(The Library of New Testament Studies) Erkki Koskenniemi, Ida Fröhlich - Evil and The Devil-Bloomsbury T&T Clark (2013)

International studies on christian origins
Editor
Michael Labahn
Editorial Board
Tom Holmén, Bert Jan Litaert Peerbolte, Loren T. Stuckenbruck, Tom T. Thatcher
Gabriella Gelardini, Martin Meiser, Peter Oakes, Beth Sheppard
Published under
Library of New Testament Studies
481
Formerly the Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series
Editor
Mark Goodacre
Editorial Board
John M. G. Barclay, Craig Blomberg,
R. Alan Culpepper, James D. G. Dunn, Craig A. Evans, Stephen Fowl,
Robert Fowler, Simon J. Gathercole, John S. Kloppenborg, Michael Labahn, Robert Wall,
Steve Walton, Robert L. Webb, Catrin H. Williams
EVIL AND THE DEVIL
Edited by
Ida Fröhlich
and
Erkki Koskenniemi
LON DON • N E W DE L H I • N E W YOR K • SY DN EY

Bloomsbury T&T Clark
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First published 2013
© Ida Fröhlich and Erkki Koskenniemi, 2013
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Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work.
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Contents
Tables vii
Introduction ix
1. The Devil in the Old Testament 1

Antti Laato
(Åbo Akademi University, Turku, Finland)
2. Evil in Second Temple Texts 23

Ida Fröhlich
(Pázmány Péter Catholic University, Budapest, Hungary)
3. The Demonic World of the Dead Sea Scrolls 51

Loren T. Stuckenbruck
(Ludwig-Maximilians University, Munich, Germany)
4. The Devil in Rabbinic Literature 71

Gottfried Reeg
(Freie Universität Berlin, Germany)
5. Miracles of the Devil and His Assistants in Early Judaism

and Their Influence on the Gospel of Matthew 84
Erkki Koskenniemi
(Åbo Akademi University, Turku, Finland)
6. The Devil in the Gospel of Mark 98

Jan Dochhorn
(Aarhus Universitet, Denmark)
7. Binding the Strong Man: Demon-Possession and Liberation

in the Gospel of Luke 108
Márta Cserháti
(Lutheran Theological University, Budapest, Hungary)
vi Contents
8. The Believing Jews as the Children of the Devil in John 8.44:

Similarity as a Threat to Social Identity 116
Raimo Hakola
(University of Helsinki, Finland)
9. Paul and the Evil One 127

Michael Becker
(Ludwig-Maximilians University, Munich, Germany)
10. 1 Peter and the Lion 142

Lauri Thurén
(University of Eastern Finland)
11. The Dangerous Loser: The Narrative and Rhetorical

Function of the Devil as Character in the
Book of Revelation 156
Michael Labahn
(Martin-Luther University, Halle-Wittenberg, Germany)
12. “Evil is not a Nature”: Origen on Evil and the Devil 180
Anna Tzvetkova-Glaser
(Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg, Germany)
13. Augustine and Evil 190

Frederick Van Fleteren
(La Salle University, Philadelphia, USA)
Bibliography 203
Index of Sources 233
Index of Scholars 247
Index of Subjects 253

Tables
9.1: Satan and Satan-like figures in the letters of Paul 136

9.2: Lexemes for “evil” in Paul 137
9.3a: References to “evil” in Romans 138
9.3b: References to “evil” in other Pauline letters 140
9.4: Correlation between References to “evil” in Paul’s letters 140
10.1: The structure of judicial references in 1 Peter 145
10.2: The structure of argumentation in 1 Peter 5.8-9 150
10.3: Additional argumentation in 1 Peter 5.8-9 151

Introduction
The problem of evil in the world is a key question in most world religions. The
Old Testament writers were fully aware of the existence of evil. However, they
chose to emphasize the omnipotence of God rather than to explain the reason
of all sufferings and evil in the world. Evil in the Old Testament existed in the
form of godless people (who were punished by angels), foreign gods (although
they never matched God’s supreme power), and bene elohim, who had arrived
in this world (and still existed here?) and mixed with human beings to produce
offspring. However, such evil is only vaguely described without using clear
dogmatic concepts.
Nothing awakens as much interest as vague words and silence. The brief,
ambiguous passages dealing with evil launched a debate that is still alive today.
The Old Testament passages were reinterpreted and expanded in early Judaism,
the lacunas were filled, and foreign influence on the problem of evil was adopted
and rejected. The features of the main opponent of God were drawn again and
again. Unfortunately, we only have fragments of the writings from the decisive
periods, and we are left asking countless questions, finding only partial and
unsatisfactory answers. A wise scholar avoids generalizations, made so often
in the academic world. However, the ancient writers generalized, combining
different ideas rather than reading sources analytically and historically. As far
as we know, a uniform dogma on evil powers and the personal Evil was never
accepted. The name given to God’s opponent—Mastema, Belial, Satan, the
Angel of Darkness, or Melki-resha‘, for example —varied, and we do not know
whether these terms refer to the same being, because this being’s character and
role changed. Here, as so often, the words of a German Altmeister are true: “Wir
leben aus Fragmenten.”
Scholars have shown an increasing interest in the methodology of “Rewritten
Bible,” and it is here easy to understand how the flow of tradition was sparked
by this multifaceted heritage. In early Judaism there was no uniform idea of
evil powers or of the personal Evil. The personal Evil sometimes adopted
a central role, becoming a principle of evil, but at other times its role was
marginalized. Elsewhere, the concept of the personal Evil was combined with
apocalyptic views that are completely missing in other texts. Early Christian
writers wrestled with this multifaceted heritage, studying it from new points
of view. Mixed and contrasted with Greco-Roman concepts, every Father
developed—knowingly or unknowingly—his own Satanology, based on the
rich Jewish tradition.
This volume offers a look at the tradition of evil, starting from the Old
Testament, and advancing from early Judaism through the New Testament until
x Introduction
Origen and Augustine. The points of view we have chosen offer only a selection;
for example, every New Testament layer of the tradition would have deserved a
chapter, as would virtually every Father of the Church. However, we hope that,
taken together, the contributions here offer a tool that will help scholars to better
understand the tradition and its power. After hundreds of years, much academic
work remains to be done. It is obvious that scholars will not finish investigating
the issues before the era of the Devil comes to an end.
The editors warmly thank the group of internationally known scholars who
have contributed to this volume. The aim of Antti Laato’s (Åbo Akademi
University, Turku, Finland) chapter is to examine four central Satan-texts
(Num. 22; Job 1–2; Zech. 3; 1 Chron. 21) in the Old Testament in relation to
the development of the concept of the divine council. This concept was used
in the pre-exilic period to denote the relationship between Yahweh and other
deities and to explain why Israel was not always successful against its enemies.
During the time of the exile the concept of the divine council was radically
changed, as is indicated in the texts of Deutero-Isaiah. Other deities were refuted
and different angels began to represent other nations in the divine council—as
clearly indicated in the Book of Daniel. During this transformation the concept
of Satan was developed. In pre-exilic times Satan could denote a celestial figure
tasked with opposing such plans as Balaam’s plot to curse Israel. In the post-
exilic period the term began to refer to the leader of evil powers, demons, who
actively tried to complicate the life of the righteous or oppose the salvific plans
of Yahweh by leading human beings into temptation.
In her chapter, Prof. Ida Fröhlich (Pázmány Péter Catholic University,
Budapest) deals with early Jewish texts. Qumran texts mentioning demons,
such as 1 Enoch and Jubilees, reflect a relative dualism in which God has
power over all the demons. First Enoch created a myth about the origin of evil,
embodying it in the Watchers and the Giants, originators of the evil demons.
Jubilees created a narrative of the activity of demons during human history, as
well as a picture of demonic hierarchy, and ideal figures who have power over
the evil demons. Demons causing illnesses and physical disabilities in the rest
of the Qumran texts show similarities with those known from Mediterranean
and Near Eastern tradition. Some of the texts clearly draw on the Enochic
tradition of the origin of the demons. Qumran texts presenting “practical”
demonology are basically harmonized with the demonology featured in 1
Enoch and Jubilees.
According to common understanding, the Dead Sea Scrolls reveal decisive
information about evil and the Devil in early Judaism. Yet Prof. Loren T.
Stuckenbruck (Ludwig-Maximilians University, Munich, Germany) shows
in his article that the Scrolls cannot be treated conclusively here. A part of
the texts predates the community, and Stuckenbruck shows remarkable
differences between the Yah.ad and non-Yah.ad documents, and between
texts written in Aramaic and Hebrew. The diverse terminology concerning
“demons,” “spirits,” “angels” and chief demonic beings must be cautiously
observed to confidently draw historical and cultural lines.
Introduction xi
Satan is almost completely missing in early rabbinic writings. This fact has
resulted in negligence of the question in modern scholarship. Prof. Gottfried Reeg
(Freie Universität Berlin, Germany) investigates the appearances of the Devil in
rabbinic texts. He notes that the Devil cannot be compared with other basic
concepts such as the attributes of Mercy and Justice, the Kingdom of Heaven, or
the evil and the good inclination. Quite a lot of rabbinic writings—especially the
Tannaitic ones—do not mention the Devil at all. Statements concerning Satan
differ in individual writings, and we cannot find a homogeneous picture of him
in rabbinic literature. Satan is depicted above all in two different roles: as the
accuser and the tempter. Satan as the Angel of Death is restricted to one text,
namely b. B. Bat. 16a. Even if the figures of Satan and Sama’el combine in the
late texts, they have to be considered as two separate figures originating from
different contexts.
Adj. Prof. Erkki Koskenniemi (Åbo Akademi University, Turku, Finland)
begins discussion on the New Testament with his chapter on the miracles of evil
powers and the Gospel of Matthew. In early Judaism, miracles were attributed
to evil powers. Scholars, especially since Otto Böcher, have believed that
Matthew greatly reduced the magical elements of his sources, trying to distance
Jesus from the demons. Recently, Martin Rese challenged this interpretation,
reopening the question for discussion, especially in the light of early Jewish
views. Koskenniemi shows how Matthew’s treatment of the miracle tradition is
influenced by the Jewish debate on miracles. Although Matthew presents most
of the Markan miracles, he often reduces the magical techniques, even dropping
some stories entirely. The result is compatible with the ambivalent view on
miracles among the early rabbis (M. Becker): They did not exclude miracles,
but were cautious, because miracles and healings were all too easily connected
with magic and evil. Matthew was aware that all miracles were not from God.
Satanology is an important theme in Mark. Prof. Jan Dochhorn (Aarhus
University, Denmark), in his chapter, shows that the importance of Satanology
in Mark is related to the importance of Christ. An examination of Mark’s views
on Satan can consequently teach us about the Son of Man as the New Adam (Mk
1.13) and about the Son of Man being challenged in his identity by Satan, both
as the powerful one (Mk 1.13) and as the one who will be humiliated (Mk 8.33).
A Satanologic interpretation of the resurrection, however, is missing. Mark does
not correlate exaltation (which includes resurrection in John) with a denigration
of Satan. The reason may be that, in the Beelzebub pericope, Mark connects
the denigration motif with Jesus’ exorcisms, thus dating a denigration of Satan
before Easter. Affinities between the Beelzebub pericopae and Lk. 10.18 seem
to suggest that this tendency recalls older tradition and perhaps goes back to the
historical Jesus.
The chapter by Dr. Márta Cserháti (Lutheran Theological University,
Budapest) examines some of the Gospel narratives of exorcism within their
social, political, and cultural milieu, paying special attention to Luke’s treatment
of this material. Demon-possession as an illness is associated primarily with
the notions of limited good, loss of status and envy. The connection between
xii Introduction
spirit aggression, status-degradation, and deviance within a colonial context is

brought to the fore. Luke’s presentation of Jesus as a prophetic healer fighting
a successful battle against Satan is highlighted; a mission that is subsequently
carried out by the apostles in Acts.
In Jn 8.44, Jesus says that his Jewish opponents are from their father the Devil,
a charge that has often been characterized as one of the most anti-Jewish passages
in the New Testament. It should be noted, however, that the Johannine Jesus does
not address these words to those who are described as openly hostile to him but
to the Jews who are said to believe in him (8.31). The condemnation of Jewish
believers raises the question why John reviles a group of believers who somehow
shared his faith in Jesus. In his chapter, Dr. Raimo Hakola (University of Helsinki,
Finland) uses social psychological insights to explain John’s attack on the Jews
who believed. According to the social identity perspective, groups typically define
themselves as distinctive in relation to other groups in the same comparative
social context. Conflicts between groups do not always result from their being
totally different; on the contrary, similarity between groups may often trigger an
intergroup conflict. John’s references to the believing Jews and the Devil can be
interpreted along these lines as an attempt to construct a clearly defined social
identity that was perceived to be at risk in a complex and diverse social situation.
Dr. Michael Becker (Ludwig-Maximilians University, Munich, Germany), in
his chapter, discusses material all too often neglected by scholars of the influential
Religionsgeschichtliche Schule concerning the evil powers in Paul. Although
Paul only rarely mentions Satan or demons, he presents a clear paradigm of
this and the coming eon, and he anticipated the final destruction of evil and its
representatives. He portrays the present age as the “time between,” an evil eon
in opposition to future salvation. While Paul’s direct references to Satan and the
evil powers are few, they remain important and interesting. They are compatible
with many early Jewish patterns and it is clear that Paul does not argue ad hoc,
but the paucity of the sources and a certain shift in his terminological concept,
using terms like sin, death, law, and good and evil, makes it difficult to define
what he had in mind when writing, for example, Romans 8.
Prof. Lauri Thurén (University of Eastern Finland) highlights in his chapter
the persuasive function of the Devil’s alter ego, the lion, in 1 Peter 5.8. What
effect does the author seek to achieve among his addressees through his use
of this vivid image? What does it tell us about his attitude to the addressees’
non-Christian antagonists? Although intertextual references may illuminate
some aspects of the expression, the crucial issue concerns the author’s view
of his audience’s interpretation of the image in its context. In this matter,
unduly profound or detailed historical observations may be misleading. By
combining zoological information and modern argumentation analysis, more
accurate results can be achieved. The description of personified evil as a lion
threatening a herd is utilized in order to dramatize the situation, to intensify the
addressees’ internal coherence in the face of an external threat, and to enhance
their willingness to act appropriately. In his image of the lion, Paul attempts
to explain two contradictory exhortations: to be alert and to keep calm. The
Introduction xiii
addressees’ difficulties are personified, providing them with the mental strength
to cope in such a dangerous situation.
Dr. Michael Labahn (Martin-Luther University, Halle-Wittenberg, Germany)
shows in his chapter how the figure of Satan in Revelation is translated through
a literary construct into the dangerous loser. Within the larger objective of an
extratextual situation reflecting Roman rule in the province of Asia under the
Emperor Domitian, the characterization of Satan is one element of Revelation’s
hermeneutical strategy. Revelation attempts to develop a reader who is able to
interpret himself or herself in his or her own world in light of the narrative’s
construction of meaning, and the characterization of Satan is a key element in
this larger Sinnbildung (formation of meaning). The concept of Satan is part
of a construction that views the current world of the addressees against the
horizon of the ultimate triumph of God’s rule—the mightiest enemy in the
world outside the text is thus viewed in the narrative as a defeated but still
dangerous power. Showing that political power depends on Satan creates a
subversive plot, so that Roman rule can no longer be seen as glorious and
powerful. Though he is bound, Satan remains a dangerous figure to the
addressees of the narrative so long as they permit the anti-divine authority
represented by Roman rule to deceive them with its fascinating power. The
story of Revelation develops new insights into good and evil, divine and
anti-divine, allowing readers to understand their experiences from a different
perspective. Such a strategy seeks to interpret the present time and to shape
each addressee’s duties in life according to the claims and the value system
developed within the narrative.
Origen’s concept of evil and its fate is one of the most controversial topics
in Origenian research, and is treated by Dr. Anna Tzvetkova-Glaser (Ruprecht-
Karls-Universität Heidelberg, Germany) in her chapter. Origen’s thoughts on evil
and the Devil reflect his historical background. He polemicizes against Gnostics
and Marcionites, who accept the existence of an evil principle, independent of
God and struggling against him. Origen’s first purpose is to reject the existence of
any second principle beside God, which could compete with him. As everything
was created by God and God can do only good, Origen concludes that “evil is
not a nature.” On the other hand, he accepts the existence of evil beings, stronger
than humans and responsible for the temptations of man. Origen explains their
fate through his model of the fall of rational beings: because of their free will,
these beings disobeyed God and fell from his goodness, occupying a middle
position between humans and the Trinity. They correspond to the δαίμονες
of Greek mythology. In two polemical texts from Adversus Celsum, Origen
explains that the pagan deities are nothing more than these middle-beings.
The last part of the chapter deals with the difference between the sin of man
and that of rational beings. Origen states that the main difference consists in
temptation, which concerns only man, while rational beings have never been
tempted. This short survey shows that Origen’s speculations on evil and the
Devil have different polemical backgrounds, linked to the controversies with
Gnostics, Marcionites and pagans.
xiv Introduction
Augustine’s influence on the theology of the Western Church can hardly be

overestimated. Prof. Frederick Van Fleteren (La Salle University, Philadelphia,
PA, USA) deals with Augustine’s view on evil, emphasizing that he was not
a systematic thinker and that his thought developed in light of changed life
circumstances. His wrestling with the Manicheans, Plotinus, and Porphyry
brought to his attention problems such as free will, original sin, and justified
war, and led him to present his universal vision in Civitas Dei. In Augustine’s
view, evil is a non-being, a privation of the good. The significance of Augustine’s
theology on evil and the Devil is illustrated by the profound influence his ideas
have had on thinkers throughout the centuries to this day.
It is unfortunate that this volume could not include a contribution presenting
Gnostic views on evil and the Devil. The role of the Demiourg (or Demiurge)
and the fallen angels provides a diversity of exciting ideas that are, in part,
adaptations of the biblical material treated in this book. In the Valentinian branch
of Gnosticism, new ideas on cosmology existed comfortably alongside Catholic
Christianity, claiming to offer a deeper knowledge of common truths. But where
creation was considered basically wrong and the God of the Old Testament seen
as demonic, even being identified with Sama’el (as in Apocryphon Iohannis
and in the Sethian branch), the contradiction with the earlier tradition was
obvious. Regrettably, constraints on space and time precluded a chapter on this
subject. We recommend the works of many recent scholars for those interested
in exploring the topic further.1
The Bible offers several areas that could have been treated in this volume, and
later tradition opens doors for countless studies. The peculiar role of evil, or the
lack of it, has led scholars to investigate the Satanology of Ephraem the Syrian,
Basil the Great, and prominent scholars of the Jewish and Muslim traditions.
The editors of the present volume hope that it may support and encourage
research in such areas.
1 See esp. Tuomas Rasimus, Paradise Reconsidered in Gnostic Mythmaking:

Rethinking Sethianism in Light of the Ophite Evidence (Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies
68; Leiden: Brill, 2009). See also Nils Dahl, “The Arrogant Archon and the Lewd Sophia: Jewish
Traditions in Gnostic Revolt,” The Rediscovery of Gnosticism: Volume 2: Sethian Gnosticism, ed.
B. Layton (Studies in the History of Religions [Supplements to Numen], 41; Leiden: Brill, 1981),
689–712; Birger Pearson, Gnosticism, Judaism, and Egyptian Christianity: Studies in Antiquity &
Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), esp. chs. 2–3); Michael Williams, “The Demonization
of the Demiurge: The Innovation of Gnostic Myth,” in M. Williams et al. (eds.), Innovation in
Religious Traditions (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992), 73–107.

Chapter 1
The Devil in the Old Testament1

Antti Laato
Introduction
One of the most difficult passages in the Old Testament is 2 Samuel 24. It
begins with a reference to the wrath of Yahweh: “Again the anger of Yahweh
burned against Israel, and he incited David against them, saying, ‘Go and take
a census of Israel and Judah.’” David commanded Joab to enroll fighting men
but then it is said (v. 10): “David was conscience-stricken after he had counted
the fighting men, and he said to Yahweh, ‘I have sinned greatly in what I have
done. Now, O Yahweh, I beg you, take away the guilt of your servant. I have
done a very foolish thing.’” The account goes on to say that Yahweh sent a
plague upon Israel which killed many thousands. It is not easy to understand
the logic of this passage. Yahweh exhorted David to do wrong, but as result
David was conscience-stricken and punished for his sin.
Without attempting to solve this enigma in 2 Samuel 24 let us first consider
how the author of 1 Chronicles 21 modified the text. He begins by replacing
“the anger of Yahweh” with Satan’s initiative: “Satan rose up against Israel
and incited David to take a census of Israel.” It is important to note that it is
“the anger of Yahweh” and not Yahweh himself that is superseded by Satan in
the Chronicler’s account.2 A comparison of these two texts suggests that the
1 This article was completed in March 2010.

2 Cf., V. P. Hamilton, “Satan,” ABD 5 (1992), 985–989 (esp. 987): “The second issue focuses
on the question of why the account in 2 Samuel 24 attributes the stimulus for David’s census to Yahweh
(2 Sam. 24:1), while the Chronicler attaches blame to a śātān/Satan.” A similar problem consists in
Fabry’s characterization of 1 Chronicles 21 and 2 Samuel 24: “Jhwh und Satan sind offensichtlich
austauschbar geworden.” H.-J. Fabry, “‘Satan’—Begriff und Wirklichkeit: Untersuchungen zur
Dämonologie der alttestamentlichen Weisheitsliteratur,” in A. Lange, H. Lichtenberger, and D.
Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen
Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt [Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian
Literature in Context of their Environment] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 269–291, esp. 286. The
following characterization, too, is vague: “Why does the author (or authors) of Chronicles change the
instigator of the census from God to Satan?” in T. J. Wray and G. Mobley, The Birth of Satan: Tracing
the Devil’s Biblical Roots (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 67. The subject in 2 Samuel 24 is
“the anger of Yahweh,” which is open to different understandings such as, for example, that a certain
celestial being who was under Yahweh’s control acted, not Yahweh himself.
2 Evil and the Devil
Chronicler interpreted “the anger of Yahweh” as personal power and identified

it with Satan:
2 Sam. 24.1:
‫יהודה‬-‫ישראל ואת‬-‫דוד בהם לאמר לך מנה את‬-‫יהוה לחרות בישראל ויסת את‬-‫ויסף אף‬
1 Chron. 21.1:
‫ישראל‬-‫דויד למנות את‬-‫ישראל ויסת את‬-‫ויעמד שטן על‬
The Chronicler’s reading of 2 Sam. 24.1 is corroborated by Num. 22.22 where

“the anger of God” and Satan (śātān) are linked:
Num. 22.22:
‫אתנו ושני נעריו עמו‬-‫הולך הוא ויתיצב מלאך יהוה בדרך לשטן לו והוא רכב על‬-‫אף אלהים כי‬-‫ויחר‬
But the anger of God burned when he went, and the angel of Yahweh stood in the
road for Satan [an adversary] against him.
According to Num. 22.22 the anger of God so burned against Balaam that
he sent Satan to intercept him. When the Chronicler interpreted 2 Samuel
24 he followed this link between “the anger of Yahweh” and Satan—which
apparently reflected an old Israelite understanding of the role of the celestial
adversary, Satan.3 In Num. 22.32-33 the action of Satan is depicted through
a similar image. It is connected with Balaam’s effrontery in the presence of
Yahweh:
The angel of Yahweh asked him, “Why have you beaten your donkey these three
times? I have come here for an adversary because your path is a reckless one before
me. The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times. If she had not
turned away, I would certainly have killed you by now, but I would have spared her.”
These two examples in 1 Chronicles and Numbers 22 show that the role of
Satan in the Old Testament is complicated. The texts do not convey a dualistic
view of the struggle between evil and God—a perspective which occurs
in later Jewish and Christian texts.4 Satan’s role is associated with the so-
3 Different attempts to regard Satan in 1 Chronicles 21 as a human adversary fall by this

identification of “the anger of Yahweh” with “actions of Satan.” Such an interpretation has been
presented by S. Japhet (The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and Its Place in Biblical Thought
[Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1989], 147–149) and J. W. Wright (“The Innocence of David in
1 Chronicles 21,” JSOT 60 [1993], 87–105) among others.
4 There are many introductions to the problem of how the Old Testament picture of
Satan is connected with later Jewish and Christian views. Even though scholars do not agree in
detail, they still confirm the old view of von Rad that the Old Testament does not contain any
“metaphysical dualism” in the matter of Satan. See G. von Rad, “Diabolos: The OT View of
Satan,” TDOT 2, 73–75 (quotation from p. 75). See, e.g., R. S. Kluger, Satan in the Old Testament
(Studies in Jungian Thought; Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1967); N. Forsyth,
The Old Enemy: Satan and the Combat Myth (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987);
K. Nielsen, Satan—den fortabte søn? (Fredriksberg Allé: Anis, 1991); E. Pagels, The Origin
of Satan (New York: Vintage Books, 1996); idem, “The Social History of Satan, the ‘Intimate
The Devil in the Old Testament 3
called monistic picture of Yahweh. This old problem was treated by Volz,
who speaks of Yahweh as an ambivalent deity mingling the demonic with the
divine, the good with the evil.5 Volz’s thesis was challenged by Lindström in
his doctoral dissertation.6 In this chapter I shall discuss Satan in relation to
Yahweh’s power to cause “evil” in the world. My aim is to clarify how Satan
and Yahweh’s “evil” are intertwined.
Satan—A Proper Name in the Old Testament?
Scholarly discussion of Satan in the Old Testament focuses on four texts:

Numbers 22.22, 32, Job 1–2, Zechariah 3, and 1 Chronicles 21. P. L. Day
published an important study of these four texts. He concludes that the Hebrew
word śātān cannot be regarded as a name, but rather refers to forensic imagery
where an adversary, a celestial accuser, appears in the heavenly court to oppose
certain human or divine plans.7 His principal argument consists in the fact that
the Hebrew word śātān has the definite article in both Job 1–2 and Zechariah
3. Day writes that “the definite article makes it virtually certain that śātān is not
a proper name.”8 Nevertheless, he cites the opinion of Waltke and O’Connor,
who maintain that the definite article was used for toponyms and individuals.
Enemy’: A Preliminary Sketch,” HTR 84 (1991), 105–128; G. A. Boyd, Satan and the Problem
of Evil: Constructing a Trinitarian Warfare Theodicy (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2001);
A. Lange, H. Lichtenberger, and D. Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen: Die Dämonologie der
israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt [Demons: The
Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of their Environment]
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); F. Kreuzer, “Der Antagonist: Der Satan in der Hebräischen
Bibel—eine bekannte Größe?”, Bib 86 (2005), 536–544; T. J. Wray and G. Mobley, The Birth
of Satan: Tracing the Devil’s Biblical Roots (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). Note also
H. A. Kelly, Satan: A Biography (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2006) which is,
however, a problematic presentation as regards method.
5 P. Volz, Das Dämonische in Jahwe (Sammlung gemeinverständlicher Vorträge und
Schriften aus dem Gebiet der Theologie und Religionsgeschichte, 110; Tübingen, 1924).
6 It is worth noting that F. Lindström in his study God and the Origin of Evil: A Contextual
Analysis of Alleged Monistic Evidence in the Old Testament (ConBOT, 21; Lund: CWK Gleerup,
1983) does not deal with 2 Samuel 24 and its connection to 1 Chronicles 21—which in my view
is one of the most important examples of the monistic view of Yahweh. Lindström writes (pp.
13–14): “Had more space been available I would surely have discussed those passages in which
it seems that YHWH instigates evil (e.g., 1 Sam. 26,19; 2 Sam. 24,1ff), or where he hardens
men’s hearts (e.g., Exod. 7,3), or those Wisdom texts which suggest that what occurs is according
to divine, rather than human, plans (e.g., Prov. 16:1, 9; 19.21).” I think Lindström is right to
emphasize that we cannot equate the origin of evil with Yahweh’s actions. However, it seems to
me that this relationship is highly dynamic and is related to the simple fact that human beings in
distress always have hope.
7 P. L. Day, An Adversary in Heaven: śātān in the Hebrew Bible (HSM, 43; Atlanta, Ga.:
Scholars Press, 1988); see also C. Breytenbach and P. L. Day, “Satan,” in K. Van der Toorn, B.
Becking, and P. W. van der Horst (eds.), Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible (Leiden:
Brill and Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 726–732.
8 Day, “Satan,” 727.
They refer inter alia to the name of Baal, which can be written with the definite
article.9 Day, however, rejects their view. An interesting case of the use of the
definite article with a proper name occurs in Genesis 2–5. The word Adam is
written with a definite article in Gen. 2.1–4.2—referring to (the first) “man”—
but in Gen. 4.25–5.3 Adam lacks an article—referring to the person Adam.
Nevertheless, it becomes clear from the present form of Genesis that the first
man (Adam with an article) is the same as the man named Adam (without an
article). We read (Gen. 4.1-2, 25):
The man (ha’ ādām) lay with his wife Eve, and she became pregnant and gave birth to
Cain. She said, “With the help of Yahweh I have brought forth a man.” Later she gave
birth to his brother Abel … Adam (ādām) lay with his wife again, and she gave birth
to a son and named him Seth, saying, “God has granted me another child in place of
Abel, since Cain killed him.”
Again in Gen. 5.3: “When Adam had lived 130 years, he had a son in his own
likeness, in his own image; and he named him Seth.” This being the case,
the close relationship between the name Adam and the fact that he is the first
human being (ha’ ādām) in Genesis give us reason to ask whether we can also
understand Satan with an article as referring to a specific celestial individual.
The fact that the article does not occur in 1 Chronicles 21 lends credence to
interpretation. This being the case I cannot agree with Day’s statement that the
article renders it “virtually certain that śātān is not a proper name.”
On the other hand, it should be observed that Satan was not the self-evident
name of the leader of demons in early Jewish writings. For example, in 1 En.
1–36 the leader of the fallen angels is called Shemihazah (1 En. 6–7) or ‘Asa’el
(1 En. 8).10 Other significant names appear in the Book of Jubilees: Mastemah
(from the Hebrew root śātām which is a biform of śātān), in Qumran’s writings:
Mastemah and Belial (in Greek: Beliar), and in rabbinical writings: Sama’el.11
Thus we lack an established tradition whereby the name of the personal Evil
or the leader of demons is Satan. This evidence supports the view that śātān
originally referred to a certain office in the divine council and was only later
9 B. K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona

Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 249.
10 It is clear from Aramaic fragments of Enoch that ‘Asa’el was originally written with
l)s( or l)#(, neither of which resembles Azazel (lz)z() in Lev. 16.8, 10. Later the names were
intertwined, however. See J. C. Vanderkam, “The Angel Story in the Book of Jubilees,” in E. G.
Chazon and M. Stone (eds.), Pseudepigraphic Perspectives: The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha
in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Proceedings of the International Symposium of the Orion Center
for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 12–14 January (Studies on the
Texts of the Desert of Judah, 31; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 151–170, esp. 167.
11 See M. Mach, Entwicklungsstadien des jüdischen Engelglaubens in vorrabbinischer
Zeit (TSAJ, 34; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992); idem, “Demons,” in L. H. Schiffman and
J. VanderKam (eds.), Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls Volume 1 (Oxford: OUP, 2000), 189–
192; J. W. van Henten, “Mastemah,” DDD, 553–554; S. D. Sperling, “Belial,” DDD, 169–171;
A. Cohen, Everyman’s Talmud: The Major Teachings of the Rabbinic Sages (New York: Schocken
Books, 1995), 47–58.
connected with the proper name of personal Evil—a transition which could
have occurred already in the Old Testament. Needless to say, this view is in
agreement with the use of the Hebrew śātān to denote military or political
human opponents.
The Concept of the Divine Council
It is essential to observe that the imagery of the divine council or court is

connected not only to texts referring to Satan but also to those linked to the
theological problem of monism.12 This prompts us to ask how the existence
of evil in the world is compatible with the belief that Yahweh governs history.
Scholars have long argued that a central theme in the Old Testament is the idea
of Yahweh’s government of history. G. von Rad presented his famous idea of
salvation history.13 H. D. Preuss postulates that belief in Yahweh is oriented
toward the future.14 We shall now deal with texts containing the imagery of
the divine council and argue that they embody the belief that Yahweh governs
history. This imagery has been used to solve difficult existential problems
inherent in the belief that Yahweh exercises control over the historical events
which concern Israel. Such problems arose in cases where foreign nations (and
their gods) threatened Israel and its political existence. What did take place in
the heavenly sphere, for example, when the Babylonians destroyed Jerusalem
and its Temple? Was Yahweh dethroned? How can such a national catastrophe
be explained? Other problems ensue from tribulations, such as plagues or the
rise of ungodly rulers, occurring both in Israel and in individual’s lives (cf.,
Job). Do such events mean that Yahweh is no longer in control? The imagery
of the divine council, with its many celestial beings, provided proof that
Yahweh can govern history even though events in the world seem to indicate
otherwise.15
In ancient Near Eastern texts the heavenly council represented the most
authoritative decision-making entity in the divine and human world.16 The
12 Good examples are Deut. 32 (see esp. vv. 36-39); 1 Kgs 22 (see esp. the lying spirit in
vv. 19-23); and Isa. 6 (see esp. the hardening task which Isaiah receives in vv. 9-10).
13 G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments I–II (Munich: Kaiser, 1984). Even though
one could not agree with all details in von Rad’s thesis, the fact is that the present form of the Old
Testament clearly contains an idea about history governed by Yahweh.
14 H. D. Preuss, Jahweglaube und Zukunftserwartung (BWANT, 87; Stuttgart:
Kohlhammer, 1968). Preuss concludes (p. 206): “Jahwe ist der Gott, der sich in der Geschichte
offenbart, der Macht besitzt und sie entfaltet, der sich und seinen Charakter in dieser Geschichte
als die Seinen zum Ziel seines Weges führende Gott durchsetzt.”
15 Traces of the old Israelite concepts of the divine council and other mythical elements
in the Old Testament have been known since H. Wheeler Robinson wrote his important article
“The Council of Yahweh,” JTS 45 (1944), 151–157. Another significant early study was that of
W. F. Albright from 1968: Yahweh and the Gods of Canaan: A Historical Analysis of Two
Contrasting Faiths (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 183–193.
16 M. S. Kee, “The Heavenly Council and its Type-scene,” JSOT 31 (2007), 259–273.
classical example is the Babylonian version of Enuma Elish where Marduk

becomes the leader of deities. In the Assyrian version Marduk is replaced
by Assur.17 Thus, political power was always reflected in the order of the
divine world. Politically turbulent years in Israel created religious intellectual
problems: Can Yahweh govern history and his people if other nations and their
gods are victorious or if catastrophe occurs in nature or the community?
The Divine Council Imagery in the Pre-exilic Yahwistic Monolatric

Tradition
We begin with Deuteronomy 32; a pre-exilic text.18 The passage is a central

poetic text in Deuteronomy dealing with the rulership of Yahweh in the world.
Verse 8 is a locus classicus which contains interesting textual problems. The
Masoretic text here reads:
When the Most High gave the nations their inheritance,

when he divided the sons of man,
he set up boundaries for the peoples
according to the number of the sons of Israel.
Scholars long ago observed that the Septuagint reading “according to the angels
of God” (kata arithmon aggelon theou) implies the Hebrew text “according
to the sons of God” which is original here. This reading is now confirmed
by the Qumran text 4QDeutj, which suggests reading bene elohim, and
4QDeutq, containing a “polytheistic” version of Deut. 32.43.19 It is reasonable
to believe that the Qumran and LXX reading was original, and that the MT
reading (with support in the Samaritan Pentateuch, Targumim, Vulgata, and
the Peshitta) results from later theological revision in a monotheistic spirit.
The original Deut. 32.8 passage tries to solve the existential problem of how
to relate foreign nations and their gods to the belief system of Yahwism.20 The
17 W. G. Lambert, “The Assyrian Recension of Enūma eliš,” in H. Waetzoldt and H.

