Within any study of biblical interpretation, meaning is found within context. Without context, words, phrases, chapters, books, and canons are impossible to understand. In the modern world, any attempt to understand Christianity in America apart from the broader societal context of science, technology, entertainment, and capitalism is an effort in futility. Similarly, efforts to understand God’s chosen people of Israel in the Old Testament is difficult, and, at times, impossible without a grasp of the broader social context. The question at hand is exactly how an interpreter of the Old Testament appropriately integrates the broader context of the ancient Near Eastern society, and its undeniable biblical parallels, in the hermeneutic endeavor. Without an integrative approach, the interpreter not only risks misunderstanding, but also risks communicating fallacious content.
The discipline of analyzing the relationship between the Old Testament and its broader cultural milieu is called cognitive environment criticism. Deploying cognitive environment criticism to a book of the Old Testament, such as Exodus, by adopting a logical comparative methodology, engaging relevant archaeology and geography, exploring comparative literature, and applying the methodology to a specific passage of Scripture, such as the Covenant Code, allows for an enhanced understanding of Yahweh, the ancient Israelites, and the content of Scripture.
The following research begins by discussing the nature and significance of biblical parallels to the ancient Near East, providing a comparative methodology for analysis, and applying the methodology to the concept of creation. Next, a geographical and archaeological overview of the book of Exodus ensues, which pays particular attention to the broader context of the ancient Near East. Third, a comparative literary analysis provides an overview of the ancient Near Eastern texts that pertain to the book of Exodus.
Finally, after a very brief cultural and iconographic overview of the book of Exodus, the comparative methodology is then applied to the Covenant Code. Finally, the research ends with a discussion regarding how to integrate the ancient Near Eastern background information into a Bible study.
Comparative Methodology
Methodological Introduction
From Friedrich Delitzsch’s Babel-Bibel lectures that accused the biblical writers of crass plagiarism to the name calling of Thomas Thompson, who applies the fundamentalist label to anyone who believes that the historicity of the Old Testament, the debate regarding the relationship between the Bible and ancient Near Eastern literature continues to rage. Accordingly, the question remains as to how to explain the profound similarities between the Old Testament and pagan mythology. Without a clear understanding of the relationship, the foundations of Christianity may sink into the quagmire of the delightful best-selling fiction on par with Homer, Dickens, or Tolkien. Based on the conviction that meaning only exists within context, the relationship between the Old Testament and the ancient Near Eastern literature rests on the Israelites’ cognitive contextual framework of transcendence. Accordingly, the analysis begins by exploring the nature, significance, benefits, and challenges of the biblical parallels followed by a brief explanation of comparative methodology used to assess the comparability of the Old Testament to ancient Near Eastern texts. The research concludes by applying the comparative methodology to an analysis of the similarities and dissimilarities between Genesis 1-2 and both the Enuma Elish and the ancient Egyptian creation accounts.
Biblical Parallels
The nature of biblical parallels may best be described as diverse. John Walton suggests the nature of the biblical parallels to the ancient Near East fall into three buckets: parallels that focus on individual features, parallels that focus on preserving a literary tradition often from a polemical perspective, and parallels that focus on worldview.[1] An example of individual features may include the papyrus basket used to protect both Moses and Horus, or birds sent out in parallel flood narratives. The literary tradition may be upheld through parallel creation accounts or treaty formations. Finally, although numerous distinctions exist, a parallel regarding worldviews may include, for example, aspects of ancient cosmic geography.
Ancient Near Eastern Themes in Biblical Theology
The nature of the biblical parallels goes beyond Walton’s categories that focus primarily on content. Although completely separating content and form is impossible, Angel Manuel Rodríguez provides a nuanced perspective of the similarities by focusing on the linguistic, stylistic, and institutional parallels.[2] Certain linguistic parallels are unavoidable in a Northwest Semitic language that would be similar to Ugaritic, Canaanite, Phoenician, and Moabite literary sources. Stylistic parallels also exist such as formulaic devices for certain type of literature such as a lament. Finally, kingship and covenant are two examples of social institutions that are found in both biblical and ancient Near Eastern sources.[3]
The significance of biblical parallels should not be underestimated. Walton explains that cultural study, or the more focused comparative study, reconstructs the culture and beliefs of the ancient Near East to assist in understanding the content of Scripture.[4] More specifically, by interpreting Scripture in light of the original ancient culture, it decreases the risk of superimposing a cultural bias.[5] In summary, the significance of biblical parallels is to enhance understanding of the biblical text and inform exegesis.
The notion of understanding provides an umbrella for engaging the benefits of biblical parallels. Walton identifies three categories of understanding that cultural studies may benefit: literary genre, religious practice, and theology.[6] First, regarding literary genre, dependency is not presupposed. Instead, when the literature of the Bible is juxtaposed with the literature of the ancient Near East, the potential payoff is an enhanced understanding of both. As Walton explains, the exercise attempts to recover certain aspects of the cognitive environment to illuminate the perspective of the Israelites.[7] Second, cultural studies not only inform belief, but also praxis. Investigating the cultic and ritual activities of the ancient Near East enhances one’s understanding of the Israelites’ religious practice. Importantly, both similarities and differences must be studied to provide maximum benefit. Third, an awareness of the theological similarities and differences between the ancient Near East and Scripture provides the potential benefit of correctly perceiving the Israelites’ view of Yahweh. Finally, once the original author’s intent is determined through a proper interpretation of ancient literature, practice, and belief, the expositor can construct a principalizing bridge and appropriately apply the concepts to the modern listener.
Although the benefits of studying biblical parallels are significant, the challenges are, on occasion, quite substantial. The most obvious challenge for the evangelical theologian is the scholarly assumption that the biblical data is dependent upon pagan mythology, but the problem of presumptions cuts both ways. As Roberto Ouro explains, on the one hand, scholars have, at times, biblicized the ancient Near Eastern texts without adequate biblical support, and, on the other hand, scholars have mythologized the biblical account with even less evidence.[8] In a classic essay, S. Talmon highlights four challenges to studying biblical parallels: (1) proximity, (2) intertextuality, (3) societal function, and (4) atomism.[9] The first challenge to comparative study is properly aligning the dates under study rather than anachronistically applying geographical and chronological parallels. The second challenge is to properly apply the ancient Near Eastern cultural data to the biblical data after considering the Bible’s intertextual relationships. The third challenge is to develop an understanding of the Israelites’ societal structure before applying parallels. The fourth challenge is to apply the parallels holistically, rather than atomistically. In other words, the parallels must be interpreted in light of the broader ancient Near East and biblical context.
The challenges provided by Salmon provide a solid foundation. However, Walton builds on his foundation by identifying additional obstacles that may be grouped into three broad categories: similarities and differences, borrowing, and genre.[10] The first challenge is to consider both the similarities and differences, while recognizing that similarities may simply suggest a common culture, rather than borrowing, and differences may occur at a deeper level. The second challenge is to identify the source of any borrowing and acknowledge the possibility of significant transformation in the final transmission. The third challenge is to properly identify the genre of both the ancient Near Eastern and biblical texts. If the genres are distinct, then the significance of the similarities may be diminished. Finally, Samuel Sandmel recognizes the challenge of parallelomania when studying biblical parallels, where scholars overdo the similarities, and then establish conclusions based on unstable evidence.[11] However, the most significant challenge to the discipline of biblical studies may be, as Noel Weeks concludes, human nature, where conclusions are presupposed prior to the investigation.[12]
Cognitive Contextual Method
The pattern of comparative methodology followed throughout this research may be considered a cognitive contextual approach built upon an eclectic utilization of models. Walton identifies five potential models to engage cognitive environment criticism: borrowing, polemics, counter-texts, echoes, and diffusion.[13] The first four assume direct access to the spectrum of ancient literature, whereas diffusion assumes the Israelites obtained information informally while existing in the cultural river. The planned methodology is built upon four foundational assumptions. First, the biblical writers had limited formal or informal access to the ancient literature. To suggest that the biblical writers had continuous and direct access to all the cognate literature seems overdone, but alternatively, to assume the biblical writers were on a cultural island seems restrictive.
Second, the biblical writers used various models to interact with the ancient cognitive environment. At times, the author may directly borrow from a source, at other times the purpose may be more polemical or counter textual. Sometimes the biblical author would use echoes or allusions to communicate the message, just as Old Testament writers used biblical intertextuality. At other times, the author may also use concepts from the cultural river or milieu. In other words, a holistic or thematic approach is evident where, as Jeffrey Niehaus explains, “a shared theological structure of ideas existed in the ancient Near East, a structure that finds its most complete and true form in the Old and New Testaments.”[14]
Third, the Old Testament has a dual authorship that includes both mankind and God. Accordingly, it is not unreasonable to assert a unity of Scripture where contextual threads pervade the canon. Fourth, the Old Testament rests on a contextually supported cognitive framework, and as Sandmel explains, passages may appear similar in isolation, but “when seen in context reflect difference rather than similarity.”[15] In other words, in alignment with John Oswalt, the entire canon is built upon a cognitive contextual framework of transcendence, while the rest of the ancient Near East resides upon a cognitive contextual framework of continuity.[16] Accordingly, assessing the comparability of Scripture and the literature from ancient Near Eastern texts always engages the broader context of the Israelites’ cognitive distinctiveness. The approach is not novel and would likely be considered evangelical, and it does diverge with many notable liberal scholars. As John Currid points out, many modern scholars engage the parallels between the Bible and ancient Near Eastern literature with cynicism and assume the content of Scripture is on par with literary fiction.[17]
Methodology Applied
When applying the comparative methodology with the creation accounts of Genesis 1-2, it is difficult to ignore the famous Mesopotamian creation myth, Enuma Elish. The basic story of the myth is familiar. Creation is a clash of cosmic proportions between order and chaos. A divine assembly of gods, which included the gods Apsu and Tiamat, were birthed out of the watery chaos. Apsu and Tiamat procreate and birth many other gods who represented various parts of nature. Ultimately, a battle ensues between the gods, and Marduk killed Tiamat and splits her body into two parts. Marduk creates the heaven out of one part and creates the earth out of the other part. Finally, Marduk creates humanity.
At first the similarities seem obscure. However, Currid summarizes several parallels between the Enuma Elish and the creation account in Genesis. First, regarding similarities, the order of creation between the two episodes coincide.[18] Furthermore, divine spirit and cosmic matter interact, and a dark chaos exists in the Enuma Elish, while an empty darkness exists in Genesis 1:2.[19] Finally, in both cases, the creative process included light, firmament, dry land, luminaires, man, and finally, a rest period.[20] Although similarities exist, they may be considered superficial. The reason is that if any story of creation were to arise in an ancient civilization, it would, by definition, have to include the creation of certain entities that were in already existence, such as light and man, or it would hardly fit the genre. Furthermore, Ouro highlights several significant differences. In the Enuma Elish, Marduk is considered the organizer not a creator, cosmogony is expressed as theogony, and creation arises out of chaos.[21] Alternatively, in the biblical account, Yahweh is considered the organizer and the creator by divine fiat, no theogony occurs, and the environment is described as an absence of life, not chaos.[22]
Although various comparative models may appropriately be used to describe the reason and purpose behind the parallels, such as a polemic or a counter-text, the context of the cognitive worldview of the Israelites most appropriately describes the relationship. Oswalt explains that the Genesis account presumes creation ex nihilo by the will of a preexistent, eternal God independent from the work performed.[23] In other words, the Israelites’ cognitive context built upon God’s transcendence trumps the potential problematic parallels.
