and the use of language associated with the
ḥērem, both of which, as argued above, are evocative of a time before
kings. Finally, the revised, deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform
is woven into a Kings history that expands and elaborates on an edition
of Kings that may have promoted centralization without necessarily
having been tied to Deuteronomy.
If the above reconstruction makes the reader’s head spin, to use a
metaphor that Ezekiel might have appreciated, this is precisely the
point. It begins to appear that, while we may differentiate characteristics
typical of holiness and deuteronomistic literature, at another level these
schools of thought and the texts they produced were thoroughly inter-
twined through a Jerusalem-centered scribal matrix that transcended
both textual and institutional specificity.32 Perhaps this should be taken
into consideration when scholars pose the question of the literary his-
torical relationship between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code itself.
While it can be useful to look for signs of literary borrowing, we may
also imagine an intertextuality that, as Carr argues, was more complex
than what the process of “visually consulting, citing, and interpreting
separate written texts” accounts for.33
The textual analysis presented in this study helps to more clearly
define the temporal parameters of holiness writing, a question that is a
source of debate (see notes 53 and 54 in chapter 1). Based on a Hezekian
date for the Holiness Code itself, Knohl envisions a Holiness School
whose earliest compositions can be dated to the period after Ahaz’s rise
to power in 743 B.C.E. but before 701 B.C.E., which he assigns as the date
for the speech of the Rabshakeh that mentions Hezekiah’s reforms.34
According to Knohl, the relationship between the Holiness Code and
Hezekiah suggests Jerusalem as the place of composition. He under-
stands the Holiness School’s literary activity to have extended well into
the postexilic period.35 Milgrom, Haran, and others identify a more
limited Holiness source, the body of whose work was composed in the
late preexilic period although not necessarily in connection with
Hezekiah’s reforms.36
The present work has no bearing on the date of the Holiness Code
itself; however, the existence of a holiness account of Josiah’s reform
embedded in 2 Kgs 23:4–20 does point to the literary activity of holiness
priests during the period of Josiah’s reign. If the Holiness Code origi-
nates in the late preexilic period as many contend, this suggests that
there were different types of holiness writing going on simultaneously.
The idea of holiness writing that is neither legalistic nor directly tied to
the Holiness Code itself has not been considered and deserves further
study. The influence of preexilic holiness writing on postmonarchic
texts such as 2 Kgs 22–23 in its final form and the book of Ezekiel sug-
gests that we should think of a holiness strand of tradition that had its
roots in the late preexilic period but continued to shape the production
of biblical literature after 586.
These conclusions point to the need for biblical scholars to relax the
conventional boundaries between Priestly, Holiness, and Deutero-
nomistic writing to incorporate the material realities of scribal training,
which involved more fluidity in the transmission of tradition than
source-critical designations tend to accommodate. This is not to say
that we should abandon those well-honed tools of the trade. Rather we
should continue to allow dominant traits in particular types of biblical

literature and their resonances in unexpected literary contexts to guide
us toward a deeper understanding of the social, institutional, and intel-
lectual affiliations of a text’s authors, as source criticism has tradition-
ally enabled and encouraged us to do.
The Deuteronomic Book Hypothesis and the Historicity

of the Josianic Reforms
The account of Josiah’s reform in 2 Kgs 22–23 has long been used by
biblical scholars as point of reference for dating the appearance in Judah
of an early version of the book of Deuteronomy. I argue here that the
literary connections between these two texts were introduced at a
secondary stage in the development of the Josiah account by a deuter-
onomist working in the postmonarchic period. The association between
Josiah’s book of the law and Deuteronomy therefore postdates Josiah’s
reign and cannot be used as a basis for arguing a late-seventh-century
date for the latter. In fact this association in and of itself has no bearing
whatsoever on the date of Deuteronomy. This is not to say that a sev-
enth-century date is necessarily incorrect; if Deuteronomy preserves
northern (i.e., Israelite) interests that were reshaped in a Judahite
setting, as Ginsberg first proposed, a seventh-century date for this
literary activity might still make the most sense, as during this period
Jerusalem would have been the locus of an unusual interface of Israelite
and Judahite perspectives.37 In this case, the seventh-century date origi-
nally assigned to Deuteronomy by de Wette on the basis of a connection
to Josiah is correct only by coincidence.38
I also argue that deuteronomistic revision of the holiness reform
account was not undertaken in the service of an ideology of centraliza-
tion. While the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 22–23 regarded central-
ization as an ideal regretfully unattained in the preexilic period, his
revisions are intended to redraw the lines of royal power, rendering it
subservient to textual authority, the latter having the ability to transcend
the spatial and political constraints of his day.39 The reform account
should not be read as propaganda for the centralization movement, as
centralization does not appear to have been a particular interest of the
text’s deuteronomistic author.
The idea of deuteronomistic writing not explicitly focused on the
promotion of a centralizing agenda has received little if any attention
from biblical scholars. It suggests that while the influence of
Deuteronomic law on the production of literary texts was pervasive,
Deuteronomy’s ideology of centralization was neither its only nor even

necessarily its primary bequest. For the deuteronomistic author respon-
sible for 2 Kgs 22–23 in its final form, the ideology of centralization, tied
as it was to Yahweh’s covenant promise to David, did not resonate as
powerfully as the ideal of limited kingship. While these two Deuteronomic
principles are hardly mutually exclusive, they lived on differently in the
postmonarchic imagination and suggest a greater degree of heteroge-
neity within deuteronomistic writing than is generally understood to be
the case.
When the holiness account of Josiah’s reform was transformed to
portray Josiah as acting in the service of Deuteronomic law, the king
was recast as an agent of ḥērem, who, like Joshua before him, asserted
by rites of violence Yahweh’s legal authority over the promised land
and his people Israel. As part of this revision, Josiah’s attack on Bethel
in the original account was expanded to include all of the royally spon-
sored cult places in Samaria; thus in the deuteronomistic mind’s eye,
Josiah reunited Judah and Samaria in their covenant commitment to
the cult of Yahweh alone. This should not be mistaken for Josiah’s
reestablishment of a politically unified Israelite state with its capital in
Jerusalem, as in the days of David and Solomon; nor should it be taken
as a rearticulation of the political boundaries of that bygone era. These
ideas do not inhere in deuteronomistic composition, and there is no
reason to think that they were realized by Josiah himself.40 The idea of
Josiah’s northern expansion is based primarily on 2 Chr 34:6, which
situates Josiah’s attack on the northern cult “in the towns of Manasseh,
Ephraim, Simeon, and as far as Naphtali”; that is, as far north as the
site of Dan. But as Na’aman cogently argues on the basis of his analysis
of the town lists in Joshua and archeological evidence from the seventh
century, “there are no grounds for the assumption that Josiah attempted
to conquer the entire North and to impose his reforms throughout the
territory of Palestine.”41 The picture that emerges is, at best, of a limited
and localized reform that was neither undertaken by Josiah in the
service of Deuteronomic law nor associated with Deuteronomy’s
centralizing agenda.
Over the course of the last century, other scholars have argued for the
dissociation of Josiah’s reform from Deuteronomy. Yet the weight of this
scholarship has failed to shake loose this correlation from the collective
consciousness of biblical scholarship. One reason for this may be that the
story itself is so compelling. In my own undergraduate teaching I find it
difficult to present the idea of Deuteronomism without recourse to Josiah
and his book of the law. To some extent this is appropriate, as the deuter-
onomistic author of 2 Kgs 22–23 clearly wanted his readers to draw this
connection. However, we have for too long taken the deuteronomist at

his word, incorporating his story into our reconstruction of the religious
and intellectual history of late-seventh-century Judah.
In A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period, Albertz
comments that “the most important decision in the history of Israelite
religion is made with a dating of an essential part of Deuteronomy in
the time of Josiah.”42 Reflecting on this assertion more than a decade
later, he recalls:
I had become aware that any reconstruction of Israel’s religion
decisively depends on whether you—in accordance with
W. M. L. DeWette—equate the core of Deuteronomy with
Josiah’s law book (2 Kings 22:8, 11), dating it in the last third
of the seventh century, or whether you dissolve this connection
and—in company with Hölscher . . . and Kaiser . . . —shift the
date of Deuteronomy to the post-exilic period. . . . Giving up the
seventh-century dating of Deuteronomy would have far-
reaching consequences: not only important features of Israel’s
religion like monotheism, exclusivism and brotherhood would
have to be dated much later, but also most of the
Deuteronomic reform ideas like centralization of the cult or
the subordination of all the state to the law would lose any
connection to social reality.43
With important exceptions, biblical scholarship on Deuteronomy
and Josiah’s reform tends to align itself with one of the two positions
Albertz articulates: either scholars date Deuteronomy to the seventh
century based on an explicit or implicit assumption of a historical con-
nection to Josiah’s law book, or they reject this historical claim and push
the date of Deuteronomy into the exilic or postexilic period, in some
cases calling for the complete abandonment of the notion that the emer-
gence of monotheistic Judaism had its roots in processes that began in
the late preexilic period.44 Construed thus, there is much at stake in dis-
sociating the reform from Deuteronomy. This polarization, however,
imposes constraints that obscure the complexities of literary production
in the late preexilic period. Work on the book of Deuteronomy may have
been underway in Josiah’s Jerusalem even if the original reform account
was not produced within these literary circles. A first edition of the
Deuteronomistic History may have been in progress, even if it did not
end with Josiah as its hero and his reign as its climax. An interest in
bāmôt eradication, which the deuteronomistic school may have associ-
ated with Deuteronomy’s ideology of centralization, was a key factor in
the production of an array of contemporary literary works, including the
pre-deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform, the Holiness Code, and

the first edition of the Kings history. The dissociation of Deuteronomy
and Josiah hardly yields a seventh-century Jerusalem bereft of significant
literary and theological activity. To the contrary, unlocking the bolt that
has fastened Deuteronomy to the Josianic reforms reveals a more
diverse, dynamic, and fertile center of social and literary production.
Conclusions
In light of the foregoing discussion we may reconstruct the evolution

of 2 Kgs 22–23 along these lines: a deuteronomistic author/editor
working in the postmonarchic period inherited an account of Josiah’s
reform that was generated by a holiness writer appointed by the Josia-
nic court. The connections between 2 Kgs 23:4–20 and the Holiness
Code point to that legal corpus as the closest point of reference for the
original text’s programmatic character, as Berry argued with some-
what less nuance already in the early twentieth century.45 This is not to
say that the Holiness Code as we know it necessarily existed by the
time of Josiah; rather, the legal and programmatic interests it attests
were influential in the mind of the scribe who produced the original
reform account.
The deuteronomistic author may have been attracted to this palace
commission for its implicit endorsement of the Jerusalem temple priest-
hood, but he turned on its head the original composition’s interest in the
extension of royal authority into the priestly domain. Instead, in the deu-
teronomistic text, royal prerogative is made subservient to the book of the
law, whose stipulations are understood to be a matter of priestly jurisdic-
tion. In this way the text’s author took exclusive sacred authority out of
royal hands, where it no doubt ultimately rested in the preexilic period,
and turned it over to the Jerusalem temple priesthood for safekeeping. In
situating the authority for Josiah’s actions in a lost book of the law, the
deuteronomistic author conceded that the king was acting in accor-
dance with programmatic interests already in place; but by integrating
Deuteronomic phraseology and ideology, he established Deuteronomy as
the point of reference, a connection that has endured millennia. This
revised text became the new climax of a (second?) deuteronomistic edition
of the book of Kings, in which Josiah, in his likeness to Joshua, supplanted
Hezekiah as the hero of Israel’s preexilic history. Like the great ḥērem
warrior, Josiah sought to reaffirm God’s covenant through the elimina-
tion of non-Israelite practices and to (re)claim Israel as the land that
Yahweh promised.
The account of Josiah’s reform preserves a conversation across time

and space about what constituted an ideal leader, where Yahweh dwelled
amid his people, how the promises of covenant were both kept and vio-
lated, and how they were best upheld. These questions play themselves
out against the backdrop of rites of violence deeply rooted in Israel’s
most basic understanding of itself. In the received biblical text, Josiah’s
reign and reform represent a pivotal moment in the establishment of
the so-called Mosaic distinction; that is, the distinction drawn between
Israel and its neighbors that fostered Israel’s collective forgetting of its
Syro-Canaanite heritage. Assertion of the boundaries between insiders
and outsiders, even if it played out only in texts produced by Israel’s
intellectual elite, was an inherently violent act. That is to say, the hos-
tility inherent in the rejection of the Other both manifested itself and
justified itself through narrative traditions of sanctified violence. The
holiness account of Josiah’s reform remembers the destruction associ-
ated with the assertion of a distinctively Israelite religion in apotropaic
ritual terms tied to priestly conceptions of purity and taboo. The deuter-
onomistic author reimagined that vital moment of self-definition in the
idiom of ḥērem, an indigenous concept in ancient Israel, that was asso-
ciated both with the real experience of Israel’s emergence in the land of
Canaan and with an enduring and essential ideology of exclusion.
Notes
chapter 1
1. Assmann, Moses the Egyptian, 3. For a thorough study on
the subject of divine translatability in the ancient Near East, see
Smith, God in Translation.
2. “U.N. Pleads with Taliban Not to Destroy Buddha
Statues,” New York Times, March 3, 2001, A.3.
3. On the Bible’s violent legacy, see Avalos, Fighting Words;
Bekkenkamp and Sherwood, Sanctified Aggression; Bernat and
Klawans, Religion and Violence; and Schwartz, Curse of Cain. For a
brilliant discussion of memory sanctions in the ancient world, see
Flower, Art of Forgetting, 1–13. Flower explains memory sanctions
as strategies, usually imposed within the memory spaces of the
political elite, intended to shape recollection of the past through
destruction, erasure, and/or redefinition.
4. For an excellent treatment of the role of narrative in the
construction of Israelite identity, and the power of biblical
narrative to transform the reader, see Gorospe, Narrative and
Identity.
5. De Wette, Dissertatio critico-exegetica; cf. Weinfeld,
Deuteronomy 1–11, 16. The identification of Josiah’s law book with
Deuteronomy was made already in St. Jerome’s Commentary to
Ezekiel 1.1 (340–420 C.E.), as well as in a scholium to 2 Kgs 22 by
Procopius of Gaza (465–529 C.E.); cf. van der Toorn, Scribal
Culture, 279n18.
6. Römer, “Deuteronomistic and Biblical Historiography,” 1.
140 notes to pages 5–6
7. The phrase ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ (“my name shall be there”) is used in