Hauptmann (eds.), Assyrien im Wandel der Seiten. XXXIXe Recontre Assyriologique Internationale
Heidelberg 6.-10. Juli 1992 (HSAO, 6; Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 1997), 77–79.
18 For this date see arguments in P. Sanders, The Provenance of Deuteronomy 32 (OS, 37;
Leiden: Brill, 1996).
19 P. W. Skehan, “A Fragment of the ‘Song of Moses’ (Deut. 32) from Qumran,” BASOR
136 (1954), 12–15; J. A. Duncan, “4QDeutj,” DJD XIV, 75–91, esp. 90; P. W. Skehan and E. Ulrich,
“4QDeutq,” DJD XIV, 137–142; P. Sanders, Deuteronomy 32, 154–159, 248–252; E. Tov, Textual
Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001), 269; M. Heiser, “Deuteronomy
32:8 and the Sons of God,” Bibliotheca Sacra 158 (2001), 52–74.
20 Even in v. 43 the MT text is based on a “censored” textual version. Both 4QDeutq
and LXXB read “worship him all gods” (LXX: “sons of God”). See P. W. Skehan and E. Ulrich,
“4QDeutq,” DJD XIV, 137–142; A. Van der Kooij, “The Ending of the Song of Moses: On the Pre-
Masoretic Version of Deut. 32:43,” in F. García Martínez, A. Hilhorst, J. T. A. G. M. van Ruiten,
and A. S. van der Woude (eds.), Studies in Deuteronomy in Honour of C. J. Labuschagne on the
Occasion of His 65th Birthday (VTSup, 53; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 93–100; and E. P. McGarry, “The
solution is that foreign gods are members of the divine council but under the
sovereignty of Yahweh who presides over the court.
The content of Deuteronomy 32 refers to political setbacks in Israel (vv. 26,
30, 36, 39-43). They are explained inasmuch as the Israelites have begun to
worship foreign gods—something which contravenes the monolatrous ideal of
Deuteronomy 32. This disloyalty was punished by foreign military invasions
which defeated the people of Yahweh. However, the text argues that Yahweh is
in control of political events. According to Deut. 32.36-39 Yahweh is the leader
of the divine council, and is behind everything which takes place in the world:
36 Yahweh will judge his people

and have compassion on his servants
when he sees their strength is gone
and the leadership has come to an end.21
37 He will say: Now where are their gods,
the rock they took refuge in,
38 the gods who ate the fat of their sacrifices
and drank the wine of their drink offerings?
Let them rise up to help you!
Let there be a shelter for you!
39 See now that I, I am He!
There are no gods with me.22
I put to death and I bring to life,
I have wounded and I will heal,
and no one can deliver out of my hand.
In the political crisis Israelites should understand that other gods in the divine
council did not use their power against Yahweh by dethroning him. Yahweh
himself is behind all events in the world. No god has power to annul Yahweh’s
decisions, because each is only a member of the divine council and is subject
to him.23
Ambidextrous Angel (Daniel 12:7 and Deuteronomy 32:40): Inner-Biblical Exegesis and Textual
Criticism in Counterpoint,” JBL 124 (2005), 211–228, esp. 225–227.
21 The Hebrew expression ‫ ואפס עצור ועזוב‬is disputed. Sanders (Deuteronomy 32, 231–233)
refers to 1 Kgs 14.10, 21.21, and 2 Kgs 9.8, where the verbs are used in “a divine announcement
of the fall of an Israelite dynasty.”
22 Because the existence of other gods is not denied in the poem but they are regarded as
powerless I have translated the Hebrew ‘immādî by “with.”
23 F. Lindström writes (God and the Origin of Evil, 177) that “there is no reason to
suppose that Deut. 32,39 may be taken to support a conjectural notion of divine pancausality
with respect to national disaster in ancient Israel.” However, rather than questioning whether evil
should be regarded as the work of Yahweh, the acute problem in Deuteronomy 32 is whether
national disasters in Israel show that Yahweh has been dethroned. When we read verses 36-39
against verse 8 we find the right perspective to Deuteronomy 32: in spite of national disaster
Yahweh still sits on the throne of the divine council. It is not a question about demonic aspect in
Yahweh but about his control over evil powers. Similar statements about God and his sovereignty
occur in 1 Sam. 2.6; Hos. 5.14; Amos 9.2; Lam. 3.37-38; among others.
It is worth noting that Deuteronomy 32 refers not only to other deities

in the divine council but also to demons or demon-like gods (Šedim, Deut.
32.17) and destructive powers under the control of Yahweh (Rešep and Qeteb,
Deut. 32.24).24 Even though Deut. 32.17 states that the Israelites sacrificed
to Šedim, who are not gods, it does not emphasize that all deities are demons
(cf., Ps. 106.37-38). The fact that destructive demonic powers are under
Yahweh’s control does not imply that he is ambivalent, mingling good and
evil. Old Testament accounts of “demonic-like” actions of Yahweh can be
understood from the viewpoint that his righteousness imposes a penalty upon
the sinful (as in Deuteronomy 32) and his holiness must be defended against
human wickedness. This principle is illustrated in Hab. 3.3-5, which speaks
of Yahweh’s holiness. It is encircled by destructive powers which prevent
defilement of his sanctity:25
3 God came from Teman,

the Holy One from Mount Paran.
His glory covered the heavens
and his praise filled the earth.
4 His splendor was like the sunrise;
rays flashed from his hand,
where his power was hidden.
5 Plague [Deber] went before him;
pestilence [Rešep] followed his steps.
Psalm 82 is in many respects parallel to Deuteronomy 32, even though in its

present form it speaks of judges and their responsibility to enforce Yahweh’s
justice. Scholars seem to agree that an older core can be reconstructed. This
core refers to the divine council where gods are sitting under the leadership
24 Belief in different demons was widespread in the ancient Near East and Israel.
See, e.g., different Hebrew terms for demons and evil spirits in G. Wanke, “Dämonen II. Altes
Testament,” TRE 8, 275–277. The best survey of demons in the Old Testament can be found in
DDD.
25 Concerning the religio-historical background of Deut. 32.24 and Hab. 3.5 see K. Van
der Toorn, “The Theology of Demons in Mesopotamia and Israel,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and
Römheld (eds.) Die Dämonen, 61–83. He refers to the work of Volz and writes: “… he argues
that the ‘Jahwisierung des Dämonischen’ turns the demonic into an essential element of the
Israelite conception of God. From a theological perspective, this may seem hard to swallow; from
a comparative religion point of view, Volz’s argument seems hard to reject.” Yet Volz overlooks
that the point is to demonstrate Yahweh’s control of demonic powers, not the demonic powers’
control over Yahweh. Van der Toorn’s religio-historical parallels are important but I cannot see
how they can support Volz’s incorrect approach to biblical texts. See also H. Niehr’s religio-
historical parallels to Reseph: “Zur Entstehung von Dämonen in der Religionsgeschichte Israels:
Überlegungen zum Weg des Rešep durch die nordwestsemitische Religionsgeschichte,” in Lange,
Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.) Die Dämonen, 84–107. Worth noting is also the opinion of
Sanders (Deuteronomy 32, 401–402) that “Rešep is still regarded as a deity in Hab. 3:5 and Deut.
32:24” (p. 402). This could imply that Rešep is one member of the divine council.
of Yahweh.26 The original core contains three features of the divine council.
First, the psalm describes Yahweh sitting (‫ )נצב‬as the leader of the divine
council. The members of the council are other gods (’elohîm) who are subject
to the Most High. They are also called bene ‘Eljôn. Second, Yahweh gives
every nation and its god a territory to rule (v. 8): “Rise up, O God, judge the
earth, for you give inheritance [tinhal] among all the nations.”27 Third, the
psalm hints that Yahweh will rise up and show his power as the leader of the
gods (v. 9)—a parallel can be found, for example, in Enuma Elish.
Thus the psalm in its putative original form emphasized confrontation
between Yahweh and other deities.28 The main point is, again, that Yahweh has
control over everything. Other gods cannot realize their plans without Yahweh.
A later editor regarded this confrontation as befitting the reinterpretation where
“gods” are identified with “judges.”
This survey of the pre-exilic form of the divine council implies that both
foreign deities and other celestial beings (angels or even demons) under
Yahweh’s control can take part in decision making. This imagery was used in
ancient Israel in order to emphasize that Yahweh rules in the world.
Exilic Apology and the Divine Council Imagery
The use of the divine council imagery is one means of illustrating Yahweh’s
power to control events in the world. This apologetic tendency is visible
even in larger theological frames of the Old Testament. Mettinger analyzes
the Sabaoth, Shem, and Kabod theologies in the Old Testament. He argues
that during the exile the Shem and Kabod theologies were developed and/or
intensified in order to resolve the cognitive dissonance which existed between
the pre-exilic Sabaoth theology (God dwelling in the Temple of Jerusalem) and
reality (the destruction of the Temple by the Babylonian army).29 Mettinger’s
26 See, e.g., F.-L. Hossfeld and E. Zenger, Psalmen 51–100 (HTKAT; Freiburg: Herder,
2000), 479–492.
27 Num. 34.17-18 and Josh. 19.49 show that the verb ‫ נחל‬in Qal can also have the
meaning “divide the land for a possession.”
28 There are other Psalms which contain references to the divine council. For example,
Ps. 29.1: “Ascribe to Yahweh, O mighty ones, ascribe to Yahweh glory and strength” and Ps. 89.7:
“In the council of the holy ones God is greatly feared; he is more awesome than all who surround
him.” It is reasonable to assume that there may be other psalms which are textually reworked, as
noted by E. Tov (Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible [Minneapolis: Fortress Press and Assen:
Royal Van Gorcum, 2001), 269: “A similar correction may be reflected in all textual witnesses of
Ps. 96:7: ‘Ascribe to the Lord , O families of the peoples, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength,’
when compared with the presumably original (polytheistic) text of Ps. 29:1: ‘Ascribe to the Lord,
O divine beings [‫]בני אלים‬, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.’ Ps. 29, which also in other
details reflects situations and phrases known from Ugaritic texts, does, in this detail, provide a
polytheistic picture of the assembly of gods.”
29 T. N. D. Mettinger, The Dethronement of Sabaoth: Studies in the Shem and Kabod
Theologies (ConBOT, 18; Lund: Gleerup, 1982); see also idem, Namnet och närvaro: Gudsnamn
och gudsbild i Böckernas Bok (Örebro: Libris, 1987); idem, In Search of God: The Meaning and
analysis indicates that the intellectual problem of “who is governing history”

arose in Israel during the time of the exile. Let us illustrate how the divine
council imagery has been used in the context of the Babylonian empire and
during the exile.
Corresponding to the criticism of the Babylonian plan to conquer the whole
world, Isaiah 14 describes the Babylonian king who attempts to enter the
divine council in the heavenly mountains and take its throne for himself. By
using the imagery of the divine council the Hebrew writer emphasizes that
Yahweh will remain as sole king on his throne. The plan of the Babylonian
king is not according to the will of Yahweh and, therefore, he will be cast into
Sheol (Isa. 14.12-15):30
12 How you have fallen from heaven,

O morning star, son of the dawn!
You have been cast down to the earth,
you who once laid low the nations!
13 You said in your heart,
“I will ascend to heaven;
I will raise my throne
above the stars of God;
I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly,
on the utmost heights of the Northern Mountain [‫מועד בירכתי צפון‬-‫]בהר‬.
14 I will ascend above the tops of the clouds;
I will make myself like the Most High.”
15 But you are brought down to the grave,
to the depths of the pit.
The heights of the Northern Mountain (‫מועד בירכתי צפון‬-‫ )הר‬refer to the mythical
residence of the divine court.31 In particular, in Ugaritic texts ‫ צפון‬is the divine
mountain and this meaning has also been adopted in Hebrew cultic poetry, as
Ps. 48.3 indicates. In this verse the mountain of Zion has been identified with
Message of the Everlasting Names (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988); idem, “The Elusive Essence:
YHWH, El and Baal and the Distinctiveness of the Israelite Faith,” in E. Blum, et al. (eds.),
Die hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte. Festschrift für Rolf Rendtorff zum 65.
Geburtstag (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990), 393–417.
30 There are many ancient Near Eastern parallels to Isaiah 14. See, e.g., R. M. Shipp, Of
Dead Kings and Dirges: Myth and Meaning in Isaiah 14:4b-21 (Academia Biblica, 11; Atlanta,
Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature and Leiden: Brill, 2002). Ugaritic parallels are presented in
W. A. M. Beuken, Jesaja 13–27 (HTKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2007), 89–91. See further, M. Albani,
“The Downfall of Helel, the Son of Dawn: Aspects of Royal Ideology in Isa. 14:12–13,” in
C. Auffarth and L. T. Stuckenbruck (eds.), The Fall of the Angels (Themes in Biblical Narrative,
6; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 62–86. Even a Greek parallel to the poem has been suggested. See J. C.
Poirier, “An Illuminating Parallel to Isaiah XIV 12,” VT 49 (1999), 371–389.
31 See R. J. Clifford, The Cosmic Mountain in Canaan and the Old Testament (HSM,
4; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1972) where he presents ancient Near Eastern
material on the divine mountain. Concerning Zaphon in Isaiah 14 Clifford does not identify it with
the mount of assembly (pp. 161–162, n. 85)—something I have found unconvincing.
‫צפון‬. According to Isaiah 13–14 the political crisis of the people of Yahweh is
reflected in the divine world where the Babylonian king (with the aid of his
gods?!) has attempted to seat himself on the throne like the Most High. All
the evils that have occurred in Jerusalem can be explained by the Babylonian
king’s struggle to dethrone Yahweh in the divine sphere. It is, however, evident
who is the real ruler on the mount of the divine assembly (Isa. 14.16-17):
16 Those who see you stare at you,

they ponder your fate:
“Is this the man who shook the earth
and made kingdoms tremble,
17 the man who made the world a desert,
who overthrew its cities
and would not let his captives go home?”
A parallel text describing the arrogance of the foreign king is Ezekiel 28. The
Tyrian king is said to have come to the mountain of Eden, which is also called
the mountain of God, and is consequently identified with the abode of the
divine council (Ezek. 28.12-16):
12 “Son of man, take up a lament concerning the king of Tyre and say to him: This
is what the Sovereign Yahweh says:
“You were the model of perfection,
full of wisdom and perfect in beauty.
13 You were in Eden,
the garden of God;
every precious stone adorned you:
ruby, topaz and emerald,
chrysolite, onyx and jasper,
sapphire, turquoise and beryl.
Your settings and mountings were made of gold;
on the day you were created they were prepared.
14 You were anointed as a guardian cherub,
for so I ordained you.
You were on the holy mount of God [‫;]בהר קדש אלהים‬
you walked among the fiery stones.
15 You were blameless in your ways
from the day you were created
till wickedness was found in you.
16 Through your widespread trade
you were filled with violence,
and you sinned.
So I drove you in disgrace from the mount of God [‫]מהר אלהים‬,
and I expelled you, O guardian cherub,
from among the fiery stones.
The prophet applies an old creation myth to the Tyrian king and explains
political events by referring to the struggle in the divine sphere.32 The Tyrian
king received political power because he was created upon the paradise
mountain of God. This is probably an indication that the city of Tyre is ancient.
However, the ruler of the mountain has now discerned wickedness in the king,
who will be driven out from paradise, thus signifying the destruction of the
city of Tyre (Ezekiel 26–28). Even though the imagery behind Ezekiel 28 is
not identical to Isaiah 14, the principle is the same. Yahweh is he who rules the
divine sphere and no human power can oppose his plans.
Monotheistic Modification of the Divine Council
In theological terms the Babylonian and Persian period was formative of Old
Testament theology. The old theological view that Yahweh governs the history
of Israel was vehemently opposed by Babylonian polytheism and the idea
that Yahweh is only one minor god beside Marduk and other strong deities.
We can well imagine that vassal treaties, where Yahweh appeared beside
Babylonian gods, placed Yahweh’s rule in question. Scholars have remarked
that Ezekiel 17 alludes to the vassal treaty which Zedekiah had made with
Nebuchadnezzar, in which he had promised in the name of Yahweh to be loyal
to the Babylonian king (Ezek. 17.12-21).33 The institution of political vassal
treaties made the theological problem of Yahweh’s governorship critical. Is it
meaningful to believe that Yahweh has ultimate control when he is merely the
god of a Judean vassal who is subjugated to Assyria or Babylonia? The divine
court imagery was adopted to solve this theological problem. With the aid of
this imagery it was possible to explain that turbulent struggles in the divine
sphere are reflected in the political events of the world.
Scholars agree that Isaiah 40–55 is the best example of a text-corpus that
challenges the existence of foreign gods.34 For our purposes here it is essential
to see that Isaiah 40–55 contains many texts where foreign gods are exhorted
to comply with the divine plans of Yahweh. The only relevant imagery for
these texts is the divine council. In the divine court Yahweh can meet other
gods and challenge them to speak. Isaiah 40–55 argues, however, that these
other gods are not real gods. What happens in Isaiah 40–55 is, in fact, the
expulsion of all idols from the divine court where Yahweh rules as the only
32 T. N. D. Mettinger (The Eden Narrative: A Literary and Religio-historical Study of

Genesis 2–3 [Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2007], 85–98) speaks about the Adamic myth behind the
Ezekelian text. See also M. Greenberg, Ezechiel 21-37 (HTKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2005), 244–
263. Greenberg compares Ezek. 28.11-19 with Ps. 82 and Isa. 14.12. He notes that it is difficult to
reconstruct myth behind the Ezekelian passage even though it clearly uses mythical motifs.
33 See M. Tsevat, “The Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Vassal Oaths and the Prophet
Ezekiel,” JBL 78 (1959), 199–204; see also Greenberg, Ezechiel 1-20, 358–360.
34 It is enough to refer to R. Albertz, A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament
Period, Vols. 1–2 (London: SCM Press, 1994).
God. This theological tendency in Isaiah 40–55 influenced the perception of

the role of Satan in the divine council at the beginning of the post-exilic period.
Isaiah 40–55 describes a scene where the prophet, allowed to attend the
divine council, is enjoined to proclaim the message of Yahweh (Isa. 40.3-
8).35 This imagery is also used in the Book of Jeremiah. Jeremiah accused
false prophets of failing to attend the divine council, and therefore they cannot
know the message of Yahweh (Jer. 23.18, 22-24). There are two other good
examples in the Old Testament where a prophet is allowed to be present at the
divine council: 1 Kings 21.19-23 and Isaiah 6.36
Isaiah 40.12-26 continues the imagery of the divine council. Yahweh
challenges the whole universe and reveals himself as the true God who can
35 Concerning the divine council in Deutero-Isaiah see F. M. Cross, “The Council of

Yahweh in Second Isaiah,” JNES 12 (1953), 274–278; idem, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic:
Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1973), 186–190; R. N. Whybray, The Heavenly Counsellor in Isaiah xl 13-14: A Study of the
Sources of the Theology of Deutero-Isaiah (SOTSMS, 1; Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University
Press, 1971); Kee, “The Heavenly Council,” 269–270. See further Isa. 40.1-11 and its connection
to the idea of the heavenly court in C. R. Seitz, “The Divine Council: Temporal Transition and
New Prophecy in the Book of Isaiah,” JBL 109 (1990), 229–247; B. S. Childs, Isaiah (OTL;
Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 294–303.
36 Because both 1 Kgs 21 and Isa. 6 refer to the question of demonic aspect in Yahweh, it
is reasonable to deal with them briefly here. My aim is to show that both texts speak dynamically
about Yahweh’s way of governing history during the time of godlessness (cf., Lindström, God and
the Origin of Evil, 84–91). The context of 1 Kgs 22.19-23 is as follows. Ahab, king of the Northern
State, has many times heard the word of Yahweh through Micaiah ben Imlah. Yet the king has
begun to hate the latter because he has never prophesied anything good (v. 8). By rejecting the
word of the Lord’s prophet time and again, Ahab has accumulated sin upon sin. Yahweh becomes
so incensed at this godless king that he decides to destroy him. A council is held in heaven and
the Lord asks: “Who will entice Ahab into marching to his death at Ramoth-Gilead?” (v. 20). The
spirit presents a plan to lure Ahab into war and thus destroy him: “I shall go and be a deceptive
spirit in the mouths of all his prophets” (v. 22). Although Micaiah reveals Yahweh’s terrible plan
to Ahab, the latter can no longer avoid his fate. Once again, he ignores Micaiah’s words, and as a
result he is destroyed in battle. The whole point of 1 Kgs 22 is, however, that in revealing to Ahab
Yahweh’s plan of enticement Micaiah gives him a chance to avoid destruction (cf. vv. 23, 28). Yet
this would have to involve Ahab’s trust of Yahweh’s prophet, whom he despises. Ahab has one
last chance to obey the prophet, because the wrath of Yahweh is upon him. But Ahab rejects his
last chance, does not obey and hastens to destruction at Ramoth-Gilead.
There is a tension between Yahweh’s plan of enticement and the prophet’s exhortation
to repent. It is clear that Micaiah’s intention of proclamation was not determined by Yahweh’s
plan of enticement, which he realizes in his heavenly vision. Isaiah 6 can be understood
similarly. Isaiah has seen the Holy God, who can no longer endure to see the people wandering in
godlessness. Yahweh’s wrath glows over the people; he wants to harden them. However, the fact
that Isaiah is crying aloud to the people about this hardening plan (see, e.g., 29.9-10) gives them
opportunity to avoid judgment. But he who wishes to avert judgment must act immediately. Like
Isaiah, he must confess his guilt and sinfulness in order to be saved. The people must respond now
to the word of the Lord, because an indifferent attitude is a mark of hard-heartedness, the final
result of which is complete destruction. In the light of 1 Kgs 22.19-23 it can be argued that both
texts contain similar divine court imagery, where the prophet in Isa. 6 plays a comparable role to
the Spirit in 1 Kgs 22.
dictate the course of history.37 Westermann identifies trial speeches in Isaiah

40–55 (Isa. 41.1-5; 41.21-29; 43.8-15; 44.6-8, 21-22; and perhaps also 45.11-
13) where “Yahweh and the gods of the nations confront one another in a legal
process, the purpose of which is to decide who is truly God.”38 The imagery
which pervades these texts is derived from the divine court where Yahweh
questions the gods concerning future events. A good example is Isa. 41.21-29,
which begins with an exhortation to idols:
21 “Present your case,” says Yahweh.

“Set forth your arguments,” says Jacob’s King.
22 “Let them bring them and tell us
what is going to happen.
Tell us what the former things were,
so that we may consider them
and know their final outcome.
Or declare to us the things to come,
23 tell us what the future holds,
so we may know that you are gods.
Do something, whether good or bad,
so that we will be dismayed and filled with fear.
The final proof of Yahweh’s power to control history is provided by the

Persian king Cyrus, who will come to destroy Babylonia (Isa. 41.25-29; see
also Isa. 41.1-7; 44.24–45.7; 45.9-13; 46.8-11; 48.11-16). The destruction of
the Babylonian Empire (and its gods) is seen in Isaiah 40–55 as proof that all
gods are powerless. They are nothing and, therefore, do not exist. Isa. 43.8-13
illustrates this argument.39 Yahweh calls Israel as his witness before the divine
court, since no other gods exist to testify to what he says (Isa. 43.10): “You are
my witnesses, declares Yahweh, and my servant whom I have chosen, so that
you may know and believe me and understand that I am he. Before me no god
was formed, nor will there be one after me.”
37 See arguments in R. N. Whybray, The Heavenly Counsellor. See further, J. L. Koole,

Isaiah: Part 3 – Volume I: Isaiah 40–48 (Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1997), 80–117. He writes (p. 81):
“Now the interrogative ‘who’ is mentioned six times. Who is this Yahweh, to whom such exalted
terms are applied? It is His Majesty! Compared with him, what do the nations signify (vv. 12-17),
the idols (vv. 18-20), the mighty of the earth (vv. 21-24), the deified stars and planets (vv. 25-26)?”
38 C. Westermann, Isaiah 40–66: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1969),
15. See also C. Westermann, Grundformen prophetischer Rede (Munich: Kaiser, 1960); idem,
“Sprache und Struktur der Prophetie Deuterojesajas,” Forschung am Alten Testament (Munich:
Kaiser, 1964), 92–170, esp. 124–134; J. Begrich, Studien zu Deuterojesaja (BWANT; 1938,
Stuttgart, 1938), 42–47. On trial speech and its connection to the heavenly council see Cross,
Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic, 176–190.
39 The question is whether or not verses 14-15 belong to Isa. 43.8-13.
The end of the verse constitutes a near parallel to the Babylonian creation
myth, Enuma Eliš I.7-9, which emphasizes the formation of the gods:40
í-nu-ma ilāni la šu-pu-u ma-na-ma

šu-ma la zuk-ku-ru ši-ma-tu la [ša-mu]
ib-ba-nu-u-ma ilāni […]
When no gods whatever had been brought into being,
uncalled by name, their destinies undetermined –
Then it was that the gods were formed within them.41
While this passage asserts that the gods came into being at the beginning of the
process of creation initiated by the primeval gods, Apsu and Tiamat, Isa. 43.10
leaves no doubt that Yahweh is the sole Creator of the universe. No other gods
were formed in this process. Isa. 43.10 is one of the clearest examples of such
a stark monotheistic view of creation in the Old Testament. This monotheistic
trend in Isaiah 40–55 is emphasized by the observation that the Creator is
also the ruler of history. Stuhlmueller has convincingly shown that creation
vocabulary and imagery were used in Isaiah 40–55 in order to prove that
Yahweh rules in history. We can therefore speak of the “creative redemption of
Israel” in Isaiah 40–55, which implies that the power of other gods is null and
void. Yahweh alone governs events in history.42 It is clear that this Deutero-
Isaian message led radical understanding of the traditional Israelite concept
of the divine council. Yahweh alone is God there, and any other members are
merely angels and celestial servants of Yahweh, not gods.
Apart from the criticism of polytheism another significant theological factor
was challenged in Isaiah 40–55, namely dualism. Isaiah 40–55 contains a pro-
Persian message by proclaiming that Yahweh has chosen Cyrus to destroy the
Babylonian empire. This pro-Persian tendency is presented in Isaiah 40–55 in the
context of monotheism. Isa. 45.1-7 is a good example. The overt monotheistic
emphasis in 45.1-7 was intended to avoid an unreservedly pro-Persian attitude.
40 This parallel was observed long ago by F. Stummer, “Einige keilschriftliche Parallellen
zu Jes. 40–66,” JBL 45 (1926), 171–189, esp. 180–181; see further, R. N. Whybray, The Second
Isaiah (Old Testament Guides; Sheffield: Sheffield Acamic Press, 1983), 50 and 53–57 (concerning
the polemic attitude against the ideas presented in Enuma Eliš); M. Albani, Der eine Gott und die
himmlischen Heerscharen: Zur Begründung des Monotheismus bei Deuterojesaja im Horizont der
Astralisierung des Gottesverständnisses im Alten Orient (ABG, 1; Leipzig, 2000), 246.
41 The translation is from ANET, 61.
42 C. Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption in Deutero-Isaiah (AnBi, 43; Rome: Biblical
Institute Press, 1970). Stuhlmueller writes (p. 236): “Beginning with Israel’s traditional faith in
Yahweh Redeemer, but now recognizing that same redemption on a cosmic scale, Dt-Is. proceeded
to announce not only the cosmic creative redemption of Israel, but also the work of cosmic first
creation by Yahweh. From this latter position, he could better appreciate the positive contribution
of foreigners to Israel’s redemption.”
In scholarly discussion Isa. 45.5-7 has been regarded as opposing Persian

dualism:43
5 I am Yahweh, and there is no other;

apart from me there is no God.
I will strengthen you,
though you have not acknowledged me,
6 so that from the rising of the sun
to the place of its setting
men may know there is none besides me.
I am Yahweh, and there is no other.
7 I form the light and create darkness,
I bring prosperity and create disaster;
I, Yahweh, do all these things.
This passage postulates that Yahweh is behind everything that happens.