The Egyptian creation accounts also have significant parallels to the creation account in Genesis. The Egyptian accounts occur in several disparate sources such as the Pyramid Texts, the Memphite Theology from the Shabaka Stone, The Book of the Dead, and various hymns such as the Hymn of Ptah. Currid provides a list of parallels, which include a reference to a potter’s wheel for creative acts, creation by verbal fiat of everything, and the creation of light, luminaries, fish, birds, land animals, and mankind.[24]
Like the Enuma Elish, the distinctions between the Egyptian creation accounts and the biblical creation account are significant. According to Currid, in the Egyptian Memphite Theology, the god Ptah has created the world from primordial water that was personified as the god Nun.[25] Alternatively, the biblical account contends that God is the creator of all creation ex nihilo, which is a stark contrast to the polytheistic Egyptian accounts. Furthermore, Ouro explains that one of the primary differences between the biblical and the Egyptian accounts concerns the purpose of humanity.[26] In Egyptian cosmology, people were created to provide for the gods’ needs.[27] Alternatively, in the biblical account, God created man in His image and entrusted mankind with the ability to make choices and care for His creation. Finally, Currid explains, unlike the biblical account, the gods in Egyptian literature were completely immanent, lacked omnipotence, and reflected humanity.[28]
Again, many comparative models may be deployed. For example, it is possible that parallels were used as a polemic to defend God’s complete, monotheistic, sovereignty over creation. It is also possible that some of the content used by the biblical writers reflected the ancient cultural milieu allowing for a holistic or thematic methodology explained, at least partially, by diffusion. However, regardless of the motivations or reasons behind the techniques used to communicate the message, meaning can only exist within context. The biblical writers wrote their words from within a cognitive context or worldview of a sovereign, omnipotent, relational, transcendent God that countered the worldview of continuity at every turn.
Methodological Conclusion
Far from sitting down by a fire with Dickens’ fictional account of David Copperfield for mere pleasure, the Bible’s relationship to the ancient Near East finds its significance in the enhancement of understanding of the biblical text, which illuminates exegesis for the benefit of the student and scholar alike. However, challenges of biblical parallels range from the assertion of dependency to the cultural bias built deep within human nature. As can be seen in the comparative analysis between Genesis 1-2 and a sampling of the ancient Near Eastern creation accounts, the cognitive context is foundational to meaning and bridges the divide between Scripture and pagan mythology. The relationship between the Old Testament and the ancient Near Eastern literature rests on the Israelites’ cognitive contextual framework of transcendence. Personally, the biblical parallels to ancient context have, at times, been disturbing. A question deep within the recesses of the mind would trigger doubt. A doubt that seems to be pervasive in modern American society, “Is it a hoax?” However, in its final analysis, logic prevails. The God of the universe knew exactly what He was doing by entering the cultural milieu of His people and reframing the cognitive context to align with His ultimate reality. Building upon the basic constructs of comparative methodology, the following research applies the cognitive contextual framework of transcendence to the book of Exodus.
Archaeology and Geography
Archaeological and Geographical Introduction
The archaeological data relevant to the book of Exodus spans from the discovery and excavation of various large ancient tels to small Egyptian gems called scarabs. Furthermore, the historical geography relevant to Exodus provides insight into some of the most hotly debated issues of modern scholarship. The question is what specific finds of archaeology and geographical scenery provide glimpses into the ancient world of the book of Exodus. Without identifying the pertinent archaeology and geography, the layman and scholar stand to miss the patterns of evidence that illuminate history. An overview of the book of Exodus’s most prominent archaeological and geographical data not only enhances understanding of the text, but the data also provides evidence to support its historicity. First, a brief archaeological overview explores several archaeological tels, various artifacts, and a few relevant inscriptions from the ancient Near East that illuminate an understanding of the book of Exodus while simultaneously providing evidence for its historicity. Next, a brief geographical survey commences that follows the movement of the ancient Israelites from Rameses to Mount Sinai during the most notable event in the history of the Jewish people – the Exodus. The geographical data also elucidates meaning and reinforces the historicity of the event.
Archaeological Overview
A blurred line exists between archaeology proper, which focuses on the discovery of tels and their associated artifacts and remains, and the broader scope of the archaeological discipline that incorporates art and inscriptions. First, several tels that are relevant to the book of Exodus provide an entrée into archaeology. Second, a number of artifacts such as paintings, murals, shrines, tombs, and figures will broaden the scope of the archaeological evaluation. Third, a few inscriptions, papyri, and scarabs will further expand the archaeological analysis, while simultaneously saving several of the more comprehensive texts for the comparative literary overview covered in the next section.
Regarding tels, the first excavations relevant to the book of Exodus are Tel Mashkhuta, Tel el-Rataba, and Tel el-Daba. Exodus 1:11-12 states, “Therefore, they [the Egyptians] set taskmasters over them [the Israelites] to afflict them with heavy burdens. They built for Pharaoh store cities, Pithom and Raamses. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and the more they spread abroad.”[29] The question of the location of the cities, Pithom and Raamses, have been debated for years. Hershel Shanks explains that Tel Mashkhuta had been associated with the city of Pithom for generations, but recently it has been proven that the remains and artifacts of the tel are no earlier than the Persian Period.[30] Accordingly, Tel Mashkhuta could not have been associated with the city the Israelites built hundreds of years earlier. Hans Goedicke asserts that, more likely, Pithom is associated with Tel el-Rataba because artifacts, such as pottery, from that site reflect Syro-Palestinian culture that date to the Middle Bronze Age II (1700-1500 BC).[31] Furthermore, Tel el-Daba is a very large excavation in the Nile delta region of Egypt. Hershel Shanks notes that the lower portion of the tel exposed a major Canaanite settlement with remains that date back to the Middle Bronze Age II and likely is the location of the city or, more aptly, the megalopolis known as Raamses.[32]
The next set of sites to investigate include Tel Hebua and Tel el-Borg. Exodus 13:17 states, “When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines.” The redirection eliminates the possibility of a northern escape by the Israelites. However, the possibility of danger remained. James Hoffmeier explains that Tel Hebua is located approximately three miles east of the Suez Canal and includes a huge fortress over eight hundred yards long, which would have been a trap for the Israelites.[33] South of Tel Hebua was another site named Tel el-Borg. The remains found at Tel el-Borg came from the Ramesside period and included a fort with walls that were twelve feet thick.[34] Again, the Israelites would have desired to carefully avoid the fortifications for fear of attack. Exodus 14:2 continues the explanation of the escape route by telling the Israelites to go back to Pi-hahiroth, which was between Migdol and the Reed Sea. Hoffmeier points out that another fort, Migdol of Men-maat-re, was located about five miles immediately south of Tel el-Borg.[35] In sum, the discovery of the tels in northern Sinai with fortifications and the possibility of Migdol being located near Tel el-Borg suggests the general location of the crossing of the Reed Sea.
Next, the excavation of Tel Timai provides interesting support for the existence of brick and brick making in northern Egypt. Exodus 5:6-8 explains that Pharaoh issued the following command, “You shall no longer give the people straw to make brick. . . . But the number of bricks that they made in the past you shall impose on them, you shall by no means reduce it, for they are idle. Therefore, they [the Israelites] cry, ‘Let us go and offer sacrifice to our God.’” Tel Timai is an excavation site in the Nile Delta in northern Egypt. Several archaeologists analyzed the chemistry and composition of the brick at the tel and recreated the bricks with local mud and straw chaff producing 2,000 bricks in two days similar to the output managed by Egyptian overseers.[36] The point of the investigation is not only that ancient bricks were used at the site, but, by using the source material in northern Egypt, it was possible to recreate the situation of the ancient Israelites supporting its potential historicity within the region.
Second, a number of artifacts such as paintings, murals, shrines, tombs, and figures broaden the scope of the archaeological evaluation. Archaeological evidence may provide insight into the difficult topic of YHWH hardening Pharaoh’s heart. According to Price and House, a painting on the coffin of the Pharaoh of the Twenty-First Dynasty named Tanakhtenettahat exemplifies the funerary art that characterizes the theology of the afterlife where the dead had to face a trial.[37] A similar archaeological find exists in mural form in the scroll of the Egyptian Book of the Dead, both of which depict a “weighing of the heart” scene.[38] In the ancient world, the heart was the seat of cognitions and emotions. When an individual died, the assessment occurred by weighing the heart against the standard of truth by using a scale. If the heart was too heavy with sin, then the scales would tip to destruction, but, if the heart was light, then the individual would experience eternal life. In Exodus 4:21, the Lord says to Moses, “I will harden [make heavy] his [Pharaoh’s] heart.” Pharaoh represented salvation in Egypt, so, according to G. K. Beale, God’s hardening of Pharaoh’s heart is a polemic against his salvific powers “and the belief that Pharaoh’s heart was the all-controlling factor both in history and society.”[39] Accordingly, Pharaoh’s power to stop the plagues was negated and destruction ensued.
Archaeology also provides structures comparable not only to the tabernacle, but also to the Ark of the Covenant that was often placed within the tabernacle. Alan Millard points out that portable shrines with gold-plated wooden frames had been created by Egyptian craftsman since about 2500 BC.[40] More specifically, Price and House explain that within the innermost portion of the tomb of King Tutankhamen in the Valley of the Kings at Luxor was a small gold-plated shrine protected by a cherub-like figure.[41] The tomb appears to parallel the chronology and the structure of the tabernacle in the biblical account, which also houses the Ark of the Covenant in its inner-most portion. Finally, according to Elie Borowski, cherubim figures commonly appeared in ancient Near Eastern cultures for protection as documented in the palace in northern Syria of the governor of Hadatu at the archaeological site of Arslan Tash.[42] Numerous other examples exist, but it is clear that the structural concept of the biblical tabernacle and the Ark of the Covenant were not unique to the ancient Near East.
Third, inscriptions, papyri, and scarabs further expand the archaeological analysis. Although one would think that extensive remains would exist to support the events of the Exodus, two important factors explain the dearth of archaeological data. Randall Price and H. Wayne House point out that the Egyptian propaganda machine would never have documented a national defeat, and the extreme conditions of the desert environment would have likely disintegrated any remaining evidence.[43] Accordingly, archaeological support for the date of the Exodus event is lacking. However, without digging too deeply into the debate, an artifact that applies to the date of the event is the Merneptah Stele. The stele, which is dated no later than 1250 BC, is the only inscription during the New Kingdom period that refers to Israel.[44] Accordingly, the late date proponents assume the Exodus event occurred around the same time. However, the early date proponents assume the Merneptah Stele referred to Israel as a nation after the conquest; thus, the Exodus event had to occur during an earlier period such as the fifteenth century BC.