God’s promise to destroy Jerusalem and its temple in 2 Kgs 23:27, but in
this context it serves to emphasize the failure of the centralization
movement in general; it is structurally and compositionally disconnected
from the reform account itself (see chapter 4). On the translation of
ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʯʫʹʬ as “to place his name” and not “to cause his name to dwell,”
see Richter, Deuteronomistic History. Through an investigation of the
meaning and occurrences of the Akkadian idiom šuma šakānu (“to place
the name”), Richter argues (p. 211) that rather than introducing a
“corrective” to the traditional understanding of the temple as Yahweh’s
dwelling place, the Deuteronomist used the “placing of the name” idiom in
order to relate the divine warrior of Israel’s heroic past to an even more
ancient past and to communicate the idea that failure on the part of the
Israelites to recognize the severity of Yahweh’s law would have no less dire
consequences than to betray the stipulations of the great kings of the East.
8. The first to question this connection was Hölscher,
“Komposition und Ursprung,” 251–53; see also Ahlström, History of
Ancient Palestine, 770–81, who identifies eight reasons why Josiah’s
reform cannot have been inspired by Deuteronomy. His acknowledgment
of the non-Deuteronomic character of the reform account in 23:4–20 is
important; however, his specific arguments are often based on the silence
of the text rather than on existing evidence. Others who attempt to
dissociate Josiah’s reform from Deuteronomy include Barrick, Cemeteries,
7–16; Berry, “Code Found in the Temple”; Knoppers, Two Nations,
2.163–66; idem, “Solomon’s Fall and Deuteronomy,” 402–3; McConville,
Law and Theology, 155–57; and Reuter, Kultzentralisation, 227ff. For a
systematic survey of scholarship on the date of Deuteronomy and its
relationship to Josiah’s reform, see Houtman, Der Pentateuch, 279–342.
9. Van der Toorn, Scribal Culture, 34–35, 143–47, represents
an otherwise excellent contribution to biblical scholarship that is
hampered by the assumption of a historical connection between
Deuteronomy and Josiah’s reform. For a critique, see Monroe, “Review of
van der Toorn.” Other examples include Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 207;
and Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 9–10.
10. Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.163.
11. The term “reform report” is a translation of Oestreicher’s
Reformbericht, which he uses to differentiate this material from the
Auffindungsgeschichte (“history of discovery”) in 2 Kgs 22:8–23:3, 21–24.
See Oestreicher, “Das deuteronomische Grundgesetz.” It is widely
recognized that the material in 23:4–20 differs considerably in language
and style from the surrounding narrative.
12. On the term “Holiness legislation,” see Schwartz, “Israel’s
Holiness,” 52n14, who prefers this term to the more conventional
notes to pages 7–11 141
“Holiness Code,” as he does not see Lev 17–26 as a book or a code per se,
nor does he see Holiness passages outside of these chapters as part of a
redaction. In Holiness Legislation, 17–24, Schwartz explores the implications
of the various terms that scholars apply to this and other biblical law
collections. Schwartz’s terminology has gained traction in scholarship; for
example, Stackert, Rewriting the Torah. Despite its limitations, I use the
term “Holiness Code” here in order to specify a focus on Lev 17–26 alone,
distinct from passages outside of these chapters that may belong to the
holiness school.
13. Coggins, “What Does Deuteronomistic Mean?”; Knauf,
“Deuteronomistic Historiography?” 388; Lohfink, “Was There a Deu-
teronomistic Movement?”; idem, So-Called Deuteronomistic History; and
Römer and de Pury, “Deuteronomistic Historiography,” 139.
14. Levine, Presence of the Lord, 77–78.
15. Smith, To Take Place, 9, notes that no single biblical ritual
can be reenacted from start to finish based solely on the evidence the
Bible provides.
16. Bell, Ritual Theory, 111 (emphasis added). Cf. Lévi-Strauss,
Naked Man, 4.670–72.
17. My choice of words here echoes Wright, Ritual in
Narrative, 4, whose work provides an excellent model for thinking about
the way ancient Near Eastern authors used ritual language to meet
particular narrative needs.
18. Wright, Ritual in Narrative, 6.
19. Bibb, Ritual Words, 39. Bibb’s and Wright’s works on
ritual in narrative represent a new and fruitful direction in the study of
Israelite ritual. See also Grimes, Reading, Writing, and Ritualization.
20. I use the word ḥērem as a technical term and therefore
render it throughout the book in transliteration, not in Hebrew characters.
21. On ḥērem as an explicitly ritual act, see Bornapé,
“El problema del ʭʸʧ.”
22. Levine, Presence of the Lord, 56.
23. On the political context out of which the Deuteronom(ist)
ic ḥērem emerged, see chapter 3 and the more detailed discussion in
Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions.”
24. For example, scapegoat rituals, intended to counteract
plague, are attested in the Bible (Num 25:6–13), in Hittite texts, and as far
west as the Aegean. On Numbers 25 as preserving an Israelite scapegoat
rite, see Monroe, “Phinehas’s Zeal.” For translations of the Hittite texts,
see Hallo and Younger, Context of Scripture, 1.161–67; and Gurney, Hittite
Religion, 49. For a comparative study, see Bremmer, “Scapegoat between
Hittites.” Parallels between particular Israelite ritual and prophetic texts
and Akkadian šurpu incantations for exorcising demons have also received
attention; see Cathcart, “Micah 5,4–5”; Geller, “Šurpu Incantations”;

Watson, “Akkadian Incantations”; and Abusch, “Socio-Religious
Framework of Maqlû,” 29. Studies explicitly dedicated to ancient Near
Eastern attitudes toward purity and taboo include Schwartz et al.,
Perspectives on Purity; van der Toorn, Sin and Sanction; and Abusch and
van der Toorn, Mesopotamian Magic.
25. Programmatic features of the Holiness Code are well
attested. For example, Joosten, People and Land, 25n49, notes the
recurrent phrase “when you come into the land” (Lev 19:23; 23:10; 25:2).
Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 220 posits that the Holiness Code was
designed as a program for Hezekiah’s reform and became operational
during his reign. Others argue that the Holiness Code was composed
during the exile as a program for life during the period of return; see
Elliger, Leviticus, 16–17.
26. For an excellent discussion of how Priestly revision and
interpretation helped shape the Pentateuch, see Smith, Priestly Vision of
Genesis 1, 117–38. On priestly circles as centers of scribal production in
Israel and elsewhere in the ancient Near East, see van der Toorn, Scribal
Culture. On Priestly editing in the formation of the “Enneatuech,” see
Kratz, Narrative Books, 306–7.
27. Burney, Hebrew Text, 104–9, provides a detailed list of
possible priestly interpolations in 1 Kgs 8. See also Gray, I and II Kings,
191, who suggests that the Deuteronomistic text was revised by a Priestly
editor familiar with Chronicles. Based on a date of 300 B.C.E. for that text,
he dates the Priestly editing of 1 Kgs 8 to the third century B.C.E. Also
Sweeney, I and II Kings, 131, with bibliography at n117. Cogan, I Kings,
291, points to the diversity of designations for those in attendance at the
ceremony, as well as other linguistic features, as evidence that the
Deuteronomistic composition was glossed by a Priestly editor. The
purpose of the glossator would have been to “point up the legitimacy of
Solomonic Temple as heir to the desert Tabernacle by reference to the
Tent of Meeting and its sacred vessels. The temple ceremony became, as
it were, a second inauguration, parallel to the one described in Num 7:1–2,
in which all of the tribal leadership (kwl rʾšy hmṭwt) participated.” On the
relative unity and cohesiveness of the Deuteronomistic composition, see
Knoppers, “Prayer and Propaganda.”
28. Gray, I and II Kings, 293; and Van Seters,
“Deuteronomistic History,” 215. On the relatively late date of the Leviticus
Succoth tradition and its bearing on the date of the reference in 1 Kgs 12,
see Cogan, I Kings, 360.
29. Van Seters, In Search of History, 318; cf. Hoffmann,
Reform und Reformen, 192–96.
30. Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 4.
31. Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 9 takes for

granted a historical connection between Josiah’s reform and Deuteronomy,
a point on which we disagree. In addition, we may differ on the decisive
import of centralization as an attribute of deuteronomistic writing.
However, our work coincides regarding the nature of Deuteronom(ist)ic
historiography and the ways in which the authors of such texts relied on,
incorporated, and transformed their source material. My own thinking on
these matters is shaped in part by Levinson’s work, which I have come to
know both through his writing and in conversation during the two happy
years when we were colleagues at the University of Minnesota.
32. On this history of this scholarship, see the thorough
discussion in Boling and Wright, Joshua, 55–72.
33. This idea was first proposed by Richter, Tradition-
sgeschichtliche Untersuchungen, and had considerable influence on
subsequent scholarship.
34. Oestreicher, “Das deuteronomische Grundgesetz.”
35. Oestreicher, “Das deuteronomische Grundgesetz,” 12.
36. Barrick, Cemeteries, 47–49; Van Seters, “Deuteronomistic
History,” 219; and the discussion of the redactional history of 2 Kgs
23:15–16 in chapter 4. For a general treatment of the functions of the
particle ʭʢ in Biblical Hebrew, see van der Merwe, Old Hebrew Particle gam.
37. For a thorough treatment of the issues at stake, see
Barrick, Cemeteries, 64–105.
38. Barrick, Cemeteries, 3.
39. Barrick, Cemeteries, 118; see also Eynikel, Reform of King
Josiah, 320, 343.
40. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 320 and n12 for bibliography.
41. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 321; cf. Lohfink,
“Bundesurkunde des Königs Josias,” 267.
42. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 341, concedes the divisions,
but rejects that they indicate the author’s use of separate sources.
Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 251–52, sees 23:4–24 as the product of
the same Deuteronomistic author who composed the surrounding
narrative. For this view, see also Levin, “Joschija,” 371; and Van Seters, In
Search of History, 318–20.
43. Talstra, “De hervorming van Josia,” 157–59; cf. Eynikel,
Reform of King Josiah, 342; Barrick, Cemeteries, 111–32; Knoppers,
Two Nations, 2.176–81; and Lohfink, “Cult Reform of Josiah of Judah,”
464–65, who rejects the notion of a reform report as such, but
concedes the possibility that the Deuteronomist freely adapted a
preexistent document.
44. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 284, 302; and Eynikel,
Reform of King Josiah, 342.
45. There is broad scholarly consensus on this aspect of