Just as it was Yahweh who destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple (through
the Babylonians; cf., Isa. 42.18-25; 43.22-28), it is also Yahweh who will
now redeem his people from the exile. Just as he used Babylonia to destroy
Jerusalem, so will he now destroy Babylonia by the hand of the Persians.44
There is no evil power or dark side which governs history but Yahweh alone.
Foreign gods and Persian dualism influenced the notion of the divine council
and resulted in the conception of Satan as “adversary” or “adversary angel”
therein. When evil as the cosmic and opposite power to Yahweh was refuted,
43 The locus classicus for the Persian dualism is Yasna 30. Concerning the nature
of Persian dualism see H. S. Nyberg, Irans forntida religioner: Olaus-Petri-föreläsningar
vid Uppsala Universitet (Stockholm: Svenska Kyrkans Diakonistyrelse, 1938), 101–120; G.
Widengren, Die Religionen Irans (Die Religionen der Menschenheit, 14; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer,
1965), 74–78. U. Berges (Jesaja 40–48 [HTKAT; Freiburg: Herder, 2008] 406) interprets Isa.
45.7 in the context of inner-biblical exegesis concerning other creation texts. However, he writes
that “Die innerbiblische Auslegung von Jes 45,7, die die Polarität von Licht und Finsternis, von
Frieden und Unheil als weltgeschichtliche Führung durch JHWH deutet, spricht nicht dafür, dass
hier eine direkte Auseinandersetzung mit dem persischen Zoroastrismus vorliegt.”
44 Lindström (God and the Origin of Evil, 178–199) in his analysis of Isa. 45.7 concluded
that the context (i.e. 44.24–45.7) reveals that “the positive phrases ‘who forms light’ and ‘who
makes weal’ have to do with YHWH’s saving intervention on behalf of his people, while the
negative phrases ‘who creates darkness’ and ‘who creates woe’ refer to YHWH’s destruction of
the Babylonian empire” (p. 198). He concludes that “Isa. 45,7 makes no attempt to derive all of the
evils of existence from YHWH” (p. 199). However, Lindström also maintains that the term hōšek
from the negative phrase of Isa. 45.7 is used in Isa. 40–55 to refer to the disaster and captivity of
the Judean people (pp. 180–187, 198). This, in turn, seems to me to imply that Yahweh is behind
everything evil which has happened in history: he created disaster for his people in 587/86 bce and
now he shall create disaster for Babylonia. This does not mean that Yahweh is evil or that the evil
is something which belongs to Yahweh’s nature; rather, he is omnipotent to use evil for his own
purposes. He can use Babylonians to castigate his people who have abandoned him; he can use
Persians to punish the Babylonians who have oppressed his people. I can agree on many points
with Lindström’s analysis of Isa. 44.24–45.7 but I also regard it as the best solution that Isa. 45.7
is connected with criticism of Persian dualism.
and foreign gods were identified with superior celestial angels, a new aspect
of the evil power appeared in the divine council. Satan as a celestial being
became associated with the power of evil. He had the right to address in the
divine council. By referring to Yahweh’s justice and righteousness he could
demand that evil be inflicted on Israel and its people.45 He was, however,
incapable of realizing his own plans for the world, since all his actions were
controlled by Yahweh.
Rewriting Genesis 6.1-4 and the Origin of Evil Demons
In the course of time Satan became associated with the angels of foreign
nations, assuming position as their leader. This new order required scriptural
justification, which took the form of an ingenious reinterpretation of Gen. 6.1-
4. The earliest versions of this reinterpretation can be found in the Book of
Giants, the First Book of Enoch and the Book of Jubilees.46
Satan’s role is revealed in the rewriting of Gen. 6.1-4 in the Book of Jubilees.
There Satan is called by another name: Mastema. Gen. 6.1-4 is rewritten so
as to explain the fate of demons in the world. The sons of God are angels
who married the daughters of men. They were punished and imprisoned in
the depths of the earth (Jub. 5.1-6). Later, these wicked demons began to lead
astray the children of Noah. Noah prayed to God and the Lord decided to
imprison them all. Then the chief of the demons, Mastema, said to God:
O Lord, Creator, leave some of them before me, and let them obey my voice. And
let them do everything which I tell them, because if some of them are not left for
45 It seems to me that Pagels’ way to deal with the development of Satanology in post-
exilic Judah only as an exponent of intra-Jewish social problems fails to allow for these larger
theological frames.
46 Concerning the Book of Giants see L. T. Stuckenbruck, The Book of Giants (TSAJ, 63;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997); idem, “Giant Mythology and Demonology: From the Ancient
Near East to the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.) Die Dämonen
318–338; idem, “The Origins of Evil in Jewish Apocalyptic Tradition: The Interpretation of
Genesis 6:1–4 in the Second and Third Centuries B.C.E.,” in C. Auffarth and L. T. Stuckenbruck
(eds.), The Fall of the Angels (Themes in Biblical Narrative, 6; Leiden: Brill, 2004). Concerning
the First Book of Enoch see P. D. Hanson, “Rebellion in Heaven, Azazel, and Euhemeristic
Heroes in 1 Enoch 6–11,” JBL 96 (1977), 195–233; G. W. E. Nickelsburg, “Apocalyptic and Myth
in 1 Enoch 6–11,” JBL 96 (1977), 383–405; S. Bhayro, The Shemihazah and Asael Narrative of
1 Enoch 6–11: Introduction, Text, Translation and Commentary with Reference to Ancient Near
Eastern and Biblical Antecedents (Alter Orient und Altes Testament, 322; Munich: Ugarit-Verlag,
2005); idem, “Noah’s Library: Sources for 1 Enoch 6–11,” JSP 15 (2006), 163–177. Concerning
the Book of Jubilees see J. VanderKam, “The Angel Story in the Book of Jubilees,” in Chazon
and Stone (eds.), Pseudepigraphic Perspectives, 151–170; idem, “The Demons in the Book of
Jubilees,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 339–364. Note also M.
Segal’s view (The Book of Jubilees: Rewritten Bible, Redaction, Ideology and Theology [SJSJ
117, Leiden: Brill, 2007], 97–269) according to which there are different explanations for the
origin of evil in the Book of Jubilees as a consequence of redactional work.
me, I will not be able to exercise the authority of my will among the children of men
because they are (intended) to corrupt and lead astray before my judgment because
the evil of the sons of men is great. (Jub. 10.7-8)
God consented and nine-tenths of the demons were bound. At the same
time the sons of Noah and Shem were taught to heal all manner of illness.
Nor were demons allowed to harm the sons of Noah and Shem. Mastema’s
role in Jubilees is to execute God’s judgment. Thus the author of Jubilees
has rewritten the account of the plagues of Exodus so that Mastema was the
destroyer who killed all the firstborn of the Egyptians. According to Exodus
12 the destroying angel instructed by Yahweh killed all the firstborn of Egypt.
In Jub. 49.2 this task is entrusted to Mastema and his forces. There is a parallel
exegetical reworking in 1 Chronicles 21 which rewrites 2 Samuel 24.47 Another
revision occurs in the rewriting of Genesis 22. Mastema plays a crucial role
in testing righteous Abraham (Jub. 17.15–18.19).48 Again the biblical text has
been rewritten. In his testing of Abraham Mastema plays a role analogous to
that of Satan in Job 1–2.
The new composition of the divine council after the “dethronement of
foreign deities” is reflected in the Book of Daniel and in the Septuagint
translation of Deut. 32.8. The divine council now consists of Yahweh, as the
only God, and the celestial angels. The Book of Daniel reports that foreign
political powers are represented in the celestial sphere. Dan.10.13 describes
the difficulties which Michael, the archangel of Israel, faced in the divine
court when the Persian angel opposed his plan: “But the prince of the Persian
kingdom resisted me twenty-one days. Then Michael, one of the chief princes,
came to help me, because I was detained there with the king of Persia.” In
Dan.10.20 mention is made of “the prince of Persia” with whom battle will be
joined in the celestial sphere, and of “the prince of Greece” who, it seems, will
come to wage war against “the prince of Persia.” Thus Yahweh as the leader
of the divine council can prevail upon nations and their angels to war against
each other and thereby assist his people Israel.
The Book of Jubilees presents another interpretation of the foreign gods or
idols. The writer identifies evil spirits with the idols of the nations. VanderKam
has argued that this concept was developed from Deut. 32.8 in conjunction
with Ps. 106.35-37 which expressis verbis identify idols and demons: “They
served their idols, which became a snare to them. They sacrificed their sons
and their daughters to the demons; they poured out innocent blood, the blood
of their sons and daughters, whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan …”
47 This is similar to the rewriting of Exod. 4:24-26 in the Book of Jubilees. It is not
Yahweh who attacks Moses but Mastema who tries to kill him.
48 See also 4Q225. J. C. VanderKam and J. T. Milik, “225. 4QpseudoJubileesa,” DJD
13, 141–155; J. C. VanderKam, “The Aqedah, Jubilees, and Pseudojubilees,” in C. Evans and S.
Talmon (eds.), The Quest for Context and Meaning: Studies in Biblical Intertextuality (Biblical
Interpretation Series, 28; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 241–261.
Even the Septuagint translation of Ps. 96.4-5 says that “all gods of the peoples
are idols // demons” (MT: {ylyl); LXX: δαιμόνια).49 These two Jewish
texts from the second century bce are parallel results of the exilic theological
reassessment of the divine council.
Four “Satanic Verses” in the Old Testament
We have now discussed the wider theological frameworks of the divine

council imagery in the Old Testament and seen that it was used to emphasize
Yahweh’s control over historical events in the world. This imagery could have
enabled the solution of difficult existential problems: the assaults of nations
and their deities upon Israel (the danger of polytheism) as well as all manner
of tribulation which afflicted Israel and the lives of individuals (the danger
of dualism during the Persian period). Against this background we can now
evaluate the four passages in which Satan is mentioned.
Numbers 22 illustrates the ancient Israelite understanding of the divine
council. Satan is not described as the opponent of God. Rather Satan is the title
of an angel who performs a task against God’s opponent. The text describes
how God’s anger was burning against Balaam so he sent one of his angels to
be Satan to Balaam. This angel is the adversary against Balaam, and prepares
to kill him. In particular, this angel will defend Israel against its enemy, the
king of Moab.
The forensic aspect of the divine council provides a fitting background to the
presentation of the role of Satan in Job 1–2 and Zechariah 3. Both these texts
can be dated to the post-exilic period, and they reflect a new understanding of
the divine council. In the Book of Job, Satan is a member of the divine council
who actively attempts to destroy a righteous man, Job, and his reliance on God.
Even though Satan is written with the definite article, this does not exclude the
interpretation of him as a specific celestial being who is evil yet is entitled
to speak in the divine council—a right possessed by Satan/Mastema in the
Book of Jubilees. Job 1–2 was written to explain why the righteous man must
suffer. Day’s attempt to regard the whole episode in the Book of Job as irony
is difficult to accept as a correct understanding of the book—at least when this
was regarded as authoritative Scripture.50 The Book of Job clearly attempts to
solve the problem of theodicy. It, therefore, seems more reasonable to assume
that the celestial adversary Satan represents an evil power, although not in any
dualistic manner. Satan’s role is subjugated to the power of God.
Zechariah 3 is a later insertion in the Night Visions of Zechariah 1–6.51
Here the High Priest Joshua stands before the angel of Yahweh and Satan is
49 VanderKam, “The Demons in the Book of Jubilees,” 350–354.

50 Day, An Adversary in Heaven, 69–106, 148–149.
51 See Chr. Jeremias, Die Nachtgeschichte des Sacharja: Untersuchungen zu ihrer
Stellung im Zusammenhang der Visionsberichte im Alten Testament und zu ihrem Bildmaterial
(FRLANT, 117; Göttingen: Ruprecht, 1977), 10–13.
condemning him. Following Hanson’s theory of struggling priestly families

Day has suggested that the passage should be interpreted as a reflection of
tensions in society so “that the objections to his candidacy had been aired
even in the heavenly assembly, and had been overruled.”52 Such a social
interpretation does not take into account the wider political-cum-theological
frameworks. The political situation at the beginning of the Persian era was
unstable, with Judah subjugated under Persian hegemony. The theological
problem of Yahweh’s forgiveness was an actual existential issue (Lam.
5.7). What guarantees that Yahweh has really forgiven his people? Because
Zechariah 3 is a later insertion in the Night Visions, it explains why Zerubbabel
did not succeed to the throne—which Hag. 2.23 and Zech. 4.6b-10b imply.53
Zechariah 3 explains the situation by observing that there was in heaven
profound disagreement concerning whether or not the time was ripe for the
re-establishment of the Judean community in Jerusalem. The office of High
Priest was established after Yahweh rebuked Satan, who opposed the plan.
Satan’s accusations in Zechariah 3 may be related to the idea of Yahweh’s
holiness. Satan refers to the uncleanness of Joshua and protests that he cannot
be appointed as High Priest. As Nadav and Abihu (Lev. 10) and Uzza (2
Sam. 6) died because they did not respect the holiness of Yahweh, so also
should Joshua be rejected because he as the representive of the Temple and
Jerusalem has not been cleansed of the sins committed in Judah before the
exile. Zechariah’s vision explains why Yahweh rebuked Satan and decided
that Joshua would be the High Priest. Moreover, he and his colleagues would
symbolize the coming Branch (Zech. 3.8-10). When the Branch appears, then
all sin will be abolished.54
1 Chronicles 21 defines the dynamic nature of the evil which is perpetrated
in the world. Satan here is described as an opponent of Yahweh who entices
David to do wrong. Satan is written without the definite article and is therefore
regarded as a celestial being, interpreted as denoting the anger of Yahweh in
2 Samuel 24. Because the Chronicles must date from the fourth century bce
52 See Day, An Adversary in Heaven, 107–126; the quotation is from p. 121. P. Hanson,
The Dawn of Apocalyptic (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979).
53 Concerning Hag. 2.23 there is a signet ring motif which clearly refers to Jer. 22.24,
where the grandfather of Jeconiah was rejected. Haggai emphasizes that Zerubbabel will receive
the same position as Jeconiah. Zech. 4.6b-10a again contains typical ancient Near Eastern royal
ideology connected with the temple building project and the establishment of the dynasty of the
royal builder. See A. Laato, “Zachariah 4,6b-10a and the Akkadian Royal Building Inscriptions,”
ZAW 106 (1994), 53–69; idem, “Temple Building and the Book of Zechariah,” in M. J. Boda and
J. R. Novotny (eds.), From the Foundations to the Crenellations: Essays on Temple Building in
the Ancient Near East and Hebrew Bible (Alter Orient und Altes Testament, 366; Münster: Ugarit-
Verlag, 2010), 381–398.
54 I have dealt elsewhere with the post-exilic theological problem of the forgiveness of
Yahweh. I argued that this led to the idea of the eschatological kipper-act. This eschatological
idea is visible in Zech. 3.8-10, Dan. 9.24-27, Qumran’s writings, and 2 Macc. 2.4-7. See A.
Laato, A Star is Rising: The Historical Development of the Old Testament Royal Ideology and the
Rise of the Jewish Messianic Expectations (University of South Florida International Studies in
Formative Christianity and Judaism; Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1997), 299–307.
there is no obstacle to regarding Satan in 1 Chronicles 21 as a proper name.55

The Chronicler’s perception of Yahweh’s anger as a manifestation of Satan’s
action indicates that his theology was not dualistic. Satan was allowed to test
the righteous one or attack the godless one but he could not implement his own
plans without Yahweh, who is the ruler of the divine council and who has full
control of events in the world.
It is time to summarize our findings concerning the emergence of Satan
in biblical, Jewish and Christian theology. We have argued that in ancient
Israelite Yahwistic thought Yahweh had full control over the history of Israel, in
particular at a time of crisis when evil abounded. This concerned both demons
and evil spirits—belief in which was widespread in the ancient Near East and
Israel—who caused all kinds of problems, plagues, and diseases, together
with gods of foreign nations who threatened Israel politically through their
military operations. The concept of the divine council was used to emphasize
Yahweh’s sovereignty over all deities and his control over demons. During
the exile this concept of the divine council was modified. Other deities lost
their seats on the council and angelic beings came to represent foreign nations
and their idols. The struggle against Persian dualism led to the discernment
that there are no independent evil powers; all are subject to Yahweh. In this
theological atmosphere Satan began to play the role of a personal evil which
tried to prevent blessings being bestowed on God’s people or on the righteous.
Yet, from the outset, Satan was not an independent power, but was subjugated
to Yahweh. Jewish theology in the post-exilic period increasingly came to
believe that foreign gods were mere demons and evil spirits. This led to the
revision of Gen. 6.1-4, which may explain the fate of these evil powers who
began to lead nations astray.
Conclusions
We have dealt with the four central Old Testament texts where Satan is regarded
as a celestial being. We have argued that a correct understanding of these
texts depends on wider theological frameworks in which the Old Testament
55 One of the main arguments in Day’s study (An Adversary in Heaven) is that the
Chronicles should be dated as early as F. M. Cross has suggested (see pp. 141–142) and, therefore,
it is unlikely that Satan is a proper name. There is, according to Day, only second-century evidence
that Satan is a proper name. In my opinion, a terminus a quo for the Chronicles can be determined
from the genealogy of Davidides in 1 Chronicles 3. It is therefore correct to date the Chronicles
from around 400 bce at the earliest. See H. G. M. Williamson, Israel in the Books of Chronicles
(Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 83–86; idem, 1 and 2 Chronicles (NBC;
London: Eerdmans, 1982), 15–17. This being the case there is not so long an interval between
the Chronicler and the Book of Jubilees. For a useful overview of research and discussion, see
P. Evans, “Divine Intermediaries in 1 Chronicles 21: An Overlooked Aspect of the Chronicler’s
Theology,” Bib 85 (2004), 545–558. Evans argues that the Chronicler’s way of using Satan as a
celestial intermediate was “an important stage of development” toward the late Jewish doctrine of
Satan.
imagery of the “divine council” is used. We concluded that the role of Satan
as a celestial being is related to theological rethinking during the exilic period
when the foreign gods lost their status in the ancient Israelite imagery of the
divine council and all dualistic conceptions were rejected so that the power
of evil yielded to Yahweh. This theological rethinking is particularly obvious
in Isaiah 40–55. It resulted in the acceptance of the personal Evil, who may
attend the divine council but is impotent and cannot contravene Yahweh’s will
(Job 1–2 and Zechariah 3). At a later stage Gen. 6.1-4 was reinterpreted to
explain the consequences for the demonic powers and their leader, who was
known by different names, Satan among them.
We have also considered the theological problem of monism. While Volz
argued that Yahweh was an ambivalent deity mingling good and evil, divine
and demonic, Lindström was correct to regard such a theory as unsupported
by the Old Testament evidence. However, it seems to me that Volz poses the
wrong questions to the textual material, and Lindström only answers these
wrong questions.56 There are two aspects which play a significant role in the
image of Yahweh in the Old Testament. One is his holiness, which we have
only mentioned en passant. The other is his total control of historical events,
both good and evil. It is against this belief that we must interpret the many
passages in the Old Testament emphasizing that Yahweh pervades all things,
good and evil, death and life.
56 Note what Lindström writes at the end of his study (God and the Origin of Evil, 240–
241) that two dualistic models must be rejected (cursive by Lindström): “No disaster at all comes
from God” and “Evil is the equal and opposite pole of the deity.”

Chapter 2
Evil in Second Temple Texts

Ida Fröhlich
The presence of evil in the world—especially natural evil like earthquakes,

disasters, illnesses, and epidemics—is a common problem of cultures.1
One of the answers—maybe the first—is the notion of an accident when,
in primeval times, the world order was violated. The agents of disorder and
the undesirable evil in most cultures are demons, ‛malignant supernatural
beings’. Written documents from ancient Near Eastern cultures usually reflect
distinct demonological systems and magical methods used to keep demons
away. Contrary to this, the Old Testament has an unfavorable attitude toward
demonology and magic. The historic narratives of the corpus, possible eye-
witnesses accounts of everyday practice, have been passed down through the
filter of the Deuteronomistic editors, whose opinion was adverse to magic.
Accordingly, they tried to eliminate any magical elements.2 However, magic that
was forbidden is not identical with the meaning of “magic” as we intend it today,
in the scholarly sense, as actions thought to be effected with the help of a “magical
transfer”—i.e., ritual power. Biblical prohibitions concern only certain forms of
magic such as harmful magic, necromancy, and magical practices of foreign
origin.3 Other forms, like benedictory and apotropaic practices, had never been
banned and had been present in beliefs and practice of everyday life.4 Although
1 The origin of the evil in the world is a basic question in religions, and it is especially
important for formative religious groups. The question has special problems in monotheistic
religions.
2 This phenomenon is treated in Karel van der Toorn, “The Theology of Demons in
Mesopotamia and Israel: Popular Belief and Scholarly Speculation,” in A. Lange, H. Lichtenberger,
and K. F. Diethard Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen
und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt [Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-
Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of their Environment] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2003), 61–83, esp. 61.
3 The narrative on the witch of Endor aims to prove that Saul committed an abhorrent
sin, and it serves as a proof that Saul’s fall was deserved. For a new analysis of the narrative, see
Brian Schmidt, “The ‘Witch’ of En-Dor, 1 Samuel 28, and Ancient Near Eastern Necromancy,” in
Marvin W. Meyer (ed.), Ancient Magic and Ritual Power (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 111–129.
4 “An almost entirely domestic vocabulary means an almost entirely domestic praxis” of
magical practice. See F. H. Cryer, Divination in Ancient Israel and its Near Eastern Environment:
A Socio-Historical Investigation (JSOTSup, 142; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994),
ancient scholars responsible for the selection and editing of the biblical texts
did not like the existence of supernatural agents other than God and wiped out
the (supposedly rich) demonological elements from written tradition, a number
of reports about maleficent demonic beings—sometimes even mentioning
them as the means of divine will—were preserved.5 Surveys of Old Testament
demonology and magic show an astonishing richness of magical practices that
were familiar.6 Hence, it is not very surprising that the Persian and Hellenistic
periods witnessed a “recrudescence of the Jewish demonology.”7 Late biblical
books acknowledge the figure of Satan.8 Extrabiblical sources of the Persian
and Hellenistic periods did treasure demonology in various forms. Our main
source for Second Temple demonology is the Dead Sea Scrolls (with several
apocryphal works preserved in their original language among the Scrolls),
which “present a coherent and sophisticated demonology which should be
taken with the utmost seriousness in understanding the outlook of the Qumran
sect. Belief in demons was central in their worldview, and some of the earliest
Jewish demonological texts are to be found in the Scrolls.”9
Concerning the Dead Sea Scrolls, we are fortunate enough to be able to obtain,
on the basis of the texts preserved, a picture of the special worldview of the
authors. Statutes from Qumran reveal the principles which ruled their lives. The
attitude of the community to earlier written tradition is exposed from the list of
biblical books that were preserved in their library, as well as from references
and commentaries upon biblical texts cited in the works written within the
261. See also B. B. Schmidt, Israel’s Beneficent Dead: Ancestor Cult and Necromancy in Ancient
Israelite Religion and Tradition (Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 11; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr
[Paul Siebeck], 1994).
5 E.g., the spirit (rwh. r‛h) tormenting Saul in 1 Sam.16.14 et passim, or “the evil spirit”
(rwh. r‛h) “between Abimelech and the lords of Schechem” (Judg. 9.23), both sent by YHWH.
6 T. Witton Davies, Magic, Divination, and Demonology: Among the Hebrews and Their
Neighbours Including an Examination of Biblical References and of the Biblical Terms (London:
James Clarke, 1897); Ann Jeffers, Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria (Studies
in the History of the Ancient Near East, 8; Leiden: Brill, 1996). On the problem, see Othmar Keel,
“Schwache alttestamentiche Ansätze zur Konstruktion einer stark dualistisch getönten Welt,”
in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003),
211–236. A new investigation on the problem of selected demonic figures is Judit M. Blair, De-
demonising the Old Testament: An Investigation of Azazel, Lilith, Deber, Qeteb and Reshef in the
Hebrew Bible (Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 2 Reihe, 37; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009).
7 An expression from P. S. Alexander, “The Demonology of the DSS,” in P. W. Flint
and J. C. VanderKam (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment
(Leiden, Boston, and Köln: Brill, 1998–1999), 331–353. According to Karel van der Toorn, “The
Theology of Demons in Mesopotamia and Israel: Popular Belief and Scholarly Speculation,”
in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 61–83, the recrudescence of the
demonology in the post-exilic age aims to purify the image of God from the inherent demonic
features. If God has an adversary in heaven with an army of demons and spirits of the air, he is
himself free from evil.
8 On Satan, see Peggy L. Day, An Adversary in Heaven: sāt.ān in the Hebrew Bible (HSS,
43, Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1988); Fabry, “‘Satan’,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld
(eds.), Die Dämonen, 269–291.
9 Alexander, “The Demonology of the DSS,” 331–353, esp. 331.
Evil in Second Temple Texts 25
community. Texts of non-biblical books written outside of and “brought” into the
community (works which served as sources and models for ‘sectarian’ works) are
also well known, in addition to “sectarian” works written in the community. It is
possible, on the basis of these aspects, to delineate their mentality. The Damascus
Document formulates, in an allegorical form, the origin of a spritual-religious
school. The keyword of their program is the returning (šwb) to the law, which
is a religious practice based on strict observance of the Mosaic Law according
to a special interpretation (halakhah) of the community, referred to in the work
as “the covenanters” (bwy bryt) or members of a “new covenant” (bryt hh.dšh).
The halakhah of the community is outlined in works such as the Damascus
Document (CD) and the Temple Scroll (11QT). Fragments from other halakhic
works (most of them from Cave 4) are proof of the special halakhic tradition of
the community. The keyword of Qumran halakhah is purity, invoked in various
contexts: physical ritual purity concerning food and drink, body and human
environment, and ethical purity. The Qumran community regarded themselves as
holy, and its members lived in priestly purity. It was their strict demand for purity
that served as a basis for their attitude to demons, considered impure beings. “The
Community’s defence against demonic intrusion is strongly reminiscent of its
defence against impurity.”10
Reports on demons are to be read in several texts.11 The composition
4Q510–11 (Songs of the Sage) is a hymnic poem of wisdom authored by the
maśkil, the sage.12 The work represents the vocabulary and ruling ideas of
the community. The main themes are the glory of God, the activity of the
righteous, and the works of the evil demons in the world. The songs reflect a
dichotomous worldview. God is called the King of Glory (4Q510 1.1), God of
knowledge (4Q510 1.2), Lord of the divine beings (’l ’lym), and Lord of all
the holy ones (’l qdwšym) (4Q510 1.2). “His realm is above the powerfully
mighty” 4Q510 1.3). However, God is once called El Shaddai (4Q511 8.6),
10 Alexander, “The Demonology of the DSS,” esp. 348. He also notes that “certain Early
Jewish texts seem to posit an analogy between demon possession and impurity.” The mention of
demons as impure beings is a commonplace in the New Testament. For the definition of “demon,”
see Anders Klostergaard Petersen, “The Notion of Demon: Open Questions to a Diffuse Concept,”
in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 23–41. The categorization of demons
as “spirit” (rwh.) is not absolutely precise; angels are also non-corporeal beings, i.e. “spirits.” See
Alexander, “The Demonology of the DSS,” 331–353, esp. 331. The Dead Sea Scrolls make a
clear distinction between demons and angels, whether fallen or otherwise. Another category is the
inner spirit (rwh.) in human beings, not identical with the previous categories. See Armin Lange,
“Considerations Concerning the ‘Spirit of Impurity’ in Zech 13:2,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and
Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 254–268.
11 For a survey of the Qumran texts referring to demons, see E. Eshel, “Genres of Magical
Texts,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 395–415.
12 4Q510–511 is a collection of fragments from two manuscripts. 4Q510 has only one
major fragment and 11 minor ones; 4Q511 represents a much longer copy of the same work. On
paleographical bases, both manuscripts are dated to the end of the first century bce. Edition: M.
Baillet, “Cantique du Sage (i); Cantiques du Sage (ii),” in Discoveries in the Judaean Desert: VII.
Qumrân Grotte 4 III (4Q482–4Q520) (DJD, 7; Oxford: Clarendon, 1982), 215–262.
a name used especially in magical texts.13 Divine beings are also mentioned
several times in the hymns.
The sage (maśkil) is characterized by the knowledge he received from God.
He loathes all deeds of impurity—that is, practices resulting in impurity (4Q511
18 ii 7).14 The group associated with the sage is characterized by knowledge,
purity, and holiness, the two latter owing to the correct practice of the law. They
receive their knowledge from God.
The third element of the system is the demons. They are listed in both copies
of the work (4Q510 1.5-8; 4Q511 10.1-5) as spirits of the ravaging angels
(ml’ky h.bl),15 the bastard spirits (rwh.wt mmzrym), demons (šdym), Lilith,
(lylyt), owls and jackals (‘hym wqyym), and those who strike unexpectedly to
lead astray the spirit of knowledge (hpwg‛ym pt‛ pt’wm lt‛wt rwh. bynh).
The activity of the demons is not eternal, but only during the period when
wickedness rules and in periods when the sons of light live in humiliation.
Periods (called qq, pl. qqym) of human history are often mentioned in several
Qumran works.16 The various periods are characterized by the activity of
distinct groups, the righteous or the evil. Accordingly, they are labeled as
periods of righteousness or periods of sin (the latter being, of course, periods
of oppression for the righteous). Thus, the demons mentioned in the Songs of
the Sage are subject to God’s power, and they are mediators of divine plans.
As to the proper nature of the demons’ activitiy, let us begin with those known
also from other sources. Lilith is a demon familiar, under the name lilītu, from
Mesopotamian and Syrian sources.17 She is most often mentioned together
with two other demons: the male demon līlu and the female ardāt līli.18 Lilith
13 B. Nitzan, in “Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry” (Studies on the Texts of the
Desert of Judah, 1; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 236, labels the text as “conventional songs of praise,”
intended “to frighten and terrify” evil spirits. No practical magical terminology is reflected in the
preserved fragments; the text seems to be rather theoretical.
14 Associates of the Sage are “those who follow the path of God” (4Q511 2 i 6). In
Qumran vocabulary, this means the right interpretation and practice of the Mosaic Law—namely,
interpretation according to the tradition of the community. Other names for this group are “those who
know justice” (4Q511 2 i 2) and “the holy ones” (4Q511 35.2-3).
15 h.ebel “destruction” from the root h.bl II, “act corruptly,” Pi, “ruin, destroy.” Pun
possible, based on the root h.bl I, “bind, pledge (bind by taking a pledge).” Hence, the expression
might be a title for the Watchers, the angels who gathered on Mount Hermon. See P. S. Alexander,
“The Demonology of the DSS,” in Flint and VanderKam (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty
Years, 330–353, esp. 333.
16 4Q180–181, the Pesher ‛al ha-qiqqim is a theoretical work on these periods in human
history.
17 Lilith is a demon often mentioned in Mesopotamian texts, together with other demons.
See “lilītu” in Jeremy A. Black, Anthony Green, and Tessa Rickards, Gods, Demons, and Symbols of
Ancient Mesopotamia: An Illustrated Dictionary (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2003 [1992]),
118. The figure has a long afterlife in Jewish Aramaic incantation texts. See Christa Müller-Kessler,
“The Story of Bguzan-Lilit, Daughter of Zanay-Lilit,” JAOS 116 (1996), 185–195; Christa Müller-
Kessler, “Lilit(s) in der aramäisch-magischen Literatur der Spätantike: Teil I: Wüstenbeherrscherin,
Baum-Lilit und Kindesräuberin,” Altorientalische Forschungen 28 (2001), 338–352.
18 Sexually determined demons are harmful to human representatives of the opposite
sex; e.g., the demon līlu is dangerous for pregnant women. See R. Labat, Traité akkadien de
attacks babies and women in childbed; the līlu and the ardāt līli cause erotic
dreams. In several cultures, owls and jackals are considered omens of illness
and death, demonic animals, and harmful beings. Biblical šēdim are harmful
spirits presented without any further characteristics, while the corresponding
Mesopotamian šēdu means protective spirits. Angels in the biblical worldview
are always mediators of the divine will. They are envoys announcing the birth
of chosen people (e.g., Samson; cf. Judg. 12.2-25) or transmitting physical
evil as divine punishement (e.g., the angel ravaging Jerusalem following
David’s census; c.f. 2 Sam 24.10-17).19 The next entry on the Qumran list is
“those who strike unexpectedly to lead astray the spirit of knowledge” (hpwg‛ym
pt‛ pt’wm lt‛wt rwh. bynh). The short description covers an anonymous group
of spirits which are instigators of ethical evil. They lead people astray, causing
them to deviate from the correct practice of maintaining purity. The last item
in the list is the group called the “spirits of the bastards” (rwh.wt mmzrym).
Without any mention of the characteristics of the members of this group, it refers
only to their origin. They represent a special group of evil spirits known only
from Qumran texts; no parallels from ancient Near Eastern folklore are known.
Demons usually have no genealogy; any known systematization of them results
from theological programs called for by situations when, for some reason, a need
arose for systematizing the ethos.
The Origin of the Evil in Qumran Tradition—The Story of the Watchers