Two important archaeological finds are the Brooklyn Papyrus 35.1446 and the Rekhmire Tomb Painting. First, according to Titus Kennedy, the papyrus is dated to the seventeenth century, likely discovered in Thebes, and lists nine servants with Hebrew names.[45] Exodus 1:11 refers to Egyptian taskmasters afflicting Israelite slaves prior to the Exodus. The list provides evidence that the Israelites were in Egypt at an early date, which aligns with verse 11. Also, John Harmon explains that the Rekhmire tomb painting characterizes immigrants or, more specifically, prisoners of war producing bricks.[46] Similar to the Brooklyn Papyrus, the tomb provides evidence of the existence of Israelite people in Egypt prior to the Exodus.
An early date has become the scholarly consensus for evangelicals. However, Ralph Hawkins suggests that new archaeological evidence from a site called Mount Ebal in the ancient Canaanite area supports a later date for the Exodus.[47] Two Egyptian style scarabs were found at Mount Ebal. The pattern and style of the first scarab parallels a motif that is exclusive to the 19th Dynasty, while the second scarab pattern and style along with the pottery found at the site dates to the second half of the thirteenth century BC.[48] The idea is that the Israelites would have entered Canaan and brought remnants of Egypt to the promised land after escaping from the Egyptians. In sum, if the inhabitants of the site were Israelites, and the artifacts represent an Egyptian heritage, then the archaeology may, according to Hawkins, “accord well with a 13th century BC Exodus.”[49] The archaeological evidence notwithstanding, scholarly consensus does not currently exist regarding the date of the Exodus.
The famous story of Moses and Aaron dueling with the Egyptian magicians’ staffs may have an archaeological backdrop. Price and House explain that the text inscribed on the walls of the pyramid of King Unas at Saqqara in Egypt was written with Egyptian characters in a Semitic dialect and referenced the idea of a “mother snake.”[50] The theory is that sometime between the twenty-fourth and thirtieth century BC, Canaanite priests provided magical spells to the Egyptians to protect mummies from poisonous snakes that scared the Egyptians.[51] The Egyptians believed their culture was superior to not only the Canaanites, but to all their neighbors. Accordingly, the dueling staffs prove that YHWH is superior to all.
Although little direct archeological evidence exists for the Exodus event, indirect evidence may exist via the Papyrus Leiden 344. The Egyptian plagues occur in Exodus 7:14-12:36 and mark a time of rebellion and lament by the Egyptian people. Kennedy explains that the poem, the Admonitions of an Egyptian Sage: The Ipuwer Papyrus, is a lament that describes a time when Egypt was experiencing death and destruction and would have occurred sometime prior to the thirteenth century.[52] Price and House provide excerpts of the papyrus, which states, “The river is blood. If you drink of it, you lose your humanity, and thirst for water…behold, plague sweeps the land, blood is everywhere.”[53] It is difficult to miss the connection between the papyrus and the water to blood plague in the book of Exodus and the large-scale death that may have accompanied many of the plagues.
The death of the firstborn may also be referred to in front of the archaeological majesty of the Great Sphinx of Giza. Kennedy explains that the Sphinx Dream Stele was an official text of Pharaoh Thutmose IV, who reigned during the fifteenth century BC, that documented a dream.[54] However, the relevance of the stele is not so much in the dream as in the pharaoh’s ascension to the throne. Kennedy continues by explaining that scholars believe that the text demonstrates that Thutmose IV was not the natural heir, but his older, firstborn brother, Amenhotep, mysteriously died, which allowed him to become pharaoh.[55] Exodus 12:29 tells the story of the tenth plague the struck down the firstborn sons, which would have included Pharaoh’s firstborn son. The Sphinx Dream Stele may provide evidence that supports the historicity of the tenth plague. Although modern scholars would desire much more evidence, the archaeological clues provided by the enormous progress in the last couple of centuries continues to contribute to an understanding of Scripture and the historicity of the biblical data.
Geographical Overview
Although the book of Exodus records Moses growing up in Egypt, fleeing to Midian after killing an Egyptian, and then returning to Egypt under God’s providential care, the focus of the geographical analysis by most scholars is on the route of the Exodus event. According to Exodus 12:37-38, the Exodus begins in Rameses with about 600,000 men along with their families and livestock who plan to journey to Succoth. According to Thomas Brisco, the city of Rameses was the capital and government center of the Nineteenth Dynasty of Egypt, which included palaces and residences for officials serving the pharaoh.[56] Carl Rasmussen explains that Succoth is likely located within the region of Wadi Tumilat at Tell el-Maskhuta, which is northwest of the Red Sea.[57] Furthermore, James Hoffmeier highlights the fact that, according to various Egyptian inscriptions, Succoth was a military zone; thus the Israelites likely traversed the east side of the Wadi Tumilat to avoid military confrontation, which would support a central or southern direction toward Sinai.[58]
After Succoth, the Israelites camped at Etham at the edge of the wilderness and as the people drew closer to the sea prior to crossing, the Lord said to Moses, “Tell the people of Israel to turn back and encamp in front of Pi-hahiroth, between Migdol and the sea, in front of Baal-zephon; you shall encamp facing it, by the sea” (Exod 13:20; 14:2). Unfortunately, Rasmussen notes that the locations are problematic, but Pi-hahiroth could be a low area west of the Bitter Lake, and Etham and Migdol could be one of several Egyptian forts north of the Bitter Lake alongside the modern Suez Canal.[59] Hoffmeier explains that attempts to locate these geographical toponyms have spawned three theories regarding the direction of Israelites after crossing the Red Sea or Sea of Reeds: the northern, central, and southern theories.[60] Finally, the traditional location for the crossing of the sea is at the north end of the Gulf of Suez possibly around one of the lakes.[61]
According to Exodus 15:22-23, after the miraculous crossing of the sea, the Israelites spent three days in the wilderness of Shur. The direction of the remaining journey until their arrival in Kadesh-barnea is debated by scholars. First, the route could have taken a northern trajectory. Brisco explains that the northern section of the Sinai Peninsula consisted of sandy coastal plains alongside deserts in the west that bordered several lakes and a large lagoon to the extreme north.[62] Exodus 17:8-16 refers to an Israelite encounter with the Amalekites at Rephidim. The Amalekites who, according to Brisco, are seminomadic people who inhabited northern Sinai provide evidence for the northern theory.[63] However, Hoffmeier asserts that no archaeological evidence exists for Baal-zephon in northern Sinai during the second millennium, and since the northern coastal highway included a significant military presence, the northern theory needs abandoned.[64]
Second, the central theory suggests the Israelites migrated through the middle of the Sinai Peninsula either before moving toward Kadesh-barnea or prior to heading to Mount Sinai located in Arabia, a location near Midian where Moses had fled. The geography of the central plateau, according to Brisco, was primarily covered in limestone and sandstone with a line of low mountains on the north and a barren wilderness through its center.[65] Exodus 19:18 describes the mountain as trembling, which may connote an earthquake. Historical evidence of volcanic activity along the western Arabian coast provides some limited evidence for the central theory.
Third, the southern theory, which is the most prevalent, assumes the Israelites moved down the southwest side of the Sinai Peninsula and that Mount Sinai was located at the traditional location at Jebel Musa. Brisco describes the geography of the southern granite mountain range of the Sinai Peninsula as elevating above eight thousand feet and consisting of deep valleys full of streams, the largest being the Wadi Feiran.[66] Three reasons support the southern route of the Israelites. Exodus 13:17 explains that God prohibited the Israelites from traveling by way of the land of the Philistines, which suggests the Israelites avoided the northern coast. Second, Deuteronomy 1:2 states that the journey from the mountain to Kadesh-barnea takes eleven days, which fits well with the location of Mount Sinai in the south. Third, according to Brisco, several sites mentioned in Scripture from Mount Sinai to Kadesh-barnea suggest a southern location.[67] Unfortunately, many place names and regions remain unidentified due to the discontinuity of the population and the lack of artifacts due to the climate, terrain, and nomadic nature of the Israelites. However, geographical analysis continues to provide insight and direction that illuminates the story of the Bible and supports the historicity of the book of Exodus.
Archaeological and Geographical Conclusion
Although retracing the footsteps of the ancient Israelites in photographs may be the closest most students and scholars come to the on-site archaeological and geographical immersion experienced by the skilled professional, the ramifications of the data are no less critical. The diverse archaeological artifacts that include tels, temple walls, coffins, pyramids, stelae, scarabs, papyri, and tombs combine to provide a tapestry of archaeological evidence for the book of Exodus. Furthermore, the variegated geographical features from camping outside fortified cities along lakes and rivers to the inhabitation of the Sinai Peninsula, which included sandy coastal plains, barren wildernesses within the central plateau, and pink granite mountain ranges in the south, provide color to the already vivid story. Without question, the brief overview of the book of Exodus’s most prominent archaeological and geographical data has not only enhanced an understanding of the book, but it has also provided evidence to support the historicity of its events. From a personal perspective, teaching the historical aspects of the biblical text can be risky in front of listeners attempting to stay awake long enough for the practical application. However, when the archaeological and geographical data not only illuminate the mind’s understanding, but also solidifies the individual’s belief in the events, history comes to life and so does the listener.
Comparative Literary Analysis
Comparative Literary Introduction
T The number of literary parallels between the ancient Near Eastern literature and the book of Exodus likely eclipses the parallels within many of the other Old Testament books combined. The comparative literature that encompasses the book of Exodus features some of the most celebrated stories and events in the Old Testament including the tale of baby Moses, the account of Moses’s exile, the famous parting of the sea, and the giving of the law. The question is what specific literature in the ancient Near East parallels these important events. Without identifying the pertinent literature, the interpreter risks missing culturally relevant contextual clues that could illuminate the meaning of Scripture. A brief comparative literary analysis of the book of Exodus reveals that many of the dominant stories and themes are reflected within the ancient Near Eastern literary environment. Importantly, the purpose of this overview is not to provide analysis of the similarities and differences or to opine upon how the Israelites engaged the content but rather to identify comparative literature. First, a brief overview of the methodology and scope used to select the comparative literature occurs, which explains how the parallels were chosen. Next, a comparative analysis ensues juxtaposing some of the most prominent stories and events in the book of Exodus with the germane ancient Near Eastern literature.
Methodology and Scope
In order to provide a brief comparative literary analysis between the book of Exodus and the ancient Near Eastern literature, a proper selection methodology is required due to the extensive nature of the parallels. The methodology used aggregated the potential parallels from all assigned textbooks and two other important sources that specifically provided a broad framework of relevant ancient Near Eastern content. The first source was James Pritchard’s The Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, which includes potential parallels from all the surrounding nations of the ancient Near East.[68] The second source was a more recent article entitled “Egyptian Texts relating to the Exodus: Discussion of Exodus Parallels in Egyptology Literature” by Brad Sparks.[69] Sparks identifies thirty parallels from fifty-six scholars from 1844 to the twenty-first century in the professional literature.[70] Texts from all the sources were recorded in a spreadsheet with the applicable nation, biblical verses, sources, and motifs when available. The scope has two parameters. First, to limit the scope and avoid parallelomania, the literary overview extends preference to parallels that were included in multiple sources and focus on the dominant topics and events of the book of Exodus. Second, the scope excludes parallels documented in the research provided in the paper “Historical Geography and Archaeology: Exodus” that integrates shorter textual references. Instead, the research focuses on more comprehensive literary pieces. Accordingly, the comparative literary analysis explores eight literary parallels between the book of Exodus and the ancient Near Eastern literature.