Deuteronomy’s literary structure. See discussions in Friedman, Who
Wrote the Bible? 123–24; and Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, 13–14.
46. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 284; Halpern and
Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings,” 223; and Lohfink, “Bundesurkunde des
Königs Josias,” 277.
47. A similar reference occurs in Gen 35:29 regarding Isaac:
“He was gathered to his kin [ʥʮʲ-ʬʠ ʳʱʠʩʥ], old and abundant in years, and
he was buried [ʥʺʠ ʥʤʸʡʷʩʥ] by his sons Esau and Jacob.”
48. Others who make a similar case include Hoffmann,
Reform und Reformen, 182–89, who asserts that being gathered to one’s
grave in peace does not preclude a violent death; it simply means that the
king would be buried in his own tomb; Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of
Kings, 147–49; Mayes, Story of Israel, 129–30; and Van Seters, In Search of
History, 318–19.
49. This point was brought to my attention by Daniel Oden
(personal communication, Dec. 7, 2010)
50. Klostermann, Der Pentateuch, 368–18; cf. Knohl,
Sanctuary of Silence, 2. Among those who accept the idea of the Holiness
Code as an independent unit, there is debate over whether Lev 17 and Lev
26 are its real termini. See discussions of scholarship in Milgrom,
Leviticus 17–22, 1332; Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 12; and Vriezen and van
der Woude, Jewish Literature, 246–47. For fuller discussions of
scholarship on the Holiness Code, see Grünwaldt, Das Heiligkeitgesetz
Leviticus 17–26, 5–22; and Ruwe, Heiligkeitsgesetz und Priesterschrift, 5–38.
Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 3n9, provides references to the work of
scholars who doubt the existence of the Holiness Code as a separate unit
within the corpus of priestly literature. See also Stackert, Rewriting the
Torah, 12n33. Vriezen and van der Woude, Jewish Literature, 246–52,
esp. 247, may be added to these lists.
51. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 108–10, provides a
comprehensive list of terminology used in the holiness legislation and
unattested elsewhere in priestly literature. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22,
1325–26, suggests certain refinements to Knohl’s list as well as terms that
receive a unique nuance in the Holiness Code. On the style of the
Holiness Code, see Paran, Forms of the Priestly Style, 29–46.
52. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 59–106, systematically
identifies Holiness texts in all five books of the Torah. Milgrom, Leviticus
17–22, 1333–34, takes a somewhat more limited view, seeking to avoid
guesswork by concentrating exclusively on legal passages attributable to
the Holiness source. He cites two dissertations—Franke’s “Stories of
Murmuring” (published as Murmuring Stories) and King’s “priestly
literature”—that cast doubt on the narrative passages on Knohl’s list.
53. For the former view, see Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 18
and n50 for additional bibliography. A preexilic date is posited by Hurvitz,
“Evidence of Language”; Joosten, People and Land, 207; Knohl, Sanctuary
of Silence; and Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1361–64. Levine, who generally
understands the Priestly writings to represent the latest phase in the
composition of the Pentateuch, regards portions of the Holiness Code as
preexilic; see his “Leviticus: Its Literary History.”
54. Levine, “Leviticus: Its Literary History,” 16. Examples of
early work on this subject include Keunen, Historico-Critical Inquiry, 87;
and Driver, Introduction to the Old Testament, 47–48.
55. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1349.
56. Cholewinski’s Heiligkeitgesetz und Deuteronomium
constitutes the most comprehensive study of the parallels between the
Holiness Code and Deuteronomy. On the Covenant Code as predating
Deuteronomy and revised by it, see Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal
Innovation, 7; idem, “Is the Covenant Code an Exilic Composition?” Van
Seters’s Law Book for the Diaspora is in the minority in proposing that the
Covenant Code postdates both Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code and
belongs to the postexilic period.
57. Stackert, Rewriting the Torah. See also Levinson,
“Manumission of Hermeneutics”; and idem, “Birth of the Lemma.”
Levinson demonstrates that the Holiness Code revises and reinterprets
the slave laws of both Deuteronomy and Covenant Code.
58. For a list that demonstrates the extent of correspondence
between the two codes, see Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 7–8, and his
references to other such lists in n18. Among the parallels compared by
Cholewinski, Heiligkeitgesetz und Deuteronomium, are the laws pertaining
to cult centralization, the festival calendar, Jubilee, and manumission.
59. But see Milgrom, “Does H Advocate?”
60. These and other correspondences lead Berry, “Code
Found in the Temple,” to conclude that the Holiness Code, not
Deuteronomy, was Josiah’s lost law code. See below.
61. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple”; idem, “Date of
Deuteronomy”; Japhet, “Laws of Manumission”; Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22,
1357; and Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 180–83.
62. Stackert, Rewriting the Torah. See also Cholewinski,
Heiligkeitgesetz und Deuteronomium; and Levinson, “Birth of the Lemma,”
630–33.
63. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 203; Rofé, Introduction to
Deuteronomy, 16; and Bettenzoli, “Deuteronomium und
Heiligkeitsgesetz”; cf. Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 10.
64. This is a minority opinion, whose proponents include
Peckham, Composition of the Deuteronomistic History; and Provan,
Hezekiah and the Book of Kings. Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of

Kings,” also argue for a Hezekian redaction, but their model, like that
of Weippert’s “Beurteilungen” and “Fragen des israelitischen
Geschichtsbewusstseins,” includes a second (Josianic) and third
(exilic) redaction. On this view, see also Barrick, “Removal of the High
Places”; Mayes, Story of Israel; and Sweeney, I and II Kings, 4–26. I do
not see evidence of a Josianic redaction of the book of Kings and
therefore advocate a model closer to those of Provan and Peckham (see
chapter 5).
65. The idea that similarities between the Holiness Code and
Deuteronomy might be the product of a more complicated process than
literary borrowing accords with the work of Fleming in “Israelite Festival
Calendar” and “Break in the Line.” In the latter, Fleming asserts (p. 161)
that comparison with Emar suggests that the calendar frameworks in Lev
23 and Num 28–29 are not best understood as a development from those
of Exodus and Deuteronomy; rather, independent witnesses to Israel’s
festival calendar derive from an early period in which several major
Yahweh sanctuaries thrived side by side.
66. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 44. See also van
Hoonacker, “Le rapprochement.”
67. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 49–51.
68. Paton, “Post-exilic Date of Deuteronomy,” 340.
69. Paton, “Post-exilic Date of Deuteronomy,” 341.
70. Bewer, “Case for the Early Date of Deuteronomy”; Dahl,
“Currently Accepted Date of Deuteronomy”; and Freed, “Code Spoken.”
71. Noth, Deuteronomistic History.
chapter 2
1. Richter, Deuteronomistic History, 62–63, argues convincingly
that the redundancy in Deut 12:5 reflects an external, interlinear gloss,
imposed by the deuteronomistic historian to clarify the difficult idiom
lešakken šemô šām.
2. Much has been written on the cultic function of the
asherim and evidence for the cult of Asherah in ancient Israel. Systematic
studies include Day, Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses, 42–68; Dever,
Did God Have a Wife?; Olyan, Asherah and the Cult of Yahweh; and Smith,
Early History of God, 43–54.
3. On the containment of contagion, see Levine, Presence of the Lord,
56–91; Neusner, Purity in Ancient Judaism; Milgrom, “Paradox of the Red
Cow”; idem, “Sancta Contagion”; and Wright, Disposal of Impurity.
4. On the reading ʭʩʸʲˈ (“goats”) as opposed to ʭʩʸʲˇ
(“gates”), see below.
5. Lev 14 is the only instance in the Hebrew Bible in which the

word ʸʴʲ bears the meaning “mortar.”
6. On the translation “brown cow” in lieu of the more
traditional “red cow,” see Brenner, Colour Terms, 62–65. Brenner argues
that despite the frequent association of the term ʭʥʣʠ with the color of
blood (an association that may be deliberately invoked in Num 19)
“brown” is obviously a more accurate translation and is in fact consistent
with the term’s semantic range.
7. For example, 2 Sam 6:14–20; 24:25; 1 Kgs 8:22, 54, 63–66; 2 Kgs
10:25; 16:10–20. For discussion of the priestly role of the king in these texts,
see Morgenstern, “History of the High Priesthood,” who notes that in 2 Kgs
22–23 Josiah exercises supreme authority over the affairs of the temple;
however, he is not certain that Josiah functions as chief priest, as such.
8. For a list of other similar translations, see Barrick,
Cemeteries, 187.
9. On the idea that these verses preserve important
information regarding real tensions between the Jerusalem temple
priesthood and the Judahite bāmôt priests in the seventh century, see
Haran, Temples and Temple Service, 100; Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 187; and
Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 96–97. Some scholars see in 2 Kgs
23:8–9 an admission of failure to adhere to the stipulation in
Deuteronomy and find the verses in Kings to support the identification of
Deuteronomy as the basis for the Josianic reforms; for example,
Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 95–96. Others point to the presumed
contradiction between 2 Kgs 23:8–9 and Deut 18:6–7 as evidence against
a historical connection between Deuteronomy and the law book; for
example, Hölscher, ‘Komposition und Ursprung,” 200–203; and
Nicholson, Deuteronomy and Tradition, 1–6.
10. Barrick, Cemeteries, 190. Others who question the
plausibility of a real connection between what is narrated in 2 Kgs 23:8–9
and Deut 18:6–7 include Mayes, Deuteronomy, 278–79. Mayes advises
distinguishing “between the priests of the high places in 2 Kings 23:9
who would have been considered contaminated from a cultic point of
view and so unfit for service at the central sanctuary, and the Levites of
Dt 18:6ff.” This is, indeed, an important distinction. His use of the
language of contamination is noteworthy vis-à-vis Barrick’s suggestion, to
which I adhere, that the eating of ʺʥʶʮ signifies a purification/
reordination rite. For fuller discussion, see below. Also Nicholson,
“Josiah and the Priests,” 501.
13. For a similar view to the one expressed here, see Cogan
and Tadmor, II Kings, 287.
14. For a brief survey of scholarship on the programmatic

character of the Holiness Code, see Joosten, People and Land, 24–25.
15. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 233, notes that 85% of the
cases in which the root appears are in Leviticus, Numbers, and Ezekiel.
16. On importance of such concerns within priestly tradition,
see Schwartz et al., Perspectives on Purity.
17. Evidence for the priestly attribution of Josh 22:18–19
includes reference to the community as ʤʣʲ and reference to the incident
at Baal Peʿor (Num 25), an episode that scholars tend to agree received its
final form in the hands of the priestly writer.
18. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 233.
19. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 234. Cf. Schoors, Jesaja, 182.
20. On the idea that Josiah’s defilement of the Topheth was
intended to serve in the process of purifying the Jerusalem temple itself,
see below.
21. Also Ezek 43:8: ʩʴʠʡ ʭʺʠ ʬʫʠʥ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʭʺʥʡʲʥʺʡ ʩʹʣʷ ʭʹ-ʺʠ ʥʠʮʨʥ
(“they defiled my holy name with their abominations that they committed
and I devoured them in my wrath”).
23. Treatments of the subject with extensive bibliography
include Heider, Cult of Molek; idem, “Molech,” 582; Levenson, Death and
Resurrection; and Smith, Early History of God, 171–81.
24. Eissfeldt, Molk als Opferbegriff. The association of these
burial grounds with child sacrifice has been called into question by
analysis of skeletal and dental remains from the cemetery. Schwartz,
Skeletal Remains.
25. Barrick, Cemeteries, 86; Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 288;
Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 247; Heider, “Molech,” 581; and Milgrom,
Leviticus 17–22, 1422.
26. KTU 1.100.41; 1.107.17; Ras Shamra 1986/2235.17.
Bordreuil, “Découvertes épigraphique récentes,” 298. For discussion of
these texts, see Smith, Early History of God, 178.
27. Edelman, “Biblical Molek Reassessed,” 730.
28. Smith, Early History of God, 180.
29. On the idea that this was a legitimate Yahwistic practice,
see Smith, Early History of God, 172; and Zevit, Religions of Ancient Israel,
469–70.
30. Deut 12:31 contains a prohibition against child sacrifice,
and 18:10 a prohibition against passing one’s son or daughter through
fire, but neither uses the term mlk.
31. The name ʪʬʥʮ appears as a designation for the god of the
Ammonites in the Masoretic Text of 1 Kgs 11:7, but this is likely to be a
miswriting of ʭʫʬʮ (cf. 11:5, 33).
32. This difference between the Holiness Code and