(1 En. 6-11)
The story of the Watchers is contained in the Book of Enoch (1 En. 6-11)—a work
recognized earlier as a part of the pseudo-epigraphic literature and preserved in
Greek and Ethiopian translations.20 Fragments of the original Aramaic text were
found in Qumran.21 The oldest Qumran manuscript containing the story of the
Watchers 4QEnaar (4Q201) may be dated to the end of the third century bce.22 In
diagnostics et pronostics médicaux. I. Transcription et traduction (Paris: Académie internationale

d’histoire des sciences, and Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1951), Tablette 36 (série V) paragraph 3. The ardat
līli is the ghost of a young girl who died without being married. She often sways young men.
19 Unlike this, the angels in Daniel are called śār, “chief, ruler, official,” and represent
commanders of the heavenly host; cf. Dan. 10.13, 20; 12.1.
20 Editions are J. Flemming and L. Radermacher, Das Buch Henoch (Leipzig: Hinrichs,
1901); M. Black, Apocalypsis Henochi Graece (PVTG, 3; Leiden: Brill, 1970). On the Greek
manuscripts, see also A. M. Denis, Introduction aux pseudépigraphes grecs d’Ancien Testament
(Studia in Veteris Testamenti Pseudepigrapha, 1; Leiden: Brill, 1970). The Ethiopian manuscript
tradition can be traced back to the fifteenth century. The first edition of the Ethiopian text is R.
H. Charles, The Ethiopic Version of the Book of Enoch (Oxford: Anecdota Oxonensia, 1906). The
new critical edition of the Ethiopian text was prepared in light of the Aramaic fragments, with
translation and commentary, by M. A. Knibb: The Ethiopic Book of Enoch: A New Edition in Light
of the Aramaic Dead Sea Fragments, Vols. 1–2 (Oxford, 1982; 2nd rev. edn.).
21 Milik, The Books of Enoch.
22 The Qumran manuscripts also contain fragments of the Astrological Book and Book
of Giants, not known from the translations of the work. See J. T. Milik, The Books of Enoch,
chapters 6–11, two narrative parts can be separated, the narrative on Shemihazah
and that on ‘Asa’el.
The Shemihazah tradition (1 En. 6.1–7.62) relates the story of a group of the
“sons of heaven” (6.2)—in the text referred to as Watchers (‘yryn)—who glimpse
the daughters of men, desire them, and decide to descend to them. Their leader
Shemihazah (šmh. hzh) considers the plan to be sinful (1 En. 6.3). Therefore, the
Watchers, in order to fulfill their plan, swear to unite on Mount Hermon (1 En.
6.6). Then the Watchers “… began [to go in to them, and to defile themselves with
them, and (they began) to teach them] sorcery and spellbinding [and the cutting
of roots, and to show them plants …]” (1 En. 7.1). The list of their teachings is
completed with the interpretations of heavenly omina, each Watcher teaching the
signs of that natural phenomenon which was included in his name (1 En. 8.3-4).
The women became pregnant by them and bore children who became giants. The
giants “were devouring [the labour of all the children of men]” (1 En. 7.4). After
this, they begin to devour men. Then, “they began to sin against the animals, and
to devour the flesh of one another; and they were drinking blood.23 [Then, the
earth made the accusation against the wicked concerning everything] which was
done upon it” (1 En. 7.5-6).24 These, then, are the transgressions which finally
brought about the punishment of the Flood (1 En. 9.1ff).
The reference to ‘Asa’el (1 En. 8.1-2) informs us that ‘Asa’el taught men
metalworking, and the making of weapons and jewels, and taught women
the knowledge of eye-shadows, precious gems, and dyes of mineral origin.25
Nothing is told about the time of these teachings; thus, it is not known if they
preceded the fall of the Watchers or happened after that event.
The whole section is closed by a report on the punishment of ‘Asa’el and the
Watchers. ‘Asa’el was punished by the angel Raphael. He was bound and cast
into darkness, where the Watchers will stay until “the great day of judgment”
(1 En. 10.4-7). Shemihazah and his companions were bound by Michael “for
seventy generations.” Afterwards, they were forced to witness their children,
the Giants, perish (1 En. 10.11-12). Furthermore, the devastation of the Flood
following these events meant the purification of the earth (1 En. 10.1-3, 20-22).
273–317. The Book of Giants contains a rich tradition concerning the Giants and the children
of the Watchers, unfortunately in a very fragmented form. The order of the fragments is very
problematic. On this, see F. García Martínez, Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies on the Aramaic
Texts from Qumran (Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah, 9; Leiden: Brill, 1992), 97–
115 (The Book of Giants). A new edition of the fragments of the Book of Giants (BG) is L. T.
Stuckenbruck, The Book of Giants from Qumran: Texts, Translation, and Commentary (Texte und
Studien zum Antiken Judentum, 63; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997).
23 It probably refers to the consumption of blood, which is a violation of the biblical
prohibition; cf. Gen. 9.3-4.
24 Translated by Milik, based on his reconstruction of the Aramaic text. See J. T. Milik, The
Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), 166–167.
25 1 En. 65.6 supplements the list of ‘Asa’el’s teachings by adding that the Watchers also
taught people to cast metal and to make cast-metal statues. According to 1 En. 69, a Watcher named
Pinem’e taught people writing and the use of ink and papyrus—things that later could be the source
of several misunderstandings.
The tradition of the Watchers was a theme often cited and referred to in other
works, certainly because the meaning of the story was of basic importance for the
spiritual world of the community.26 Supposedly, the story had a specific meaning
for them, and its motifs were of a consistent background related to basic ideas of
the Essene tradition.27 Notions which are related to each of the stories’ motifs are
those of sin and impurity and magic and the demonic.
Sin and Impurity: Ethical (Prohibited) Impurities
The purity system of the Old Testament deals not only with physical impurities,
but also with ethical ones. As opposed to physical impurities that in most cases
issue from situations that mankind cannot control, ethical impurities grow out
of situations that are controllable and are not natural or necessary—such as
delaying purification from physical impurity, polluting specific sancta, sexual
transgressions, idolatry, and murder. The locus of uncleanness may be the
person, but proscriptions more often address the pollution of the sanctuary or
land.28 Punishment of the sinner is usually banishing/driving them away from
the land or the extinguishing of one’s family line (kārēt).29
The main list of ethical impurities that pollute the land is in the Holiness Code
(Lev. 17–26). These are sins related to sexual relations or cases of zenūt—that
is, all kinds of illicit sex such as sex among blood relatives, with another’s wife,
homosexual relations, sex with a menstruating woman, and prostitution (see
Lev. 18.1-30; 19.29). A special case in the list is kilayim, the prohibition against
mixing different kinds of animals, plants, and materials in human clothing
(Lev. 19.19, Deut. 22.9-11).30 In Leviticus, sins related to magic are said to
26 The Nachleben and the infuence of the Watchers’ story in Qumran literature require a
separate study.
27 According to P. Sacchi, the peculiar conception of evil based on 1 En. 6–11 was a
distinct ideological tradition which served as the catalyst for the schism between the group and
Judaism in the fourth century bce. Michael Stone and David Suter date the schism to the third
century. See G. Boccaccini, Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the Ways between
Qumran and Enochic Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 76–77.
28 The relation of any people to the land they live on is a basic anthropological concept.
This relation is regulated in human cultures by special rules and proscriptions. Human groups were
thought to be enabled to live on the land only by obeying these rules. On the biblical concept of
the land and rules enabling people to live on it, see W. D. Davies, “Reflections on Doctrine of The
Land,” in W. D. Davies (ed.), The Territorial Dimension of Judaism (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,
1991), 87–98; G. Strecker (ed.), Das Land Israel in biblischer Zeit: Jerusalem-Symposium 1981
(Göttinger theologische Arbeiten, 25; Göttingen: V&R, 1983); Betsy Halpern-Amaru, Rewriting
the Bible: Land and Covenant in Postbiblical Jewish Literature (Valley Forge, Pa: Trinity Press,
1994); W. D. Davies, The Gospel and the Land: Early Christianity and Jewish Territorial Doctrine
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974). On “sins that defile the land,” see P. D. Wright,
“Unclean and Clean: Old Testament,” in ABD 6:729–741, esp. 739.
29 E.g., the Assyrian exile of Israel is explained in 2 Kgs 17.5-23 as a punishment
resulting from “the sin of Jeroboam,” the improper cultic practice of the northern kingdom.
30 A special case of zenūt not listed in Leviticus 17–26 is remarriage with one’s divorced
be abominable and to make the land unclean.31 Magical practice is sometimes

conceived as zenūt (Lev. 20.6), and those who practice it are to be killed (Exod.
22.17). The commission of these “abominable sins” by the Canaanites caused
the land to become unclean and to spew out its inhabitants (Lev. 18.27-30).32
Sins related to blood such as bloodshed (Deut. 21.1-9, Gen. 4.10, Ps. 106.38f)
and cases of enduring impurity (like a dead corpse left in a tree for the night)
(Deut. 21.22-23; cf. also 11QT lxiv 11-12) were also believed to make the land
unclean.33 Thus, sexual sin, magic, and bloodshed—sins which brought about
the punishment of the Flood according to the story of the Watchers—were
sins considered in the Jewish purity system as sins defiling the land (while the
Flood, at the same time, was a purification of the earth).34
The Giants in the Enochic Tradition
1 En. 15.8 reports on the offspring of the Giants, saying that they are called
demons (Ethiopic nafsat, Aramaic rwh.’). These beings are spiritual in nature,
following their fathers’ nature. They do not eat; they are not thirsty and know no
obstacles. Their destructiveness first and foremost affects women and children,
as they were born of women.35
Although the story of the Watchers does not mention any demon, many of
its motifs are related to the realm of the demonic. The characteristics of the
Giants are reminiscent of demonic beings that were very common in ancient
Near Eastern folklore. Mesopotamian tradition gives several descriptions of
the utukku, a term generally used for demonic beings, and these descriptions
wife, she having in the meantime been remarried and then divorced or widowed (Deut. 24.1-4; cf. Jer.
3.1).
31 “Do not resort to ghosts and spirits or make yourselves unclean by seeking them out. I am
the Lord your God” (Lev. 19.31).
32 The citation is a summary of the Holiness Code in Leviticus 17–26. The land is the
Land of Canaan into which the people were about to enter.
33 The Temple Scroll (11QT) considers impure the non-observance of the dietary laws
(11QT xlviii 6-7), the bodily signs of mourning (tattooing) (11QT xlviii 10), covenant and marriage
with the “inhabitants of the land” (11QT ii 1-15; cf. Exod. 34.10-16), burial-grounds not separate
from the surroundings (11QTS xlviii 11-17), failure to remove those suffering from bodily impurities
(flux, leprosy, plague, scabs, menstruation) or during the impure period after childbirth, and idolatry.
It repeatedly mentions them as zenut defiling the land. 4QMMT (4Q394–399) adds the offering taken
from the pagan corn to the list of impurities and highlights cases of forbidden marriages (priests’
marriage with commoners’ daughters) as cases of kilayim.
34 They became impure by this process, as qualified in 1 En. 7.1 (cf. 4Q531 5.1). The Book
of Giants qualifies their relation as a case of zenūt (4QEnGiantsa ar = 4Q203 8.9), one of the main
categories of ethical impurities. On an analogical basis, the mixing of heavenly and earthly beings can
also be meant as a violation of the kilayim, a prohibition against the mixing of categories.
35 This part of the tradition is known only from the Greek and the Ethiopic translations.
4QEnc ar) (4Q204), the fragment which supposedly contains this part of the text is not legible at
this place. It is to be supposed that this part was also contained in the Aramaic text tradition of the
Enochic collection.
may illuminate the background of the Watchers’ story. The demons are
tremendous and obtrusive beings, roaming in bands, attacking their victims
indiscriminately. They ravage the work of humans,36 devour the flesh of
animals and humans, and consume their blood. They are born from relations
between heavenly and earthly beings. The demonic character of the Giants is
apparent also from the Book of Giants, a part of the Enochic collection known
only from the Qumran Aramaic fragments of the book. One of the fragments
refers to a Giant that took to the air “as whirlwind, and he flew with his hands/
wings as [an] eagle.”37 Consequently, Giants were imagined as being shaped like
human figures that could fly like whirlwinds.
In the Shemihazah story, the Watchers teach humans magical practices:
“sorcery (h.ršh) and spellbinding (kśph).” They begin to teach them “the
cutting of roots (Gr. ridzotomia) and to show them plants …” (1 En. 7.1).
The first two nouns are general terms for magical practices. The “cutting of
roots” can mean both the preparation of herbal ingredients for magic and the
production of amulets with herb and root components.38
The interpretation of heavenly and earthly omina is a well-documented
practice from Mesopotamian tradition. The series Enūma Anu Enlil (When
Anu and Enlil) from the Neo-Babylonian era is a collection of interpretations
on heavenly phenomena and meteorological omina.39 Its content betrays a
similarity to the teachings of Shemihazah and his companions, referred to in
the Enochic story. The Enochic authors considered this practice as sinful and
polluting, similar to magic.
Metallurgy and smithing, teachings bestowed upon men by ‘Asa’el and his
companions (1 En. 8.1), are very closely related to the notion of magic in
most cultures. Ironsmiths are considered sorcerers in ancient and modern Near
Eastern belief systems.40 Magical power was attributed to weapons made by
36 4Q531 2-3.2-7 speaks in more concrete terms than the Shemihazah story, mentioning
that the Giants devastated fruit, wheat, trees, sheep, and cattle.
37 4QEnGiantsb (4Q530) 1 iii 4), see L. T. Stuckenbruck, The Book of Giants from
Qumran (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 128–134.
38 The Talmud is acquainted with two sorts of kemi’ot (amulets): a written one (a
parchment with quotations from various sources, including the Scriptures) and the kame’a šel
iqrin, an amulet made from the roots of a certain plant (Shab 61b).
39 W. H. van Soldt, Solar Omens of Enuma Anu Enlil: Tablets 23 (24)-29 (30) (Uitgaven
van het Nederlands historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 73; Istanbul: Nederlands
historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 1995).
40 On the general idea, see M. Eliade, Forgerons et alchimistes (Homo Sapiens) (Paris:
Flammarion, 1956). In Ethiopian, ironsmiths and magicians are denoted by the same word
(duban-ansa). See W. Leslau, Concise Dictionary of Ge’ez (Classical Ethiopic) (Wiesbaden: Otto
Harrasowitz, 1989), 181. This is similar to the descendants of Cain, who are ironsmiths in the
Bible (Gen. 4.16-24). In the later tradition, they are associated with evil spirits (Syriac “Cave of
Treasures”, Fol. 12b, cols. 1–2, see C. Bezold [ed.], Die Schatzhöhle nach dem syrischen Texte der
Handschriften zu Berlin, London und Rom nebst einer arabischen Version nach den Handschriften
zu Rom, Paris und Oxford [Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1888], 14–15). In the Ethiopian tradition, the
belief that ironsmiths have magic capabilities and knowledge is alive to this day. They are considered
to be sorcerers and therefore members of other groups do not marry their daughters to them. In an
forgers. Jewels originally served as amulets with apotropaic functions.41 The

same applies to make-up, cosmetics, and dyes, the knowledge taught by ‘Asa’el
to the women (1 En. 8.1).42 In Mesopotamian magical healing, precious stones
(1 En. 8.1) and amulets were used, as is documented in incantation texts.
Finally, the binding of the Watchers (‘Asa’el bound by the angel Raphael,
and Shemihazah bound by Michael) as a punishment for their sins and casting
them into darkness calls to mind magical practice once again. The witch,
a constant figure in the Mesopotamian incantation series entitled Maqlû,
binds her victim through her practices.43 The bonds made by witches can be
dissolved by another kind of magic: healing incantations.44 Demons can be
overwhelmed by binding them.
The story of the Watchers is a myth about the origin of evil in the world, an
alternative to that in Genesis.45 The first stage of the birth of evil is impurity,
caused by the mixing of heavenly and earthly beings, and dysfunction in
the cosmic order. The Giants—the beings born as a result of the cosmic
dysfunction—give rise to further anomalies in the world that bring about the
defilement of the earth, necessitating the punishment of the Flood. Impurities
and the origin of demons are strictly related (as most ancient Near Eastern
cultures consider demons impure).
incantation from the series Maqlû (II.128), the witch (kaššaptu) is called silversmith, and her spells
are to be broken by the incantation. See Gerhard Meier, Die assyrische Beschwörungssammlung
Maqlû neu bearbeitet (AfO Beiheft, 2; Osnabrück: Biblio-Verlag, 1937, and Neudruck, 1967).
41 V. Haas, Magie und Mythen in Babylonien: von Dämonen, Hexen und
Beschwörungspriestern (Merlins Bibliothek der geheimen Wissenschaften und magischen
Künste, 8; Gifkendorf: Merlin, 1986), 197–198.
42 Ibid., 197–198. In Enūma elīš, the Mesopotamian creation myth, all the gods at war
wear amulets, using their magic power against their enemies. According to the myth of Inanna’s
(Ištar’s) descent into the nether world, the fertility goddess going to the netherworld must part
with one piece of her seven magical powers, represented by her garments and jewels, at each
gate of the netherworld. At the end of her journey, she arrives naked and is delivered without any
magical power to Ereškigal, the lady of the netherworld. In the Sumerian variant of the myth, two
items among Ishtar’s cosmetics and jewels are mentioned as having specific powers of sexual
attraction: her mascara called “let a man come, let him come” and her pectoral called “come,
man, come.” See Innana’s descent to the netherworld, lines 22–23. For the text and translation, see
ETCSL (The electronic text corpus of the Sumerian Literature, Oxford) http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.
uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi?text=t.1.4.1#).
43 The binding effect of the witchcraft is referred to in the title of a series of incantations
known as “The pregnant woman who was bound.” V. Haas, Magie und Mythen in Babylonien,
170.
44 Binding is a constant motif in the Mesopotamian creation myth Enūma elīš, in which
the triumph of the gods over their demonic enemies is marked by binding the enemies. Triumphant
Ea binds Apsu, the primeval ocean, and builds his house over his breast. He also binds Apsu’s
helper, Mummu. Marduk binds Tiamat, then, splitting Tiamat in two, he forms the netherworld in
the monster’s inner part. See ibid., 92.
45 On the problem, see G. Boccaccini, Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the
Ways between Qumran and Enochic Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 72–73.
Jubilees as a Narrative with Systematic Demonology
The early tradition of the Watchers surfaced not only in the later parts of the
Enochic collection.46 It was also systematically absorbed and reworked in
the Book of Jubilees, another extra-canonical book known in Ethiopic,47 the
original of which was found in Qumran.48 The spiritual milieu of Jubilees was
not far from Qumranic views, it seems.49 Jubilees presents the universe with all
its spiritual beings, beneficent and evil. In Jubilees, God creates angels while
creating the world: the angel of the divine presence, the angel of Holiness,
and angels presiding over the works of the cosmos and natural phenomena.
In Jubilees (Jub. 5.1-19), the Watchers were angels who came to the earth in
order to teach righteousness; nonetheless, the opposite intention arose among
them (Jub. 4.15). The children born from angels and earthly women became
Giants. At the same time, they had nothing to do with the sins which began to
spread following their birth (Jub. 5.1-2). Jubilees does not speak about further
offspring of the angels and Giants.
However, they appear again in the narrative following the Flood when
impure demons begin to lead astray the children of Noah’s sons, bringing
them to folly and destruction (Jub. 10.1). The demons lead astray Noah’s
grandchildren, blinding and killing them. In this part, it is definitely stated that
the demons originate from the Watchers (Jub. 10.4-5). As a result of Noah’s
prayer, the Lord binds nine-tenths of the demons; one-tenth are allowed to
work in the world under Mastema’s leadership (Jub. 10.7-14).50
Jubilees presents a hierarchical world of supernatural beings.51 Angels were
created at the beginning of the creation. They are spiritual beings, ruling over
46 1 En. 85–90, the Animal Apocalypse, a historical overview based on the biblical
tradition. The Watchers are mentioned in the antediluvian period as stars which fall to earth upon
seeing the black cows symbolizing earthly women. With them, they beget elephants, camels, and
donkeys.
47 R. H. Charles, The Ethiopic Version of the Hebrew Book of Jubilees (Oxford:
Clarendon, 1895). Like 1 Enoch, it survived in a shorter Greek and a longer Ethiopic text.
48 The Book of Jubilees can be dated to the middle of the second century bce. The earliest
Hebrew fragments from Qumran have been defined as “late Hasmonean,” and as such they are
dated to around 125 bce. As the writing of the fragments is semi-cursive, one has to suppose that
they were preceded by an earlier written tradition. See J. C. VanderKam, Textual and Historical
Studies on the Book of Jubilees (Harvard Semitic Series, 14; Missoula, Mont: Scholars Press,
1977), 215–217.
49 This is strongly suggested by the large number of copies of Jubilees in the Qumran
library and the influence of Jubilees on other writings preserved in the community’s written
traditions. The relationship between the 364-day calendar of Jubilees and the calendars
documented in other Qumran works (11QT, 4QMMT) is generally known. Jubilees is one of the
earliest examples of the “rewritten Bible” genre, retelling narratives of Genesis with both lacunae
and additions.
50 The name originates from the Hebrew verb śtm, “bear a grudge, cherish animosity
against” (Ar. śtn). Hosea 9.7, 8 mentions it as a common noun meaning “enmity.”
51 James C. VanderKam, “The Demons in the Book of Jubilees,” in Lange, Lichtenberger,
and Römheld (eds.), 339–364.
various parts of the cosmos (heavenly bodies and natural phenomena). Demons
originate from angels who descended to earth in an antediluvian age. As
mentioned earlier, they came to teach humans righteousness, but their intention
became the very opposite. Demons are the cause of illnesses, afflictions, and
death (an idea in line with the common Near Eastern belief). The demons
attacking Noah’s grandchildren call to mind Lilith-type figures, baby-killer
demons. Furthermore, the same demons cause blindness and error. These latter
aspects of demons are not related to children, but to adults. Blindness is used in
a metaphoric sense, designating spiritual error and improper religious practice,
a theme that pervades Qumran literature.52
Mastema is yet another character, different from demons that cause illness.53
He appears in Noah’s time as the leader of the demons, standing at the pinnacle
of the demonic hierarchy (cf. Jub. 10.8).54 His name means “the instigator” or
“who raises animosity,” and he acts according to his name. The divine trial
over the sacrifice of Isaac (‛aqedah) takes place at the request of Mastema, who
asks God to test Abraham’s faith (Jub. 17.16; cf. Gen. 22).55 Mastema is a helper
of the Egyptian wizards, who are Moses’ rivals in Egypt (Jub. 48.9-18). Yet
52 The historical survey of 1 En. 85–90 represents Israel as a herd. In the period preceding
the Maccabean revolt, many of the sheep became blind and fell victim to birds of prey. Finally,
white lambs appeared among the herd and began to open the eyes of the blind and lost sheep. The
Damascus Document refers to a group of exiles who “perceived their iniquity and recognized that
they were guilty men, yet for twenty years they were like blind men groping for the way. And God
observed their deeds … and He raised for them a Teacher of Righteousness to guide them in the
way of His heart,” CD i, 7-11. Uncovering of ears and eyes is a metaphor for religious teaching,
CD ii, 3, 14.
53 Mastema figures in the Damascus Document (CD xvi 5), the War Scroll (1QM xiii
11 and the fragment 11Q14 related to it), Pseudo-Jubilees 4Q225 2 i 9; 4Q225 2 ii 6; 4Q225 2 ii
7, 4Q225 2 ii 13, 4Q225 2 ii 14, Pseudo-Moses 4Q387 2 iii 4, 4Q390 1.11), and 4QBeatitudes
(4Q525) 19.4). There are altogether 120 mentions of Belial in the following works: the Damascus
Document (including the fragments from Cave 4), Serek ha-Yahad (1QS, including the fragments
from Cave 4), the War Scroll (1QM), the Thanksgiving Hymns (1QHa), 1Q40, 4Q88, the Pesher
to Psalm 37 (4Q171), the Florilegium (4Q174), Testimonia (4Q175), Tanhumim (4Q176), Catena
(4Q177), 4Q178, Pseudo-Jubilees (4Q225, 4Q226), interpretation on Genesis (4Q253), several
fragments from Cave 4, the exorcistic text 11Q11,and the Melchizedek fragment (11Q13).
54 The figure is akin to Satan in the Book of Job, the bn ’lhym who proposes to God
Job’s testing (Job 1.6-12). It is to be noted that Jubilees mentions also the names Satan and Belial.
Alexander maintains that Mastema is identical to Belial, Satan, Melchiresha, and possibly also
Belzebub and Abaddon; cf. Alexander, “The Demonology of the DSS,” 331–353, esp. 341.
“Mastema/Belial’s roots lie not in the myth of the Watchers, but in the figure of Satan in the
Hebrew Bible, where his status is ambivalent. Satan is clearly some sort of angel who has access
to the heavenly region, but plays a negative role toward humankind, accusing them before God.
Certain negative actions are attributed to him, rather than to God,” ibid., 342.
55 Similar to Pseudo-Jubilees, 4Q225 2 ii 6-7. The fragment preserved a tradition similar to
that of the Book of Jubilees, but the text is not identical with that of Jubilees. Jubilees mentions
several tests in relation to Abraham—the first one taking place in the time of Ur, Kesed’s son
(Jub. 11.5-6), and then in Terah’s days (Jub. 11.10-12). On Abraham and Mastema, see M. Kister,
“Demons, Theology and Abraham’s Covenant (CD 16:4–6 and Related Texts),” in R. A. Kugler
and E. M. Schuller (eds.) The Dead Sea Scrolls at Fifty: Proceedings of the 1997 Society of
Biblical Literature Qumran Section Meetings (Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1997), 167–184.
he represents physical evil at times—e.g., when he intends to kill Moses on his

way back from Midian (Jub. 48.2-3).56
Jubilees reflects a systematic and hierarchical world of non-human spiritual
beings who participate actively in humans’ lives. However, their activity is
limited. All spiritual beings are subordinate to God—even Mastema, head of
the demonic hierarchy. Human beings are not completely defenseless against
the power of demons. Noah brings about God’s reduction of the demons by
ninety percent, and he transmits special knowledge preserved in a book.57
Abraham has power over demons by his righteousness. The nations of the
world also have varying status: Israel is led by God, while “the nations”—i.e.,
foreign peoples—are misled into idolatry by demons.58
Jubilees, written probably before the establishment of the Qumran site and
brought into the community, held outstanding authority within the Qumran
community. As a narrative parallel to the Temple Scroll, it informed its readers
through narrative examples about the ideal of a school of purity. Through
the figures of the patriarchs who could deal with demonic attacks, the book
provided the teaching that those who possess special knowledge are able to
deal with representatives of physical and ethical evil.
Demons and Spirits in Qumran Texts
1 Enoch and Jubilees, two of the main “pre-qumranic texts”—i.e., texts

written before the establishment of a separate community on the Qumran
site—are extremely important in terms of Qumran demonology. 1 Enoch
formulated the essence and origin of the demons in a narrative form; while
Jubilees delineated, in the frame of the patriarchal narratives, a theological
system where the setting and functions of supernatural beings are established.
The rest of the texts found in Qumran make frequent references to demons;
among the manuscripts there are even texts written against demons. Where
and when these texts were composed within the written Qumran tradition
is not clear. For this reason, it is advisable to survey them in the following
manner, according to the types of demonic figures related in them.
56 On the Old Testament model of this episode, see E. Eshel, “Mastema’s Attempt on
Moses’ Life in the ‘Pseudo-Jubilees’ Text from Masada,” DSD 10 (2003), 359–364.
57 VanderKam, “The Demons in the Book of Jubilees,” 339–364, esp. 354–362. A. Lange
suggests that the purpose of Jubilees 10 is “to integrate Greek herbal medicine into the system
of Jewish thought as being revealed by an angel to Noah. Therefore, it is not a pagan practice
forbidden to Jews”; cf. A. Lange, “The Essene Position on Magic and Divination,” in M. J.
Bernstein, F. García Martínez, and J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings
of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies (Cambridge, 1995)
Published in Honour of Joseph M. Baumgarten (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 377–435, esp. 384–385.
Herbal medicine was used in several healing traditions, simultaneously with other methods.
Ancient Near Eastern healing included the use of herbal ingredients, too. The passage may refer
to some local method rather than a Greek practice.
58 VanderKam, “The Demons in the Book of Jubilees,” 339–364, esp. 350–354.
Demons and Sexuality