Comparative Literary Overview
One of the most popular and memorable parallels to the book of Exodus is The Legend of Sargon. The story tells of the birth and rise to power of the founder of the Akkadian Empire and early ruler in Mesopotamia around 2300 BC who successfully ruled for more than fifty years.[71] According to the legend, Sargon, who became a mighty king, was born in secret and then set in a basket of rushes and sealed with bitumen before being placed into the river by his mother.[72] A man named Akki finds Sargon, draws him from the river, and rears the boy into manhood at which time it is told that the Mesopotamian goddess Ishtar loved Sargon, and he became a successful ruler.[73] The parallels to the story of Moses are unmistakable. The birth story of Moses tells of a woman who hid her son in secret and eventually placed him in a basket made with bulrushes and bitumen and placed him in a river (Exod 2:2-3). Instead of being rescued by a man, the baby Moses is rescued by the daughter of the Pharaoh, and Moses eventually becomes the leader of the Israelites (Exod 2:5-10). The most obvious parallels include the secrecy of the birth, the abandonment of the baby, the basket and river, the rescue, the favor of individuals of eminence, and the ultimate position of leadership by the baby.
The abandoned child motif also exists within other ancient Near Eastern kingdoms. Donald Redford identifies thirty-two different ancient Near Eastern references to the literary motif of the exposed child.[74] Specifically, the relevance of the Myth of Horus is that it, according to John Currid, has been in the Egyptian literature for a significant period of time, and although the most extensive recording of the story is during the first century AD, the primary elements of the story appear as early as the Egyptian Pyramid Texts.[75] Redford summarizes the story as follows: The goddess Isis births a son named Horus who is hidden in a “nest” among the papyrus to protect the boy from the evil god, Seth. Ultimately, Horus grows up a hero and drives the god Seth out of Egypt.[76] Although the parallels are not as obvious within the story of the gods as in The Legend of Sargon, the basic elements still exist. Like Moses, Horus is in danger, hidden in papyrus, and grows to become an important leader. An additional parallel not mentioned in The Legend of Sargon is that a villain pursued the child and attempted to murder him like the Pharaoh’s commands in Exodus 1:15-22.
A literary work from the Egyptian Middle Kingdom called the Stories of Sinuhe is considered a piece of classic literature. The parallels between Sinuhe and the Old Testament extend beyond the book of Exodus. However, the connection to Exodus pertains to Moses’s early adulthood. Victor Matthew and Don Benjamin retell the story: Sinuhe was a man working as an official for Pharaoh Amenemhet I (1991-1962 BC) and took care of his daughter, Neferu. The Pharaoh dies and Sinuhe feels that his life is in danger, so he flees Egypt and moves to Syria-Palestine. Ultimately, Senwosret, the newly appointed pharaoh, emerges and invites Sinuhe back to his homeland.[77] Consensus does not exist regarding the connection. However, Sparks notes that some believe that Sinuhe foreshadows the story of Moses’s exile, some believe that Sinuhe was a recurring theme within the ancient Near east, and others believe the resemblances are coincidental.[78] However, Currid provides several clear parallels between the stories to support a definite connection, which include both Sinuhe and Moses initially living in a royal court, then facing a threat that prompts both to flee, followed by victory in exile before experiencing a successful return.[79]
The “Destruction of Mankind” (Destruction), the story of humanity plotting against the sun god Ra who then reacts to deliver divine punishment to mankind, is a portion of a larger work called The Book of the Heavenly Cow. Several striking parallels exist between Destruction and the book of Exodus. First, Currid observes that Ra comes to terms with mankind’s potential rebellion by stating, “I am that I am, I will not let them take action.”[80] Similarly, Exodus 3:14 states, “God said to Moses, ‘I am who I am.’ And he said, ‘Say this to the people of Israel: ‘I am has sent me to you.’” Not only is there a sovereign connotation to both references, but according to Currid, a morphological and phonetic parallel also exists.[81] Moreover, Sparks explains that many Egyptologists identify the theme of Destruction as a “primeval revolt” or “rebellion of mankind” that is prevalent in more than a dozen Egyptian texts and resembles an Exodus-like motif.[82] Specifically, the challenge against Ra as represented by the Pharaoh of Egypt is launched by the Hebrews in the northern part of Egypt via “their escape and ensuing armed pursuit.”[83] The divine name revelation and the primeval rebellion motif both provide opportunities for an enhanced understanding of the Exodus.
Another striking parallel comes from the “Poems about Baal and Anath” from Ugaritic literature. In the golden calf episode, Moses is angry and breaks the tablets just before he took the calf and “burned it with fire and ground it to powder and scattered it on the water and made the people of Israel drink it” (Exod 32:19-20). The relevant Ugaritic poem tells of the goddess Anath annihilating the god Mot:
With a fire she burns him,
With millstones she grinds him,
In a field she sows him.[84]
The parallels between the destruction of the golden calf by Moses and the destruction of Mot by Anath include burning, grinding, and scattering. Thomas Dozeman explains that the parallels move beyond verbal repetition and into the realm of life and death. Specifically, Mot is the god of death in Ugaritic literature, and thus when the goddess Anath destroys Mot by burning, grinding, and scattering, she is annihilating death.[85] Similarly, Dozeman continues, the golden calf represented the reign of death over life; thus, when Moses destroys the golden calf, he is annihilating a representation of death and preparing the way for the new covenant.[86]
It would likely be a crime to omit from a comparative literary analysis of the book of Exodus the parallels between the Hittite suzerain-vassal treaties and the content and format of the biblical covenants. Although the ancient Near Eastern accounts do not completely mirror the biblical accounts, Roy Gane provides a summary of the common components of the treaty form: (1) prologue, (2) past relationship, (3) stipulations, (4) the witnesses, (5) the blessings and curses, and (6) the recording provisions.[87] Furthermore, William Barrick succinctly highlights the parallels between the Mosaic covenant and the ancient Near Eastern treaty form as follows: (1) history (Exod 19:1-4), (2) preamble (Exod 19:5-6), (3) terms (Exod 20:3-23:19), (4) blessings and curses (Exod 23:20-23), and (5) recording provisions (Exod 24:4-7).[88] More specifically, the treaty between Hattusilis and Ramses II parallels Exodus 19 and, according to Cleon Rogers, the components of the parallels include the date, a geographical setting, and the mediator of the covenant.[89] More importantly than the content and structure of the treaties is that, according to Gane, the treaties highlight the relational dynamics of Scripture represented by the ancient Near Eastern rulers (suzerains), represented by Yahweh, and subordinates (vassals), represented by the Israelites, who pay tribute to the suzerains.[90] Although ancient Near Eastern vassals were required to pay tribute in a form of money, the Israelite vassals paid tribute to Yahweh as suzerain in the form of sacrificial offerings.[91]
Without question, the pinnacle of the book of Exodus is the mighty parting of water to free the Israelite slaves from the pursuit of the Egyptians. The Westcar Papyrus contains at least five tales from the Hyksos period from around 1630-1523 BC that tell stories set within the period of the Old Kingdom.[92] Currid suggests that the parting of the Sea of Reeds may have been inspired by an ancient Egyptian tale from the Westcar Papyrus.[93] The story is about a magician named Djadjaemankh who helps recover a turquoise pendant that had dropped into the water on a boat ride.[94] The magician says his magic words and then he “placed one side of the lake’s water upon the other, and he found the pendant” and brought it back to its owner before he said a few more magic words and “returned the water of the lake to their place.”[95] The popular parallel is Yahweh telling Moses to stretch out his staff over the sea to let the Israelites pass through the waters (Exod 14:15-16). The similarities between the two accounts include the involvement of a spiritual leader, the magician and Yahweh, and the supernatural division of a large body of water for the purpose of the salvation of something of value, a turquoise pendant and the Israelite people. Currid highlights the important distinction that the Egyptian account is meant to be read as fiction, and the biblical writers intended to record historical fact.[96]
The final literary parallel arises from the Code of Hammurabi, which is a law code named after the King of the Babylonian Dynasty. The Hammurabi code from around 1700 BC predates the comparable Covenant Code recorded in Exodus 21-23. Joel Hamm, Bryan Babcock, and Justin Strong furnish three structural characteristics that highlight the similarities between the Covenant Code in Exodus and the legal code from ancient Mesopotamia: (1) third person writings, (2) casuistic laws, and (3) similar topics.[97] To be sure, Gane explains that other law codes also parallel the Covenant Code including the Ur-Nammu and Lipit-Ishtar written in Sumerian, the Laws of Eshnunna written in Akkadian, and the Hittite Laws.[98] All the law codes were used by kings to exhibit their judicial wisdom and substantiate their legitimacy. For example, in §206, the Hammurabi Code states, “If a seignior has struck another seignior in a brawl and has inflicted an injury…he shall also pay for the physician.”[99] Similarly, Exodus 21:18-19 states that when a man strikes another man “he shall pay for the loss of his time, and shall have him thoroughly healed.” The parallels between the Covenant Code and many of the ancient Near Eastern law codes are palpable and often nearly word-for-word.
Comparative Literary Conclusion
An immersion into the cultural context of the ancient Near East is reminiscent of the masterpieces of Degas who applied impressionistic realism to the complex nature of the human psyche. Similarly, the ancient literature provides an impression of realism with texture, color, and structure that illuminates the historical reality of both the content and message of the Old Testament. From the story of baby Moses to the fearful, young runaway, and from the memorable parting of the sea to the stunning deliverance of the laws, the biblical accounts engage the cultural milieu while maintaining unprecedented veracity. Accordingly, the brief comparative literary analysis of the book of Exodus has revealed that many of the dominant stories and themes of the book are exquisitely reflected within the literary environment of the ancient Near East. Personally, the parallels continue to open new doors of possibility to understand Yahweh’s message to His people and simultaneously provide ample opportunity to integrate relevant content into both the study and teaching of Scripture.
Cognitive Environment Criticism
Cognitive Environment Criticism Introduction
The biblical law codes, and specifically the Covenant Code within the book of Exodus, present a conundrum to many modern Christians who attempt to understand the relevance of what appear to be obscure and often disturbing rules of morality. However, the questions surrounding the biblical law surpasses mere relevance, and asks how the obvious parallels between the ancient Near Eastern laws of the pagans relate to the meaning and understanding of the legal information written in the Covenant Code. Without a proper understanding of the relationship between the two types of literature, the interpreter risks assuming the Bible is plagiaristic. However, a cognitive contextual methodology deployed within the discipline of cognitive environment criticism reveals that the Covenant Code is built upon the unique worldview of transcendence within an ancient Near Eastern society. First, a brief cultural overview of the book of Exodus is followed by an introductory excursion into the iconographic messaging of the outstretched arm motif in the book of Exodus. Next, similarities and differences between the Covenant Code and the ancient law codes ensues prior to applying the cognitive contextual methodology to the passage in Exodus. A final section briefly discusses a plan for integration into a Bible study setting.