Deuteronomy is acknowledged by Berry, “Code Found in the
Temple,” 50.
33. This point is also noted by Barrick, Cemeteries, 102.
34. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–20, 140.
35. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–20, 132.
37. For example, Joosten, People and Land, 12–13; Milgrom,
Leviticus 17–22, 1362, 1579; idem, Leviticus 23–27, 2348–63; and Zimmerli,
Ezekiel, 1.46–52.
38. Joosten, People and Land, 12.
39. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1362; and idem, Leviticus 23–27,
2348–63. For an excellent discussion of methodological considerations
associated with the question of literary dependence, see Stackert, Rewriting
the Torah, 21–27.
42. Emerton, “High Places of the Gates,” 463–65. Excavation
of the gate complex at Dan is published in preliminary reports by Biran:
“Tel Dan” (IEJ), 239; “Tel Dan” (BA), 45–48; Biblical Dan, 238–41; and
“Tel Dan: Biblical Texts,” 8–11.
43. Snaith, “Meaning of ʭʩʸʲˈ,” 116; and Stade and Schwally,
Books of Kings, 294. Gray, II Kings, 664, reads ʺʩʡ for ʺʥʮʡ based on the
Septuagint’s τὸν οíκον.
44. Barrick, Cemeteries, 79n55. See also Bloch-Smith, “Real
Maṣṣebot,” 74.
45. Barrick, Cemeteries, 78, who draws attention to only the
Peshitta being unambiguous in its use of the singular.
46. Hoffmann, “Kleinigkeiten,” 175. For detailed discussion
of the term “satyr,” see Jankowski, “Satyr.”
47. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 137–38, 236–38. Also
Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 99–100, 426, who likens the term to the
Akkadian šēdu, a type of demonic spirit similar to lamāssu. In early
scholarship, see Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 49. For additional
bibliography on this reading, see Brown, Driver, and Briggs, Hebrew
English Lexicon, 972.
48. For example, Jewish Publication Society Bible, New
American Standard Bible, New International Version, New Jerusalem
Bible, King James Version, New King James Version, Revised Standard
Version, New Revised Standard Version, and English Standard Version.
Of the many translations consulted, only the New American Bible
translates “high places of the satyrs.”
49. For example, Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 235.
50. For a survey of scholarship on this issue and an

assessment of proposed readings, see Blomquist, Gates and Gods, 151–63,
who favors preserving the Masoretic Text and taking the construction as a
noun followed by a genitive in which the plural is used on both nouns to
communicate a compound idea. She cites 1 Chr 7:5; Ezra 9:11; and Neh
9:30 as supporting examples.
51. The designation ʭʩʸʲˈ may be compared with other terms
for goat, including ʦʲ, ʣʥʺʲ, and ʩʣʢ. On animal taxonomy in the Hebrew
Bible, see Whitekettle, “Where the Wild Things Are”; idem, “Rats Are
Like Snakes.”
52. Duhm, Die bösen Geister, 47.
53. Snaith, “Meaning of ʭʩʸʲˈ,” 118.
54. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God,
142–44, 147–51.
55. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God,
142 fig. 166b. This image calls to mind a plaque from Ugarit featuring
a female figure holding bundles of grain in each hand, with goats
feeding on either side. For bibliography on the publication of this
object, see Smith, Early History of God, 113n20, who comments that “if
this plaque were a depiction of the goddess Asherah, it would indicate
that the tree found in comparable later iconography was a symbol of the
goddess giving nourishment to the animals flanking her.” The two wild
goats flanking a stylized tree are attested on pithos A from eighth-
century Kuntillet ʿAjrud, on the second register of the Taʾanach cult
stand, and on the Lachish ewer inscription. For drawings and
discussion of the Kuntillet ʿAjrud pithoi and the Taʾanach cult stand,
see Zevit, Religions of Ancient Israel, 370–405, 318–28. On the Lachish
ewer inscription, see Hestrin, “Lachish Ewer Inscription.” Against the
dendrical associations of the goddess Asherah, see Wiggins,
“Of Asherahs and Trees.”
56. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 143.
57. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 148 fig.
176b.
59. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 150 figs.
178a, 178b.
61. While far removed from Iron Age Israel both temporally
and geographically, the ornate “rearing goat with flowering plant”
sculpture discovered in the Royal Cemetery at Ur may suggest that the
association of the goat with fertility was quite ancient and indigenous in a
Near Eastern context. Reade, “Royal Tombs of Ur,” 122, comments that
the statue “encapsulates in a highly symbolic manner the basic Sumerian
concerns with plant fecundity and animal fertility. Further, the plant
combines the rosette, often seen as a symbol of the goddess Inanna with a
shape that on this plant does not function as a leaf.”
62. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 238, who claims (n320)
that there is an opinio communis for Leviticus and 2 Chronicles. For the
Isaiah passages, he follows Schoors, Jesaja, 97, 200.
64. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 450, posits that Isa 34 and Isa
35 belong together and comprise a recapitulation of the message of the
book as understood in eschatological terms of the Second Temple period.
65. On the difficulty ascertaining a date for Isa 13, see
Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 277.
66. Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.179.
chapter 3
1. I am grateful to Peter Machinist for suggesting that absence of
the word ḥērem in the reform account might itself hold important
information about the evolution of the text and the interests of its authors.
This observation lends definition and focus to this chapter and to the
project as a whole.
2. Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions.” Stern’s Biblical Ḥērem
remains the most comprehensive work on the subject. See also Bornapé,
“El problema del ʭʸʧ”; Dietrich, “‘Ban’ in the Age of Israel’s Early Kings”;
Greenberg, “Ḥērem”; Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem”; Nelson, “Ḥērem and the
Deuteronomic Social Conscience”; Niditch, War in the Hebrew Bible; and
Schäfer-Lichtenberger, “Bedeutung und Funktion.” For earlier work on
the subject, see von Rad, Holy War in Ancient Israel; Schwally, Der Heilige
Krieg; and Weber, Ancient Judaism, 118–39.
3. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 197–98.
4. Niditch, War in the Hebrew Bible, 56.
5. The distinction between enemies who are nearby and those far
away in Deut 20:15–18, and the injunction to impose the ḥērem on the
former, is widely recognized as a deuteronomistic addition to the so-called
law of war. See Veijola, “Principle Observations,” 137–39; Lohfink,
“Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 196–97; Dietrich, “‘Ban’ in the Age of Israel’s Early
Kings,” 198; von Rad, Deuteronomy, 133; and Schäfer-Lichtenberger,
“Bedeutung und Funktion,” 272.
6. Stern, Biblical Ḥērem, 220.
7. Day, Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses; Dever, Did God Have a
Wife?; Hess, Israelite Religions; Nakhai, Archaeology and the Religions of
Canaan and Israel; Smith, Early History of God; and Zevit, Religions of
Ancient Israel.
8. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 197; also Suzuki, “New Aspect,”
who argues that the law of ḥērem in Deut 7:2 originated in the time of
Josiah as part of an official policy of assimilation. Surprisingly, she does

not discuss specific correlations between the language of Josiah’s reform
and the language of ḥērem.
9. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 196, acknowledges the possibility
that the Bible preserves older ḥērem traditions, but he posits that “the Old
Testament does not contain a single text from which we might derive
trustworthy information about an Israelite ḥērem for any period of Israel’s
history.” I suggest here that an original ḥērem tradition was preserved
relatively intact in the deuteronomistic account of the conquest of Ai in Josh
8 (see below). This is not to say that this chapter provides witness to the
ḥērem as a historical phenomenon, but rather that it preserves a textual
tradition of ḥērem that, like the Mesha and Karib-ilu inscriptions, was
produced close in time to the events it portrays and served a particular
sociopolitical function within that setting. On the idea that the
deuteronomists worked from earlier sources that described the ḥērem in
authentic terms, see Dietrich, “‘Ban’ in the Age of Israel’s Early Kings,” 204.
10. Nelson, Joshua, 111, identifies the conquest account as
pre-deuteronomistic and Benjaminite, but takes the reference to ḥērem to
be part of a later, deuteronomistic redaction, where a parallel is created
between the conquest of Ai and the defeat of Sihon and Og (Deut 2:31–35;
3:1–7). Also Van Seters, In Search of History, 329.
11. The date of the Sabaean text is the subject of debate. The
most convincing arguments favor a date sometime in the eighth–seventh
centuries. For detailed discussion of the issues at stake, see Monroe,
“War-Ḥērem Traditions,” 327–31.
12. Routledge, Moab in the Iron Age, 141. The designation
“tribal confederacy” should not be understood to be at odds with the
notion of statehood. On the tribal state at Mari, see Fleming, Democracy’s
Ancient Ancestors, 104–15.
13. Dearman, Mesha Inscription, 156.
14. On the political landscape depicted in the Mesha
Inscription and biblical sources, see Liver, “Wars of Mesha.” For
discussion of the Late Bronze Age–Iron Age I transition in Transjordan
and the ways in which this process differed from the transition in
Palestine, see Routledge, Moab in the Iron Age, 91–92.
15. Routledge, Moab in the Iron Age, 139.
16. This event is often described by scholars as a “covenant-
renewal ceremony.” See Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 535. The
word ʺʩʸʡ (“covenant”), however, does not appear in this chapter, in
contrast to Josh 24, where the ceremony undertaken by Joshua is explicitly
referred to in terms of covenant. While this ceremony may serve the same
function as a covenant-renewal ceremony, the exclusion of the term ʺʩʸʡ
may be a significant marker of a particular literary tradition. See Monroe,

17. The word ʺʩʸʡ is also absent from the instructions in Deut 27.
18. This point is illustrated by the repeated use of the phrase
ʣʩʡ ʯʺʰ (“to give into the hand”) in Josh 8:30–35. This phrase is often
understood as a juridical formula in which the legal right to land is
handed over by Yahweh to Israel. See Miller, “Gift of God,” 455, who cites
Plöger, Untersuchungen zum Deuteronomium, 79. In this way the verb ʯʺʰ
functions similarly to its Akkadian cognate nadānu(m), which among
other uses appears in Mesopotamian land-grant texts to describe the
bequeathing of agricultural land or sometimes entire villages and their
populations to an individual, often by the king. On this use of the verb
nadānu, see Greenfield, “Naṣû-nadānu.”
19. For detailed discussion of these arguments, see Monroe,
20. Daniel Fleming (personal communication) observes that
the whole notion of a conquest of the entire land of Canaan may be a late,
Judahite (i.e., not originally Israelite) development.
21. On the question of the comprehensiveness of the ḥērem
in the Deuteronom(ist)ic conquest accounts and its implications for
understanding the hermeneutics of Deuteronomistic revision, see the
excellent discussion of the development of the biblical Transjordanian
conquest traditions in Brettler, Creation of History, 71–76.
22. Transcription from Dearman, Mesha Inscription, 94.
23. Translation based on Routledge, “Politics of Mesha,” 248.
24. RES 3945.16. Transliteration is my own, based on
Beeston, Sabaean Inscriptions, 61.
25. Translation is my own, based in part on Beeston, Sabaean
Inscriptions, 64. For detailed discussion of this translation, see Monroe,
26. Chicago Assyrian Dictionary M.1.414–21 (mātu). See
Fleming’s in-depth discussion of the mātu as a political entity in
Democracy’s Ancient Ancestors, 104–47.
27. The phrase ma-tam a-lí-tám occurs in 6.20–21. For
transliteration, translation, and notes, see Frayne, Sargonic and Gutian
Periods, 27–29. See also Gelb and Kienast, Die altakkadischen
Königsinschriften, 164.
28. According to the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary Ḫ.89–90
(ḫarāmu), the root ḫrm is attested in Akkadian, only with the meaning “to
separate.” While the sense of separation inheres in the West Semitic
usage, the Akkadian has none of the political or military associations of
the West Semitic war-ḥērem.
29. For two recent studies on ancient Near Eastern warfare,

see Bahrani, Rituals of War; and Hasel, Military Practice and Polemic.
30. Translation and transliteration from Grayson, Assyrian
Rulers, 18–19. Grayson’s translation “lands” reflects the KUR determinative
on sa-ra-uš and am-ma-uš.
31. Saggs, “Assyrian Warfare,” 150.
32. Saggs, “Assyrian Warfare,” 150.
33. Stern, Biblical Ḥērem, 72–77, provides detailed discussion
of Hittite parallels to the biblical ḥērem. For translation of the text with
notes, see Hoffner, “Proclamation of Anitta of Kuššar,” who provides
publication information and bibliography.
34. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 65.
35. Saggs, “Assyrian Warfare,” 150. See also Gurney, Hittites, 19.
36. The earliest association of the goddess Halmaššuit with
the city of Hattuša appears in the Anitta Inscription; see Bryce, Life and
Society, 149.
37. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 72; idem, Life and Society, 117.
38. Goetze, “Warfare in Asia Minor,” 129.
39. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 37.
40. Archi, “Hittite and Hurrian Literatures,” 2369.
41. Gurney, Hittites, 20. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 37,
also rejects this interpretation, arguing that the text was originally written
in Old Hittite, not Old Assyrian.
42. Hoffner, “History and Historians,” 298.
44. This is consistent with the suggestion of Weinfeld,
Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School, 167n2, that “the very
command ‘not to let a soul remain alive’ may be an ancient one, and may
have accompanied the warriors in old times.” The idea that eradication of
population is associated with the early phases of state formation finds
support in the phenomenon of warfare cannibalism, which according to
Smith, “Anat’s Warfare Cannibalism,” 373, “is well known in pre-state
societies.” Harris, Sacred Cow, 220–21, comments: “Band and village
societies lack a military or political organization that is capable of uniting
defeated enemies under a central government or a governing class that
stands to benefit from taxation…. Since captives cannot produce a surplus,
bringing one home to serve as a slave simply means one more mouth to
feed. Killing and eating captives is the predictable outcome. In contrast,
for most state societies, killing and eating captives would thwart the
governing class’s interest in expanding its tax and tribute base.” According
to Sanday, Divine Hunger, 125, for the Iroquois “the motive for
cannibalism was to appease the appetite of the war god who demanded
that the captives be taken and eaten.” Smith draws attention to Anat’s
warfare cannibalism in KTU 1.3 ii 3–30, which he suggests may be an