Tobit is a deuterocanonical book; the original text is known from Qumran.59
It is no accident that the book was part of the Qumran library. Similarities
between Tobit’s outlook and Qumran texts are obvious.60 The demon in Tobit
is the “wicked demon Asmodeus” (Asmodaios to ponēron daimonion) (Tob.
3.8) that “kills [apekteinen] anyone who desires to approach” Sarah, the female
protagonist of the story (Tob. 6.15). Thus, Sarah’s seven bridegrooms are slain
in the bridal room. The narrative stresses that the demon does not harm Sarah
“because he loves her” (Tob. 6.15, Ms. 319). However, household people
think that it is the girl who is killing her bridegrooms, and they consider her a
danger to her environment. Following the accusations of her maid, Sarah asks
for death from God (Tob. 3.7-15).
The figure of the demon in Tobit is related to the theme of Sarah’s marriage.
In the story, she embodies the folkloristic figure called “Giftmädchen” or
“Braut des Unholds.”61 Her relation with the demon is intended in the book as
a marriage link, and the way of getting rid of the demon is similar to a process
of divorce.62 However, the demon is not an incubus that has sexual relations
with its victim.63 The only function of Asmodeus is to impede Sarah’s sexual
relations with any other man, and that is the reason for killing her bridegrooms.
Paradoxically, the demon is God’s means of preventing Sarah from making
a non-endogamic match—that is, to prevent her from being married to the
“wrong” person who is not her match in an endogamic system which the
59 Cave 4 contained the fragments of manuscripts of the Book of Tobit: four Aramaic
(4Q196–199) and one Hebrew (4Q200). All the copies were written between 100 and 50 bce.
Edition of the Aramaic and Hebrew fragments by Joseph A. Fitzmyer, in DJD XIX. Qumran Cave
4. XIV. Parabiblical Texts, Part 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 1–76. A commentary in light
of the Aramaic fragments is J. A. Fitzmyer, Tobit (Commentaries on Early Jewish Literature, 8;
Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2003).
60 I. Fröhlich, “Tobit against the Background of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in G. G.
Xeravits and J. Zsengellér (eds.), The Book of Tobit – Text, Tradition, Theology: Papers of the
First International Conference on the Deuteronomical Books, Pápa, Hungary, 20–21 May 2004
(Leiden: Brill, 2005), 55–70.
61 Marco Frenschkowski, “Tobias,” in Enzyklopädie des Märchens, 13:684–689, esp. 685.
Although parallels are only from a later time, they are worth noting. The tale called “The Porter and
the Young Girls” in the One Thousand and One Nights contains the motif of a beautiful woman
who has been kidnapped by a jealous ifrit (demon) who changes the girl’s visitor, a prince, into an
ape. An inverse form of the motif is known from later sources where a female demon impedes the
marriages of a man, killing his brides. Finally, the third bride manages to appease the demon, and
her marriage is consummated with the bridegroom. See D. Ben-Amos, E. Frankel, et al., Tales from
Eastern Europe: Tales of the Jews 2 (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2007), XX.
62 Beate Ego, “Denn er liebt sie,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die
Dämonen, 309–317, referring to Tob. 3.16.
63 In present-day Egypt, it is a common belief that jinns may be causes of a plague (called
rabt) in a man on account of the fact that the jinn himself is in love with the man’s wife. Therefore,
the jinn inhibits the man’s ability to have sexual intercourse with her. Eliminating the demon
requires a complicated ritual including the writing of various suras of the Quran on dishes and on
the patient’s forehead. See Gerda Sengers, Women and Demons: Cult Healing in Islamic Egypt
(International Studies in Sociology and Social Anthropology, 86; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 261.
narrative considers ideal.64 This is why the demon does not harm Sarah, but
kills anyone who desires to approach her (Tob. 6.15).
Asmodeus’ name comes from the Iranian tradition where Aeshma daeva is
known as the demon of wrath and fury, described as the one with the bloody
club (khrvīdru).65 It may have been the demon’s devastating nature that inspired
Tobit’s author when creating the figure of Asmodeus. The demon resides
either in his victim Sarah’s body or in her immediate surroundings, in the
bridal room.66 There are no references to the figure’s external characteristics.
The demon was imagined probably as an invisible spiritual being. It is thought
to be sensitive to odors and smoke, because it is the fumes from the fish’s
liver (a materia magica) that expel it.67 Fumigation as a means of exorcism
is not known from Jewish tradition; on the other hand, according to several
incantation texts, it was generally practiced in Mesopotamia. Incense was
used in a ritual context, in ceremonies, in the ancient Near East and in Israel.
Their use was aimed at stalling off harmful demonic beings. (Sleigh bells were
used for the same purpose.68) Demons are usually supposed to be able to fly
64 According to the book, it is Tobiah, Sarah’s closest relative, who has the hereditary
right to her and also has the right to inherit her father’s estate (Tob. 6.10-12a). Raphael now refers
to a paternal instruction that Tobiah should “marry a woman on your father’s side” (Tob. 6.16).
On endogamy and the marriage ideal in Tobit, see T. Nicklas, “Marriage in the Book of Tobit: A
Synoptic Approach,” in G. G. Xeravits and J. Zsengellér (eds.), The Book of Tobit: Text, Tradition,
Theology: Papers of the First International Conference on the Deuterocanonical Books (Pápa,
Hungary, May 20–21, 2004), 139–154.
65 M. Boyce, A History of Zoroastrianism (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 1:87. For the origin of
the name, see S. Shaked, “Iranian Influence on Judaism: First Century B.C.E. to Second Century
C.E.,” in W. D. Davies and Louis Finkelstein (eds.), The Cambridge History of Judaism: Vol. 1,
The Persian Period (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 318. (Earlier, Y. M.
Grintz, “Tobit, Book of,” The International Jewish Encyclopedia [Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-
Hall, 1973], 15:1185.) The name Ashmedai is mentioned as a “king” of a host of demons in
an amulet from the Cairo Genizah written for women and concerning menstrual pain. See
L. H. Schiffman and Michael D. Schwartz, Hebrew and Aramaic Incantation Texts from the Cairo
Genizah: Selected Texts from Taylor-Schechter Box K1 (Semitic Texts and Studies, 1; Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 1992), TS K1.18, 30.
66 The demon residing in the body of the patient is a West Semitic idea generally reflected
in the New Testament exorcism stories, also exemplified in Genesis Apocryphon from Qumran,
1Q20 xx 16-29. (For parallels in modern Arabic beliefs, see Gerda Sengers, Women and Demons:
Cult Healing in Islamic Egypt [International Studies in Sociology and Social Anthropology, 86;
Leiden: Brill, 2003], 162–166.) Demons living in the neighbourhood of their victims are known
from Near Eastern tradition—e.g., like the tale cited from the One Thousand and One Nights (see
note 61).
67 Most religions contain the notion that the transcendental does react to odors. Fumes
of burnt sacrifices “go up” to heaven, and can be accepted (or not accepted) there. Smelling the
pleasant odor of the sacrifice that Noah presented, following the Flood, results in it being accepted
by Yahweh (cf. Gen. 8.21).
68 Incenses are part of the cultic paraphernalia; cf. Exod. 38.3; Lev. 16.2; Num. 4.7, 14.
Fumigants are mentioned in cultic terms in Num. 4.16; Num. 7.14; Lev. 10.1 (as paraphernalia of
an illegitimate sacrifice); and several other places in biblical books. Incenses in the cultic practice of
Korah’s group are mentioned in Num. 16, while Num. 17.1 recounts the ritual purification of the people
by fumigation. Incenses found in Philistine and Moabite sites prove their general use in religions.
in the air. Asmodeus, after having been exorcized, “made off” (ephugen) from
Media (supposedly by flying through the air) “into Upper Egypt,” a distant
land.69
The method of the exorcism, the use of materia magica (burning the fish’s
liver and heart) followed by a prayer, is a method taught to Tobiah by the
angel Raphael (Tob. 6.18).70 The prayer evokes the unique God who has the
power to eliminate the demon from the petitioner’s environment. The angel
Raphael is the mediator of the divine ritual power. After Asmodeus had been
exorcized, Raphael followed him and “at once bound him there hand and foot”
(kai edēsen auto ho angelos) (Tob. 8.3).71 The demon in Tobit is part of a
system of relative dualism. It is not an independent power in the world, but a
being subordinate to God’s power. The demon’s exorcism is followed by the
consummation of the marriage.
Tobit reflects a hierarchical world of spiritual beings. Demons and angels
are part of the created world and have special functions in it. There are seven
angels (hagioi aggeloi) in the heavens who stand before “the glory of God”
(Tob. 12.15; cf. Rev. 8.2).72 This may refer to the idea of a heavenly sanctuary,
a special place of angelic worship led by angels that occupy the peak of the
hierarchy.73 Raphael, one of the seven angels, appears in the story as a mediator
of God (12.18).74 Raphael’s task is to bring human prayers before God, to
record them, and to register pious acts of humans (Tob. 12.12-15). It is again
Raphael who is sent to earth to conduct Tobiah to Rages in order to get Tobit’s
money deposited there. He also gives advice to Tobiah concerning healing
and exorcizing demons. His name is a typical functional name referring to his
task of healing.75 Raphael belongs to the transcendent world and has a spiritual
nature. Among humans, he appears in human form—for Tobit, as a fellow
Jew and professional guide who leads Tobiah to Media. However, his nature
69 Egypt was renowned as the land of magic; cf. Exod. 7.11, 1QapGen. xx 20. The Giants,
demonic offspring of the fallen Watchers, are reported as being capable to flight; cf. 4QEnGiantsb
(4Q530) 3.4-5. Demons were often depicted as wind-like beings; cf. 1 En. 15.4-12.
70 On exorcizing demons, see C. A. Moore, Tobit: A New Translation with Introduction
and Commentary (The Anchor Bible, 40A; New York: Doubleday), 1996, 211–215.
71 Making demons inoffensive and harmless means binding them. The archangels
Gabriel and Raphael bind the chiefs of the fallen Watchers. ‘Asa’el is bound by Raphael (cf. 1 En.
10.4-6; see also 88.1), while Shemihazah is bound by Michael (1 En. 10.10-12; see also 88.3). Cf.
also Rev. 12.7-9. Raphael, together with Michael, is addressed in several magical texts. See L. T.
Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration and Christology: A Study in Early Judaism and in Christology of
the Apocalypse of John (WUNT, 2. 70; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr [P. Siebeck], 1995), 194–195.
72 Late biblical and postbiblical literature mentions the following angels: Michael in
Dan. 10.13, 21, 12.1; Gabriel in Dan. 8.16, 9.21; Raguel in 1 En. 20.4; and Uriel in 1 En. 9.1,
19.1, 20.2. Raguel, “Friend of God,” is an archangel’s name in 1 En. 20.4. According to Tobit,
angels do not eat (eating is only an appearance for Raphael; cf. Tob. 12.19), and they can fly (Tob.
12.20).
73 See P. S. Alexander, The Mystical Texts: Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice and Related
Manuscripts – Companion to the Qumran Scrolls 67: 7 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2006), 55.
74 As Raphael informs Tobit, “I was sent to test you” (Tob. 12.13).
75 Elements of the name being “to heal” (rp’) and godly/heavenly being (’l).
is different from that of humans. He needs neither human food nor drink.
His seeming eating and drinking, as perceived by humans, is an appearance
(horasis) only (Tob. 12.19). As a spiritual being, he is able to fly, to ascend to
heaven (Tob. 12.20).
Genesis Apocryphon mentions a spirit (rwh.) which causes impotence in
Pharaoh’s court according to the narrative expansion on Abram and Sarai’s
stay in Egypt (cf. Gen. 12.10-20). The author aims to justify the purity of
Sarai, the female protagonist who was endangered when taken by force from
her husband and brought to the court of Pharaoh (cf. Gen. 12.15). Genesis
mentions, without any further detail, that Pharaoh was smitten by plagues
(Gen. 12.17). The addition in Genesis Apocryphon fills a gap in the narrative
logic of Gen. 12,76 offering an undeniable proof that Sarai could not have been
made impure either by Pharaoh or by any other Egyptian (1Q20 xix 10-20, cf.
Gen. 12.12-20).
After Sarai was taken away by Pharaoh’s men, a pestilential spirit (rwh.
mktš) was sent by God to Pharaoh’s court on Abram’s prayer (1Q20 xx 16),
an evil spirit (rwh. b’yš’) (1Q20 xx 16-17) in order “to afflict him [lmktšh] and
every person of his household, so that he was not able to approach her [lmqrb],
nor did he have sexual relations with her [w’p l’ yd‛h’]” (1Q20 xx 16-17). The
plague smote Pharaoh’s court for two years (1Q20 xx 18). Finally, “he sent a
message to all the wise m[en] of Egypt [hkymy mqryn], and to all the magicians
[’špy’], in addition to all the physicians of Egypt [’sy mqryn], thinking that
perhaps they could cure him and his household of this pestilence” (1Q20
xx 18-20). However, the healers were unable to cure him. Indeed, they, too,
were afflicted by the spirit. Consequently, Pharaoh sent his man Herqanosh to
Abram, asking Abram to pray over him and to lay his hand upon him, “so that
he would live” (wyh.h) (1Q20 xx 22), for Pharaoh had seen Abram in a dream
(1Q20 xx 21-22). Pharaoh learns that “the afflictions and hardships” (kwl
mktšy’ wngdy’) are due to Sarai, the wife of Abram” (1Q20 xx 24-26). (It is
understood here that Pharaoh took to himself a married woman. With this, he
invoked the sin of adultery.77) The condition of dismissing the spirit is to return
Sarai to her husband, which Pharaoh is willing to do (1Q20 xx 26-27), and he
asks Abram to pray over him and his household “that this evil spirit may be
driven away from us” (1Q20 xx 28). Abram does so. He prays over Pharaoh
and lays his hand upon his head. Thus, the affliction is removed, and the evil
spirit is driven away from him. Recovered from his illness, the king gives
76 According to Gen. 12.10-20, Abram, driven by famine, went to Egypt with his wife
Sarai. Sarai’s beauty captured the attention of the Egyptians, and they brought the woman (who
told them she was Abram’s sister) to Pharaoh’s court. Following this, God smote Pharaoh and
his court with plagues. As a result of the plagues, Pharaoh gave back Sarai to her husband. The
narrative leaves room for doubt whether Sarai was given back to her husband untouched by the
Egyptians.
77 Adultery—sexual intercourse between a married or betrothed woman and any man
other than her husband (also called in ancient Near Eastern sources “the great sin”)—was
generally considered a capital crime. See E. Adler Goodfriend, “Adultery,” ABD 1:82–86.
rich presents to Abram (1Q20 xx 28-29). He takes an oath (wym’ … bmwmh)

that he had no relations with Sarai (dy l’ yd‛h’) and did not make her impure
(w[l’ t.]myh’). Finally, he returns her to Abram (1Q20 xx 30-31).
The harmful being is called rwh. (meaning similar to “wind” and “spirit”). Its
harmful character is referred to by its attribute “afflicting” (mktš). The activity
of the demon is prolonged and extended. It lasts for two years and smites every
male in the royal palace, causing general barrenness leading to starvation.78
There is no ancient Jewish parallel to the motif of the impotence-causing
spirit.79 Mesopotamian texts usually attribute drought, famine, illnesses,
barrenness, and impotence to harmful spirits (called generally utukku, from
Sumerian UDUG.HUL).80 Some texts attribute the origin of illnesses and
dysfunctions of the human body to the “hand” (kātu) of some god. The form of
the “hand of god” is usually some illness caused by a demonic mediator. Some
incantation texts attribute the illness directly to a demonic harm called “hand
of ghost” (ŠU.GIDIM.MA).81 The cause of the illness is usually some past sin
committed by the patient, an offense against a certain god, which calls forth
the functioning of the “hand of god.” The concept of a causal relationship
between sin and illness was similar in Israel.82 Abram refers in his prayer
to the ethical impurity which would be invoked if Pharaoh took Sarai into
his harem. Accordingly, the Pharaoh would offend God. Abram refers in his
prayer to God’s mighty hand (yd rbt’, 1Q20 xx 14). The appearance of the evil
spirit is not spontaneous in Genesis Apocryphon; it was sent by God following
78 Dupont-Sommer read the demon’s attribute as šh. lny (šh. lny (1Q20 xx 26),), which he
related to the root šh. l “couler, suppurer.” He translated the demon’s name as “l’esprit des pustules”
and supposed it to be the cause of contagious illness. See André Dupont-Sommer, “Exorcismes et
guérisons dans les récits de Qoumrân,” in George W. Anderson (ed.), Congress Volume – Oxford
1959 (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum, 7; Leiden: Brill, 1960), 246–261, esp. 250.
79 A special group of Mesopotamian medical texts (the series called ŠÀ.ZI.GA) are
potency incantations. They prescribe magical practices to regain lost potency, hardly ever
mentioning demons as the cause of the problem. On incantations healing impotence, see Robert D.
Biggs, ŠÀ.ZI.GA: Ancient Mesopotamian Potency Incantations (Texts from Cuneiform Sources,
2; Locust Valley, N.Y.: Verlag J. J. Augustin, 1967).
80 Marten Stol, “Psychosomatic Suffering in Ancient Mesopotamia,” in Tzvi Abusch
(ed.), Mesopotamian Magic: Textual, Historical, and Interpretative Perspectives (Ancient Magic
and Divination, 1; Groningen: Styx, 1999), 57–68, esp. 58.
81 Cf. J. Scurlock and Burton Andersen, Diagnoses in Assyrian and Babylonian Medicine
(Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2005), 110–113. Mesopotamian medical literature
attributes a wide scope of symptoms to ghostly affliction: noises, apparitions, physical problems,
head- or neck-aches, ghosts in the ears, ghostly pains, ghosts in the intestines, numbness, dizziness,
shortness of breath, ghost fever, neurological disorders, mental disturbance, odd behavior, and
living skeleton. See JoAnn Scurlock, Magico-medical Means of Treating Ghost-induced Illnesses
in Ancient Mesopotamia (Ancient Magic and Divination, 3; Leiden and Boston: Styx-Brill, 2006).
82 E.g., the case of Job when his friends argue that the plagues smiting Job must have
their origin in some remote sin; cf. Job 4.7-8, 5.6-7 and passim. On the ancient Near Eastern idea
of the causal relation between sin and illness, see Karel Van der Toorn, Sin and Sanction in Israel
and Mesopotamia: A Comparative Study (Studia Semitica Neerlandica, 22; Assen: Royal Van
Gorcum, 1985); cf. also Scurlock, Magico-Medical Means of Treating Ghost-Induced Illnesses in
Ancient Mesopotamia, 73–74.
Abram’s request addressed to him in a prayer, that God should not allow his
wife Sarai to be made impure for him (i.e., Abram).83 Thus, impotence caused
by a demonic force is not the consequence of a sin, but a prevention of it. It
makes it impossible to commit an offense against God.
The author of the narrative on Abram in Genesis Apocryphon evinces a good
knowledge of terms and methods concerning magical healing. The text uses
three terms for specialists in magical healing: the wise men of Egypt (hkymy
mqryn), the magicians (’špy’), and the physicians (’sy mqryn). Their methods
are not revealed in the text. The first term (hkm) is a general one used for wise
men, scholars, and specialists of a particular science.84 The two other terms are
names of Mesopotamian (not Egyptian) magical healers (āšipu) and physical
practitioners (asû).
The exorcism (and healing) takes place only after Sarai is returned to
her husband and the Pharaoh takes an oath that he has not touched Sarai.
Consequently, Abram performs magical healing. His prayer over Pharaoh
is tantamount to an invocation to the ritual power that has sent the demon.85
Exorcizing the demon is described as performed through the healer’s laying on
of hands over the patient.86 The method of laying on of hands appears in the
story of the Syrian army commander Naaman (2 Kings 5.1-14). Naaman says
83 The legal background lying behind Abram’s argument is Deut. 24.1-4, according to
which a wife who is divorced and has married again becomes impure for her first husband. Thus,
he is forbidden to remarry her.
84 A. Leo Oppenheim, Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead Civilization (2nd rev.
edn.; Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1977), 294–304; Jack M. Sasson (ed.),
Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1995), 3:1918–1920;
JoAnn Scurlock, “Physician, Exorcist, Conjurer, Magician: A Tale of Two Healing Professions,”
in I. Tzvi Abusch and K. van der Toorn (eds.), Mesopotamian Magic: Textual, Historical, and
Interpretative Perspectives (Groningen: Styx Publications, 1999), 69–79.
85 Contrary to this, Jesus never invokes the divine name and does not cite prayers in his
exorcisms; they are performed by his own divine power. See W. Kirschschläger, “Exorzismus in
Qumran?”, Kairos: Zeitschrift für Judaistik und Religionswissenschaft 18 (1976), 135–153, esp.
143.
86 The verb smk, “lean, lay, rest, support,” expresses taking possession (ususally of the
animal to be sacrified). The laying on of hands in relation to humans may serve the purpose of
healing, blessing, or praying and stems from the ancient belief that the head is the central seat of
man’s life. Hence, the ordination smykh of spiritual leaders in Israel requires the placement of hands
upon the ordained. Cf., Moses transmitting the leadership to Joshua (Num. 27.23; Deut. 34.9) and
the blessings of the leaders to the people (Lev. 9:22). See also “Handauflegung,” RGG3 1407–1410.
The laying on of hands in the New Testament is associated in a similar manner with healing, blessing,
reception of baptism and the Holy Spirit, and ordination. See David Daube, “The Laying on of
Hands,” in D. Daube and D. B. Carmichael (eds.), New Testament and Rabbinic Judaism: Studies
in Comparative Legal History (Berkeley: University of California at Berkeley, 2000 [reprint of the
1956 edition]), 224–246; J. A. Fitzmyer, The Genesis Apocryphon of Qumran Cave 1 (1Q20): A
Commentary, 3rd edn. (Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2004), 207; Menachem Brayer,
“Psychosomatics, Hermetic Medicine, and Dream Interpretation in the Qumran Literature,” JQR 60
(1970), 112–127, 213–230, esp. 228–229; Dieter Trunk, Der Messianische Heiler: Eine redaktions-
und religionsgeschichtliche Studie zu den Exorzismen im Matthäusevangelium (Herders Biblische
Studien, 3; Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder Verlag, 1994), 278–279.
he thought that Elisha would cure his leprosy (an illness with visible bodily
marks) by waving his hand over the spot (2 Kings 5.11). This account leads
us to presuppose the belief that the illness (or the demon that was the cause of
the illness) was dwelling in the patient’s body and was the main source of the
patient’s ill-health.87 This idea is clearly shaped in Genesis Apocryphon, where
it is related that once the laying on of hands is effected, the demon leaves
the body of Pharaoh and his environment. Several pericopae on exorcisms
in the New Testament refer to the demon leaving the human body following
the laying on of hands. The concept of the demon residing in the body, as
well as its exorcism by a ritual laying on of hands, was a general belief in the
Palestinian milieu of the first century ce.
The term which concludes the magical healing by Abram in Genesis
Apocryphon is the expression “that he may live” (1Q20 xx 22). The same
formula is known from a New Testament pericope about healing when Jesus
is asked to “come and lay your hands on her (i.e., Jairus’ daughter), so that she
may be made well, and live” (Mk 5.23).
Amulets and magic bowls with inscriptions against demonic harm are well
known from Palestine and Syria.88 They originate somewhat later than the text
and tradition of Genesis Apocryphon; however, they might shed some light
on issues related to Palestinian ideas concerning the nature and working of
demons. Most of these objects are confined to warding off demons from the
household and from persons.
Demons of Fever
The Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242),89 a monologue of the king Nabonidus,

mentions a fever most likely caused by a demon. The king recounts that he has
been afflicted with a severe inflammation (šh. n’ byš’) for seven years (4Q242
1-3.2-3).90 He was healed by an exorcist (gzr), an exiled Jew who cured him
87 On demons residing in the patient’s body, see Marten Stol, “Magico-Medical Means
of Treating Ghost-Induced Illnesses in Ancient Mesopotamia,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine
81.3 (2007): 652–653. Some of Jesus’ healing addresses an illness caused by a demon residing
in the patient’s body; cf. Lk. 4.40-41. A later example is the spirit called “the spirit of the bones”
described as one who “walks within the tendons and the bones of Quzma son of Salminu.” See
J. Naveh and S. Shaked, Amulets and Magic Bowls: Aramaic Incantations of Late Antiquity (2nd
edn. with additions and corrections; Jerusalem: The Magnes Press, 1987), 41; A1:21–22.
88 On the bowls, see Gideon Bohak, Ancient Jewish Magic: A History (Cambridge, UK
and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 183–192.
89 The text that contains a legend about Nabonid (to be identified with the historical
Neo-Babylonian king Nabu-naid, 555–539 bce) has been published in several editions. A recent
standard edition is J. J. Collins, “4Q242: Prayer of Nabonidusar,” in J. Brooke, et al. (eds.),
Discoveries in the Judean Desert: XXII. Qumran Cave 4.XVII. Parabiblical Texts, Part 3 (DJD,
XXII; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 83–93.
90 The word šh. yn (“boil, inflamed spot”) is the term for the skin disease of boils, one of
the ten plagues brought by the Lord on Egypt, according to Exod. 9.9-11. Cf. Deut. 28.27, 35; Job
2.7.
by absolving his sins and laying his hand on him.91 Surviving elements of the
fragmentary text do not refer to a demon (rwh.’ or its synonym). However, the
description of the healing method, the laying on of hands (known also from
the Genesis Apocryphon and New Testament parallels), leads one to suppose
that the illness of the king was seen as caused by some agent—probably a
demon (rwh.’)—residing in his body.92 Similarly, no mention of the cause of
the plague has survived in the text. The part that mentions the king’s praying
in vain to various idols made of gold, silver, and other materials before his
successful healing can be interpreted as a narrative element referring to a sin
(idolatry) committed by the king. According to Jewish tradition, any foreign
cult or ritual is idolatry, the cult of false and powerless gods. The ritual power
that heals the king belongs to Yahweh. The mediator of the healing power is
the Judean exorcist (gzr).
Demons of fever and other illnesses are mentioned in the fragmentary
Aramaic text labeled 4Q560.93 The text is, in all probability, an exorcistic healing
text addressing illnesses caused by demons, and it gives a healing recipe for
getting rid of the demons called rwh. (4Q560 1 ii 5) and the “evil visitor”
(pqd b’yš) which “enters the flesh” (‛ll bbśr’) (4Q560 1 i 2-3). The text speaks
of male and female agents of the disease: “the male penetrator” (h.lhy’ dkr’)
and “the female penetrator” (h.lhlyt nqb’) (4Q560 1 i 3).94 They transmit fever
(’š’), chills (‛ry’), and pain in the heart (’št lbb) (4Q560 1 i 4).95 They are active
during the night (4Q560 1 i 5).96 A further pair of male and female phenomena
91 The cause of illness is usually some sin committed by the patient in the past. On this
idea, see note 82.
92 According to the ancient Near Eastern concept, demons enter the body through the ears
and reside in the head. See M. Stol, Epilepsy in Babylonia (Groningen: Styx, 1993), 52.
93 The standard edition of the text is É. Puech, “4Q Livret magique ar (Pl. XVI)” in
DJD XXXVII (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2009), 291–302, with several new readings. Earlier
editions and remarks are D. L. Penney and M. O. Wise, “By the Power of Beelzebub: An Aramaic
Incantation Formula from Qumran (4Q560),” JBL 113 (1994), 627–650; J. Naveh, “Fragments
of an Aramaic Magic Book from Qumran,” IEJ 48 (1998), 252–261; and F. García Martínez and
E. J. Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study (1st and 2nd edn.; Leiden: Brill, 1998), 2:1116–1117.
94 According to Puech, “… est entré dans la chair le poison mâle, et le poison femelle”;
cf. DJD XXXVII, 296.
95 Puech’s translation runs, “fièvre et frisson, et feu/fièvre de coeur.” He intends the words
referring to sins (‛w’n wpš‛) in the same line as part of the same enumeration “… qui génére(ra)
inquiété et péché, fièvre et frisson, et feu/fièvre de coeur” (4Q560 1 i 4). However, in the ancient
Near Eastern worldview, sins are rather causes than consequences of the demonic offenses
that result in illnesses. See K. van der Toorn, Sin and Sanction in Israel and Mesopotamia: A
Comparative Study (Assen: Royal van Gorcum, 1985).
96 The word bh.lwm or “asleep” in the same line may refer to this. Night demons are, first
of all, the members of the lilû family. They are well documented from Mesopotamian incantation
texts. They are male (lilû) and female (wardat lilî) types of incubus and succubus, attacking the
opposite sex and causing erotic dreams and infirmity. On the other hand, night is the time par
excellence for any demonic attack. The demons mentioned in our text are not of a sexual nature
(incubi or succubi), but are demons residing in the patient’s body. The text describes a group of
physical symptoms.
or symptoms (prk dkr wprk nqbt’) are mentioned again (4Q560 1 i 5).97 The
next column contains a speech of the exorcist to the demon, “I adjure you,
spirit … I compel you, spirit” (w‘nh rwh. mwmh … ‘wmytk rwh.‘) (4Q560 1
ii 5-6). Thus, the demon is made ineffective by an “oath” (mwmh), probably
an incantation, the reciting of a fixed text (i.e., the text which followed the
above summons).98 Unfortunately, no further lines are readable. The text is
most probably a healing text written for practical use, for the exorcism of
demons causing illnesses.99
Fever was considered a serious danger in the ancient world, and it is a
frequent theme in late antique Jewish amulets. Terms for fever in these amulets
are the Hebrew ’š,100 the Aram ’šh,101 and ’šth.102 They are often mentioned
together with synonyms like “fever and shiver.”103 A special term is ’yšt’ rqyqt’
or “hectic fever.”104 Fever is often described as an attack of fire from which the
patient is to be saved with the help of the amulet.105 Healing means exorcizing
these illnesses from the body. Causes of fever are usually demons, mentioned
most often in male and female categories.106 This terminology expresses the
97 The interpretation as symptoms is based on the meaning of the words prk and prkyt
in amulet texts: “crumble” or “crush” (referring to problems related with teeth). See J. Naveh
and S. Shaked, Amulets and Magic Bowls: Aramaic Incantations of Late Antiquity (Amulet 11)
(Jerusalem: Magnes Press, and Leiden: Brill, 1985), 90–94. Puech translates the two expressions
as le broyeur/une idole mâle and la broyeuse/l’idole femelle.
98 The grammar of the incantations has been well established in research. See Wilfred
L. Knox, “Jewish Liturgical Exorcism,” HTR 31 (1938), 191–203; Bonner Campbell, “The
Technique of Exorcism,” HTR 36 (1943), 39–49; Todd E. Klutz, “The Grammar of Exorcism
in the Ancient Mediterranean World: Some Cosmological, Semantic, and Pragmatic Reflections
on How Exorcistic Prowess Contributed to the Worship of Jesus” (Papers from the St. Andrews
Conference on the Historical Origins of the Worship of Jesus), in Newman C. Carey (ed.), The
Jewish Roots of Christological Monotheism (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 156–165.
99 Alexander, “The Demonology of the DSS,” 331–353, esp. 345–346. He believes that
4Q560 has conserved the “remnants of a recipe book containing the texts of amulets, which a
professional magician would have copied out and personalized for the client’s use.”
100 E.g., J. Naveh and S. Shaked, Amulets and Magic Bowls: Aramaic Incantations of Late
Antiquity (Amulet 3) (’š).
101 E.g., J. Naveh and S. Shaked, Magic Spells and Formulae: Aramaic Incantations of
Late Antiquity (Amulet 24:11, 26:2) (’šh).
102 E.g., Naveh and Shaked, Magic Spells and Formulae, Amulet 19:1–2 (’šth rbth).
103 Naveh and Shaked, Amulets and Magic Bowls, Amulet 4:29 (wh’š wh‛ryh) and Amulet
9:1 (‛yrywt’); Schiffman-Schwartz, TS K.127, in L. H. Schiffman and Michael D. Schwartz,
Hebrew and Aramaic Incantation Texts from the Cairo Genizah. Selected Texts from Taylor-
Schechter Box K1 (Semitic Texts and Studies, 1; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992),
Geniza 5:1–2.
104 Naveh and Shaked, Amulets and Magic Bowls, Geniza 5:1.
105 Naveh and Shaked, Magic Spells and Formulae, Amulet 17 and Amulet 18, pp. 50–60.
106 In Naveh and Shaked, Magic Spells and Formulae, “all kinds of demons, male and
female” (Amulet 1:8), “male and female liliths” (Amulet 1:10), “a series of male and female
spirits” (Amulet 2:4), “and shadow-spirit, whether male or female” (Amulet 24:12), “male and
female” (Amulet 26:2), “pebble-spirits and liliths, both mentioned as male and female” (Bowl
l16:3), “šyd’, male and female” (Bowl 20:3), “brqt’ (cataract) male and female” (Bowl 25), “male
and female demons” (Geniza 10, Geniza 12:17), and “shadow spirit (hs.lnyt) and the male and
universal nature of the causes. The idea of male and female agents of illnesses
and those of healing is well documented from Mesopotamian magical healing
texts where illnesses caused by male and female demons were cured with the
help of male and female figurines used in magical healing rites.107
Demons mentioned in a text of exorcism from Qumran (11Q11) are various.
The text contains four compositions, the last one of which is Psalm 91. Psalm 91
is an apotropaic song, a blessing for the righteous against threatening dangers.
The source of the ritual power is God, called by various names (‘lywn, šdy,
Ps. 91.1; YHWH, Ps. 91.2, 9; ’lhym, Ps. 91.2 = 11Q11 vi 3-4). One of the
names, šdy, is a name generally used in magical texts. The plagues threatening
the righteous are listed in three sequences, separated by sentences affirming
that the plagues included in the list are not to smite the righteous. The three
sequences respectively comprise three, four, and five names of plagues.108 The
first and second series mention, among other names, some words that refer
unambiguously to pestilence. Such names are deber (second on the list in the
first sequence, and third on the list in the second sequence) and qeteb (fourth
on the list in the second sequence).109
Other names in the first series involve “the fowler’s snare/trap” (ph. yqwš)
and “destruction” (h.wwt) (Ps. 91.3) (11Q11 vi 6).110 The rest of the second
series of plagues (Ps. 91.5-8), comprises “nocturnal dread” (ph.d lylh) and the
“arrow which flies by day” (h.q y‛wp ywmm). Deber and qeteb are demonic
representatives of the plague.111 The metaphor of the arrow in the second
female spirit (rwh. zkr unqbh).” In Naveh and Shaked, Amulets and Magic Bowls, “the demon
(šydh) whether male or female (’n dkr w’nnqbh)” (Amulet 4:15), “the shadow-spirit, whether
male or female” (Amulet 7:6–7), and “evil liliths, male and female” (Amulet 7b:3, Bowl 8);
Schiffman-Schwartz, 1992, “all kinds of demons and demonesses, lilis and liliths, evil diseases,
harmful male spirits and harmful female spirits, and evil spirits, male and female”; TS K1.18,
30:8–10.
107 F. A. M. Wiggermann, Mesopotamian Protective Spirits: The Ritual Texts (Cuneiform
Monographs, 1; Groningen: Styx), 1992. On the continuity of Mesopotamian tradition and late
antique Jewish amulets, see J. B. Segol and E. C. D. Hunter, Catalogue of the Aramaic and
Mandaic Incantation Bowls in the British Museum (London, 2000); M. Geller, “Four Aramaic
Incantation Bowls,” in G. Rendsburg, et al. (eds.), The Bible World: Essays in Honour of Cyrus
H. Gordon (New York: Ktav, 1980), 47–60.
108 The numbers of the members of the three series in Ps. 91 (3+4+5=12) may also
express a numeric symbolism. This aim would explain the repeated reference to certain plagues
by different synonyms and metaphors.
109 “Pestilence coming in darkness” (dbr b’pl yhlwk) and “destruction devastating at
noon” (qtb yšwd qh.rym) (11Q11 vi 9-10).
110 Although represented only by the first member of the list, the first series of plagues is
characterized as “Vogelwelt.” See Peter Riede, Im Netz des Jägers: Studien zur Feindmetaphorik
der Individualpsalmen (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2000), 337; E. Zenger, “Hermeneia: A
Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible,” in F. L. Hossfeld, E. Zenger, K. Baltzer, and
L. M. Maloney (eds.), Psalms 2: A Commentary on Psalms 51–100 (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,
2005), 433. On “the fowler’s trap” (ph. yqwš), see A. Caquot, “Le Psaume XCI,” Semitica 6
(1956), 21–37, esp. 27.
111 A. Caquot, “Sur quelques démons de l’Ancien Testament (Reshep, Qeteb, Deber),”
Semitica 6 (1956), 53–68. Caquot argues that the names are not simply personifications of
series may refer to a touch of the sun112 or, again, to pestilence (arrows of
the sun being associated in several antique cultures with pestilence).113 The
third series of plagues (Ps. 91.12-13) enumerates physical dangers.114 They are
without any seeming demonic connotation.
Besides Psalm 91, the highly fragmented text of 11Q11 contains three
more compositions (Songs 1–3) not documented in other sources. The third
composition (11Q11 v 4–vi 3) is attributed to David. According to its title, it
is “a charm (lh.š) for the stricken, in YHWH’s name” (11Q11 v 4). The generic
term lh.š (“charm”) is unprecedented in religious lyrics. It clearly refers to a
magical song used against demonic forces. The title refers also to the time
(or the occasion) when the song is to be recited.115 The charm describes an
encounter with a demon that is to be made inoffensive. The first step is the
asking for the name of the demon: “Who are you?”116 This is followed by the
description of the demon (seen probably as a horasis, a demonic vision). It has
human traits (a face) and animal characteristics (horns). “For your appearance
is [nothing,] and your horns are horns of vision” (pnyk pny [š]ww wqrnyk
qrny h.l[w]m) (11Q11 v 7). The natural element associated with the horasis is
“darkness” (hwšk), an element usually associated with demons, thought to be
dwellers of the netherworld, the country of dust and darkness.117
The mixed, human-heavenly origin (… m]’dm wmzr‛ hqd[wšy]m) “from
humans and from the seed of the holy ones” (11Q11 v 6) mentioned in the
fragmentary text is supposedly a characteristic of the demon. This motif
recalls the tradition of the Watchers known from the Enochic collection (1 En.
diseases, but stand for demonic beings.