Cultural Overview
The setting of the book of Exodus is Lower Egypt and Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula during the Late Bronze Age. Accordingly, the brief cultural overview is limited in both the location and period of the setting of the book. According to Joel LeMon, the New Kingdom began with a reunited Egypt under the reign of Pharaoh Ahmose upon conquering the Hyksos around 1550 BC, which initiated a massive program of imperial expansion creating many vassal states.[100] The Egyptians worshipped the sun god Re who became intimately associated with the kingship of the pharaoh and, around 1370 BC, the Egyptian society was disrupted by the Hittites who attempted to overthrow Egypt.[101]
In light of the pharaoh’s presumed divine powers, Thomas Brisco explains that ruler had autonomous authority over Egyptian life as the mediator of the god.[102] Regardless of an early or late date of the Exodus event, the Israelites, under control of the pharaoh in Egyptian land, would have likely lived in a rural setting alongside peasant farmers close to one of the villages along the Nile river.[103] Small residential houses and larger palaces were built with mud bricks, which would likely explain the servitude of the Israelites during their captivity prior to their journey toward the Red Sea.[104]
During the Ramesside Period from around 1295-1069 BC, Ramesses I reestablished hereditary kingship and Seti I initiated a massive restoration program and, after the Battle of Qadesh in 1274 BC against the Hittites, Egypt experienced a renewed prosperity.[105] Depending on the dating of the Exodus event, it is possible that the slavery associated with the Israelites would have supported the building projects associated with the restoration, but the late date is less than certain. Furthermore, syncretism was prevalent prior to the Third Intermediate Period along with the gradual decline of Egyptian power.[106] Finally, regardless of the dating of the Exodus, Egyptians divided the year into three seasons that related to the weather patterns and flooding of the Nile that limited agricultural work, which provided opportunity for the employment of slave labor for the king’s building projects.[107]
Iconographic Overview
Figure SEQ Figure ARABIC 1. Painted wall of
A brief iconographic overview of the book of Exodus first requires the definition of the term. Daniel Bodi explains that iconography refers to visual representations, which may include reliefs, statues, and amulets to name a few.[108] A comprehensive review of the ancient Near Eastern iconography is beyond this study for the ancient visual artifacts related to the book of Exodus are vast. From Aaron’s rod to the style and material of the Ark of the Covenant, Leland Ryken, James Wilhoit, and Tremper Longman acknowledge the significant breadth of iconographic imagery related to Exodus.[109] Accordingly, the following analysis will be limited to a representative sample of relevant iconography utilizing the imagery of an important phrase that is often used to describe Yahweh within the book of Exodus, “the outstretched arm” or “strong arm.” Brent Strawn asserts that the imagery tradition of the phrase takes two trajectories: the conquering arm of pharaoh and the life-giving deity.[110]
Figure SEQ Figure ARABIC 2. Temple relief at
First, regarding the conquering arm of pharaoh, it is found very early in Egyptian iconography. According to Strawn, the imagery goes back to a tomb painting in Hierakonpolis around 3400 BC (fig. 1) and, in the New Kingdom period, the imagery is abundant and includes a depiction of the outstretched arm of Ramesses the Great around 1250 BC from a temple relief at Tell el-Retaba (fig. 2).[111] The question is whether the imagery actually evokes the idea of Yahweh’s outstretched arm. Strawn notes that the outstretched arm of pharaoh connotes military action and power.[112] In Exodus 6:6, Yahweh tells Moses to explain to the Israelites that Yahweh “will redeem you with an outstretched arm.” Accordingly, it is not unreasonable to conclude that the imagery can be applied to Yahweh who wreaked havoc on the Egyptians during the Exodus event. However, certain differences between the usages of the phrase as it applies to pharaoh calls for additional investigation.
Figure 3. Limestone relief at Amarna.
The pharaoh Amenhotep IV (1352-1336 BC) not only changed his name to Akhenaten, but also changed the capital to modern day el-Arman and the religion to the worship of the sun god Aten.[113] Along with these changes also came a new artistic style that influenced the iconographic landscape. According to Strawn, the outstretched arm motif, ubiquitous within imagery during the time, included the sun god’s rays, which represented creation and redemption as a life-giving deity exemplified by a limestone relief (fig. 3) and a limestone stele (fig. 4) from Armana.[114]
Figure 4. Limestone stele at Amarna.
The redemption motif is evident in Exodus 13:8-9 when Moses tells the Israelites that it is because of the “strong hand of the Lord” that they have been rescued and brought out of Egypt (cf. Exod 13:16).[115] Importantly, the images from Akhenaten’s era contain images of deities, not just kings, who bring life and blessing to the people. Although the iconographic data supporting the book of Exodus is much broader than the “outstreched arm,” the theme’s visual imagery within the ancient Near East, which includes paintings, reliefs, and stelae, provides a represenative overview of the importance of iconography when studying the pericopes of Exodus, the book of Exodus, and Scripture in general.
The Similarities
The first step in using a comparative methodology when performing cognitive environment criticism is to identify the parallels between the literature. Specifically, the parallels between the ancient Near Eastern literature and the Bible. The selected section of the book of Exodus under study is the Covenant Code, which is documented in chapters 20:23-23:19. The parallels between the ancient Near Eastern literature and the Covenant Code are extensive. However, according to Pamela Barmash the relevant parallels primarily exist in Mesopotamian and Hittite Laws, which include the Sumerian Laws of Ur-Namma and Lipit-Ishtar, the Akkadian Laws of Eshnunna and Hammurabi, and possibly the later Middle Assyrian Laws.[116] The ancient Near Eastern collections took the form of royal inscriptions, which not only exalted the king, but also justified his authority to his human subjects as well as the gods.[117] Although further analysis of the relationship occurs in the exploration of the comparative methodology, it is sufficient for now to note that the specific relationship between the ancient law codes and the biblical law codes is disputed. On the one hand, critical scholars assert that the relationship is found in an oral tradition, and others, such as David Wright, suggest the Covenant Code is directly dependent upon the Laws of Hammurabi.[118] On the other hand, some scholars assume the biblical author was trained in a scribal tradition, and others, such as John Walton, believe the relationship occurs due to the nature of the ancient cultural river.[119]
The similarities between the ancient Near Eastern legal codes and the Covenant Code may be categorized into three types. According to Bruce Wells, the first type is the existence of similar legal issues, which include problems, concerns, or issues that arise in ancient law codes and the Covenant Code within the context of legal matters.[120] For example, Exodus 21:16 addresses the topic of kidnapping by stating, “Whoever steals a man and sells him, and anyone found in possession of him, shall be put to death.” The legal issue of kidnapping is also addressed in the Laws of Hammurabi §14, which states that anyone who kidnaps a man will be put to death regardless if the kidnapped man is sold or not. Next, Wells explains that a second type of similarity pertains to legal reasoning, which reflects an analogous way of thinking.[121] For instance, Exodus 21:35 explains that when two men each have an ox, and the oxen fight and one of them dies, then the two men shall share in the value of both the live and the dead ox. Similarly, the Laws of Eshnunna §53 explain that if two oxen gore each other, then the parties will divide the value of both. The logic resides in the concept or legal reasoning of shared risk. Finally, Wells identifies a third type of similarity, which consists of comparable legal remedies.[122] Exodus 21:18-19 addresses a situation regarding two men fighting where one man punches the other man, but if the man that is hit does not die, then the legal remedy is that renumeration must be given for the man’s loss of time (Exod 21:19). Similarly, in the Laws of Hammurabi §206, the man who inflicts the wound must pay the fees of the physician.
The similarities referred to above focus primarily on content. However, similar structural characteristics between the ancient legal codes and the Covenant Code also exist. Joel Hamm, Bryan Babcock, and Justin Strong identify two specific structural features of the codes: the casuistic nature utilizing conditional statements and the third person writing.[123] The examples above include both characteristics. Although, without a doubt, close parallels occur between both the content and the structure of the ancient legal codes and the Covenant Code, the similarities must not be exaggerated. The distinctions between the codes must also be considered.
The Distinctives
Significant distinctions between the ancient Near Eastern law codes and the Covenant Code, as well as the corpus of law codes in general, exist both conceptually and structurally. Conceptually, Shalom Paul first notes that moral exhortations, religious injunctions, and legal prescriptions are found independently in the ancient Near Eastern legal codes, but only in the biblical account are they combined.[124] The holistic nature of Scripture provides support for the concept of the imago Dei interwoven within the biblical law. Second, the biblical account of the law codes plumbs the depths of humanity rather than merely focusing behavioral or cultic rituals. Specifically, according to Roy Gane, unlike the ancient Near Eastern tradition, the biblical law deals with the attitudes of individuals and the value of human life.[125] For example, Exodus 20:17 is a prohibition against coveting houses, other people, animals, or anything at all. Coveting is detectable only by assessing inner motivations, which are available only to an omniscient God. Furthermore, Exodus 21:12 states, “Whoever strikes a man so that he dies shall be put to death.” Although the punishment may seem extreme, it clearly displays the value that Yahweh places on human life, which differs from certain ancient Near Eastern laws that allow for economic remuneration for homicide.[126]
Structural distinctions also exist, especially pertaining to societal directives. Gane points out that, unlike the biblical law, some ancient Near Eastern law codes punish individuals by killing a family member in what was called “vicarious talion” or “talionic ruler punishment” (see Laws of Hammurabi §229 and §230).[127] Exodus 21:29 highlights the distinction by stating that if an ox has a history of goring, and the animal kills an individual, then not only does the ox get stoned, but the owner, not a family member, is put to death. Gane also explains that the social class distinctions are not delineated when applying legal remedies to non-slaves in the Covenant Code.[128] In other words, some ancient Near Eastern legal texts modify the punishments based on the rank of the individual assaulted (see Laws of Hammurabi §196-98). Finally, the biblical law codes have an important structural similarity to the United States Penal Code. Gane explains that the biblical legal code was a major advance in jurisprudence relative to the ancient Near Eastern legal system by “consistently treating an individual as innocent unless found to be guilty through an authorized procedure.”[129] Alternatively, according to the Laws of Hammurabi §132, if a finger is pointed against a man’s wife accusing her of adultery, even though it has not been verified, she may be thrown in the Euphrates River as a sign of divine judgement.