example of the ḥērem rendered from the divine perspective. Isa 34:5–6,
which describes God’s sword as engorged with the blood and fat of the
ḥērem against Edom, supports a connection between ḥērem and divine
cannibalism.
45. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 535.
46. Cf. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 536–37, who
also suggests that Joshua and Josiah are the only two figures in Dtr to play
this particular role. On this basis he observes: “No other covenant renewal
ceremony within Deuteronomy’s purview corresponds so exactly to
Josiah’s covenant renewal ceremony as Joshua’s does.”
48. Barrick, Cemeteries, 132ff., discusses other structural and
thematic similarities between the Mesha Inscription and 2 Kgs 23. On the
basis of these he speculates that an original version of the events of Josiah’s
reform may have belonged to the same genre as the Mesha Inscription;
that is, it may have originally been recorded as a monumental inscription.
49. This is not to say that Deut 27 and Josh 8 necessarily
belong to the same hand. To the contrary, I suggest that Josh 8:1–30
preserves an old ḥērem tradition that included reference to the building of
the Ebal altar and that the authors of Deut 27 had to contend with that
tradition. For detailed discussion, see Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions,”
335–39.
50. On the importance of memorization in the process of
textual production and transmission, see Carr, Tablet of the Heart; Niditch,
Oral World and Written Word; and van der Toorn, Scribal Culture.
51. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 354, notes that
this phrase, denoting obedience to the law, is used four times in
Deuteronomy, while in the deuteronomistic history it occurs only once
outside the book of Joshua, in reference to Josiah.
52. The concerns that lend shape to the deuteronomistic
revision of the account of Josiah’s reform also find expression in the
introduction to the book of Judges, where older traditions are also
reframed with a new emphasis on Israel’s salvation history. On the
notion of an original “book of saviors” embedded in the
Deuteronomistic text, see Richter, Traditionsgeschichtliche
Untersuchungen. Richter’s model had considerable influence on
subsequent scholarship. For treatments of the compositional issues in
the book of Judges, see Amit, Book of Judges; Brettler, Judges; O’Connell,
Rhetoric of the Book of Judges; and Wong, Compositional Strategy.
53. For bibliography on this subject, see Nelson, “Josiah in
the Book of Joshua,” 537.
54. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 354.
55. The Syriac and other versions attest the more likely
reading ʭʤʬ in lieu of ʥʰʬ in the Masoretic Text.
56. For example, Gray, Joshua, Judges, and Ruth, 69; and
Nelson, Joshua, 76. On the juxtaposition of circumcision and Passover in
Joshua as an extant cultic or cultural phenomenon transformed in
deuteronomistic hands, see Bernat, Sign of the Covenant, 68. Bernat sees
evidence of a link between Passover and circumcision in the priestly
writings, but does not regard this link as unique to the priestly source.
57. The phrase ʹʡʣʥ ʡʬʧ ʺʡʦ ʵʸʠ is attested fourteen times in
the Bible: four times in Exodus (3:8, 17; 13:15; 33:3), once in Leviticus
(20:24), once in Numbers (16:14), five times in Deuteronomy (6:3; 11:9;
26:9; 13:5; 33:3), once in Joshua (5:6), and twice in Jeremiah (11:5; 32:22).
In every instance it is associated with the fertility of the land that Yahweh
promised to the Israelites and his having brought them forth from Egypt.
The concentration of attestations of the phrase in Deuteronomy may
reflect Deuteronomy’s particular interest in the Israelites’ prosperity in
the land of Canaan as a sign of his covenant promise.
58. Bernat, Sign of the Covenant, 68n42, observes that in the historical
works of the Bible, Passover functions as a communal rite of passage.
59. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 196–98, for example, comments
that references to ḥērem in Deut 7:2–5 and 20:10–18 should be understood
to reflect the deuteronomistic historian’s framing a synthesis of the
occupation, according to which all the nations dwelling in the promised
land were exterminated at Yahweh’s command.
60. On the problem of the existence of a coherent deuteronomistic
historiography, see Knauf, “Deuteronomistic Historiography?” 388–98;
and Schearing and McKenzie, Those Elusive Deuteronomists.
61. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 286. See also Levine, “Next Phase
in Jewish Religion.”
62. The phrase ʺʩʸʡʡ ʣʮʲʩʥ is difficult to translate and appears
only here. In Chronicles the verb appears in the hiphʿil and so may be
translated “he imposed the covenant upon them.” Various emendations
are proposed for the reading that appears in 2 Kgs 23:3; see Cogan and
Tadmor, II Kings, 385. I argue below that the unusual language of this
verse deliberately echoes the language of Deut 31:15.
63. For a full list of references, see Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1569.
64. Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 2407–9.
65. Levine, Presence of the Lord, 128, alludes to the connection
between ḥērem and sacrifice by suggesting a similarity between ḥērem and
the ʾāšām sacrifice, which was an offering of restitution.
66. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 184.
67. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 184.
69. Lust, “Isaiah 34 and the Herem,” 286.
70. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 280. The Revised Standard

Version and New International Version also render “slaughtered”; New
Jewish Publication Society Bible renders “he slew,” as does Barrick,
Cemeteries, 23. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 286, suggests the more vivid
translation: “he butchered.”
71. Evidence for the idea that the priests themselves could be
a source of contamination may be found, for example, in Lev 21:22, which
stipulates that a priest with a blemish “shall not enter behind the curtain
or come near the altar, for he has a defect. He shall not profane my
sacred places [ʩʹʣʷʮ-ʺʠ ʬʬʧʩ ʠʬ] for I, Yahweh, have set them apart as holy
[ʭʹʣʷʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʠ ʩʫ].” Similarities between this verse and 2 Kgs 23:9 were
discussed in chapter 2.
72. It is unclear whether the ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʠ referred to here are the
bones of the slaughtered priests.
73. The idea that these concepts are related is exemplified in
Lev 17:28, cited above, and Deut 7:6, where the reason provided for
enacting the ḥērem upon the local populations of the land is to maintain
the Israelites as a nation apart: ʤʺʠ ʹʥʣʷ ʭʲ ʩʫ (“for you are a holy nation”).
The association between ʹʣʷ and ʭʸʧ is noted by Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,”
184, who comments: “The occurrences of ḥrm in Lev. 27 and Nu. 18
appear in texts dominated by the verbal phrase hiqdîš leYHWH and the
noun qōḏeš. Ezk. 44:29, too, deals with offerings to the sanctuary. The
ḥērem pronounced by Joshua over Jericho implies that the gold, silver, and
vessels of bronze and iron are qōḏeš leYHWH and are therefore to be put
into the treasury of the house of Yahweh (Josh. 6:19, 24).”
74. Cogan, I Kings, 470, comments that unlike the account of
Saul’s war with Amalek, in which Samuel announces the ḥērem before
battle (1 Sam 15:3), in 1 Kgs 20 Ahab receives no such instruction.
75. Walsh, I Kings, 293.
79. A substantial literature exists on this speech. See Childs,
Isaiah and the Assyrian Crisis, 73–93; Evans, Invasion of Sennacherib,
151–65; Gonçalves, L’expedition de Sennachérib, 416–42; and Seitz, Zion’s
Final Destiny, who does not treat 2 Kgs 19:8–13 explicitly, but his
discussion on pp. 48–61 is relevant.
chapter 4
1. On mlk offerings as defiling the temple itself, see chapter 2.
2. This point was first noted by Sanda, Die Bücher der
Könige, 135, who suggests that the placement of 23:5 reflects a
disturbance in the original order of the notices that was introduced by
the historian. Cf. Nelson, Double Redaction, 80, who criticizes Sanda for
having failed to explain why the compiler would have arbitrarily
disordered his source. This is a good question, although one has to
imagine that the disordering would not have been as arbitrary as it
appears from our vantage point.
3. According to Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 234–35, Geba is likely
to be present day Jebaʿ, located eight to nine kilometers north of
Jerusalem, on the eastern edge of the so-called Plateau of Benjamin. The
phrase “from Geba to Beer-sheba” occurs only here in the Hebrew Bible.
Eynikel suggests that that this local delimitation reflects the real
boundaries of Judah in the late seventh century B.C.E. and that it warrants
dating 2 Kgs 23:8a during or soon after Josiah’s reign. Others who date
this reference to the period of Josiah’s reign include Barrick, Cemeteries;
Grabbe, “Kingdom of Judah,” 105; and Na’aman, “Josiah and the
Kingdom of Judah,” 217.
4. Daniel Fleming (personal communication, July 2009).
Fleming and his student S. Milstein take this literary creativity as a sign of
either an original text or “early phase revision.”
5. The idea that the deuteronomistic historian relied on a source
that did not present Josiah’s reform in terms of centralization is posited
by Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 153–59; Hollenstein, “Literarkritische
Erwägungen”; Würthwein, “Die josianische Reform,” 415–18; cf.
Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 299.
6. The Hebrew in these verses varies slightly with regard to
the disjunctive marker. Variations include use of the particles
ʧʠ, ʷʸ, and ʥ.
7. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 82–83, observes
that the references to bāmôt in 2 Kgs 23 are ill suited to be the climax of
the bāmôt theme found in the regnal formulas of the book of Kings. He
regards this as evidence against a Josianic Deuteronomistic redaction of
the Kings history. Provan does not acknowledge the conspicuous
absence of reference to Josiah’s elimination of bāmôt in his regnal
formula, but this detail lends support to his hypothesis. Provan’s
arguments in favor of a Hezekian redaction of the book of Kings are
taken up in chapter 5. See also Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of
Kings,” 206–7; and Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah, 29–32, 315–23. For
early work on the subject, see Weippert, “Beurteilungen”; and responses
by Barrick, “Removal of the High Places.”
8. Deut 32:13 features an unusual use of the term ʺʥʮʡ in a
noncultic context, where it simply signifies a topographic feature in the
landscape.
10. Knoppers, “Solomon’s Fall,” 402–3.
11. No king is mentioned by name in 2 Kgs 23:5; however,

deuteronomistic revisions in this verse make Ahaz the implicit object of
critique. Condemnation of this king’s cultic practices is explicit in 23:12.
12. Na’aman’s “Kingdom of Judah under Josiah” (revised and
updated in idem, “Josiah and the Kingdom of Judah”) levels serious
challenges to the idea of a Josianic expansion into Samaria, based on the
absence of convincing textual or archeological data.
13. E.g.. Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 149–50; Hollenstein,
“Literarkritische Erwägungen,” 334–35; and Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult
Reform?” 301.
14. Rooftop altars associated with the astral cult are attested
elsewhere in the Bible (Jer 19:13; Zeph 1:5). Jer 32:29 refers to rooftop
altars where offerings to other gods were made. On the Zephaniah
passage, see below.
15. For detailed discussion of evidence for astral worship in
eighth- or seventh-century Jerusalem, see Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult
Reform?” 297–306. Also Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images
of God, 283–372; and Barrick, Cemeteries, 159–64.
16. The association of references to solar worship with the
original reform account is supported by several studies that identify 23:11
as pre-deuteronomistic; see Barrick, Cemeteries, 164; Spieckermann, Judah
unter Assur, 107; Würthwein, “Die josianische Reform,” 417; and
Hollenstein, “Literarkritische Erwägungen,” 334–35.
17. In many standard translations this phrase is taken as a
construct chain: “the roof of the upper chamber of Ahaz” (e.g., New
Revised Standard Version, Jewish Publication Society Bible, English
Standard Version; also Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 279). While this
rendering makes good sense, it is not borne out by the Hebrew syntax.
First, the phrase ʦʧʠ ʺʩʬʲ is already definite and therefore does not require
the definite article that appears on the word ʢʢ. Furthermore, if a definite
article were necessary, it should appear on the final not the first element
in the construct.
18. Cf. Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 304n111.
19. On the translation “to burn incense” and the possible
alternative, “to burn food offerings,” see Edelman, “Meaning of qitter.”
20. Burney, Hebrew Text, 358; and Eynikel, Reform of King
Josiah, 137. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 279, follow the Septuagint, but
translate “he put an end to the idolatrous priests who had been installed
by the kings of Judah to offer sacrifices.” The passive translation of ʯʺʰ and
the treatment of ʥʸʨʷʩʥ as if it were an infinitive have no textual or
grammatical basis.
21. Montgomery, Book of Kings, 529; Gray, I and II Kings,
663; Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.190 and n38; and Sweeney, I and II Kings,
436. In addition, most English Bible translations prefer this reading; for
example, New Interpreter’s Bible, New International Version, King James
Version, New American Bible, New King James Version, and New
Revised Standard Version.
22. Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 304.
23. Lambdin, Introduction to Biblical Hebrew, 280–82.
24. Kautsch, Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar, 328, cites this verse
as an occurrence of the imperfect consecutive as the continuation of a
perfect (preterite) in a subordinate clause.
25. Besides 2 Kgs 23, the term appears elsewhere in the Bible
only in Hos 10:5 and Zeph 1:4. On the Zephaniah passage, see below.
26. The verb ʺʩʡʹʤ occurs in only two other Deuteronom(ist)
ic texts outside of 2 Kgs 23: Deut 32:26, where it signifies erasing the
memory of God’s people, and Josh 22:25, where it refers to preventing
individuals from worshiping Yahweh.
27. It occurs only once outside of 2 Kgs 23, in 1 Kgs 2:35,
where it refers to David’s appointment of Zadok the priest. However, as
Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 219, notes, this text does not bear the
signs of Deuteronomistic authorship. Spieckermann, Judah unter Assur,
83, identifies the term as non-Deuteronomistic, in contrast
to ʤʣʥʤʩ / ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ.
29. Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 303; cf. Donner
and Röllig, Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften, nos. 225 and 226.
31. Barrick, Cemeteries, 67–70, Levin, Fortschreibungen
Gesammelte Studien, 205; and Provan, 1 and 2 Kings, 276.
32. Gray, I and II Kings, 732–33; Jones, 1–2 Kings, 618; Wiseman, 1–2
Kings, 301; and Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 304.
33. I omit the second ʭʩʥʧʺʹʮʤ from my translation, with the
Septuagint. The editors of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia suggest reading
ʧʸʩʬ in lieu of ʤʥʤʩʬ, based on the visual similarity between the two.
Although ʧʸʩʬ is more fitting to the context of idolatry, without a textual
basis for emendation, I retain the Masoretic Text. The sense of the reading
ʭʫʬʮ (“their king”) in the Masoretic Text is difficult to determine, as the
term clearly refers to a divine being other than Yahweh. The divine name
ʭʥʫʬʮ would make sense and is the preferred reading of some interpreters,
including Seybold, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, 95; and Strieck, Das
Vordeuteronomistische Zephanjabuch, 99–100. ʭʥʫʬʮ is attested in Lucianic
recensions of the Septuagint, the Peshitta, and the Vulgate, but the lateness
of these manuscript traditions along with lectio facilior render it suspect. The
question remains unresolved. On the confusion of Molech and Milcom, see
2 Kgs 23:13 and 1 Kgs 11:7; cf. Smith, Early History of God, 180.
34. Sweeney, Zephaniah, 2.