112 Cf. Job 6.4, where Job’s plague is caused by the arrows of God (also referred to here
as Shaddai). The heat of the arrows results in fever.
113 The pestilence (loimos) in Homer’s Iliad I is caused by the arrows of Apollon
Smintheus (a sun-god as well as a god of pestilence). In Mesopotamia, the arrow symbolized
the deities Erra, Ninurta, and Nergal, the latter one described as “[bearing] bow, arrow, and
quiver”; cf. E. von Weiher, Der babylonische Gott Nergal (AOAT, 11; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Verlag
Butzon & Bercker, Neukirchener Verlag, 1971), 71. Both Erra and Nergal were deities related
to pestilence and demons. See G. J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren, Theological Dictionary of the
Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), 120. The biblical metaphor for pestilence is the
sword of YHWH’s angel; cf. 2 Sam. 24.10-17.
114 Namely “stone” (’bn), “lion” (šh. l), “adder” (ptn); “young lion” (kpyr), and “serpent”
(tnyn). All of them are for physical dangers caused by a natural obstacle (stone) or animal
onslaught. Two animals (serpent, lion) are doubled by synonyms. It cannot be decided if these
terms represent physical perils or some of them are intended metaphorically.
115 “Invoke any time to the heav[ens when] Bel[ial] comes to you” ([qr‛ bk]l ‛t ’l hšm[ym
’šr] ybw’ ’lyk bly[‛l) (11Q11 v 5). An alternative to the reading Belial is bly[lh] “during the night”
or “at night.” This interpretation would change the setting of the scene of the exorcism.
116 The first phase of exorcism is inquiring the name of the demon and getting power over
it by learning its name. Cf., e.g., the New Testament scene of one of Jesus’ exorcisms, expelling
the demon named Legiōn from the body of a man. See Mk 5.9; Lk. 8.30.
117 The motif of darkness played a peculiar role in Essene thinking. According to their
terminology, darkness is identified with sins and impurity, and it is associated with enemies of the
righteous. The eschatological war is waged between forces of Light and Darkness. See The War
Scroll (1QMilhamah).
6–11). Relations between human women and the Watchers (also called holy
ones118) brought forth Giants who would later be progenitors of the world of
demons.119 The tradition that demons originated from relations between human
and heavenly beings is referred to in several of the Qumran literary texts.120
The demon portrayed visually is a peculiar element of the account.121 The
fragmented condition of the text does not allow us to reconstruct its content
or to form any clear idea of this figure. However, it seems that the demon
is a “phantasma,” mentioned not only in visionary literature, but at times
even in amulet texts.122 The demon in 11Q11 is visualized with horns. Horn is
traditionally a symbol of power in ancient Israel, as well as in Mesopotamia and
Syria. Mesopotamian gods are represented as human figures wearing horned
crowns in various iconographic genres such as reliefs and glyptic art. Horns are
the gods’ differentia specifica and represent their divine power. Further figures
represented with horns are the protective spirits (šēdu lamassu), the human-
headed winged bulls in Neo-Assyrian and Babylonian art.123 Another example
of horned protective spirits in Syrian and Mesopotamian iconography is the
kusarikku, the bull man (or bison man), a human being with horns and hoofs.
The Seven Gods, another group of protective spirits, are depicted with horned
headdresses. Horns are not limited to male deities. Mesopotamian reliefs show
winged male and female genii with horned headdresses.124 The representation
of a female deity with a three-horned conical mitre is known from an Edomite
118 Cf. Dan. 4.10, 20.

119 The Giants perished in the Flood together with the humans. Having a spiritual nature
from their fathers’ side, their spirits subsist in the world as evil demons; cf. 1 En. 15.8. On the
Enochic tradition of the Watchers and its role in Qumran demonology, see more in I. Fröhlich,
“Theology and Demonology in Qumran Texts,” Henoch 32 (2010), 101–129.
120 Cf. Jub. 4.15, 5.1-19, 10.1-14; 4Q510 1.5-8; 4Q511 10.1-5.
121 Non-human beings (if visualized) usually appear in human form in biblical literature.
The three angels in Gen. 18–19 are wayfarers; the angel Raphael appears as a young man in the
Book of Tobit (Tob. 5.4-8). Samuel’s ghost (probably a shadow-like figure, like the et.emmu-s, the
spirits of the dead described in Mesopotamian texts) appears as an old man wrapped in a robe
(1 Sam. 28.11-14). Greek sources usually depict evil daimons as visible figures, ghosts (eidōla,
psukhai), and apparitions (phasmata, phantasmata).
122 An amulet portrays the demon thus, “… this is the figure of the tormentor (mbklt’)
that appears in dreams and takes various forms.” Cf. Naveh and Shaked, Magic Spells and
Formulae, Bowl 18, 122–123. The tormentor (mbklt’ fem.) mentioned in the text may be a female
night-demon appearing in various forms. Greek Christian literature calls similar phenomena
phantasma—referring, in all probability, to erotic dreams and visions.
123 Wiggerman, Mesopotamian Protective Spirits, 34/438; 42; 95ff; 127/13; 175/6; 176/10.
Wiggerman, on pages 143–164, sees a dominant strategy in first-millennium Mesopotamian
demonology: that of creating demons from animals symbolizing force or power combined with
anthropomorphic elements. However, the difference between demons and monsters or protective
spirits depended more upon their function in a given period than on any essential character
trait attached to them. On this, see A. Green, “Beneficent Spirits and Malevolent Demons: The
Iconography of Good and Evil in Ancient Assyria and Babylonia,” in H. G. Kippenberg (ed.),
Visible Religion: Annual for Religious Iconography 3 (Popular Religion) (Leiden: Brill, 1984),
80–105.
124 Wiggerman, Mesopotamian Protective Spirits, 178.
shrine in the Judean site Horvat Qitmit (sixth century bce).125 The possible
origin of the demonic horned figure in the vision of 11Q11 is probably the
imagery of the horned divine and semi-divine figures in Mesopotamia and
Syria, known generally in these lands. They were possibly demonized in Jewish
tradition, being interpreted as malevolent demons. (The demonization of the
religious beliefs of “the alien” or “the rival” group is a general phenomenon
in the history of religions.) No sickness or plague is named in the text of the
third song of 11Q11. It seems that the “plague” was the phantasma itself, the
apparition of the demon.
Legible words in the subsequent part of the text (11Q11 v 8–vi 3) refer to
the netherworld Sheol ([lš’w]l th. tyt), and bronze gates ([d]lty nh. wšt) (11Q11
v 9). Sheol is described as the world of darkness, expressed with an antonym
of light (lw ’wr) (11Q11 v 10). This part can be reconstructed with the help
of well-known portions from the exorcistic literature where the conquest of
the demon is described as its binding, defixatio (a well-known element from
magical literature).126 In all probability, the line containing words referring
to God, the netherworld, and its bronze gates (11Q11 v 9) is a statement
refering to the disempowerment of the demon, its binding and casting into
the netherworld. The next line depicts the dark realm of Sheol, the site of the
demon’s punishment.
The word selah, preceded probably by two amen ([’mn ’mn] slh) marks,
most likely indicates the end of the composition. They bear witness to the
fact that the composition was intended for open and common recitation
(11Q11 vi 3).
There are good reasons to reconstruct the title, purpose, and genre of the
second and first songs (11Q11 ii 1–v 3; i 1-[14]) as David’s compositions and
charms written “for the stricken” in the name of YHWH. Song 3 mentions
spirits and demons called rwh.wt and šdym (11Q11 ii 3-5). The text concerns
the exorcizing of these demons with God’s magical power.127 Solomon’s name
is mentioned as a reference example of mediating magical power: “Solomon.
He invoked” (šlwmh wyqr‛ [bšm YHWH lplt. mkwl ng‛ hrw]h.wt whšdym)
(11Q11 ii 2). This is the earliest known source in which Solomon is mentioned
in a magical context. The word mšby‛ (“adjuring”) is mentioned twice in the
125 I. Beit-Arieh, Pirhiya Beck, et al., Horvat Qitmit: An Edomite Shrine in the Biblical
Negev (Monograph Series, 11; Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University,
Publications Section, 1995), 121 (Pirhiya Beck, “Catalogue of Cult Objects and Study of the
Iconography,” 27–208). See also Philip J. King, Jeremiah: An Archaeological Companion
(Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993), 60–61.
126 In Tobit, the demon, after having been expelled, “fled to the remotest parts of Egypt.
But Raphael followed him, and at once bound him there hand and foot” (Tob. 8.3). According to
1 Enoch, the archangels Gabriel and Raphael bind the chiefs of the fallen Watchers; ‘Asa’el is
bound by Raphael (1 En. 10.4-6; see also 88.1), while Shemihazah is bound by Michael (1 En.
10.10-12; see also 88.3). Cf. also Rev. 12.7-9. Raphael, together with Michael, is addressed in
several magical texts. See L. T. Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration and Christology, 183, 190.
127 The magical healing described in the text was performed “in YHWH’s name” (11Q11
ii 7-8).
text (11Q11 iii 4, iv 1).128 This term and its equivalents in other languages
is a substantial element in any exorcism formula. The exorcist summons the
demon and compels it, with the help of the divine/magic power invoked by
him, to leave the human community or the possessed soul. The demon is
sent to a place that lies outside the borders of the local human community. It
can be either an impure place or the desert (thought to be a space frequented
by demons) or the netherworld, the home of ghosts and other demons. In
11Q11, it is the netherworld that is referred to in the expressions “into the great
Abyss” (lthwm rbh) (11Q11 iv 7) and the “curse of Abaddon” (qllt h‛b[dwn])
(11Q11 iv 10). These words may refer to Sheol, where the demon was sent as
a result of the exorcism. The healing effect of the exorcism is reinforced by
the mention of the name Raphael in the text (11Q11 v 3). In Jewish tradition,
Raphael was the angel with the function of healing (11Q11 v 3).129 The name
of the illness or the plague which the composition was intended to fight is not
known from the text.
A structure and purpose similar to that of Song 2 is to be detected in the
first song (11Q11 i 1-[14]).). The words “seventy” (šb‛ym) and šdym (I10)
refer to demons and a “magic” number (70) related to them in some way. The
words “oath” (šbw‛h, i 3) and “adjuring you” (mšb[y‛ lk], i 7) may refer to the
exorcism proper, the forcing and expelling of the demon. The word wyšb (i 11)
before the close of the song may refer to the netherworld, the dwelling of the
overpowered demon. The end of the song was probably “amen, amen, Selah,”
reinforcing the result of the exorcism, the common ending to the (common)
prayer meant to be recited aloud.
The four songs “for the stricken” were recited, in all probability, at four
distinct and special days of the year.130 The times of the recitals are to be
identified with the dates of the four turning-points in the solar year, equinoxes
and solstices (considered liminal times in ancient cultures and in the Qumran
ideal solar calendar).131
128 Hifil, the active participle of the verb šb‛, “to swear” or “to take an oath,” with the
meaning “to cause to take an oath” or “adjure.”
129 The meaning of the name Raphael is “God heals.” In Tobit, Raphael is God’s emissary,
charged with the responsibility of caring for the faithful and advising them on healing methods
(exorcizing the demon from Sarah and healing Tobit’s eyes).
130 Special time designated for magical healing is known from Mesopotamian healing
practice. This was the annual festival of the dead, Abu 27–29 in the Mesopotamian calendar, when
healing ceremonies were performed. This time was the point in the year when family ghosts and
benevolent spirits were thought to return from the netherworld, and healing was practiced with
their help. Ghosts were considered as convenient vehicles for getting rid of evils. See J. Scurlock,
“Magical Uses of Ancient Mesopotamian Festivals of the Dead,” in Marvin W. Meyer (ed.),
Ancient Magic and Ritual Power (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 93–107. Abu 28 is the first of the one or
two moonless nights at the end of the month. See A. Tsukimoto, Untersuchungen zur Totenpflege
(kispum) im alten Mesopotamien (AOAT; Kevelaer Neukirchen-Vluyn: Verlag Butzon & Bercker,
Neukirchener Verlag, 1985), 161–167; M. Stol, Epilepsy in Babylonia (Groningen: Styx, 1993),
115.
131 The idea was first proposed by Johann Maier, Die Qumran-Essener. Die Texte vom
Toten Meer, Vols. 1–3 (München, Basel: Ernst Reinhardt, 1995–1996), 1.341, n. 720; cf. Armin
Conclusion
All of the Qumran texts mentioning demons reflect a relative dualism in which
God has power over all of the demons.132 This relative dualism was founded
in theological and systematizing works such as 1 Enoch and Jubilees. Enoch
created a myth of the origin of evil and evil represented by evil demons.
Jubilees created a narrative presenting, among other events, the activity of
demons during human history. Besides a demonic hierarchy, it recorded ideal
figures who had power over the evil demons. Jubilees absorbed various types
of demons from the ancient Near Eastern tradition, originating from the fallen
angels according to the Enochic tradition. Jubilees sets the demons within a
hierarchy of spiritual beings and in a historical perspective.
Similarly, the rest of the texts show a mixed picture. Some of the demonic
figures (Asmodeus) originate from Iranian tradition, while others (male and
female demons causing various illnesses) are akin to Mesopotamian demonic
figures. Demons mentioned in Psalm 91 have as their background a common
Mediterranean and Near Eastern tradition, similar to most of the members
included in the demon list of 4Q510–511. Some of the texts clearly refer to
the Enochic tradition of the origin of demons. Demonic figures in the charms
of 11Q11 (Songs 1–3) clearly reflect the authors’ acquaintance with the
Enochic tradition regarding the origin of the demons. Qumran texts presenting
“practical” demonology are basically in harmony with the demonology
featured in 1 Enoch and Jubilees.
Lange, “The Essene Position on Magic and Divination,” 377–435, esp. 380. On these four days
of transition between the different seasons of the year, there was need for special protection
against superhuman forces and other similar dangers. See Bilhah Nitzan, Qumran Prayer and
Religious Poetry (Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah, 12; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 238. On
the system ending the year in the 364-day Qumran calendar, as well as the relation of the four
days of transition to sabbaths and questions of the use of solar and lunar calendars in Qumran, see
Maier, Die Qumran-Essener, 3:52–54.
132 The same goes for the rest of the so-called ‘sectarian’ texts. God hates the spirit of
darkness and loves the spirit of light. Both spirits have been mysteriously established by him. See
Alexander, “The Demonology of the DSS,” 331–353, esp. 343.

Chapter 3
The Demonic World of the Dead Sea Scrolls1

Loren T. Stuckenbruck
Introduction
In this chapter I shall offer some observations on demonic beings in the Dead
Sea Scrolls. While this may sound like a relatively small focus, we actually find
ourselves covering a wide range of issues and texts. This is for two primary
reasons: (1) In contrast to the assumptions of much Dead Sea Scrolls scholarship
from the time they began to be found in November 1947 and the mid-1990s, there
is now a growing awareness that it is problematic to assign many, if not most, of
the documents to the so-called “Qumran” community—i.e. to a “sectarian” group
which separated itself out from the rest of Judaism and settled at Khirbet Qumran
as the Yah.ad.2 (2) Among the non-Yah.ad documents, we encounter a wide
diversity of materials which may be distinguished into the following groups:
(a) documents which had nothing to do with “sectarian” expressions of Judaism
(so-called ancient sacred traditions which later came to be called “biblical”);
(b) documents composed from the fourth to the early second centuries
bce whose contents wielded considerable influence on Jewish (and also
Christian) ideas as they would develop in the following centuries (Enochic
traditions, the Book of Tobit and other predominantly Aramaic writings); (c)
documents reflecting a retelling of sacred traditions to meet the challenges
of contemporary circumstances (e.g. Jubilees, Genesis Apocryphon); (d)

1 The present contribution is a revised form of a previous study, “Demonic Beings
and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in J. Harold Evans, ed., Explaining Evil. Volume 1: Definitions and
Development (Santa Barbara, Calif.: Praeger, 2011), pp. 121–144.
2 This awareness is the product of numerous efforts to distinguish between “sectarian”
and “non-sectarian” documents among the scrolls. Perhaps the most important of these discussions
have been Carol A. Newsom, “‘Sectually Explicit’ Literature from Qumran,” in W. Propp, B.
Halpern, and David Noel Freedman (eds.), The Hebrew Bible and Its Interpreters (Winona
Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 167–187; Devorah Dimant, “The Qumran Manuscripts: Contents and
Significance,” in Devorah Dimant and Lawrence H. Schiffman (eds.), Time to Prepare the Way in
the Wilderness (STDJ, 26; Leiden: Brill, 1995), 23–58; Armin Lange and Hermann Lichtenberger,
“Qumran. Die Textfunde von Qumran,” TRE 28 (1997), 45–65, 75–79; and the contributions by
Lange and Charlotte Hempel in Qumran kontrovers, ed. J. Frey and H. Stegemann (Einblicke, 6;
Paderborn: Bonifatius, 2003), 59–69 (“Kriterien essenischer Texte”) and 71–85 (“Kriterien zur
Bestimmung ‘essenischer Verfasserschaft’ von Qumrantexten”), respectively.
“proto-sectarian” documents which anticipated the formation of the Yah.ad at

Qumran (e.g. Damascus Document); and (e) those documents composed by
members of the Yah.ad itself (e.g. Serekh ha-Yah.ad, Hodayoth, later editions
of the War Rule, and the pesharim).
However, as we consider the topic of demons, we must note from the start
that a number of texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls have nothing specifically
to say about them. The absence of any explicit reference to the demonic
in such texts may simply have to do with their genre or with the one-sided
purposes of their composition—e.g. a one-sided focus on topics such as
heavenly liturgy, wisdom instruction, halakhic instruction, and interpretation
of sacred tradition. Examples of this may be found in Ben Sira, Temple
Scroll, Reworked Pentateuch, 4QMMT, Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, the
pesharim, and the calendrical texts.
The following discussion will attempt to be diachronic. We will begin with
what may be regarded as earlier, often Aramaic, traditions among the Dead Sea
Scrolls and we will conclude with Hebrew literature of the Yah.ad itself. This
approach may allow us to discern any development of ideas and practices,
as least as they come to us in the literature. I do not assume, however, that
ideas and practices developed in one social continuum; that is, that traditions
were held early on by a number of groups which eventually evolved into the
community associated with Qumran. We may expect the texts, as a whole,
to present us with a complex web of traditions that wove their way in and
out of any number of pious Jewish groups whose relationship to each other
sometimes cannot be easily discerned. Furthermore, the developments or shifts
we shall trace should not be confused with what was going on in all parts of
Judaism generally during the Second Temple period. The voices of each text
need to be heard and not imposed onto other texts if connections with them
are not evident. Finally, it is possible, if not likely, that a number of logically
incompatible ideas could have co-existed in a single, sociologically definable
group. In other words, different ideas do not always means different groups.
Despite these cautions, I am convinced at this stage that certain developments
regarding attitudes toward demonic powers can be upheld within the literature
and that some of these attitudes can be associated with particular groups. One
of the observable shifts in profile, for example, emerges between ideas and
practices in Yah.ad and non-Yah.ad texts; moreover, to some degree, we shall
notice a broad difference between traditions about demonic beings among
the writings preserved in Aramaic, on the one hand, and those coming to
us in Hebrew, on the other. The crucial period for these shifts will be the
second century bce, a period of major change, not only in the way Jews were
responding to incursions of Hellenistic culture under the Seleucids, but also
in the way Jewish groups began to form while openly staking out distinct
religious claims in response to one another.
The Demonic World of the Dead Sea Scrolls 53
The Demonic of the Enochic Tradition and Its Take-up in the Dead Sea
Scrolls
Here I can only rehearse briefly what other publications—we note especially
those of Philip Alexander,3 Esther Eshel,4 Archie Wright,5 and myself6—
have worked through elsewhere in more detail. Fragmentary Aramaic texts
recovered from the Dead Sea caves, such as the Book of Watchers of 1 Enoch
and the very fragmentary Book of Giants, attribute the origin of evil to a club
of rebellious angels and their offspring, the Giants, who are made responsible
for deteriorating conditions on earth before the Great Flood. The brief ante-
diluvian tradition from Genesis 6.1-4 is paralleled in the Enochic literature by
a more elaborate scheme which blames fallen angels (i.e. not human beings)
for much of the sin and violence committed, so that the Flood (amongst other
events) is retold as God’s response to this (cf. 1 En. 9–10). The storyline of
these early Enochic traditions is not only concerned with the very ancient past,
but also serves to explain what the writers wished to emphasize about their
own times.
At least two main purposes can be discerned in the telling of the story about
fallen angels in 1 Enoch chapters 6–16. First, the story functions as a way of
condemning expressions of culture associated with foreign impositions, perhaps
in the wake of the conquests of Alexander the Great and his successors. Thus
the rebellious angels are said to have introduced to humanity the making of
weaponry, jewellery, techniques of beautification, and all kinds of “magical” arts
(1 En. 7.3-5; 8.3). The reprehensible practices and instructions in 1 Enoch 7–8
can be traced back to a strand of tradition according to which ‘Asa’el was the
leading mutinous angel. Second, the story provides an aetiology, or explanation,
for the origin of demonic spirits (1 En. 15–16). This aetiology focuses primarily
on the Giants, the offspring of the angels who have breached the cosmic order by
mating with the daughters of humanity; this storyline was primarily associated
3 See “‘Wrestling against Wickedness in High Places’: Magic in the Worldview of

the Qumran Community,” in Stanley E. Porter and Craig A. Evans (eds.), The Scrolls and the
Scriptures: Qumran Fifty Years After (JSP Supplements, 26; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1997), 318–337; “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Peter W. Flint and James
C. VanderKam (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls After Fifty Years. Volume II: A Comprehensive
Assessment (Leiden, Boston and Köln: Brill, 1999), 331–353 (here 337–341).
4 “Demonology in Palestine During the Second Temple Period” (Ph.D. Dissertation,
Hebrew University, 1999 [mod. Heb.]), 10–90 (“The Origin of the Evil Spirits”).
5 See The Origin of Evil Spirits (WUNT, 2.198; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), esp.
pp. 96–177.
6 Esp. “Giant Mythology and Demonology: From the Ancient Near East to the Dead
Sea Scrolls,” in Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard Römheld (eds.), Die
Dämonen: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext
ihrer Umwelt [Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in
Context of their Environment] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 318–338, and “The Origins of
Evil in Jewish Apocalyptic Tradition: The Interpretation of Genesis 6:1-4 in the Second and Third
Centuries B.C.E.,” in Christoph Auffarth and Loren T. Stuckenbruck (eds.), The Fall of the Angels
(TBN, 6; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 87–118.
with the angel Shemih.azah. The deeds committed by the Giants before the Flood
include the agricultural enslavement of humanity to grow and produce food to
satisfy their appetites, the killing of sea and land animals, the destruction of birds,
and even cannibalism. Divine intervention against these Giants comes about
when (a) the Giants turn against and kill one another and when (b), as apparently
stressed in the Book of Giants, they are destroyed by the Flood. Either way, it is
significant that the Giants are by nature half angel and half human, and as such
are regarded as an illegitimate mixture of spheres that should have been kept
separate (1 En. 15.8–16.1; cf. 10.9, where they are called “bastards”—Cod. Pan.
μαζηρους = mamzerim). Divine punishment thus only brought them physical
death, after which they continued to have a disembodied existence as spirits.
We may infer that, being jealous of humanity who have survived the cataclysm
with their bodies intact, these spirits instinctively attempt to rejoin themselves
to a corporeal existence that they once had and so are especially inclined to
afflict by attacking or entering the bodies of humans (15.12). Although only
a partial punishment of evil, the Flood’s significance is clear: God’s decisive
intervention in the past against the angels and especially the Giants demonstrates
that powers of evil in all their forms are, in effect, already defeated and that their
final annihilation is assured (16.1). The implication of this is that measures to be
taken against them in the present, such as exorcism or other methods of warding
and staving them off, are to be regarded as temporary expedients which portend
God’s ultimate triumph.
A number of traditions that survive from antiquity adapt this Enochic
aetiology (not least exorcistic tradition preserved for us in Jesus tradition),
including several manuscripts from the Dead Sea Scrolls.7 However,
despite this influence, the names of the chief angelic perpetrators of evil are
conspicuously absent outside the Enoch tradition.8 What does survive outside
the Enoch tradition is a few references to the term “Nephilim,” a designation
for the Giants based on Genesis 6.4 (so Genesis Apocryphon in 1Q20 ii 1 and
vi 19, which is clearly influenced by the fallen angels story; Jubilees 5.1 in
11Q12 7.1 [Eth. has “giants”]; 1Q36 16.3, a broken text difficult to interpret).
However, “Nephilim,” if a proper name, does not designate any of the Giants
individually, nor is there any further mention of Giants’ names found in the
Book of Giants in Second Temple literature,9 that is, until we get to the much
later rabbinic, Manichean and medieval Jewish sources.
7 See, e.g., Alexander, “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” 344–350; Wright,
The Origin of Evil Spirits, 178–189.
8 For a possible exception, see the mention in 4Q180 1.7-8 of ‘Azaz’el (so, the
approximate spelling of the chief angel’s name in the later Ethiopic texts of 1 En.; cf. 8.1 and Cod.
Pan. to 6:7, Αζαλζηλ); see Wright, The Origin of Evil Spirits, 107–114.
9 For a discussion of the etymologies and possible significance of these names as they
occur in the Book of Giants—they include Hahyah, ’Ohyah, H.obabish, and Mahaway—see
Stuckenbruck, “Giant Mythology and Demonology: From the Ancient Near East to the Dead Sea
Scrolls” (bibl. in n. 5).
Nevertheless, the examples of Enochic influence on demonology among

the Dead Sea texts are significant, not only in specific details but also in the
overarching eschatological framework within which the persistence of and
triumph over evil is negotiated. The fragmentary Hebrew document which has
been given the title Songs of the Maskil (4Q510–511 and 4Q444) lists at several
points a series of demonic beings called “demons,” Lilith, hyenas, howlers,
jackals, and mamzerim (so 4Q510 1.4-8; 4Q511 10.1-4; 35.7; 48-49+51.2-3;
121; cf. 4Q444 2 i 4).10 The last-mentioned mamzerim, as we have noted from
1 En. 10.9, is a designation for the disembodied spirits of the Giants. These
beings are operative during the present age (designed in Songs of the Maskil as
“the age of the dominion of wickedness”),11 but can be managed in the present
in anticipation of their final punishment. The tension in the Enochic tradition
between God’s triumph over evil in the past and the eschatological annihilation
of evil in the future has contributed to at least some of this.12 In addition, it is
possible that one of the demonic beings denounced in an “in]cantation” (lah.aš)
is addressed directly in the second person singular in 11Q11 and may be called
“offspring from] Adam and from the seed of the ho[ly one]s” (v. 6).13 If this
restoration of the text is correct, then it refers to a demonic being whose nature
is ultimately a mixtum compositum (a hybrid, i.e. angelic and human, creature)
as is the case with the Enochic Giants.14 The only other obvious place where
the tradition’s impact may be observed is the Book of Jubilees. The evil spirits
who afflict Noah’s grandchildren following the Flood are identified as the spirits
which emerged from the Giants’ bodies when they were destroyed.15 In Jubilees
these spirits, however, come under the rule not of one of the named fallen angels
in the Book of Watchers and Book of Giants, but under Mastema (see below). As
in the Enoch tradition, they are given temporary leave to afflict humanity, their
ultimate destruction is assured, and measures given to Noah to neutralize some
of their malevolent effects are temporary expedients (cf. Jub. 10.1-10).
10 The reference to mamzerim in 1QHa xxiv 12 is isolated and without sufficient context
to determine its precise meaning, i.e. whether it is a label applied to a class of sinners or functions
as a designation for demonic beings.
11 See 4Q510 1.6-7 (“and you [viz. the demonic beings] have been placed in the age
of the dominion of wickedness and in the periods of subjugation of the sons of ligh[t] …” (par.
4Q511 10.3-4). In the Yah.ad texts, this era is referred to as the time of “the dominion of Belial”
(e.g. 1QS i 18, 23-24; ii 19).
12 See Loren T. Stuckenbruck, 1 Enoch 91–108 (CEJL; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007),
94–95 (comment on 1 En. 93.4c and related texts).
13 For a discussion of the alternative reconstructions of the lacuna, see Wright, The
Origin of Evil Spirits, 183–184 and n. 66.
14 Another text in which an evil being who has entered into the human body is directly
addressed and adjured is preserved in 4Q560 (two small fragments); however, there is no obvious
connection here to the Enochic tradition.
15 This may be inferred from Jub. 5.8-9 and 10.1-6, passages which are conceptually
influenced by 1 En. 7.4; 10.9; 15.9. On the influence of the Enoch tradition on the understanding
of evil and demonology in Jubilees, see Stuckenbruck, “The Book of Jubilees and the Origin of
Evil,” in Gabriele Boccaccini and Giovanni Ibba (eds.), Enoch and the Mosaic Torah (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 294–308 (here 298–306).
“Demons,” “Spirits” and “Angels” in the Dead Sea Scrolls
Here we are concerned with malevolent beings which come under several
terms found in both Aramaic and Hebrew texts: (1) šed (i.e. “demon”); (2)
ruah. (in this context, “spirit”); and (3) mal’ak (“angel”).
“Demon” (šed)
The word “demon” is preserved six times in the Hebrew texts. Four of these
occurrences are in the small text of 11Q11,16 which, we have already noted,
shows signs of having been influenced by the fallen angels tradition. One
instance, in addition, occurs in Songs of the Maskil (at 4Q510 1.5—“demons”
within a list of malevolent beings including the “spirits of the mamzerim”),
another document we have discussed as influenced by the Enochic tradition.
The only other reference is contained in a manuscript called 4QPseudo-Ezekiel
in 4Q386 1 iii in which the text probably refers to Babylon as “a dwelling
place of demons.” The manuscript contains no language that is characteristic
of either the Yah.ad or an otherwise sectarian community.
Among the far less numerous Aramaic materials from the Dead Sea, the term
“demon” is preserved eight times among fragments from three documents. In
five cases, we have to do with the Book of Tobit (4Q196 14 i 5, 12; 4Q197
4 i 13, ii 9 and 13). Each of these comes from Tobit chapter 6; in one case,
the term occurs as part of a recipe for getting rid of a demon which probably
circulated apart from the book and has been reproduced here (6.8).17 In the
other instances, the term describes Asmodeus the demon (6.15-17), who in
the story attempts to prevent Sarah from marrying and threatens her divinely
preordained marriage to Tobias. Significantly, the later Testament of Solomon,
which is Christian in its present form, identifies Asmodeus as one of the Giants,
that is, as an offspring of a fallen angel and a human woman (T. Sol. 5.1-
11, esp. v. 3). The second document, which refers to “demons” in the plural
(šedim), is designated Pseudo-Daniel in the overlapping texts of 4Q243 13.2
and 4Q244 12.2; this combined text claims that “the children of Israel chose
their presence (that is, the presence of other gods) more than [the presence
of God and sacr]ificed their children to demons of error.” By attributing such
a practice to Jews, the text reflects an idea which is developed within the
Enochic tradition and in the Book of Jubilees (see immediately below).
The term “demon” is not extant among the Dead Sea Scrolls fragments
corresponding to 1 Enoch. However, in the Book of Watchers at 1 En. 10.1,
we have a reference to people offering sacrifice “to demons as gods until the
great day of judgment” (Cod. Pan.—τοῖς δαιμόνιοις μεχρὶ τῆς μεγάλης
16 11Q11 i 10; ii 3, 4; v 12—the term is restored and may be an equivalent for the being
who is denounced at the beginning of the song in v 6.
17 As I have argued in “The Book of Tobit and the Problem of ‘Magic’,” in Hermann
Lichtenberger and Gerbern S. Oegema (eds.), Jüdische Schriften in ihrem antikjüdischen und
urchristlichen Kontext (JSHRZ Studien, 1; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2002), 258–269.
κρίσεως); significantly, this activity of sacrificing to demons is blamed on