Three additional distinctions between the ancient Near Eastern legal codes and the Covenant Code need discussed. First, Walton identifies one of the most obvious yet significant differences, which is the source of the material.[130] The ancient Near Eastern code originates from society’s kings, but the biblical material originates from the revelation of Israel’s divine king, Yahweh. Although the source distinction ought not be minimized, the two primary differences that most notably pertain to cognitive environment criticism are the concepts of covenant and holiness, both of which will be explored in greater detail within the methodology section. First, Yahweh enters a covenant with Abram in Genesis 12:1-3, which was ratified in Genesis 15 and extended to the nation of Israel in Exodus 6:6-7 when Yahweh takes the Israelites as His people. Although the suzerain-vassal relationship existed as substantiated by ancient treaties, Walton explains that the type of covenant extended to Israel is not attested in the ancient Near East.[131] The covenantal distinction is illuminated by the novel ancient construct of co-identification, whereby Yahweh identifies with Israel, and thus, “Israel is made holy because Yahweh is holy.”[132] Importantly, holiness is not a behavioral attribute but, instead, an ontological reality conferred via co-identification. The ancient Near Eastern law codes exclude any reference to the concept of conferred holiness. In sum, the Covenant Code, according to Walton, did not convey legislation, but instead, ordered the nature of the covenantal relationship that defined the holy people of Yahweh.[133]
The Methodology
As mentioned above, within cognitive environment criticism, Walton identifies several potential models that engage the parallels between the ancient Near Eastern literature and the Bible: borrowing, polemics, counter-texts, echoes, and diffusion.[134] However, the current research deploys a cognitive contextual methodology that explains the parallels through the Israelite’s worldview of transcendence. The application of the contextual methodology to a specific section of Scripture, such as the Covenant Code, begins with the identification of genre. The traditional view of the biblical legal codes, according to Wells, asserts that the law was authoritatively prescriptive and codified legislation that continues to reside within a debate regarding the extent of the codification and authority.[135] Others assumed the legal codes were academic or non-legal treaties produced by scribal schools.[136] However, Gane explains that the biblical laws, such as the Covenant Code, were built upon already existing divine values or priorities of God such as the sanctity of life and relational living (cf. Gen 1:27-31).[137] Accordingly, Walton concludes that the Covenant Code was not codified legislation or a set of prescriptive documents, but instead, wisdom lists, similar to the genre of proverbs, that specifically provided judicial wisdom.[138] However, in the ancient Near Eastern perspective of the law, justice was perceived through the lens of continuity, where the god(s) took care of the people so the people would take care of the god(s) in a co-dependent relational dynamic.[139] In short, the concept of justice within an ancient Near Eastern worldview of continuity became a quid pro quo or a mutual accommodation of self-need. Alternatively, the context of the Covenant Code or wisdom lists exists within a worldview of transcendence where the Israelites kept the law in relationship with a transcendent “Other” that needed nothing in return.
The genre of the Covenant Code as wisdom lists provides the launching pad to apply the comparative methodology to the two critical distinctions between the ancient Near Eastern law codes and the biblical law codes identified above: the covenant and holiness. First, regarding the covenant, William Barrick notes that biblical covenants are found within the context of ancient treaties, such as the Hittite treaties, that delineate and preserve the relationship between the suzerain and the vassal, a relationship dynamic prevalent in the ancient Near East between a king and his conquered subjects.[140] Within the biblical covenant, Yahweh represents the suzerain king and the Israelites represent the vassals. Importantly, Walton explains that Israel, the vassal, is to demonstrate Yahweh’s power; thus, Israel’s condition reflects Yahweh’s holy reputation or holiness, who graciously offers His love to Israel by “extending His identity to them.”[141] God proclaims in Exodus 6:7 that He is Israel’s God and the Israelites are His people, which seals the identity of the Israelites. Accordingly, Walton explains that the Covenant Code is not about following rules, and the failure to follow rules is not about penalizing sin, but instead, failure is about violating the covenant, which is supposed to preserve “the sanctity of sacred space as Yahweh’s people reflect the holy status given to them as partners and vassals in a covenant with Him.”[142] At this point, the application of the comparative methodology crystalizes.
Although the structure of the treaties and the related legal content of the ancient Near East appear to parallel the Covenant Code, by applying a cognitive contextual methodology, the meaning of the two corpuses are unmistakably different. First, the covenant that underpins the biblical law code emphasizes a high view of humanity where, unlike the ancient Near Eastern context, the Israelites participate within a relationship with the one and only transcendent God.[143] Second, within the covenantal relationship, the Israelites can freely decide to obey the Covenant Code. Alternatively, the ancient Near Eastern worldview assumes, according to Oswalt, that choice is an illusion and hard determinism the standard within a worldview of panentheistic continuity.[144] Third, within the covenantal relationship, the transcendent Yahweh, unlike the fickle ancient Near Eastern gods, is absolutely consistent and reliable. Fourth, in the transcendent worldview of the Israelites, the first principle is Spirit, not, as in the ancient Near Eastern view, matter.[145] The relevance of the first principle becomes especially noteworthy within the context of conferred co-identification that results in a holy people. If holiness is not a behavioral or physical attribute, then holiness must be a conferred reality by the invisible Spirit of an almighty transcendent God whose spiritual presence resides among His people. Alternatively, the ancient Near Eastern view of continuity contends that reality is an enmeshment of the human and the divine. Fifth, Israel, as Yahweh’s holy people, is called to behave in a holy manner, which reflects Yahweh’s holiness, within a covenantal relationship. Accordingly, Oswalt explains that the biblical worldview calls for a standard of ethical obedience or holiness as a result of the conferred holiness, whereas the ancient Near Eastern view has no single standard of ethics.[146]
The Study
The relevance of ancient Near Eastern background material fused with the distinctive ancient Israelite worldview has shown to be quite valuable in uncovering the core meaning of the Covenant Code. Accordingly, the following analysis briefly discusses a plan to incorporate ancient background material into a Bible study setting that is understandable to learners. In light of the identified genre of the Covenant Code, juridical wisdom literature, the approach to integrating background material into teaching incorporates a methodology that Gane calls “progressive moral wisdom.”[147] The methodology first analyzes the function of the law itself, which reveals its representative value, and then the process expands to analyze the law within the Old Testament, the context of ancient life, the process of redemption, and finally, in regards to modern life.[148] The verse used to deploy the plan of study is Exodus 23:4, which states, “If you meet your enemy’s ox or his donkey going astray, you shall bring it back to him.”
First, regarding the function of the specific law identified, the underlying element addresses an inimical relationship between two parties, which ultimately leads to a profound test of character. At the start, Exodus 23:4 reveals a distinction from ancient Near Eastern legal codes as noted above, the biblical law deals with the attitudes of individuals. Specifically, if an enemy’s donkey goes astray and the escaped animal is seen, the individual may simply ignore the problem and nobody would know the difference, except an omniscient God. However, God holds individuals’ attitudes accountable. Accordingly, the law attempts to restrain the animosity between two enemies.
Second, within the immediate context, Exodus 23:4 exists within a series of laws about justice and, within the broader context of the Pentateuch, the verse reflects similar content written in Deuteronomy 22:1-3. However, the most important aspect of context is the values presented. Certainly, in light of the personal property at stake, the Decalogue comes to mind, “You shall not steal” (Exod 20:15). However, underpinning the entire verse is the law of love with respect to valuing the life of animals, valuing human life even when contentious, and valuing relational living. The high value placed on relationships and human life is a biblical distinctive. Alternatively, the ancient Near Eastern legal codes are built upon a worldview of panentheistic determinism where human choice is an illusion and personal responsibility is rejected.
Third, analyzing Exodus 23:4 within the context of the ancient Near Eastern law codes provides additional nuance to the study and understanding of the verse. For example, §71 of the Hittite Laws addresses a similar situation of an escaped stray ox.[149] The individual who found the ox is allowed to use the animal while under his care as long as he notifies the elders, otherwise he is treated as a thief. Although similar content does exist, the nuanced meaning of Exodus 23:4 emerges by highlighting its distinctiveness. Gane points out that the ancient Near Eastern legal codes do not hold individuals accountable for the possibility of ignoring the situation, an act invisible to all but an omniscient God, and by contrast, the biblical account moves beyond neglect to the radical extension of love toward an enemy.[150] A love based on the holiness of Yahweh is reflected in His co-identified holy people, the Israelites, a concept completely foreign to the ancient Near Eastern perspective.
Fourth, the Covenant Code moves beyond the ancient Near Eastern attempt to control chaos and into the sphere of redemptive restoration. The inherent purpose of the command in Exodus 23:4 is to restore a broken relationship between two human beings. Significantly, no reward or penalty is identified within the command. Instead, according to Gane, the motivation was to follow the command not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because it was the wise thing to do.[151] First, obeying the command is right because, as His vassals, following the command reflects the holiness of God who loves and values human life and relationships. Alternatively, the ancient Near Eastern motivation to follow the laws is to meet the needs of the gods so, in turn, their needs would be met, a perspective built upon the cognitive foundation of quid pro quo. Additionally, obeying the command is wise because even if extending love to an enemy immediately appears to backfire, the ultimate result may be to “heap burning coals on his head” (Prov 25:22). In other words, extending love to an enemy often provides an opportunity for the adversary to reconsider his responses in light of the powerful force of unconditional love. Said another way, according to Gane, “the biblical way to destroy your enemy is to turn him into a friend!”[152]
Fifth, at this point, the modern application is obvious. Many modern situations arise where a person attempts to extend harm. The harm may arise in the form of a co-worker, peer, friend, relative, or even spouse; thus, an enemy materializes. The natural tendency is to attempt to follow the rule. In this case, love an enemy. However, holiness is not about following rules. Holiness is a gift from God who has co-identified with His people. Accordingly, God’s people are holy. When believer’s live in that holy reality, they can loosen their grip on needing to find their value in what others think, how they are treated, or how they perform because their holy status has already been conferred by God. Accordingly, with nothing to prove, they no longer need to fight to be valued, fight to be right, or fight for their rights. A holy people can, in the most hostile environments, reflect the most holy behavior of all: love.
Cognitive Environment Criticism Conclusion
Far removed from spending the afternoon on the lookout for escaped donkeys, the modern biblical interpreter finds rich meaning within the Covenant Code. When properly viewed in light of the relevant cognitive context, obscure rule following falls by the wayside of the ancient dirt roads. Furthermore, the cultural context and iconographic imagery provide a necessary framework to view the ancient world of Exodus. Moreover, unlike the ancient Near Eastern legal codes, the underlying wisdom of the Covenant Code rejects quid pro quo, assumes a high view of humanity, denies determinism, engages a consistent and reliable God, receives a conferred holiness from the first principle, and behaves ethically as a reflection of Yahweh’s holiness. Although similarities exist between the ancient Near Eastern law codes and the biblical account, when a cognitive contextual methodology is deployed within the discipline of cognitive environment criticism, it becomes apparent that the Covenant Code is built upon the unique biblical worldview of transcendence. Personally, using the model of progressive moral wisdom within the distinctive cognitive environment of the Israelites provides both insight into modern application and a method for an intensely vibrant study of the biblical legal material.
Conclusion
The discipline of cognitive environment criticism engages the broader context of ancient Near Eastern society to enhance the interpreter’s understanding of the Old Testament. Specifically, a comparative methodology using the cognitive contextual framework of transcendence was used throughout the research to understand the relationship between the ancient Near Eastern content and the biblical account. Furthermore, an overview of the ancient Near Eastern archaeological and geographical data relevant to the book of Exodus enhanced the understanding and historicity of the text. Next, a literary analysis comparing and contrasting the ancient Near Eastern literature with the biblical account continued to illuminate an understanding of the book of Exodus. Specifically, the parallel stories of Moses as an infant, young adult, and mature leader, provided the biblical backdrop to engage the culture represented by the ancient Near Eastern literature.