35. On the prophetic superscript as an editorial device, see
van der Toorn, Scribal Culture, 38.
36. Sweeney, Zephaniah, 2.
37. Ben-Zvi, Historical-Critical Study, 72; Dietrich, Gott allein?
467–68; Irsigler, Zefanja, 106; Scharbert, “Zefanja und die Reform des
Joschija,” 247–48; and Seybold, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephanja, 94–95.
38. Ben-Zvi, Historical-Critical Study, 276. On the idea that
Zeph 1 reflects postexilic deuteronomistic redaction, see discussion in
Vlaardingerbroek, Zephaniah, 45–46.
39. Irsigler, Zefanja, 106, points to the absence in Zeph 1:4–5
of certain important themes in 2 Kgs 23—namely, worship of the asherah
and the proliferation of bāmôt—as evidence that the two texts do not
belong to the same Deuteronomistic hand. At the same time he
acknowledges that the Zephaniah passage refers to the same religious
circumstances as 2 Kgs 23, but he too sees this as a product of a later
Deuteronomistic editor of Zephaniah.
40. Ben-Zvi, Historical-Critical Study, 69–71.
41. Samaria had not yet been built in the time of Jeroboam.
According to Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 290, “its mention betrays the
usage of the seventh century when Samaria was a regional territory,
juxtaposed to Judah.” An exilic or postexilic date, however, is equally
feasible, in which case “Samaria” would represent a remembered entity.
42. Textual variants are unhelpful in resolving this debate.
The Aramaic Targum of Jonathan is identical to the Masoretic Text, and 2
Kgs 23 is not preserved in any of the Dead Sea Scrolls Kings fragments or
other texts from the Judean Desert. For the Targum of Jonathan, see
Sperber, Bible in Aramaic, 323–24. For a complete catalogue of the biblical
fragments from the Judean Desert, see Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4.
43. Burney, Hebrew Text, 361; Montgomery, Book of Kings,
534, 540; Gray, II Kings, 731; Jones, 1–2 Kings, 624; and Knoppers, Two
Nations, 2.202.
44. Barrick, Cemeteries, 46n62.
46. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 289. See also Barthélemy,
Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament, 1.420.
47. On the reading “goats” instead of “gates,” see chapter 2.
48. On metathesis as a textual error, see Tov, Textual
Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 250. On the graphic similarity of ʡ and ʸ in
“early” Hebrew script, in paleo-Hebrew script, and in its Samaritan
version, see p. 244.
49. Naveh, Early History of the Alphabet, fig. 70; cf. Tov,
Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 409 pl. 29.
50. On the development of the Aramaic Script, see Cross,

“Development of the Jewish Scripts,” 175 fig. 1; also Yardeni, Book of
Hebrew Script, 11–46, 165–69.
51. This discontinuity is frequently noted in the scholarship.
See Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.198; and Barrick, Cemeteries, 48.
52. Barrick, Cemeteries, 46–60.
54. Barrick, Cemeteries, 49. On the particle ʭʢ as a redactional
element, see Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 273, who provides extensive
bibliography and several examples where ʭʢ is identified as an indication
of redaction. He concludes that the particle can serve as a signal of the
possibility of redactional activity, but cannot be taken as a sure sign of
such activity.
55. The possibility that these phrases represent late additions
is supported by the apparatus in the 1997 edition of Biblia Hebraica
Stuttgartensia, which suggests that they be deleted. In the 1952 edition of
Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, only the words ʤʮʡ and ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ are
identified as late additions. While this solves certain internal semantic
problems within the verse, it does not alleviate the narrative tension
between 23:15 and 23:16.
56. Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 156, notes “a stereotype
sequence of measure, object of the measure and place of the object” that
characterizes 2 Kgs 23:4–11. This sequence is not limited to these verses; it
permeates the reform account at both the deuteronomistic and pre-
deuteronomistic stages.
57. Contra Barrick, Cemeteries, 49, who suggests that the
cemetery defiled by Josiah was located in Jerusalem and not in Bethel. For
detailed discussion, see Monroe, “Review of Barrick.”
58. E.g., Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 349.
59. Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.206–7, with Hoffmann, Reform
und Reformen, 78–81; and Tagliacarne, “Keiner war wie er,” 239–46.
61. For bibliography and discussion of this issue and its
implications for understanding the redaction of the deuteronomistic
history, see Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 258–68; and Barrick,
Cemeteries, 196–215.
62. On the compositional implications of the vav conjunctive
with the perfect, see Hollenstein, “Literarkritische Erwägungen,” 321–36;
and Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 120–30.
63. Barrick, Cemeteries, 64–105.
64. Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 148, suggests that an original
account of Josiah’s res gestae was presumably kept in an enumerating wktb
style and was transformed into a wyktb narrative. This may be an
oversimplification; however, the idea that the wktb verb forms in the
earlier composition reflect a difference in register bears consideration.
65. Reference to ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤ (“the Mount of the Destroyer”) is
retained, however tentatively, in the reconstructed early version of the text.
The term ʺʩʧʹʮ appears throughout the Bible in a variety of contexts, but
use of the phrase ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤ as a designation for the Mount of Olives is
unique to 2 Kgs 23. The significance of the term here is the subject of
much debate. A number of possible emendations are proposed, none of
which provides a satisfactory alternative reading. Barrick, Cemeteries,
49–50, offers the viable suggestion of a connection between the
designation ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤ and the chthonic associations of the Mount of
Olives throughout antiquity.
66. Ezek 6:3–5 presents an interesting complication, in that,
like the received version of 2 Kgs 23:14, it refers to the desecration of
altars (ʺʥʧʡʦʮ) through the scattering of human remains. However,
Ezekiel does not use the deuteronomistic turns of phrase attested in 2
Kgs 23, suggesting again that the similarities are not a simple matter of
literary influence. It seems likely that Ezek 6 represents a priestly
aniconic tradition that evolved in different literary circles than the
Bible’s deuteronomistic texts, even while the two sets of traditions share
certain common interests.
67. A Deuteronomistic explanation for the similarities
between these two texts was first proposed by Minette de Tillesse,
“Sections,” 60. For another articulation of this view, see Begg,
“Destruction of the Calf,” 236.
68. Text and translation from Smith, “Interpreting the Baal
Cycle,” 156, 161.
69. On the annihilation of Mot and the golden calf as a fixed
rite, see Fensham, “Burning of the Golden Calf.” On the ritual mutilation
of statues in Mesopotamia, see Brandes, “Destruction et mutilation.”
70. Fensham, “Burning of the Golden Calf ”; Loewenstamm,
“Making and Destruction of the Golden Calf ”; idem, “Making and
Destruction of the Golden Calf: A Rejoinder”; and Purdue, “Making and
Destruction of the Golden Calf.”
71. Hayes, “Golden Calf Stories,” who provides bibliography
on the subject.
72. Fleming, “Bits of the Bethel Cult”; Knoppers, “Aaron’s
Calf”; Milstein, “Allusions of Grandeur”; and Smith, “Counting Calves at
Bethel.”
73. Seasonal implications of the Baal myth are pointed to
frequently, the most comprehensive treatment being that of de Moor,
Seasonal Pattern. Virolleaud, “La mythologie phénicienne,” was the first to
propose a seasonal interpretation of the Baal Cycle. De Moor’s specific
methodology and interpretation of the Baal Cycle is criticized by Watson,

“Death of Death”; Grabbe, “Seasonal Pattern”; Healey, “Burning the
Corn”; and Smith, “Interpreting the Baal Cycle,” among others, who
acknowledge a seasonal pattern in the epic, but challenge a
comprehensive seasonal interpretation.
74. Healey, “Mot,” 599.
75. On this characterization of Mot, see Smith, “Interpreting
the Baal Cycle,” 321.
76. KTU 1.6 ii 21–23. Smith, “Interpreting the Baal Cycle,” 156.
77. In the Exodus golden calf account both Moses and the
calf seem to have been conceived of as forms of divine theophany, a
characterization that demands more attention than it has received. On the
cult image as theophany, see Jacobsen, “Graven Image.”
78. Ackerman, “Women and the Worship of Yahweh,” 189–90. For a
comprehensive treatment of the issue and extensive bibliography, see
Smith, Early History of God, 108–47, who argues provocatively against the
existence of a cult of the goddess Asherah. Arguments in favor of its
existence are put forth forcefully by Dever, Did God Have a Wife?
176–247. See also Olyan, Asherah and the Cult of Yahweh; and Keel and
Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 177–281.
79. Hayes, “Golden Calf Stories,” 79; and Begg, “Destruction
of the Calf,” 236. The most extreme view to the contrary (i.e., that Exodus
postdates and depends upon the Deuteronomy text) is held by Van Seters,
Life of Moses, 290–318, who views Exod 32 as a post-deuteronomistic
composition from the postexilic period.
80. Hayes, “Golden Calf Stories,” 80.
81. Milstein, “Allusions of Grandeur,” convincingly
demonstrates that 1 Kgs 12:28b is a secondary interpolation in the Kings
account, creating an “arranged marriage” with Exod 32.
82. For Deuteronomy’s stance toward the Levites and possible
connections to Josiah’s reform, see Leuchter, “Levite in Your Gates.”
83. Davies, “Josiah and the Law Book,” 74, makes the same
point, albeit in harsher terms: “In short the belief of most biblical scholars
that a scroll depriving the monarch of all real powers (and in effect
destroying the institution of the monarchy) is a plausible product of
seventh-century Judah is astonishing and can only be explained by
assuming that such scholarship is taking the fact for granted and thus
either ignoring the absurdity or fabricating an implausible rationalization
for it.”
84. Levin, “Joschija”; idem, Fortschreibungen Gesammelte
Studien, 198; Levine, “Next Phase in Jewish Religion,” 246; Cross,
Canaanite Myth, 283; and other proponents of the double redaction
theory, including Friedman, Who Wrote the Bible? 101–2; Halpern, First
Historians, 113; and Nelson, Double Redaction, 120–22. See also Levinson,
Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 9.
85. On the idea that the term ʤʮʡ specifically denotes a built
cult place and not any outdoor shrine or sanctuary, see Barrick, “On the
Meaning of bêt-hab/bāmôt,” 642.
86. The term ʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʡ occurs five times in the Kings history,
all in reference to northern cult places. Barrick, “On the Meaning of
bêt-hab/bāmôt,” 642, suggests that both this term and the more common
term ʤʮʡ signified built, public cult places and that the difference between
them was one of regional vocabulary, with ʺʥʮʡ ʺʡ as more typical of
northern (Israelite) diction. He acknowledges that absence of the term
from the book of Hosea is a mitigating factor. Haran, Temples and Temple
Service, 25, suggests that the Deuteronomistic redactor coined the term
ʺʥʮʡ ʺʩʡ as a derogatory reference to certain northern temples, including
that of Jeroboam in Bethel.
87. See the discussion of this scholarship in Richter,
Deuteronomistic History, 26–36.
88. Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah; and Richter,
89. The association of the image of Asherah in the Jerusalem
temple with Manasseh’s syncretistic policies may constitute an etiology,
attempting to explain the origin of this object, which Josiah is said to have
removed in the original holiness account of Josiah’s reform. The latter
represents a separate literary tradition from the deuteronomistic
Manasseh text.
90. The compositional implications of this observation are
discussed in chapter 5.
91. Richter, Deuteronomistic History, 208.
chapter 5
1. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 274–87.
2. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 287.
3. Friedman, “Deuteronomistic School”; idem, Exile in Biblical
Narrative; idem, “From Egypt to Egypt”; Halpern, First Historians; Halpern
and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings”; Knoppers, Two Nations; Mayes,
Story of Israel; McKenzie, Trouble with Kings; and Nelson, Double Redaction.
4. Carr, Tablet of the Heart; and van der Toorn, Scribal Culture.
6. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 287. Adherents to the Cross
school show virtual unanimity over the attribution of 2 Kgs 22:16–20 and
23:25–27 to Dtr2.
8. Others after Cross corrected for this problem; for