the fallen angels spirits who have led humans astray. This text, which may be
a facile allusion to Gentile idolatry, influences the Epistle of Enoch at 1 En.
90.7: the sinners “will worship evil spirits and demons and every (kind of)
error” (Eth.; Grk.: “worship [phan]toms and demons [and abomina]tions and
evi[l] spirits and all (kinds of) errors.”18 Here the motif of demon worship is
more explicitly associated with idolatry; it probably not only describes what
Gentiles do but also has in mind those whom the writer regards as faithless
Jews. This association of “demons” with idolatry, of course, may have been
shaped by texts such as Deuteronomy 32.16-17 and Psalm 96[95].5 (where
the Greek δαιμονια corresponds to Hebrew ‫אלילים‬, “idols”). However, the
accusation that other Jews are engaged in idol worship, as we find in Pseudo-
Daniel and probably the Epistle of Enoch, is more novel. However, the Book
of Jubilees deals with the motif in much the same way as the Epistle of Enoch:
because the Gentiles can be labeled as those who “offer their sacrifices to the
dead, and … worship demons” (22.17), the force of attributing this to Jews
who are disloyal to the covenant is not lost: God instructs Moses to write
down the message of the book because, in the future, his posterity will, as
a consequence of serving the gods of the nations, “sacrifice their children to
demons and to every product (conceived by) their erring minds” (1.11). The
influence of “demons” on Israel is otherwise seen in the immediate aftermath
of the Flood, when Noah petitions that his grandchildren be delivered from
the “demons” (in this case, the disembodied spirits of the dead Giants) who
are leading them astray. Unfortunately, none of these texts from Jubilees are
preserved amongst the fragmentary Dead Sea materials.
Keeping in mind that we do not—and never will—have access to all the
materials originally deposited in the Qumran caves, we can only observe that,
for the most part (except for the identification of Babylon as a dwelling place
for demons in 4QPseudo-Ezekiel), those texts which refer to “demons” bear
a certain affinity with different parts of the Enoch tradition. Furthermore, in
no case does any document that uses the term for “demon” draw on language
characteristic for the Yah.ad literature related to the Qumran community.
“Spirit” (ruah.)
Unlike the term for “demons”—which can operate as a category or classification
of beings on its own—the term “spirit,” whether in the singular or plural, is
never applied in the absolute sense; it is always qualified through the addition
of a further word. In particular, the references to malevolent beings as “spirits”
(the plural form, ‫ )רוחים – רוחות‬abound. Here, the distinction between Aramaic
and Hebrew literature is noteworthy. In the Aramaic texts, the term, when it is
applied to an evil entity, only occurs eight times; in these cases, it is always in
the singular: see Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20 xx 16, 20, 26, 28—the afflicting
18 For the text, translation, critical notes and commentary on the versions, see
Stuckenbruck, 1 Enoch 91–108, 393–395 and 399–403.
spirit sent by God against Pharaoh Zoan, king of Egypt); Tobit 6.8 (at 4Q197
4 i 13—“evil spirit” functions as a synonym for “demon”); 4Q538 1+2.4 (the
“evil [s]pirit”); and 4Q560 1 ii 5, 6 (the “spirit” which is adjured).
In the Hebrew materials, however, the term, when used for malevolent
power, occurs mostly in the plural; see:
Damascus Document in CD xii 2 (“spirits of Belial” par. 4Q271 5 i 18);

Serekh ha-Yah.ad in 1QS iii 18, 24 (spirits of the lot of the Angel of Darkness);
War Scrolls in 1QM xiii 2 and 4 (spirits of the lot of Belial);
1QM xiii 11 (spirits of his [Belial’s] lot, the angels of destruction);
1QM xv 14 (spirits of wick[edness]);
Hodayoth in 1QHa iv 23 (perverted spirit rules over a human being);
1QHa xi 18 (spirits of the serpent)
1QHa 5.4 (spirits of wickedness)
1QHa 5.6 (spirits of iniquity which lay waste for mourning)
1Q36 (spirits of transgression)
4QCatena A (=4Q177) 1-4.7 (spirits of Belial)
4Q177 12-13 i 9 (God’s great hand will help them from all the spirits of
[Belial]
Songs of the Maskil in 4Q444 1-4 i+5.2 (spirits of dispute)
4Q444 1-4 i+5.4 (spirits of wickedness)
4Q444 1-4 i+5.8 (“spirits of the b]astards”)
4Q449 1.3 (rule of the spirits of his [Belial’s?] lot)
War Scroll in 4Q491 14–15.10 (spirits of [his] lot; no par. in 1QM)
Songs of the Maskil in 4Q510 1.5 (all the spirits of the angels of destruction)
4Q510 1.5 (the spirits of the mamzerim, the demons, Lilith, howlers, jackals)
Songs of the Maskil in 4Q511 1.6 (spirits of wickedness)
4Q511 15.5 (spirits of vanity-h.ebalim)
4Q511 35.7 (spirits of the mamzerim)
4Q511 43.6 (spirits of vanity-h.ebel)
4Q511 48-49+51.2-3 (“spirits of] the mamzerim”)
4Q511 182.1 (“spirit[s of the mamzeri]m”)
11Q11 ii 3 (“sp]irits […] and demons”)
11QMelchizedek (=11Q13) ii 12 (against Belial and the spirits of his lot)
11Q13 ii 13 (“from the power of] Belial and from the power of all the s[pirits
of his lot”)
While the examples just listed show an affinity with the Enochic tradition (cf.
“spirits” of the Giants in 1 En. 15.8–16.1; recall the association of “spirits”
in Songs of the Maskil with mamzerim and in 11Q11 with demonic hybrid
beings), they demonstrate a growing association of the spirits with Belial, who
acts as their leader. Moreover, the predominant occurrence of this connection
in the Damascus Document, Serekh ha-Yahad, War Scroll, Hodayoth, and
4QCatena (4Q177) suggests that it flourished in a sectarian context,19 while
19 The Treatise on the Two Spirits in 1QS may not be a Yah.ad composition; see Jörg
Frey, “Different Patterns of Dualistic Thought in the Qumran Library,” in M. Bernstein, F. García
the connection of “spirits” with mamzerim did not. Less clear is whether, as
Alexander has argued, “the angels of destruction” refer to the fallen angels and
that their association with the “spirits” under Belial amounts to a demotion
and subordination of them into a more clearly structured hierarchy with only
Belial at the top;20 after all, like Belial, such spirits can be said to “rule over”
human beings (CD xii 2 par. 4Q271 5 i 18).
Given the frequency of the plural form of “spirit” to denote evil beings in
the Hebrew texts, it is instructive to note their use of the singular form or when
they refer to single beings. To be sure, expressions like “spirit of perversity”
(ruah. ‘awlah), “promiscuous spirit” (ruah. zanuth), “spirit of wickedness”
(ruah. reša‘/riš‘ah), “spirit of impurity” (ruah. niddah), “spirit of error” (ruah.
ha-to‘ah), and “twisted spirit” (ruah. na‘awlah) seem less to function as
references to invasive spirits than as ways of describing the human condition.
There are, however, a few exceptions to this. First, in the Treatise on the Two
Spirits, the phrase “the spirits of truth and of deceit” does not refer to two
collectives of opposing spirits, but rather to the two contrasting beings called,
respectively, the Prince of Lights (i 20) and the Angel of Darkness (i 20-21)
to whom are assigned further cohorts which cause the children of light to
stumble (i 24). Second, in fragmentary text of 4QBerakoth (=4Q286) a curse
is pronounced against “the ange]l of the pit and [the] spiri[t of dest]ruction”
(4Q286 7 ii 7), where the spirit stands at the head of the cohort of spirits just
cursed in the text (4Q286 7 ii 3). Third, it is possible that in the Songs of
the Maskil at 4Q444 1-4i+5.8, the “spirit of uncleanness” (ruah. ha-t.um’ah)
which is listed alongside the mamzerim is being treated as a demonic being,
perhaps even as a leading member of the fallen angels whose corruption of
humanity (see Book of Giants at 4Q531 1.1, “they [i.e. the fallen angels]
defiled [’at.myw]) is here recast with a more abstract designation. Fourth,
and following on the last example, the writer of a “Prayer of Deliverance” in
11Q5 petitions God, “do not let Satan/a satan or a spirit of uncleanness (ruah.
tum’ah) have authority over me” (xix 15). The coupling of spirit of impurity
with “satan” suggests that the spirit is being treated as at least an external
power that threatens the human being. These exceptions in the Hebrew texts
are revealing; apart from possibly 4QBerakoth they do not occur in an obvious
Yah.ad or sectarian context; instead, they reflect more closely ideas that have
developed out of the Enoch traditions.
In this connection, it is instructive to consider texts from the Book of Jubilees
which were originally composed in Hebrew but are not preserved in the Dead
Sea manuscripts. In Jubilees, with the exception of two texts (cf. 2.2; 15.32),
the term “spirits” occurs almost always in a negative sense; this holds, for
Martínez, and J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts & Legal Issues (STDJ, 23; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 275–
335. Thus Belial does not occur in the Treatise, and the reference to “the spirits of his lot” in 1QS
iii 24 has to do with the dominion of “the Angel of darkness.” Nevertheless, the phrases “spirits
of his lot,” “lot of” (1QS ii 4-5), and “dominion of” (1QS i 17, 23-24; ii 19) are overwhelmingly
applied to Belial in the sectarian texts.
20 Alexander, “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” 343–344.
example, in 10.3, 5, 8, 11, 13; 11.5; 12.20; and 15.31-32. The storyline makes
clear that, as in the early Enochic traditions, these “spirits” represent the
afterlife of the Giants who rule over the Gentiles (15.31-32), on the one hand,
and who are designed to plague Noah’s offspring (chs. 10–11), on the other,
where they are subordinate to their chief being called Mastema. Alongside
this, “spirit” (Eth. manfas) can apply to a top-ranked malevolent force. In his
prayer near the beginning of the work, Moses petitions God not to let “the
spirit of Belial” rule over Israel so as to bring charges against them (1.20).
The reference to a single spirit at the top is, when compared with the Enochic
traditions, innovative. The combination of “spirits” derived from Giants and
“the spirit of Belial” within the narrative world of Jubilees anticipates what
will emerge in the sectarian literature as an absence of the Giants’ spirits as
well as the use of “spirit” in senses (human condition, spirits of Belial) that
depart from the Enochic tradition.
“Angel” (mal’ak)
As with “spirit,” this term, when referring to an evil power, never occurs as an
absolute noun apart from a combination with other words. For the malevolent
use of this term, a similar picture emerges among the Hebrew texts that we
have observed for “spirit”: the predominant usage is plural, most often in
combinations such as “angels of enmity/Mastema” (mal’ake mast.emah—
Pseudo-Jubilees at 4Q225 2 ii 6 [mal’ake ha-ma(st.emah]; Pseudo-Ezekiel
at 4Q387 2 iii 4, 4Q390 1.11 and 2 i 7 [mal’ake ha-mast.emut]), “angels of
destruction” (mal’ake h.ebel—CD ii 6; 1QS iv 12; 1QM xiii 11; 4Q495 2.4?;
4Q510 1.5, ruh.e mal’ake h.ebel), and “angels of his [Belial’s] rule” (mal’ake
mamšalto, 1QM i 15). In one text, the so-called Ages of Creation, the plural
denotes the fallen angels who are mentioned together with ‘Azaz’el as having
sired Giants (4Q180 1.7-8).
There are also several occurrences in the Hebrew texts of the singular
“angel”; these are in the Treatise on the Two Spirits (“the Angel of Darkness,”
1QS iii 20-21), Damascus Document (“the angel of enmity/Mastema,” CD
xvi 6 pars. 4Q270 6 ii 18, 4Q271 4 ii 6), and Serekh ha-Milh.amah (“the angel
of enmity/Mastema,” 1QM xiii 11. Both the Damascus Document and the
War Scroll use the plural and singular together in relation to the term enmity/
Mastema. I will have more to say about Mastema below.
Before we turn our attention to “angel(s)” in the Aramaic texts, it is again
instructive to look at the Book of Jubilees. Significantly, there is little general
use of this term for malevolent beings; for the demonic, the term “spirits”
or “spirit” is the preferred designation. The term for “angel” (Eth. malak,
Heb. mal’ak) is never employed in the singular, while the plural “angels”
(Eth. malā’ekt, Heb. melākim) is made to designate the fallen angels twice; in
Jubilees 4.15 they are called “the angels of the Lord” who “descended to earth
to teach mankind and to do what is just and upright upon the earth,” while in
5.1 they are called “his (i.e. God’s) angels whom he had sent to the earth.” In
both these cases the nomenclature reflects the tendency in Jubilees to apply
the appellation to angels who are subordinate to God (which is expressly

recognized as the fallen angels’ original state). Within the Hebrew texts of the
Dead Sea Scrolls, then, the introduction of the singular “angel” to designate
an evil being is first preserved in proto-Yah. ad works such as the Damascus
Document and perhaps within the editorial growth of the War Scroll.
Now the lean use of “angel” to designate an evil being in Jubilees is
interesting when we note the complete absence of this among the preserved
materials in Aramaic, where each interpretable context has in view “angels” or
an “angel” subordinate to God or acting on God’s behalf (Genesis Apocryphon
at 1Q20 xv 14; 4Q157 1 ii 3; Tobit at 4Q196 13.2, 17 i 5 and 4 i 5; Aramaic
Levi Document at 4Q213a 2.18; 4Q529 1.1, 4; Book of Giants at 4Q531 47.1;
Visions of Amram at 4Q543 2a-b.4, 4Q545 1a i 9, 17; 4Q552 1.5; 4Q553 2
ii 1; 4Q557 2; and Targum Job at 11Q10 xxx 5). In the Book of Watchers no
single fallen angel is actually referred to as an “angel,” while the “sons of
heaven” are collectively referred to as “angels” on a number of occasions (so
1 En. 6.2, 8; 10.7; 10.1-2; 21.10; cf. Birth of Noah 106.5-6, 12, though in the
Epistle of Enoch there is no reference to these beings). In avoiding “angel” for
a demonic being, Jubilees, then, follows what we know from the early Enoch
tradition; thus, in order to introduce a single figure at the top of the malevolent
hierarchy, Jubilees opts for other terminology (see below).
The main words used to designate the fallen angels in the Aramaic literature
(including the Enoch texts) are, instead, “watcher(s)” (‘ir—extant in Genesis
Apocryphon 1Q20 ii 1, 16; Book of Watchers at 4Q202 1 iv 6; 4Q204 1 vi 8;
Book of Giants at 4Q203 7a.7; 7b i 4; 4Q531 1.1; 36.1?; 4Q532 2.7; Visions
of Amram at 4Q546 22.1) and, more rarely, “holy ones” (qadišin—so Genesis
Apocryphon 1Q20 ii 1; vi 20 and Book of Watchers at 4Q201 1 i 3). The term
“watcher” is picked up in Jubilees and several of the Hebrew Dead Sea texts
(Damascus Document in CD ii 18 par. 4Q266 2 ii 18 and Pseudo-Jubilees
at 4Q227 2.4, which probably echoes terminology of the now-lost Hebrew
portions of Jubilees [cf. 4.15, 22; 7.21; 8.3; 10.5]). By contrast, the term “holy
ones” is arguably only applied to the rebellious angels in 11Q11 v 6, a text
which we have seen is influenced by the Enoch tradition.
Chief Demonic Beings
Over against the Enoch tradition which, in its early received form, presented
both Shemih.azah and ‘Asa’el as leaders of rebellious angels, many of the
writings among the Dead Sea Scrolls draw demonic forces together under a
single figure. It is not clear how much the different texts allow us to infer that
any of the different writers identified a figure designated by one name with
a figure going under another. Moreover, we cannot assume that when single
figures are referred to, their designations always function as proper names
rather than as descriptions. In what follows, I briefly outline the material and
organize my observations around the names or designations that actually occur
in the texts. Here I focus on the five main ones: (1) Melki-reša‘, (2) “Angel of
Darkness,” (3) “S/satan,” (4) Mastema, and (5) Belial.
Melki-reša‘
The designation, which means “king of wickedness,” occurs twice, once in an
Aramaic source and once in a Hebrew text. In the Aramaic Visions of Amram
(4Q544 2.13) Melki-reša‘ is mentioned as one of two angelic beings who
strive against one another to have authority over the patriarch. His association
in the passage with “darkness” and with its “deeds” is contrasted with the
association of his counterpart (probably Melchizedek) with “light” (4Q544
2.13-16). The dualistic framework within which Melki-reša‘ participates is not
one of pre-determinism as some, reading the text from the vantage point of the
Treatise on the Two Spirits, have claimed. Instead, it is the patriarch, Amram
himself, who is asked to choose between these opposing angels and to decide
which one may have authority over him. In the Hebrew text of 4QCurses
(=4Q280) 1.2-7 Melki-reša‘ is expressly cursed in terms that are reminiscent
of the denunciation in Serekh ha-Yah.ad which is pronounced against “all the
men of the lot of Belial” (1QS ii 5-9).
“Angel of Darkness” (mal’ak ha-h.ošek)

The scholarly attention devoted to this figure is disproportionate to the two
times he is mentioned in the Dead Sea Scrolls. This is because this angel is
presented as the negative counterpart to “the Prince of Lights” in the well-
known Treatise on the Two Spirits (1QS iii 20, 21). As such, he is identified as
the “spirit … of deceit” (iii 18-19, ruah… . ha-‘awlah), one of opposing “two
spirits” placed within human beings until the eschatological time of visitation
(iii 18). Parallels, of course, have been noted between the dualistic duo in the
Treatise and that involving Melki-reša‘ in the Visions of Amram; for example,
the opposition between the beings is expressed cosmologically in terms of
darkness and light. Fuller comparison, however, cannot be undertaken due to
the fragmentary text in Visions of Amram. Nevertheless, one difference does
appear to lie in the existence, activities, and outcome of the activities of the
“two spirits” in the Treatise; unlike the Visions of Amram, their influences
on humanity are from the start predetermined from the start by “the God of
knowledge” and are unalterable (iii 13-16). The selection of one angel or
another by the patriarch in Visions of Amram comes closer to the implicit
exhortation underlying the description in the Treatise of the two ways in terms
of virtues and vices correlated, respectively, to “the spirit of the sons of truth”
(iv 2-8) and “the spirit of deceit” (iv 9-14, ruah. ‘awlah).
“Satan” (sat.an)
As is well known the term sat.an means “accuser” or “one who brings charges
against.” There are five occurrence of the term in the Hebrew Dead Sea texts.
In two, perhaps three of these instances, the word is preceded by the adjective
“all” or, with the negative, “any” (kol sat.an; cf. 1QHa 4.6, 45.3; 1QSb i 8?). In
this case we do not have to do with “satan” as a proper name, but rather with
a figure which could as well include a human as an angelic adversary. The
same may also be inferred from the negative which precedes it in Words of the
Luminaries at 4Q504 1-2 iv 12: “and there is no satan or evil plague” (wa-’eyn
sat.an wa-pega‘ ra‘). Jubilees offers a similar picture: the little apocalypse in
chapter 23 anticipates that in the end of days “there will be neither satan nor any
evil who (or better: which) will destroy” (23.29), in which sat.an generically
denotes someone—anyone—who destroys by cutting short the life of human
beings. Less clear is Jubilees 10.11: the angels of the presence are made to
say that, “[a]ll the evil ones [i.e. the spirits from the Giants] who were savage
we tied up in the place of judgment, while we left a tenth of them to exercise
power on the earth before the satan.” Here, “the satan” refers to the chief of the
evil spirits who has just previously been mentioned by name as “Mastema”;
the expression, then, describes a function associated with Mastema.
In the one remaining occurrence, the “Prayer of Deliverance” mentioned
above, the word may function as a proper noun. The petition for divine help,
in 11Q5 xix 13-16, reads:
“Forgive my sin, O YHWH, and cleanse me from my iniquity.

Bestow upon me a spirit of faithfulness and knowledge.
Do not let me stumble in transgression (ba-‘awyah).
Do not let have authority over me satan or a spirit of uncleanness;
Let neither rain nor evil purpose take hold of my bones.”
The interpretation of satan in the text may be sharpened when we consider

it alongside the only other occurrence of the word among the Scrolls: the
older Aramaic Levi Document at 4Q213a 1 i 10, which is also preserved in a
much later Greek manuscript from Mt. Athos (Athos Koutloumous no. 39) to
the Testament of Levi and therefore can be restored with some confidence as
follows: “And do n]ot let have authority over me any satan [to lead me astray
from your path” (wa-’al tišlat. bi kol sat.an [la’at‘ani min ‘orh. eka).
In this text, the placement of kol before satan leaves little doubt that a proper
name is not in view. Furthermore, both texts, as argued by Armin Lange, show
a striking affinity to Psalm 119.33b: “and do not let any iniquity rule over
me.” If the “Prayer of Deliverance” is aware of these traditions, then the
absence of kol may suggest that a more specific malevolent being is in view,
that is, one called “Satan.” A move in this direction, though without involving
the designation of “Satan,” is also at work in Jubilees. In chapter 1.19-20 of
Jubilees, Moses pleads that God should not deliver Israel “into the hand of
their enemy, the Gentiles, lest they rule over them” and that God should “not
let the spirit of Beliar rule over them to accuse them before you and ensnare
them from every path of righteousness so that they might be destroyed from
your face.” As in the petition in the “Prayer of Deliverance” of 11Q5, the text
contains no equivalent for kol (“any” with the negative); perhaps by analogy,
an abstract term (such as “iniquity” from Ps. 119.33b) or a generic designation
(such as “satan” from Aramaic Levi Document) has been replaced in Jubilees
by “spirit of Beliar,” whose activity involves bringing accusations against
God’s people. For similar adaptations of this tradition in Jubilees, see Noah’s
prayer for his grandchildren in 10.3-6 (“do not let evil spirits rule over them”
… “let them not rule over the spirits of the living” … “do not let them have
power over the children of the righteous now and forever”); and Abraham’s
prayers in 12.19-20 (“save me from the hands of evil spirits which rule over
the thought of the heart of man”), in 19.28 (“may the spirits of Mastema not
rule over you and your descendants”), and in 15.30-32 (Israel, over whom God
“made no angel or spirit rule”).
“Mastema” and “Belial”

Both terms are treated together here, as the texts provide evidence that they
can be associated with one another and because neither word is necessarily
a proper name. Both are only preserved among Hebrew texts of the Scrolls.
Not counting Jubilees, whose Hebrew scroll fragments do not preserve either
word, mast.ema occurs eighteen times and beliya‘al occurs eighty-eight times.
While mast.ema as a noun or substantive can denote “enmity” or “animosity”
in the abstract, beliya‘al is a noun meaning “worthlessness.”
While there is little doubt that in Jubilees “Mastema” represents a proper
name for the chief demonic power that has jurisdiction over a contingent of
evil spirits (see below), the function of the term in a number of the Qumran
texts as well as its relation to Belial is unclear. We cannot, for example, assume
that Mastema and Belial are but different names for the same figure, as the
narrative world of Jubilees might lead one to infer. For example, according
to Berakoth in 4Q286, a curse is pronounced on Belial “in his inimical plan”
(ba[mah.]šebet mast.emato), so that mast.ema as an abstraction is presented
as a feature of Belial’s activity (see the parallel expression 1QS iii 23,
where a similar phrase—“and the times of their troubles are in his inimical
dominion [ba-mamšelet mast.emato]”—applies to the “Angel of Darkness”).
A more interesting example illustrates how both can appear alongside each
other as possible references to different beings. This seems to be the case in
the fragmentary text from Pseudo-Jubilees at 4Q225 2 ii 14: “the Prince of
An[im]osity/Mastema, and Belial listened to[.”
The text does not preserve sufficient context for us to decide how the
Prince of Animosity/Mastema and Belial are related; Belial’s activity of
listening does not necessarily imply subordination (as Dimant has recently
suggested21). In any case, it is not even clear that we should be comparing
Mastema with Belial to begin with; we could instead draw the comparison
between the Prince (i.e. of Animosity or Mastema) and Belial. A final
example occurs in the War Scrolls in 1QM xiii 10-12. This text, formally
part of a lengthy prayer, declares that God “made Belial for the pit, an
21 See “Between Sectarian and Non-Sectarian Texts: Belial and Mastema,” in Lawrence
H. Schiffman (ed.), The Dead Sea Scrolls and Contemporary Culture (Leiden: Brill, 2010).
angel of mast.ema; and in dark[ness is] his [rule] and in his counsel is to
bring wickedness and guilt about; and all the spirits of his lot are angels of
destruction; they walk in the statutes of darkness.” Here the equation, as
Dimant rightly argues,22 is not between Belial and Mastema, but between
Belial and an “angel of mast.ema,” where “mast.ema” either characterizes
the kind of angel that Belial is or is the proper name of the angel with whom
Belial is being identified.
It is possible that in the Damascus Document, in which the expression
“angel of mast.ema” (mal’ak ha-mast.ema) occurs by itself, we may not have
to do with a proper name such as “the angel of/from Mastema” (i.e. the angel
under Mastema’s jurisdiction) or “the angel Mastema” (so that Mastema is
identified as an angel). The text in CD xvi 2-5 (pars. in 4Q270 6ii 18 and
4Q271 4 ii 6) reads:
And the precise interpretation of their ages with regard to the blindness of Israel
in all these things, behold, it is defined in the book of the divisions of the periods
according to their jubilees and in their weeks. And on the day in which a man takes
upon himself to return to the Torah of Moses, the Angel of Animosity/Mastema will
turn away from after him if he sustains his words. This is why Abraham circumcised
himself on the day of his knowledge.
In this passage, the construction, in which mast.ema is attached to the definite

article as the nomen rectum, is telling; one would not expect a proper name
to require such a particle. By analogy, in Pseudo-Jubilees at 4Q225 2 ii 6, the
plural expression, “angels of Animosity” (mal’ake ha-mast.ema) describes
those beings who were anticipating that Abraham would indeed sacrifice Isaac.
The episode in this incomplete text is initiated by “the Prince of A[ni]mosity”
(sar ha-ma[s]t.ema), with whom these “angels of Animosity” are aligned (the
same form of the expression occurs also in 4Q225 2 ii 13-14), while in Jubilees
itself the account mentions only the presence of the “Prince of Mastema.”
Essentially, the malevolent figures are the Prince (sar) and the angels
(mal’akim), not M/mastema him- or itself. If this is correct, then the three
occurrences of the phrase mal’ake ha-mast.emut in Pseudo-Ezekiel (4Q387 2
iii 4, 4Q390 1.11 and 2 i 7), which are “angels of Animosity” who rule over the
disobedient of Israel, may be a variant which makes the abstraction inherent in
ha-mast.ema more explicit.
Unfortunately, not a single text in Jubilees (in which mastema occurs twelve
times) is sufficiently preserved from the Scrolls for us to know whether Mastema
was affixed to a definite article. The most frequent expression is “Prince of
Mastema/Animosity” or, better translated, “Prince Mastema” (11.5, 11; 18.9,
12; 48.2, 9, 12, 15); as the context suggests, the Prince is to be identified with
Mastema, who is introduced as the leader of the spirits requesting permission
for a tenth of their number to carry out their work after the Flood. In this way,
22 In “Between Sectarian and Non-Sectarian Texts.”