Finally, the utilization of the cognitive contextual framework of transcendence was applied directly to a portion of Exodus. The Covenant Code in Exodus 20:23-23:19 not only highlighted the concepts of covenant and holiness, but it also offered the opportunity to apply the contextual framework to a specific pericope, which provides a structural pattern for future applications. Without question, deploying cognitive environment criticism to the book of Exodus by adopting a logical comparative methodology, engaging relevant archaeology and geography, exploring comparative literature, and applying the methodology to the Covenant Code allows for an enhanced understanding of Yahweh, the ancient Israelites, and the content of Scripture. Personally, the research has provided several significant benefits. First and foremost, the angst that I had regarding the parallels between the Bible and the ancient Near Eastern literature is eliminated. Second, not only has my faith expanded, but many doubts have been removed. Also, my understanding of the cognitive environment of the Israelites and its relationship to ancient Near Eastern society has been greatly enhanced. Third, I believe that my capacity as a teacher of the Old Testament has been enlarged with a heightened awareness of the ancient Near Eastern context. Finally, I believe my New Testament understanding has also expanded with the investigation of Yahweh’s co-identification with His people. The topic is important for future study, especially in relationship to Christ’s co-identification with believers who have died and been resurrected in Christ.
_______________________________
[1] John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament: Introducing the Conceptual World of the Hebrew Bible (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 25–26.
[2] Angel Manuel Rodriguez, “Ancient Near Eastern Parallels to the Bible and the Question of Revelation and Inspiration,” Journal of the Adventist Theological Society 12, no. 1 (2001): 43–48.
[3] See Jeffrey J. Niehaus, Ancient Near Eastern Themes in Biblical Theology (Grand Rapids: Kregel Academic & Professional, 2008). Rodríguez’s institutional parallels provide the building blocks for the holistic approach of Niehaus, which proposes shared structures between Scripture and the Ancient Near Eastern texts.
[4] Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought, 18.
[5] John H. Walton, Victor H. Matthews, and Mark W. Chavalas, The IVP Bible Background Commentary: Old Testament (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2000), 7.
[6] Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought, 22–25.
[7] Ibid., 22.
[8] Roberto Ouro, “Similarities and Differences between the Old Testament and the Ancient Near Eastern Texts,” Andrews University Seminary Studies 49, no. 1 (2011): 7.
[9] S. Talmon, “The ‘Comparative Method’ in Biblical Interpretation: Principles and Problems,” in Volume Du Congres, ed. Frederick E. Greenspahn (Leiden: Brill, 1978), 324–328, 342, 356.
[10] John H. Walton, “Cultural Background of the Old Testament,” in Foundations for Biblical Interpretation, ed. D. Dockery, K. Mathews, and R. Sloan (Nashville: Broadman/Holman, 1994), 256.
[11] Samuel Sandmel, “Parallelomania,” Journal of Biblical Literature 81, no. 1 (March 1962): 1.
[12] Noel Weeks, “Problems with the Comparative Method in Old Testament Studies,” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 62, no. 2 (June 1, 2019): 306.
[13] John H. Walton, “Interactions in the Ancient Cognitive Environment,” in Behind the Scenes of the Old Testament: Cultural, Social, and Historical Contexts, ed. Jonathan S. Greer, John W. Hilber, and John H. Walton (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018), 333–335.
[14] Niehaus, Ancient Near Eastern Themes in Biblical Theology, 30.
[15] Sandmel, “Parallelomania,” 2.
[16] John N. Oswalt, The Bible Among the Myths: Unique Revelation or Just Ancient Literature? (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2009), 185–194.
[17] John D. Currid, Against the Gods: The Polemical Theology of the Old Testament (Wheaton: Crossway, 2013), 22.
[18] Currid, Against the Gods, 37.
[19] Ibid.
[20] Currid, Against the Gods, 37.
[21] Ouro, “Similarities and Differences,” 13.
[22] Ibid.
[23] Oswalt, The Bible among the Myths, 101.
[24] Currid, Against the Gods, 39.
[25] Ibid., 46.
[26] Ouro, “Similarities and Differences,” 16.
[27] Ibid.
[28] Currid, Against the Gods, 40.
[29] Unless otherwise noted, all biblical passages referenced are in the English Standard Version (Wheaton: Crossway, 2008).
[30] Hershel Shanks, “The Exodus and the Crossing of the Red Sea, According to Hans Goedicke,” Biblical Archaeology Review, 1981, 43–46.
[31] Ibid.
[32] Ibid., 42–50.
[33] James K. Hoffmeier, “Out of Egypt,” Biblical Archaeology Review, 2007, 33–37.
[34] Ibid.
[35] Ibid.
[36] Robert Littman, Marta Lorenzon, and Jay Silverstein, “With & Without Straw: How Israelite Slaves Made Bricks,” Biblical Archaeology Review, 2014, 60–63.
[37] J. Randall Price and H. Wayne House, Zondervan Handbook of Biblical Archaeology: A Book by Book Guide to Archaeological Discoveries Related to the Bible (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan Academic, 2017), 85.
[38] Ibid.
[39] G K. Beale, “An Exegetical and Theological Consideration of the Hardening of Pharaoh’s Heart in Exodus 4-14 and Romans 9,” Trinity Journal 5, no. 2 (1984): 149.
[40] Alan R. Millard, “Tutankhamun, The Tabernacle and the Ark of the Covenant,” Bible and Spade 7, no. 2 (1994): 50.
[41] Price and House, Zondervan Handbook of Biblical Archaeology, 92–93.
[42] Elie Borowski, “Cherubim: God’s Throne?” Biblical Archaeology Review 21, no. 4 (July 1995): 36–41.
[43] Price and House, Zondervan Handbook of Biblical Archaeology, 82.
[44] Victor H. Matthews and Don C. Benjamin, Old Testament Parallels: Laws and Stories from the Ancient Near East (New York: Paulist Press, 2016), 100.
[45] Titus M. Kennedy, Unearthing the Bible: 101 Archaeological Discoveries That Bring the Bible to Life (Eugene: Harvest House Publishers, 2020), 47–48.
[46] John A. Harmon, “Archaeology of Egypt,” in The Lexham Bible Dictionary, ed. John D. Barry et al. (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016).
[47] Ralph K Hawkins, “Propositions for Evangelical Acceptance of a Late-Date Exodus-Conquest: Biblical Data and the Royal Scarabs from Mt Ebal,” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 50, no. 1 (March 2007): 36.
[48] Ibid., 39–45.
[49] Ibid., 46.
[50] Price and House, Zondervan Handbook of Biblical Archaeology, 87.
[51] Ibid.
[52] Kennedy, Unearthing the Bible, 53–54.
[53] Price and House, Zondervan Handbook of Biblical Archaeology, 89.
[54] Kennedy, Unearthing the Bible, 58–59.
[55] Ibid.
[56] Thomas V. Brisco, Holman Bible Atlas: A Complete Guide to the Expansive Geography of Biblical History (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1998), 68.
[57] Carl G. Rasmussen, Zondervan Atlas of the Bible (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2010), 103.
[58] James K. Hoffmeier, Israel in Egypt: The Evidence for the Authenticity of the Exodus Tradition (New York: Oxford, 1996), 179-182.
[59] Rasmussen, Zondervan Atlas of the Bible, 103–104.
[60] Hoffmeier, Israel in Egypt: The Evidence for the Authenticity of the Exodus Tradition, 183.
[61] Rasmussen, Zondervan Atlas of the Bible, 104.
[62] Brisco, Holman Bible Atlas, 65.
[63] Ibid., 68.
[64] Hoffmeier, Israel in Egypt: The Evidence for the Authenticity of the Exodus Tradition, 184.
[65] Brisco, Holman Bible Atlas, 65.
[66] Ibid., 66, 68.
[67] Brisco, Holman Bible Atlas, 67.
[68] James Bennett Pritchard, The Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, 3rd ed. with Supplement. (Princeton: Princeton University, 1969).
[69] Brad C. Sparks, “Egyptian Texts Relating to the Exodus: Discussions of Exodus Parallels in the Egyptology Literature,” in Israel’s Exodus in Transdisciplinary Perspective: Text, Archaeology, Culture, and Geoscience, ed. Thomas E. Levy, Thomas Schneider, and William H. C. Propp (New York: Springer, 2015).
[70] Ibid., 259.
[71] Currid, Against the Gods, 76.
[72] Pritchard, The Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, 119.
[73] Ibid.
[74] Donald B. Redford, “The Literary Motif of the Exposed Child,” Numen 14, no. 3 (1967): 225.
[75] Currid, Against the Gods, 80.
[76] Redford, “The Literary Motif of the Exposed Child,” 220.
[77] Matthews and Benjamin, Old Testament Parallels, 141.
[78] Sparks, “Egyptian Texts Relating to the Exodus: Discussions of Exodus Parallels in the Egyptology Literature,” 266.
[79] Currid, Against the Gods, 93–94.
[80] Ibid., 100.
[81] Ibid.
[82] Sparks, “Egyptian Texts Relating to the Exodus: Discussions of Exodus Parallels in the Egyptology Literature,” 267.
[83] Sparks, “Egyptian Texts Relating to the Exodus: Discussions of Exodus Parallels in the Egyptology Literature,” 267.
[84] Mark S. Smith and Simon B. Parker, Ugaritic Narrative Poetry, vol. 9, Writings from the Ancient World (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 156.
[85] Thomas B Dozeman, “Moses: Divine Servant and Israelite Hero,” Hebrew Annual Review 8 (1984): 57.
[86] Ibid.
[87] Roy E. Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017), 45–46.
[88] William D Barrick, “The Mosaic Covenant,” The Master’s Seminary Journal 10, no. 2 (1999): 221.
[89] Cleon L Jr Rogers, “The Covenant with Moses and Its Historical Setting,” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 14, no. 3 (1971): 147–148.
[90] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 46.
[91] Ibid.
[92] Miriam Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature: The Old and Middle Kingdoms, vol. 1 (Berkeley: University of California, 1973), 215.
[93] Currid, Against the Gods, 125.
[94] Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature: The Old and Middle Kingdoms, 1:217.
[95] Ibid.
[96] Currid, Against the Gods, 126.
[97] Joel Hamme, Bryan C. Babcock, and Justin David Strong, “Code of Hammurabi,” in The Lexham Bible Dictionary, ed. John D. Barry (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016).
[98] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 126.
[99] Pritchard, The Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, 175.
[100] Joel M. LeMon, “Egypt and the Egyptians,” in The World around the Old Testament: The People and Places of the Ancient Near East, ed. Bill T. Arnold and Brent A. Strawn (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2019), 172–178.
[101] Ibid.
[102] Brisco, Holman Bible Atlas, 57.
[103] Ibid., 59.
[104] Ibid.
[105] LeMon, “Egypt and the Egyptians,” 178–181.
[106] Ibid.
[107] Brisco, Holman Bible Atlas, 59.
[108] Daniel Bodi, “Mesopotamian and Anatolian Iconography,” in Behind the Scenes of the Old Testament: Cultural, Social, and Historical Contexts, ed. Jonathan S. Greer, John W. Hilber, and John H. Walton (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018), 165.
[109] Leland Ryken, James C. Wilhoit, and Tremper Longman III, eds., Dictionary of Biblical Imagery (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1998), 1, 20.
[110] Brent A. Strawn, “‘With a Strong Hand and an Outstretched Arm’: On the Meaning(s) of the Exodus Tradition(s),” in Iconographic Exegesis of the Hebrew Bible / Old Testament: An Introduction to Its Theory, Method, and Practice, ed. Isaak J. De Hulster, Brent A. Strawn, and Ryan P. Bonfiglio (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 106.