example, Friedman, Exile and Biblical Narrative, 1–43; and Eynikel, Reform
of King Josiah. Arguments against the notion of a restoration of the
Davidic state under Josiah are also marshaled on the basis of archeological
evidence; see Fried, “High Places”; Na’aman, “Josiah and the Kingdom of
Judah”; and Vaughn, Chronicler’s Account of Hezekiah, 19–79. Yet the idea
persists that Josiah was modeled on David and that he in fact restored
Judah to its position during the period of David’s reign; see Cogan,
Imperialism and Religion, 71; Cross, Canaanite Myth, 284; Finkelstein and
Silberman, Bible Unearthed, 2.275–76; and Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah.
10. Barrick, “Removal of the High Places”; Friedman, Exile
and Biblical Narrative, 1–26; idem, “From Egypt to Egypt”; and Halpern
and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings.” For detailed discussion of such
scholarship, see Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 7–31.
11. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 48.
12. This was first proposed by Weippert, “Beurteilungen,”
followed by Barrick, “Removal of the High Places”; and Halpern and
Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings.” See also Peckham, Composition of the
15. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 116–17.
16. Cogan, “Sennacherib’s Siege of Jerusalem,” in Hallo and
Younger, Context of Scripture, 2.302–3.
18. This hypothesis may find support in the portrayal of the
two kings’ reigns in Chronicles, where Hezekiah’s reform is more
elaborately detailed than it is in Kings. Vaughn, Chronicler’s Account of
Hezekiah, 79, argues, with Rosenbaum, “Hezekiah’s Reform,” that the
more circumscribed account of Hezekiah’s reign in Kings reflects the
Deuteronomist’s interest in Josiah’s exceptionalism. In Chronicles,
Josiah undertakes the Passover according to instructions written by David
(2 Chr 35:4), whereas Hezekiah seems to act autonomously in the
performance of the Passover and in all of the events of his reign. Josiah’s
autonomy is circumscribed by textual authority that precedes him; he
oversees the rite, but does not act with his own authority. In Chronicles,
much as in Kings then, Hezekiah more than Josiah embodies the royal
initiative of a Davidic king.
19. The former perspective is more in touch with the realities
of preexilic Judah than the latter, which seeks to characterize preexilic
religion in Judah as corrupt to the core.
20. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 139–41.
21. Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings,” 197–98.

22. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 153. On his
arguments in favor of a preexilic date for this material, see pp. 120–31.
24. The possibility that a first Hezekian edition was produced
during Manasseh’s reign was first brought to my attention by M. S. Smith
(personal communication), who suggests that in the wake of Sennacherib,
Manasseh may have seen fit to exalt his father or at least lend tacit support
to those who were still amazed at the historical confluence of the fall of
the north in 722 and the miracle of Jerusalem’s deliverance in 701. On the
ideological underpinnings of Manasseh’s vilification and the possibility of
his reign as a more vibrant and creative period in Israel’s history than
biblical scholarship has allowed for, see Knauf, “Glorious Days of
Manasseh”; Stavrakopoulou, “Blackballing of Manasseh”; and Sweeney,
“King Manasseh of Judah.”
27. Correlations between the accounts of Manasseh and
Josiah’s reigns are laid out in full detail in Halpern and Vanderhooft,
“Editions of Kings,” 240–41.
28. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 154. Cf. Lemaire,
“Vers l’histoire.”
29. Daniel Fleming (personal communication) observes that it
might make more sense in institutional terms for a “holiness” circle with
strong temple affiliations to have this kind of influence on palace decisions
than a deuteronomistic school with unknown affiliations. After all, the
deuteronomistic writer supports the Davidic monarchy but claims the right
to evaluate good and bad kings. This does not suggest a palace perspective.
30. See my critique in Monroe, “Review of Barrick,” 423–24.
31. Carr, Tablet of the Heart, 159–61, provides a brilliantly
nuanced description of intertextuality in the Bible that is not solely
dependent on a process of “visually consulting, citing and interpreting
separate written texts.”
32. The ambiguity of these texts’ institutional allegiances
argues against the notion that the Hebrew Bible is entirely a product of
a priestly scribal culture, as van der Toorn posits in Scribal Culture.
33. Carr, Tablet of the Heart, 159–61.
34. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 209. Knohl’s determination
of the date of the Rabshakeh’s speech based on a fixed date for
Sennacherib’s campaign against Hezekiah assumes a degree of historicity
that the text cannot sustain. Even if such a speech was delivered, the idea
that the biblical text that preserves it dates to the same year as the
Assyrian invasion is dubious.
35. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 201, 207n25.

37. Ginsberg, Israelian Heritage of Judaism.
38. This point was brought to my attention by Daniel
Fleming (personal communication, Sept. 2009).
39. These conclusions accord well with work on the book of
Judges by Milstein, “When There Was No King,” who argues that the
positive reputation of the Israelite judges is retained in the Judahite form
of the book, with the Israelites themselves, not their leaders, as the target
of critique.
40. Others who argue similarly include Barrick, Cemeteries,
36–37; Lohfink, “Recent Discussion,” 39; Na’aman, “Josiah and the
Kingdom of Judah”; and Ogden, “Northern Extent of Josiah’s Reforms.”
41. Na’aman, “Josiah and the Kingdom of Judah.”
42. Albertz, History of Israelite Religion, 1.199.
43. Albertz, “Why a Reform,” 27.
44. On the latter view, see Davies, “Josiah and the Law Book,”
esp. 75–76; idem, In Search of Ancient Israel, 39–40; Hoffmann, Reform
und Reformen, 264–70; Van Seters, In Search of History, 315–21; and
Thompson, Mythic Past, 311–12.
45. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 44–49.
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Index
Aaron, 32, 112, 113 bāmôt, 25, 125–127, 130–131,

Abraham, 16–17, 97–98 135, 147n9, 158n7, 161n39,
Ahab, 17, 72–74, 104 165nn85–86.
Ahaz, 85, 89, 132 burning incense at, 92, 94–95
rooftop altars of, 26, 28, 80, and centralization, 84–86,
90, 92 115–117, 128–130, 135
Albertz, R., 135 eradication of, 11, 13, 32–40, 42,
Amon, 127–129 43, 82, 83, 85–87, 105–107, 117,
Anat, 109, 110, 154 119, 129–130
Anitta Inscription, 53–56 at gates, 40
anticipatory subordination, 91–92, 95 priests of, 30–31, 96, 116
apotropaic ritual, 9–11, 24–30,48, Barrick, B., 14, 30–31, 40, 42, 57, 85,
87, 98–107, 112, 121, 137. See also 100, 102–103, 105, 106
Leviticus, apotropaic ritual in; Begg, C., 111, 112
Numbers, apotropaic ritual in Ben Hadad, 72–73
Asherah, goddess, 27, 78–79, 81, 83, Berry, G. R., 19–21, 136
111, 116, 128 Bethel
asherah, installation 23–28, 66, 71, Jeroboam’s cult at, 41, 99, 109,
78–83, 100–112, 129 110, 112
asherim, 24, 65, 66 Josiah’s attack on, 13, 15, 23, 28,
Assyria, 52–54, 66–67, 72, 74–75, 33, 35, 45, 66, 71, 78–83, 87, 96,
128 98–207, 116, 134
astral cult, 82–83, 87, 88–96 Bryce, T., 54
book of the law. See scroll of the law
Ba’al, 27, 28, 78, 90, 94, 96, 97 burial
Baal Cycle, 109, 110, 128, 163–164n73 Carthaginian, 36, 148n24
Babylonian exile, 34, 67, 96 of Josiah, 16–17, 34
200 index
burning ḥē rem in, 9–10, 46–47, 50, 55, 66, 69,
in apotropaic ritual, 24, 27, 28, 104, 76, 87, 104–105, 107
108–111 Holiness Code and, 18–20, 31–32,
in ḥē rem, 52, 53, 66, 71 36–38, 43, 132, 145nn56–60, 146n65
of human bones, 70–71, 81, 100 law of the King in, 14, 89, 113–115
of incense, 86, 90, 92, 94–95 scroll of the law as, 4, 20, 29–30, 133,
147n9
Carr, D. 123, 131, 132 7th-century date for, 13, 122, 133–136
centralization divine wrath, 3, 9, 35, 37, 96, 117, 123, 124
in the Book of Kings, 126, 128–131 ḥē rem as averting, 47, 67, 69
in Deuteronomy, 5, 18, 23, 130, 134,
135, 143n31 Ebal, Mount, 49–50, 57, 155n49
in the Holiness Code, 18, 145n58 Eissefeldt, O., 36, 148n24
Josiah’s reform and, 4, 5,13, 14, 84, 85, Eynikel, E., 15, 33–34, 42, 93–94, 101,
113–120, 123, 133, 140n7, 158n5 125, 158n3
child sacrifice, 18, 36. See also mlk Ezekiel, book of, 32–40, 45, 69, 131–132,
conquest 163n66
of Hattuša, 54–55 Nasi in, 63, 131
by Joshua, 13, 46, 48–50, 57, 62, 75, Ezra,
86 book of, 41, 60, 150n50
in Mesha Inscription, 57 figure of, 56, 60–64, 121
in Mesoptamian sources, 52–53
corpse contamination, 9, 25, 32, 38, 47, 82 Fleming, D. E., 146n65, 152n12, 153n20,
covenant 153n26, 158n4, 167n29, 168n38
book of the, 15, 68
breach of, 38, 66, 68, 71–72 Gerizim, Mount, 50
with David, 117, 119, 123, 128,134 Gilgal, 60–61
with Moses, 9, 62–63, 86 goats, 70, 146n4, 155n5
renewal of, 15, 56–57, 62–64, 68, 86, high places of, 26–27, 40–43, 79,
122, 134, 136, 152n16, 155n56 82–83, 95, 101 See also sě cirîm
Covenant Code, 12, 18, 145n56 Goetze, A., 54
Cross, F. M. 67, 122–125, 130 golden calf, 24–25, 107–112, 164n77. See
also Bethel, Jeroboam’s cult at
Dagan, 52 graves, 17, 24, 27, 29, 78, 80–82, 100
David, 7, 60, 63, 86–88, 99, 115–119, Greenberg, M., 38
123–126, 128, 130, 134 Gurney, O. R., 54–55
Deuteronomistic History, 5, 7, 12, 66, 85,
93, 118 Halpern, B., 127, 146n64, 167n27
double redaction of, 122–130, 135 Hayes, C. 111–113
Deuteronomy, 4–7, 9, 12, 16, 25, 61, 93, ḥē rem
123 and covenant, 9, 48, 57–59, 63–64,
centralization as theme in, 14, 23, 24, 66, 68, 71, 119, 136
29, 85, 1–3, 113, 116, 119, 130, 131 against Canaanite cult and cultures, 4,
covenant in, 62, 63, 9–10, 23, 46, 48, 56, 65, 71, 88, 99,
golden calf in, 108–112, 164n79 107, 119
index 201
in Deuteronomy (See Deuteronomy, impurity, 6–9, 11, 25–32, 34, 137