[111] Ibid., 107.
[112] Ibid.
[113] LeMon, “Egypt and the Egyptians,” 176–177.
[114] Strawn, “‘With a Strong Hand and an Outstretched Arm’: On the Meaning(s) of the Exodus Tradition(s),” 109.
[115] Ibid., 109–112.
[116] Pamela Barmash, “Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Law,” Religion Compass 12, no. 5–6 (May 2018): 3.
[117] Ibid.
[118] David P. Wright, Inventing God’s Law: How the Covenant Code of the Bible Used and Revised the Laws of Hammurabi (Oxford: Oxford University, 2009), 3–4.
[119] John H Walton, “Understanding Torah: Ancient Legal Text, Covenant Stipulation, and Christian Scripture,” Bulletin for Biblical Research 29, no. 1 (2019): 2–4.
[120] Bruce Wells, “What Is Biblical Law?: A Look at Pentateuchal Rules and Near Eastern Practice,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 70, no. 2 (April 2008): 233.
[121] Ibid., 236.
[122] Ibid., 238–241.
[123] Hamme, Babcock, and Strong, “Code of Hammurabi.”
[124] Shalom Paul, Studies in the Book of the Covenant in the Light of Cuneiform and Biblical Law (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2005), 43.
[125] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 130.
[126] See the Hittite Telipinu Edict §49, the Laws of Eshnunna §47A, and the Laws of Hammurabi §198.
[127] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 130–131.
[128] Ibid., 131.
[129] Ibid., 132.
[130] John H. Walton and J. Harvey Walton, The Lost World of the Torah: Law as Covenant and Wisdom in Ancient Context (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2019), 90–91.
[131] Ibid., 91–92.
[132] Ibid., 92.
[133] Walton and Walton, The Lost World of the Torah, 92.
[134] Walton, “Interactions in the Ancient Cognitive Environment,” 333–335.
[135] Wells, “What Is Biblical Law?,” 226–228.
[136] Ibid., 228–230.
[137] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 23, 79–80.
[138] Walton, “Understanding Torah,” 5–7. See the fusion of Torah and wisdom through the exploration of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Ben Sira, and Tobit in John J. Collins, “Torah as Narrative and Wisdom,” in The Invention of Judaism, 1st ed., Torah and Jewish Identity from Deuteronomy to Paul (Oakland: University of California Press, 2017), 80–96. See also the Torah viewed as wisdom in Deuteronomy in John J. Collins, “Wisdom and Torah,” in Pedagogy in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. Karina Martin Hogan, Matthew Goff, and Emma Wasserman (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2017), 59–80.
[139] Oswalt, The Bible among the Myths, 59–60.
[140] Barrick, “The Mosaic Covenant,” 215.
[141] Walton, “Understanding Torah,” 10–11.
[142] Walton, “Understanding Torah,” 11–12.
[143] Oswalt, The Bible among the Myths, 69–70.
[144] Ibid., 60.
[145] Ibid., 66–67.
[146] Oswalt, The Bible among the Myths, 60–61.
[147] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 197.
[148] Ibid., 201.
[149] See also a similar ancient Near Eastern parallel in §50 of the Laws of Eshnunna.
[150] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 229.
[151] Ibid., 230.
[152] Gane, Old Testament Law for Christians, 231.
Bibliography
- Barmash, Pamela. “Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Law.” Religion Compass 12, no. 5–6 (May 2018): 1–9.
- Barrick, William D. “The Mosaic Covenant.” The Master’s Seminary Journal 10, no. 2 (1999): 213–232.
- Beale, G K. “An Exegetical and Theological Consideration of the Hardening of Pharaoh’s Heart in Exodus 4-14 and Romans 9.” Trinity Journal 5, no. 2 (1984): 129–154.
- Bodi, Daniel. “Mesopotamian and Anatolian Iconography.” In Behind the Scenes of the Old Testament: Cultural, Social, and Historical Contexts, edited by Jonathan S. Greer, John W. Hilber, and John H. Walton. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018.
- Borowski, Elie. “Cherubim: God’s Throne?” Biblical Archaeology Review 21, no. 4 (July 1995): 36–41.
- Brisco, Thomas V. Holman Bible Atlas: A Complete Guide to the Expansive Geography of Biblical History. Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1998.
- Collins, John J. “Torah as Narrative and Wisdom.” In The Invention of Judaism, 80–96. 1st ed. Torah and Jewish Identity from Deuteronomy to Paul. Oakland: University of California Press, 2017.
- ________. “Wisdom and Torah.” In Pedagogy in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, edited by Karina Martin Hogan, Matthew Goff, and Emma Wasserman, 59–80. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2017.
- Currid, John D. Against the Gods: The Polemical Theology of the Old Testament. Wheaton: Crossway, 2013.
- Dozeman, Thomas B. “Moses: Divine Servant and Israelite Hero.” Hebrew Annual Review 8 (1984): 45–61.
- Gane, Roy E. Old Testament Law for Christians. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017.
- Hamme, Joel, Bryan C. Babcock, and Justin David Strong. “Code of Hammurabi.” In The Lexham Bible Dictionary, edited by John D. Barry. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016.
- Harmon, John A. “Archaeology of Egypt.” In The Lexham Bible Dictionary, edited by John D. Barry, David Bomer, Derek R. Brown, Rachel Klippenstein, Mangum Douglas, Carrie Sinclair Wolcott, Lazarus Wentz, Elliot Ritzema, and Wendy Widder. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016.
- Hawkins, Ralph K. “Propositions for Evangelical Acceptance of a Late-Date Exodus-Conquest: Biblical Data and the Royal Scarabs from Mt Ebal.” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 50, no. 1 (March 2007): 31–46.
- Hoffmeier, James K. Israel in Egypt: The Evidence for the Authenticity of the Exodus Tradition. New York: Oxford, 1996.
- ________. “Out of Egypt.” Biblical Archaeology Review, 2007.
- Kennedy, Titus M. Unearthing the Bible: 101 Archaeological Discoveries That Bring the Bible to Life. Eugene: Harvest House Publishers, 2020.
- LeMon, Joel M. “Egypt and the Egyptians.” In The World around the Old Testament: The People and Places of the Ancient Near East, edited by Bill T. Arnold and Brent A. Strawn. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2019.
- Lichtheim, Miriam. Ancient Egyptian Literature: The Old and Middle Kingdoms. Vol. 1. Berkeley: University of California, 1973.
- Littman, Robert, Marta Lorenzon, and Jay Silverstein. “With & Without Straw: How Israelite Slaves Made Bricks.” Biblical Archaeology Review, 2014.
- Matthews, Victor H., and Don C. Benjamin. Old Testament Parallels: Laws and Stories from the Ancient Near East. New York: Paulist Press, 2016.
- Millard, Alan R. “Tutankhamun, The Tabernacle and the Ark of the Covenant.” Bible and Spade 7, no. 2 (1994): 49–51.
- Niehaus, Jeffrey J. Ancient Near Eastern Themes in Biblical Theology. Grand Rapids: Kregel Academic & Professional, 2008.
- Oswalt, John N. The Bible Among the Myths: Unique Revelation or Just Ancient Literature? Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2009.
- Ouro, Roberto. “Similarities and Differences between the Old Testament and the Ancient Near Eastern Texts.” Andrews University Seminary Studies 49, no. 1 (2011): 5–32.
- Paul, Shalom. Studies in the Book of the Covenant in the Light of Cuneiform and Biblical Law. Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2005.
- Price, J. Randall, and H. Wayne House. Zondervan Handbook of Biblical Archaeology: A Book by Book Guide to Archaeological Discoveries Related to the Bible. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan Academic, 2017.
- Pritchard, James Bennett. The Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. 3rd ed. with Supplement. Princeton: Princeton University, 1969.
- Rasmussen, Carl G. Zondervan Atlas of the Bible. Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2010.
- Redford, Donald B. “The Literary Motif of the Exposed Child.” Numen 14, no. 3 (1967): 209–228.
- Rodriguez, Angel Manuel. “Ancient Near Eastern Parallels to the Bible and the Question of Revelation and Inspiration.” Journal of the Adventist Theological Society 12, no. 1 (2001): 43–64.
- Rogers, Cleon L Jr. “The Covenant with Moses and Its Historical Setting.” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 14, no. 3 (1971): 141–155.
- Ryken, Leland, James C. Wilhoit, and Tremper Longman III, eds. Dictionary of Biblical Imagery. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1998.
- Sandmel, Samuel. “Parallelomania.” Journal of Biblical Literature 81, no. 1 (March 1962): 1–13.
- Shanks, Hershel. “The Exodus and the Crossing of the Red Sea, According to Hans Goedicke.” Biblical Archaeology Review, 1981.
- Smith, Mark S., and Simon B. Parker. Ugaritic Narrative Poetry. Vol. 9. Writings from the Ancient World. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997.
- Sparks, Brad C. “Egyptian Texts Relating to the Exodus: Discussions of Exodus Parallels in the Egyptology Literature.” In Israel’s Exodus in Transdisciplinary Perspective: Text, Archaeology, Culture, and Geoscience, edited by Thomas E. Levy, Thomas Schneider, and William H. C. Propp. New York: Springer, 2015.
- Strawn, Brent A. “‘With a Strong Hand and an Outstretched Arm’: On the Meaning(s) of the Exodus Tradition(s).” In Iconographic Exegesis of the Hebrew Bible / Old Testament: An Introduction to Its Theory, Method, and Practice, edited by Isaak J. De Hulster, Brent A. Strawn, and Ryan P. Bonfiglio. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015.
- Talmon, S. “The ‘Comparative Method’ in Biblical Interpretation: Principles and Problems.” In Volume Du Congres, edited by Frederick E. Greenspahn, 320–356. Leiden: Brill, 1978.
- Walton, John H. Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament: Introducing the Conceptual World of the Hebrew Bible. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006.
- ________. “Cultural Background of the Old Testament.” In Foundations for Biblical Interpretation, edited by D. Dockery, K. Mathews, and R. Sloan, 256. Nashville: Broadman/Holman, 1994.
- ________. “Interactions in the Ancient Cognitive Environment.” In Behind the Scenes of the Old Testament: Cultural, Social, and Historical Contexts, edited by Jonathan S. Greer, John W. Hilber, and John H. Walton. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018.
- ________. “Understanding Torah: Ancient Legal Text, Covenant Stipulation, and Christian Scripture.” Bulletin for Biblical Research 29, no. 1 (2019): 1–18.
- Walton, John H., Victor H. Matthews, and Mark W. Chavalas. The IVP Bible Background Commentary: Old Testament. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2000.
- Walton, John H., and J. Harvey Walton. The Lost World of the Torah: Law as Covenant and Wisdom in Ancient Context. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2019.
- Weeks, Noel. “Problems with the Comparative Method in Old Testament Studies.” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 62, no. 2 (June 1, 2019): 287.
- Wells, Bruce. “What Is Biblical Law?: A Look at Pentateuchal Rules and Near Eastern Practice.” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 70, no. 2 (April 2008): 223–243.
- Wright, David P. Inventing God’s Law: How the Covenant Code of the Bible Used and Revised the Laws of Hammurabi. Oxford: Oxford University, 2009.