ḥē rem in) Isaiah, book of, 33, 36, 41–42, 69–70
against Israelite idolatry, 10, 46–47,
66, 68, 76, 107 Jeroboam I, 11–12, 17, 73, 82, 87, 103,
in Kings (See Kings, ḥē rem in) 112, 161n41
in Leviticus, 69 and Bethel, 41, 80, 87, 98–99,
in the Mesha Inscription, 48–51 102–103, 107–113, 165n86
in Sabaean evidence, 48–51 and Josiah, 99, 103, 113, 123
as unifying people, land and god, 10, sin of, 74, 99–100, 104
47, 57, 68 Jeremiah, book of, 19, 90, 156n57
war as context for, 10–11, 48–56, Jericho, 54–55, 71, 157n73
64–66, 73–76, 151n5, 153n28, Jerusalem, 26–34, 74, 78, 80–86
154–155n44, 157n74 bāmôt in, 13, 30, 40–43, 45, 84–85,
Hezekiah, 19, 72, 74–75, 85, 105–106, 89–92, 95–96, 105–108
124–132, 136, 142n25, 167n34 centralization of worship in, 113–119,
High places. See bāmôt 140n7
Hilkiah, 3, 27–29, 71, 78, 86, 88–89, schools of literary production in, 11,
92, 114 14, 121–136, 167n24
Hinnom Valley, 33, 35, 37, 45, 79, 82–83 Yahweh’s rejection of, 66–72, 96–99
Hoffmann, G., 12, 40–41, 143n42, temple of, 3, 30–31, 34–37, 57–62, 64,
144n48 67, 83–90, 98, 107–117, 121–122,
Hoffner, H., 55 128–129, 136, 140n7, 147n9,
Holiness Code, 6, 25, 43, 45, 77, 84, 148n20, 165n89
94–95, 136 temple priests (See Priests, of
date and parameters of, 17–21, 131–132, Jerusalem temple)
140–141n12, 144n50–51, 145n53 See also Zion
Deuteronomy and (See Deuteronomy, Joshua, 49–51, 56–64
Holiness Code and) book of, 13, 50–51, 55, 58, 60–61, 134,
eradication of bāmôt in, 32–40 155n51, 156n56, 156n57
and Ezekiel 69, 32–40, 131 city of, 40
as Josiah’s scroll of the law, 19–21 gate of, 40, 79, 82
programmatic features of, 11, 32, 142n25 ḥē rem warrior, 10, 46, 49, 54, 64,
holiness school, 11, 14, 18–19, 45, 69, 75–76, 134, 157n73
121–122 and Josiah, 56–64, 76, 86–88, 115,
diversity of literary production 122–124, 131–136, 155n46
within, 34, 43, 69, 83–86, 107, 132 and Moses, 62–63, 86–87, 115,
Huldah, 16–17, 59, 67, 86, 92, 117–18, 124 122–124
human bones, 34, 68, 80, 82, 102–107 Judah, 5, 26, 36, 46, 57, 67, 72, 77,
burning of, 70–71, 81 81–82, 86, 161n41, 166n19
exhumation of, 17 borders of, 83, 158n3
high places (bāmôt) in, 26, 33–35,
idolatry, 10, 29, 35, 46–47, 66–69, 76, 82–85, 96, 116, 130, 147n9
87, 118, 126–127, 160n33 kings of, 7, 28–29, 37, 66, 78–82,
ḥē rem as eradicating (See ḥē rem, 85–98, 113, 123–130, 159n20
against Israelite idolatry) people of, 57, 68, 74
202 index
Judah (continued) and high places (bāmôt), 85, 89, 117,

priests of, 18, 30, 95–98, 123, 147n9 127–128
reforms in, 81–86, 88–99, 119, textual production during reign
133–136, 166n8 of, 127–130, 167n24
scribal activity in, 13, 18, 115, 121–136, Manasseh, territory of, 134
164n83, 168n39 maṣṣē bôt. See standing stones
towns of, 26–27, 30–33, 78–79, 82, maṣṣôt. See unleavened bread
92, 95 Mesha,
Inscription, 48–58, 152n9, 155n48
Karib-ilu, 49–52, 56, 152n9 King of, 49
Keel, O., 42 Milcom, 80, 96–97, 105, 160n33
Kings, book of, 5, 15, 29, 62, 68, 86, Milgrom, J, 18, 35, 39, 132, 144n51, 144n52
165n86 mlk,
centralization in, 113–119 offerings to/for, 11, 25, 32, 35–37, 43,
deuteronomistic revision in, 6–7, 25, 45, 79, 82–83, 128, 148n30
30, 74–119 as deity, 36–37
double redaction of, 121–137, Moab, 48–54, 68, 98
145–146n64, 147n9, 158n7, 166n18 Moabite, 48–54, 68, 80, 105
compositional history of, 14–19, 58, Moses, 9, 16, 23, 61–63, 86, 89, 115,
77–119, 121–137, 164n81, 166n18 122–124
ḥē rem in, 72–76 destruction of golden calf by, 24,
Holiness substratum of, 6, 13, 19, 107–113, 164n77
23–43, 77–119, 121–137 song of, 62–63
priestly editing of, 11 torah of, 49–50, 57, 63, 86, 89, 113,
and ritual, 7–14, 23–43, 98–107 115, 124
Knohl, I., 18, 132, 142n25, 144n50–n52, Mot, 42, 109–111, 163n69, 164n75
167n34 Mount of Olives, 82, 105–107, 163n65
Knoppers, G., 5, 85, 104
Na’aman, N., 134, 159n12, 166n8
leprosy, 9, 25–26, 32, 47, 101 Nehemiah, book of, 60, 62, 64
Levine, B., 9, 145n53, 156n65 Nelson, R., 57, 60, 152n10, 152n16,
Levinson, B., 12–13, 143n31, 145n57 155n46, 155n51, 157–158n2
Levites, 50, 147n10, 164n82 Noth, M., 7, 20, 123
Levticus, book of Numbers, book of,
apotropaic ritual in, 9–11, 24–32, 83, 101 apotropaic ritual in, 9–11, 24–32
eradication of bāmôt in, 24, 32–40, 107 control of impurity in, 32, 33
ḥē rem in, 69 Nasi in, 63
See also Holiness Code sě cirîm in, 41
Lohfink, N., 15, 46–48, 69–70, 143n43,
152n9, 156n59, 157n73 Oestreicher, T., 14–17, 140n11
Manasseh, 24, 67, 116–117, 167n27 Passover

altars of, 26, 28, 80, 90–92, 128 associated with consumption of maṣṣô.
installation of Asherah image by, 116, (See unleavened bread)
165n89 as performed by Ezra, 60–62
index 203
as performed by Joshua, 60–62, 156n56 priests of, 71

as performed by Josiah, 15, 18, 30–31, Sargon I, 52
60–62, 86, 124, 166n18 scroll of the law, 3–4, 15, 19–21, 29–30,
priests, 7, 11, 30, 32–33, 52, 63, 71, 81–82, 37, 57–60, 64–68, 88, 114, 133–136
84, 87–98, 114, 123, 157n71, 157n72 as Holiness Code, 19–21
of Holiness School, 18, 32, 130–132 sě cirîm, 25–27, 40–43, 45, 79, 83, 95, 101
of Judahite bāmôt, 3, 26–27, 30–31, 70, See also goats
78–79, 81–82, 95–96, 116, 147n9, Sennacherib, 74–75, 126–128, 167n24,
147n10, 159n20 167n34
of Jerusalem temple, 13, 28, 78, 84, 86, Sinai, 16, 112–113
88–89, 92, 95, 98, 113, 121, 136, 147n9 Smith, M. S., 36, 142n26, 150n55, 154n44,
komer, 90–96 163–164n73, 164n78, 167n24
kohen, 96 Solomon, 11–12, 56, 80, 89, 105–106,
Levitical, 50, 114 116–119, 134
Provan, I., 125–130, 145–146n64, 158n7 South Arabia, 48–56
purification, 15, 27, 29–32, 82, 89, 109 standing stones, 10, 23, 65–69, 80, 104–105
ritual, 45–48, 62, 101, 147n10 Stackert, J., 18, 149n39
Stern, P., 55, 70, 151n2, 154n33
Queen Mother, 127–130 Sweeney, M., 114–116
Rabshakeh, 72–75, 132, 167n34 Tel Dan, 40, 149n42

Rahab, 75 Tiglath-Pileser I, 52–53
reform report, 5, 14–17, 140n11, 143n43 tophet, 33–37, 45, 79–83, 128, 148n20
Rehoboam, 117 Torah, 35, 59, 114, 144n52
revision, Priestly, 18
in Deuteronomy, 12–13 See also scroll of the law; Moses,
in deuteronomistic texts, 11–13, 43, torah of
153n21, 155n52
in 2 Kgs 23, 77–119, 133–134, 159n11 Uehlinger, C., 42, 91, 93–94
of Pentateuch by Priestly writers, 142n26 unleavened bread, 25, 30–32, 79–83,
Richter, S., 116–119, 140n7, 143n33, 147n10
146n1, 155n52
ritual, 3–21, 29–32, 83–86, 101–102, Valley of Ben-Hinnom. See Hinnom
107–108, 112, 131, 141n15 Valley
apotropaic (See apotropaic ritual) Vanderhooft, D., 127, 145–146n64
language, 9–14, 24–30, 77, 112, 121, van der Toorn, K., 123, 140n9
141n17 vě qātal forms, 94–95, 106
priestly, 12, 23–43, 45–48, 99,
104–107, 137 Wadi Kidron, 24–28, 66, 78, 108
at Ugarit, 109–111. 163n69 de Wette, W.M.L., 4–5, 133
Routledge, B., 48–49 Wright, D, 8–9, 141n17, 141n19
Sabaean, 48–56, 152n11 Zephaniah, book of 36, 96–98, 159n14,

Samaria, 70–75, 81, 87–88, 99, 104, 116, 160n25, 161n39
134, 159n12, 161n41 Zion, 116–119

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Josiah’s Reform and

lauren a.s. monroe

Copyright © 2011 by Oxford University Press, Inc.

Published by Oxford University Press, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

1. Destructive Rituals and the Creative Process: The Dynamics

This book began as a paper on the ritual language of Josiah’s

Whatever quality inheres in my work is due largely to the rigors of his

KTU The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras

translation; on the contrary, it functioned as a means of

Josiah’s destruction of sanctuaries, altars, and divine representa-

parallel can be found in core Deuteronomy. This conservative approach

A Ritual Approach to 2 Kings 23

reality, his approach communicates important aspects of the ritual

Ritual Language in 2 Kings 22–23 as a

The language of deﬁlement used in the account of Josiah’s reform falls

relationship between people, land, and God, the integrity of which is

which these two modes of elimination are so thoroughly intertwined, a

Jeroboam’s establishment of a festival on the ﬁfteenth day of the eighth

the deuteronomistic historian established his reformed version of

postmonarchic author, Josiah’s exceptionalism lay not in is implemen-

Approaches to the Problem of Composition

The idea that 2 Kgs 23:4–20 reﬂects an originally independent literary

22:3–23:3, 21–25, and 23:4–20 that point to these units as separate

necessarily more credible, a point to which I return in chapter 3.

These inconsistencies support Oestreicher’s general schema for dividing

Josiah’s Reform and the Holiness Code

A majority of biblical scholars agree that Lev 17–26, referred to as the

Holiness Code is a pre-Josianic source that had direct inﬂuence on

almost exclusively around the question of the identity of Josiah’s lost

Since the early nineteenth century, scholars have asserted a

apparent. However, many of the modes of deﬁlement that Josiah

Scholars have long noted a parallel between Moses’s elimination

Josiah’s Elimination of Impurity

Rituals for the eradication of leprosy and corpse contamination, in Lev

ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʤʮʹ-ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ

TABLE 2.1 Priestly Apotropaic Ritual Language in 2 Kings 23

TABLE 2.1 Continued

Leviticus 14:45 2 Kings 23:12

ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʦʧʠ-ʺʩʬʲ ʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ

Numbers 19:3 2 Kings 23:4

Numbers 19:6–7 2 Kings 23:12

Numbers 19:6–7 2 Kings 23:16

ʧʬʹʩʥ ʸʤʡ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʺʠ ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ

That apotropaic ritual language is used in Leviticus and Numbers

that inasmuch as Josiah’s puriﬁcation of the Israelite cult resonates

to the notion that a priestly ritual undercurrent pervades the account of

The parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and priestly legislation in Leviticus,

The Verb ʠʮʨ and Bāmôt Eradication as Punishment

particular use of the verb ʠʮʨ illuminates the concept of deﬁlement in 2

deﬁles the temple of Yahweh in order to communicate, incontrovert-

The rationale governing the movement in these verses from the

Gates or Goats in 2 Kings 23:8?

yielding the translation “high places of the satyrs.46 Hoffmann’s reading

and material considerations point to ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high place[s] of the

In the previous chapter I demonstrated that 2 Kgs 23 attests

This chapter focuses at once on the speciﬁc connections between

core Deuteronomy; all of the other references are deuteronomistic.5

these rituals, vis-à-vis the particular phenomenology it attests, the socio-

The War-Ḥērem and Early State Formation

The biblical war-ḥērem accounts are generally understood to have been

kinship and charisma rather than by class or institutions.”12 The Sabaean

Joshua’s performance of this ceremony provides important infor-