“prince” seems to be a title given to Mastema rather than the main designation
itself. As such, Prince Mastema is written into the storyline: he is the initiator
of the testing of Abraham to sacrifice Isaac (17.16; cf. 18.9, 12); he is the
force behind an attempt to kill Moses (48.2-4, where Mastema encounters
Moses, contra Exodus 4.24-26 where it is YHWH [MT] or an “angel of the
Lord” [LXX]); he is behind the work of Pharaoh’s magicians to counteract
Moses (48.9, 12); and he foments the Egyptians to pursue the Israelites in the
wilderness (48.15-18). Finally, it is “all the forces of Mastema” which are sent
to kill the firstborn in the land of Egypt (cf. Exodus 12.29, where the subject
of the verb “to strike” hikkah is the Lord). In each of these passages where
Prince Mastema is mentioned, the narrative makes clear that his activities only
happen under the terms of allowance granted him and his reduced entourage
in chapter 10.
As the statistics indicate, Belial is by far the most frequent designation
used for an evil being in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Like Mastema, there
must have been a close connection between the figure and the meaning
of the name, in this case “worthlessness.” However, unlike Mastema, the
word Belial never appears in a text affixed to the definite article, even in
the position of nomen rectum. Therefore, phrases such as “dominion of
Belial,” “lot of Belial,” “army of Belial,” “spirits of Belial,” “congregation
of Belial,” and “child” or “children of Belial” and “men of Belial” all
suggest that in many cases at least we have to do with a term that has
become a proper name. On the other hand, when “Belial” is preceded by
kol (“any”), then we are dealing with the same linguistic phenomenon that
we have observed in relation to satan; see 1QHa xi 28, which refers to “the
time of anger against any belial.”
Most of the extant occurrences of Belial are to be found among the sectarian,
that is, the proto-Yah.ad (i.e. Damascus Document) and Yah.ad documents
(Serekh ha-Yah.ad, War Scroll, Hodayoth, pesharic interpretations and Catena,
Berakoth, and 11QMelchizedek). Belial only occurs in Jubilees twice (1.20
and 15.30-33), though in 1.20 it is in a prominent position as part of Moses’
initial petition that future generations of Israel would not be ruled by “the
spirit of Beliar (so the Eth. spelling)” and in 15.33 it is the unfaithful of Israel
who are branded “the people of Beliar” (something not said of Mastema). It
is possible, however, that in both these phrases we are dealing with beliar
(derived from Belial) as a descriptive, rather than as a proper, noun. In any
case, among the sectarian writings, Belial comes to be applied in the most
immediate sense to faithless Jews (though it certainly would have included
Gentiles as well).
The big development here is, of course, that under the name “Belial” a number
of the motifs associated with other malevolent beings found in the Aramaic
and Hebrew texts are brought together. There are two important examples
of this. First, Belial—and those errant Jews associated with Belial (1QS ii
11-18 pars. 4Q257 ii 1-7; 5Q11 1.2-6)—is denounced (cf. 1QS ii 4-10 par.
4Q256 ii 12–iii 4), just as other malevolent beings are directly addressed and
denounced in earlier apocalyptic literature.23 There is a difference, however:

in relation to Belial the curse formula, which is more fixed and ritualized,
is pronounced by a priestly figure or the community. A second example that
illustrates how language about Belial is indebted to earlier tradition relates
to his rule or dominion in the present age (1QS i 23-24, ii 19; 1QM xiv 9-10
par. 4QMa = 4Q491 8-10 i 6-7; cf. further 1Q177=4QCatenaa iii 8). This is,
of course, a motif in the Enochic tradition in which the present—that is, the
time between now and the eschatological visitation of God—demonic evil
appears to hold sway. Like the Enochic tradition and those traditions which
took it up, the texts hold unequivocally that Belial’s dominion is temporary;
moreover, like the apocalyptic traditions, it is possible to manage or neutralize
demonic power in anticipation of its final destruction. Again, however, there
is a difference in the Belial texts: whereas the Enochic tradition itself could
be compatible inter alia with the practice of exorcism, no such measures
are appropriated against Belial. During the time of Belial’s dominion, the
community’s curses and blessings, based on Numbers 6.24-46, which petition
for protection and according to Serekh ha-Yah.ad are to be spoken year on
year (1QS ii 19), function as the predominant means (cf. 1QS i 16–iii 11).
See similarly the War Scroll at 1QM xiv 9-10 par. 4Q491=4QMa 8-10 i 6-7
and 4QCatena at 4Q177 iii 8. In other words, the chief power is cursed, not
exorcized.
Traditions which are pivotal in receiving the Enochic tradition and paving
the way for the sectarian, Yah.ad way of dealing with Belial may be seen in
Jubilees, on the one hand, and Songs of the Maskil, on the other. Jubilees, as
we have seen, presents demonic activity under the leadership of Mastema as an
inevitable characteristic of this age until the final judgment (ch. 10); thus, not
only do angels reveal remedies to Noah (and his progeny) for warding off or
neutralizing the effects of evil spirits (Jub. 10.10-13), but also the patriarchs—
Moses (1.19-20), Noah (10.1-6), and Abraham (12.19-20)—are made to utter
prayers of deliverance against them. There is no formal denunciation or curse
against any of the malevolent powers. In Songs of the Maskil, the language of
dominion by evil powers in the present age comes closer to later Belial texts,
without actually pronouncing curses at the demonic beings themselves (at least
this is absent among the extant texts). In one of the songs, the sage initially
declares the splendor of God’s radiance “in order to terrify and fr[ighten] all
the spirits of the angels of destruction, and the bastard spirits, demons, Lilith,
owls and [jackals …] and those who strike suddenly to lead astray the spirit
23 As against the fallen Watchers, who have corrupted the earth and who are denounced with
the formula “you will have have peace” (so in 1 En. 12.5 Cod. Pan.—“there is no peace for you,” with
3rd pers. in Eth.; cf. 13.1—a pronouncement against ‘Asa’el: Cod. Pan. Azael, Eth. Azazel; and 16.4;
see also the Book of Giants at 1Q24 8.2 and 4Q203 13.3) which not only influences pronouncements
against the human wicked in 1 En. 5.4 and in the Epistle of Enoch (98.11, 16; 99.13; 101.3; 102.3;
103.8), but also carries over into formulae that adapt the language of the Aaronic blessing in Numbers
6.24-26; see 4Q480 2.2 (a curse against Melki-reša‘). For other denunciations of the demonic in the
Scrolls, see 4Q410 1.5, 4Q511 3.5 (against demonic spirits), and 11Q11 v.
of understanding and to cause their hearts to shudder” (4Q510 1.4-6a par.

4Q511 10.1-3a). This proclamation of divine majesty, which Armin Lange
has described as a “hymnic exorcism,”24 is then followed by an address to
“righteous ones” in which the sage states:
“You have been put in a time of the dominion [of] wickedness and in the eras of
the humiliation of the sons of lig[ht] in the guilt of the times of those plagued by
iniquities, not for an eternal destruction, [but] for the era of the humiliation of
transgression. Rejoice, O righteous ones, in the God of wonder. My psalms (are) for
the upright ones.” (4Q510 1.6b-8; par. 4Q511 10.3b-6)
The Maskil’s declarations about God, told in the third person (i.e. not in
the form of a second-person prayer addressed to God), are here treated as
sufficiently potent to diminish or counteract demonic powers that are at work
in the present order of things (“the dominion [of] wickedness”). While the text
does not furnish a prayer for divine protection against these demons, it reflects
a framework that holds two concurrent things in tension: (1) the existence
of a community of those who are unambiguously “righteous” and “upright,”
and (2) the characterization of the present age as “a time of the dominion
[of] wickedness.” Analogous to the pronouncement of a benediction in the
yearly covenant renewal ceremony in Serekh ha-Yah.ad, the song addressed by
the Maskil to those who are righteous functions as an expedient measure that
neutralizes the threats associated with demonic powers until the present age of
wickedness is brought to an end.
The pronouncements against Belial and his lot bring together and merge
several evolving features that in their specificity are partly lost yet whose
conceptual framework is preserved within a new form. The eschatological
framework in the Enochic pronouncements of doom against the fallen angels,
prayers for deliverance we have observed in other texts, exorcisms, and
hymnic forms of protection is retained in the community’s treatment of Belial.
However, the various means of dealing with him are formally replaced by
curses that adapted language from the Aaronic blessing (Num. 6.24-27) and
should be understood in relation to the larger context of covenant blessings
and curses found in Deuteronomy (cf. Deut. 28–30).
24 See Lange, “The Essene Position on Magic and Divination,” in M. Bernstein, F. García
Martínez, and J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting
of the International Organization for Qumran Studies (Cambridge, 1995) Published in Honour of
Joseph M. Baumgarten (STDJ, 23; Leiden, New York, and Köln, 1997), 377–435 (here 383, 402–
403, 430–433), who also applies this classification to 1QapGen. xx 12-18, Jub. 10.1-14; 12.16-21.
On the problem of categorizing the passage from 1QapGen. in this way, see L. T. Stuckenbruck,
“Pleas for Deliverance from the Demonic in Early Jewish Texts,” in Robert Hayward and Brad
Embry (eds.), Studies in Jewish Prayer (JSS Supplement, 17; Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2005), 55–73 (here 60–62).
Conclusion
Our survey of language used for the demonic world in the Dead Sea Scrolls
yields several conclusions. First, the texts, especially the earlier ones in
Aramaic, apply a wide variety of terms to designate the demonic: “demon,”
“spirit,” “angel,” “watcher,” and even “holy ones.” In addition, in at least
the Enochic traditions of the Book of Watchers and Book of Giants, a range
of demonic beings—leaders and sub-leaders of the fallen angels and their
Giant sons—are also referred to with proper names to which, no doubt, some
significance was attached. A corollary to the diversity of terms and use of
proper names is an interest in the texts in different classes of evil beings. Here,
mostly in the Aramaic literature, we have early representatives of a tradition,
to be more fully developed at a later period, which itemized and classified
malevolent powers and dealt with them in accordance with their particular
functions and characteristics (so 1 En. 15.8–16.1; Asmodeus in Tob. 6–8;
4Q560; 11Q11 v; see the later demonic classes in Test. Sol.; Sefer ha-Razim;
incantation bowls; cf. already Mk 9.29, “this kind [of demon]”).
Second, our review has also highlighted some distinctions that can be
made within the literature. An overall shift in thought and approach can be
discerned if we distinguish between (a) Aramaic documents and (b) literature
composed in Hebrew. Allowing for instances of occasional overlap and genetic
development, this shift in language corresponds to the difference between (a)
earlier “non-sectarian” and (b) later “sectarian” literature.
Third, the most important witnesses to the shifts between earlier and later
trends can be found in three works: Jubilees, Treatise on the Two Spirits, and
Songs of the Maskil. The authors who composed each of these writings were
pivotal to developments that followed. They gathered up and reformulated
ideas from the literature and traditions they inherited and recast them in
ways which were eventually picked up in the liturgical life of the Qumran
community.
Fourth, “demons” and other lower-class beings tended to attract responses
that regarded them as powers to be “managed” or “relocated” by various
means. The afflictions, illnesses, other evils, and human sins they were thought
to have caused could be effectively dealt with or at least addressed with
confidence through exorcism, prayer, recitation of hymns, and other acts of
piety. The matter was different for a chief of demons—for example, Mastema,
Belial, Satan, the Angel of Darkness, or Melki-resha‘. These demonic bosses,
catapulted into a position at the top (whether they were chiefs of other
demons or simply organizing principles that represented evil as a whole),
are not managed or neutralized in the same way. The Qumran community,
for example, resorted to the formal reciting of curses. However, whether by
small-scale activities or community liturgy, the means undertaken to deal with
the demon functioned as “temporary expedients” in recognition that the evil
powers which malign human dignity and distract from faithfulness to God
will indeed come to an end.
Fifth and finally, our review of demonology in the Dead Sea Scrolls lays the
groundwork for drawing a series of distinctions that are crucial to understanding
and interpreting the demonic world as it is dealt with in the New Testament
and in early Christian literature. These are threefold and overlapping: (a) the
distinction between the nature of evil (which distorts the cosmos as created by
God) and humanity (whose essential dignity within the created order remains
intact); (b) the distinction between the present “era of wickedness” and the
eschatological annihilation of evil; and, in practical terms, (c) the distinction
between matters of “salvation” (to draw on the Christian sense of the term)
and “the management of evil powers.” It remains for further studies to work
out implications coming from each of these points.

Chapter 4
The Devil in Rabbinic Literature

Gottfried Reeg
The common name for the Devil in rabbinic literature is the biblical word
“Satan,” which was translated by the LXX into διάβολος, from which the
English term “Devil” and the German “Teufel” are derived. Only in later
rabbinic writings do we encounter the figure of Sama’el, who is usually
identified with Satan.1
In a private discussion on Satan in Jewish thought Joseph Dan once coined
the phrase “the career of Satan” in order to emphasize the changes that the
figure of Satan underwent in Jewish literature, a career that started as a
marginal figure in rabbinic literature and eventually became a principle of
evil in medieval literature. It is striking that Satan is mentioned in only a few
passages in rabbinic literature from the fifth century onwards. In the textual
corpora, which are ascribed to early rabbinic literature up to the fourth century,
Satan is almost completely absent, and in cases where he is mentioned, the text
is problematic, as for instance the occurence of Satan in the Tosefta2 and in the
halakhic midrashim.3
This poor evidence in rabbinic texts is reflected in the rather poor state of
modern research on Satan in rabbinic literature, where the subject is treated
mostly in the context of New Testament, apocryphal and apocalyptic studies4
as well as in kabbalistic studies.5 The only comprehensive study was presented
1 On names for Devil in Jewish writings see Gottfried Reeg, “Teufel IX. Judentum 1.
Antikes Judentum,” in RGG4 8 (2005), 190f.
2 t. ‘Abod. Zar. 1.17-18 par. t. Šabb. 17 (18).2-3: “Angels of Peace” are contrasted
with “Angels of Satan,” an unusual expression; cf. Peter Schäfer, Rivalität zwischen Engeln
und Menschen. Untersuchungen zur rabbinischen Engelvorstellung (Berlin and New York: de
Gruyter, 1975), 60.
3 Sipra ‫ שמיני‬parasha 3 is a later addition to the text, see Hermann Leberecht Strack and
Günter Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, trans. and ed. Markus Bockmuehl
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 261; according to Finkelstein the text in Sipre Deut. 218 was
interpolated from the margin. Midr. Tann. on Deut. 23.10 is a reconstructed work. The only text
without problems seems to be Sipre Num. 42.
4 For example Wilhelm Bousset, Die Religion des Judentums im späthellenistischen
Zeitalter, ed. Hugo Gressmann (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1966); Hans Bietenhard, Die
himmlische Welt im Urchristentum und Spätjudentum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1951).
5 Gershom Scholem, Kabbalah (Jerusalem: Keter Publishing House, 1974); Joseph
Dan, “Samael and the Problem of Jewish Gnosticism,” in Alfred L. Ivry, Elliot R. Wolfson,
by Leo Jung at the beginning of the twentieth century.6 Jung sketched a

picture of Satan by arranging the miscellaneous details scattered in rabbinic
texts without differentiating individual sources. According to Jung Satan is a
“fallen” angel, characterized by the attributes of angels: he is subordinated to
God, lacking free will7 and opposes mankind. He seduces and accuses humans.
However, he is by no means a principle of evil.8
Jung’s approach is common to nearly all research on Satan. However, some
details do not fit together. For instance, the fall of Sama’el in Pirqe deR.
’Eli‘ezer (ed. Higger), chs. 12 and 14, contradicts a tradition in Gen. Rab.
17.5 which states that Satan and Eve were created on the same day. First of
all, Sama’el and Satan are two different figures. The first is typical for Pirqe
deR. ’Eli‘ezer—a work which does not mention Satan at all. Both figures are
present in Genesis Rabbah, even if Sama’el is mentioned only in the story of
the ‘Aqeda.9 Moreover Sama’el exists in Pirqe deR. ’Eli‘ezer before Adam and
Eve were created, so he cannot be created on the same day as Eve; i.e. there
are two different traditions for the creation of Sama’el or Satan respectively.
These differences have to be taken into account when describing the figure of
Satan in rabbinic literature. Even if some features of Sama’el in Pirqe deR.
’Eli‘ezer and of Satan in Genesis Rabbah may coincide, there is a striking
difference between the two which cannot be neglected. According to Genesis
Rabbah Satan is not a “fallen angel.”
In a paper given at the Fifth Congress of Jewish Studies in Copenhagen in
1994 I tried a more detailed analysis by differentiating between two different
groups of rabbinic writings: the Palestinian sources and the Babylonian
Talmud.10 In their respective articles on Sama’el Joseph Dan11 and Günter
Stemberger12 also stress the importance of the individual sources.
and Allan Arkush (eds.), Perspectives on Jewish Thought and Mysticism: Festschrift A. Altman
(Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1998), 257–276.
6 Leo Jung, Fallen Angels in Jewish, Christian and Mohammedan Literature
(Philadelphia, Pa.: Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate Learning, 1926, reprint New
York: Ktav, 1974)—reprint with additions of Leo Jung, “Fallen Angels in Jewish, Christian and
Mohammedan Literature: A Study in Comparative Folk-Lore,” JQR NS 15 (1924/25), 467–502;
16 (1925/26), 45–88, 171–205, 287–336.
7 “In rabbinic literature, the angels are essentially God’s dutiful servants. They do His
will and sing His praise. They take part in His counsels and, though holy, are capable of error, but
not of transgression” (Jung, Fallen Angels, 12).
8 “Satan is not the evil principle, but an instrument for good” (Jung, Fallen Angels, 26).
9 On the relation of Satan and Sama’el see below.
10 Gottfried Reeg, “Der Satan in der rabbinischen Literatur,” in Ulf Haxen, Hanne
Trautner-Kromann, and Karen Lisa Goldschmidt Salamon (eds.), Proceedings of the Fifth
Congress of Jewish Studies in Copenhagen 1994 under the Auspices of the European Association
for Jewish Studies (Copenhagen: C. A. Reitzel A/S International Publishers, 1998), 621–632.
11 Joseph Dan, “Samael and the Problem of Jewish Gnosticism.”
12 Günter Stemberger, “Samael und Uzza. Zur Rolle der Dämonen im späten Midrasch,”
in Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen. Die
Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt
[Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of their
Environment] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 636–661.
The Devil in Rabbinic Literature 73
The starting-point for almost all research on Satan is a baraita (b. B. Bat.

16a) in which Resh Laqish equates Satan with the accuser, the evil inclination
and the Angel of Death. However, this equation is unique and cannot be
applied to rabbinic literature in general. The role of accuser is common to
all rabbinic sources, while that of seducer is more or less restricted to the
Babylonian Talmud and the Tanh.uma.13 Finally, the role of Satan as “Angel
of Death” does not recur in other texts. In the following, these three functions
will be discussed.
Satan as Accuser
The role of Satan as accuser14 is known to the rabbis from biblical sources
such as the prologue of Job15 or the scene of the heavenly court in Zechariah 3,
where Satan struggles with Michael and Gabriel. This feature is common to all
classical rabbinic sources.16
Satan and the Day of Atonement

In a homily on Ps. 32.1 for the Day of Atonement Satan is described accusing
Israel:
A Psalm of David. Maschil. Happy is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin

is pardoned. These words are to be considered in the light of a verse from another
Psalm: Thou hast forgiven the iniquity of Thy people, Thou hast pardoned all their
sins. Selah (Ps. 85.3). You find that Satan comes on the Day of Atonement to accuse
Israel and he specifies the iniquities of Israel, saying: Master of the universe, there
are adulterers among the nations of the earth; so, too, among Israel. There are thieves
among the nations of the earth; so, too, among Israel. But the Holy One, blessed
be He, specifies the just deeds of Israel. Then what does He do? He suspends the
beam of the scales and looks to see what the balance or imbalance is between the
iniquities and the just deeds. And as they are weighed—the iniquities against the just
deeds, these against those—the two pans of the scale balance exactly. Thereupon
Satan goes out to fetch more iniquities to put in the pan of iniquities and bring it
down. What does the Holy One, blessed be He, do? Even while Satan is going about
seeking iniquities, the Holy One, blessed be He, takes the iniquities out of the pan
and hides them under His royal purple. Then Satan comes and finds no iniquity on
the scales, as is said The iniquity of Israel shall be sought for, and there shall be none
(Jer. 50.20). When Satan sees there is no iniquity, he cries out before the Holy One,
13 Gottfried Reeg, “Der Satan in der rabbinischen Literatur,” 621–632.

14 See Hershey H. Friedman, “Satan the Accuser: Trickster in Talmudic and Midrashic
Literature,” Thalia: Studies in Literary Humor 18 (1999), 31–41.
15 Cf. Exod. Rab. 21.7.
16 The term “classical rabbinic sources” is used here for the main texts such as: Mishnah,
Tosefta, Palestinian Talmud, Babylonian Talmud, Midrash Rabbah to the Pentateuch and the
Megillot, the halakhic midrashim (Mekilta deRabbi Yishma‘el etc.) and Pesiqta Rabbati, Pesiqta
deRab Kahana as well as Tanh.uma.
blessed be He: Master of the universe, Thou hast carried away the iniquity of Thy
people! (Ps. 85.3). When David realized what God does, he said: How mercifully
He carries away iniquity, how mercifully He hides their sin! Thereupon David went
on to praise Israel as Happy is he whose transgression is carried away, whose sin is
hidden (Ps. 32.1).17
Here Satan acts as public prosecutor and advocator of the law, while God lists
the merits of Israel. As debts and credits are evenly balanced, Satan goes away
to bring more accusations. At this moment God takes away the transgressions
of Israel and hides them. Thus Satan does not succeed in accusing Israel. Satan
adopts here the role of the divine attribute of Justice, while God acts as the
divine attribute of Mercy.18 Thus both attributes of God are assigned in this
story to two different personae demonstrating the struggle between the two.
Another well-known Petih.a in Leviticus Rabbah refers to the Day of
Atonement as well:
There are three hundred and sixty-five days in the solar year. The numerical value
of hassat.an (Satan) is three hundred and sixty-four.19 This alludes to the fact that
during all the days of the year Satan brings accusations, but he does not bring any
accusations on the Day of Atonement. So Israel says to the Holy One, blessed be He:
Though a host of the nations of the world,20 Should encamp against me, my heart
shall not fear, (Ps. 27.3) because Thou hast promised me, With this shall Aaron come
into the holy place (Lev. 16.3).21
At first glance this Petih. a seems to contradict our first homily, because in
Pesiqta Rabbati Satan accuses Israel, while in Leviticus Rabbah he does not
accuse on the Day of Atonement, since his power is restricted to 364 days
of the year. The reason for Satan’s powerlessness, however, originates in the
fact that God promised Israel the possibility of atonement, when Aaron enters
the Temple to sacrifice on the Day of Atonement. Therefore Satan has no
opportunity to harm Israel on that day. Yet atonement is granted by the divine
attribute of Mercy. Thus the concept of the two attributes of God is implied in
the homily of Pesiqta Rabbati as well. Both texts demonstrate how the divine
17 Pesiq. Rabbati 45.2; translation according to William G. Braude, Pesikta Rabbati:

Discourses for Feasts, Fasts, and Special Sabbaths, Vol. II (New Haven and London: Yale
University Press, 1968).
18 Schäfer, Rivalität zwischen Engeln und Menschen, 186f. On the two attributes of God
see Max Kadushin, The Rabbinic Mind (New York: Bloch Publishing Company, 1952), 215–222;
Ephraim E. Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1975),
448–461.
19 ‫ = השטן‬5 + 300 + 9 + 50 = 364.
20 Soncino according to Wilna: “Sammael”; Margaliot’s reading, however, is to be
preferred.
21 Lev. Rab. 21.4 par. The citations of the Midrash Rabbah follow, with small emendations,
Midrash Rabbah, translated into English under the editorship of H. Freedman and Maurice Simon
(London: Soncino, 1939).
attribute of Mercy overwhelms the divine attribute of Justice. Both texts focus
on praise of the divine attribute of Mercy rather than on Satan as prosecutor.
The ‘Aqeda—Genesis 22
In various texts interpreting Genesis 22, the ‘Aqeda, Satan is introduced as the
initiator of the temptation by accusing Abraham of being ungrateful toward
God, as is presented in other earlier texts like Jub. 17.22 For example we read
in b. Sanh.:
And it came to pass after these words, that God did tempt Abraham (Gen. 22.1).
What is meant by “after”?—R. Yoh.anan said on the authority of R. Yose b. Zimra:
After the words of Satan, as it is written, And the child grew, and was weaned: [and
Abraham made a great feast the same day that Isaac was weaned] (Gen. 21.8).
Thereupon Satan said to the Almighty: “Sovereign of the Universe! To this old man
Thou didst graciously vouchsafe the fruit of the womb at the age of a hundred, yet
of all that banquet which he prepared, he did not have one turtle-dove or pigeon to
sacrifice before thee.”23
As the story continues Satan is not only the initiator of the temptation but
also tries to hinder Abraham and Isaac from fullfilling the command of God
in the course of the story. So it seems that Satan plays an important role in the
‘Aqeda.
Yet it is remarkable that other reasons explaining why God tempted Abraham
are mentioned too, for example the dispute between Isaac and Ishmael.24 In
Genesis Rabbah on the ‘Aqeda Satan is absent completely, the accusation
against Abraham is uttered by the ministering angels (heavenly court), by the
nations of the world or by Abraham himself, but not by Satan.25 In the course
of the story it is not Satan, but Sama’el trying to stop Abraham and Isaac from
fullfilling the command of God. It seems that this midrash does not want to
make any allusion to Satan in this story, i.e. there is no need for Satan in the
‘Aqeda.
Satan as Accuser in Time of Danger

Satan’s activities are not restricted to specific days or situations like the Day
of Atonement or the ‘Aqeda. In fact, there are other times when Satan is eager
22 Günter Stemberger, “Die Patriarchenbilder der Katakombe in der Via Latina im Lichte
der jüdischen Tradition,” Kairos 16 (1974), 19–78, esp. 54. On the ‘Aqeda see Lukas Kundert,
Die Opferung/Bindung Isaaks. Gen 22:1–10 im Alten Testament, im Frühjudentum und im Neuen
Testament, 2 vols. (Neukirchen: Neukirchnener Verlag, 1998) with a detailed bibliography.
23 b. Sanh. 89b. The citations of the Babylonian Talmud follow, with small emendations,
The Babylonian Talmud, translated into English under the editorship of Isidore Epstein (London:
Soncino Press, 1935–1938).
24 b. Sanh. 89b; Gen. Rab. 55.4.
25 Gen. Rab. 55.4; cf. Gottfried Reeg, “Der Satan in der rabbinischen Literatur,” 621,
624–626.
to accuse human beings, above all in times of danger. Therefore they have to
be careful, because if Satan succeeds, the situation will become even more
dangerous and harm or even death will come upon them. Gen. Rab. 91.9
expounds Gen. 42.38 as follows: “If harm befall him by the way (Gen. 42.38).
And could not harm befall him at home! Said R. ’Eli‘ezer: This proves that
Satan accuses only in time of danger.”26
Danger for the traveler is the setting of t. ‘Abod. Zar. 1.17-18 (par. t. Šabb.
17 [18].2-3) as well. Man should travel in the company of righteous rather
than of wicked persons, since good angels attend the righteous, while bad
angels accompany the wicked. The expression ‫מלאכי סטן‬, however,27 alludes
to accompanying angels harmful to human beings rather than to someone
accusing a person before God. In the statement of Genesis Rabbah Satan’s
dangerousness consists only in accusing. Harm or death can be the results of his
accusations. It may well be that the idea of Satan as accuser is the background
for t. ‘Abod. Zar. 1.17f as well.
The phrase “Satan accuses only in time of danger” is widespread in rabbinic
literature. In the gemara j. Šabb. 2.6 (5b) on m. Šabb. 2.6: “Women die at
the time of their childbirth for three transgressions: Because they have not
been careful in regard to menstruation, in regard to Hallah, and in regard to
the kindling of the lamp.” The halakha serves as proof for this thesis. In the
Mishnah there is a straight line from transgression to death. The Yerushalmi
expands the line by inserting the accusation by Satan.
Remedies against Satan

Humans do not have to face Satan without any protection. On the one hand the
divine attribute of Mercy can protect them in certain circumstances—as shown
above. On the other hand they should not offer Satan any opportunities for
accusations. First of all humans should fullfill the commandments:
Rebbi Yose ben Rebbi ’Abun said: For anyone who immediately slaughters after
leaning, no disqualification will appear regarding his sacrifice.
For anyone who immediately pronounces the benediction after washing his hands,
Satan will not find anything to accuse about at that meal.
For anyone who immediately prays after mentioning redemption, Satan will not
find anything to accuse him of the entire day.28
26 Gen. Rab. 91.9 par.

27 Variant reading: ‫ ;מלאכי השטן‬the expression is a hapax legomenon and can be understood
as “angels of hostility” or as “angels of Satan.” “Angels of Satan” are not attested in other rabbinic
texts. An “angel (singular) of Satan” is mentioned in ’Ag. Ber. 38.51 and Exod. Rab. 20.10; cf.
Schäfer, Rivalität zwischen Engeln und Menschen, 60.
28 j Ber. 1 (2d); translation according to Heinrich W. Guggenheimer, The Jerusalem
Talmud. First Order: Zeraïm, Tractate Berakhot (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2000),
82.
The fullfillment of the halakha concerns the negative commandments as well as

the positive ones. If a person does not transgress the commandments, Satan has no
possibility to accuse. Performing the positive commandments grants protection
against Satan. This includes the accurate performance of liturgy as well. By
connecting the fullfillment of two halakhot mentioned above with the protection
against Satan R. Yose b. R. ’Abun stresses the importance of these halakhot.
Second, humbleness protects against accusations of Satan, since a righteous
person boasting about his righteousness will provoke Satan to bring accusations
before God:29 “… since R. Shim‘on b. Laqish said, and so it was taught in
the name of R. Yose: A man should never speak in such a way as to give an
opening to Satan.”30
Prosecutors in Rabbinic Literature

Even though Satan’s main role consists of accusing humans, he is not the only
one prosecuting them before God. There are quite a lot of others: first of all, the
divine attribute of Justice,31 the counterpart to the divine attribute of Mercy;
furthermore Sama’el,32 the ministering angels,33 the nations of the world.34
Everyone can accuse humans before God;35 Satan is just one among many. The
importance of the accusation does not depend on the person bringing it before
God, but lies in the accusation itself.
Satan as Agitator and Disturber

In Genesis Rabbah Satan is described as agitator and disturber:
And they dwelt there (Gen. 11.2). R. Isaac said: Wherever you find dwelling
mentioned, Satan becomes active. R. h . elbo said: Wherever you find contentment,
Satan brings accusations. R. Levi said: Wherever you find eating and drinking, the
arch-robber [Satan] cuts his capers [is up to mischief].36
The statement “Wherever you find dwelling mentioned, Satan becomes active”
can refer to different stories, for instance to Genesis 11—the story of the Tower
of Babel—or to Genesis 37—the story of Joseph—as both stories begin with
the words “And they dwelt.” In the biblical texts adduced here, of course,
Satan is not mentioned. However, according to the rabbinic view Satan is the
one initiating the course of action by disturbing the idyll, as it is explicitely
described in the prologue to Job. Without Satan there would be no “story.”
29 Another reaction of Satan is found in b. Qidd. 81a, see below.

30 b. Ber. 19a par.
31 Exod. Rab. 1.36; Est. Rab. 7.13.
32 Exod. Rab. 18.5; 21.7.
33 Gen. Rab. 53.14; Gen. Rab. 55.4; Exod. Rab. 3.2; Midr. Ps. 27.2.
34 Lev. Rab. 21.4 (the Princes of the nations of the world); Pesiq. deR. Kahana 12.23;
Midr. Ps. 15.5; 27.4; b. Yoma 67b.
35 Est. Rab. 7.12 (Hamman); cf. Gen. Rab. 55.4 (Abraham).
36 Gen. Rab. 38.7; cf. Gen. Rab. 84.3.
According to R. h.elbo Satan brings accusations against humans in their

contentment. In the other two statements, however, the reason why Satan is
disturbing is not apparent; he may act as prosecutor or as tempter.
In Gen. Rab. 84.3 Satan begrudges Israel their life in contentment. On the
one hand he is jealous and hostile against Israel; on the other hand he is acting
like a prosecutor and defender of justice.
Satan as Tempter and Seducer
While in the Palestinian sources Satan is almost all the time described as
prosecutor, in the Babylonian Talmud and in the Tanh.uma, a homiletic midrash
reflecting Palestinian and Babylonian influence, the feature of a tempter or
seducer, known from the Bible, is very common. In 1 Chronicles 21.1 Satan
misleads David to count Israel; in Job 2.3 Satan misleads God—the rabbis
are conscious of the inherent paradox of this phrase: “Said R. Yoh.anan: Were
it not expressly stated in the Scripture, we would not dare to say it. [God is
made to appear] like a man who allows himself to be persuaded against his
judgment.]”37
The Masquerades of Satan

In the stories in the Babylonian Talmud and the Tanh.uma Satan masquerades
himself as best befits the situation: as an old man face to face with Abraham, as
a young man face to face with Isaac,38 as a poor man in the story of Pelimo39 or
as a woman to seduce man.40 He also appears as a river41 or a snake.42 One of
the stories collected at the end of tractate Qiddushin reads as follows:
R. ‘Aqibah used to scoff at transgressors. One day Satan appeared to him as a woman
on the top of a palm tree. Grasping the tree, he went climbing up: but when he
reached half-way up the tree he [Satan] let him go, saying: “Had they not proclaimed
in Heaven, ‘Take heed of R. ‘Aqibah and his learning,’ I would have valued your life
at two ma’ahs.”43
No pious man should be overconfident, as everyone can be seduced by Satan.

This warning is reflected also in the dictum “An arrow in Satan’s eyes!” in
the story of Pelimo that directly follows or in the statement of R. Yose: “A
man should never speak in such a way as to give an opening to Satan.”44 In
37 Cf. b. B. Bat. 16a.

38 Tanh.uma ‫ וירא‬22.
39 b. Qidd. 81b/82a.
40 b. Qidd. 81a; Yal. Šim‘oni ‫§ ויחי‬161.
41 Tanh.uma ‫ וירא‬22.
42 Midr. ’Aggada on Exod. 4.24.
43 b. Qidd. 81a.
44 b. Ber. 19a; see above.
this story Satan disguises himself as a woman. He visualizes carnal desire and
can therefore be equated with the evil inclination.45 One difference, however,
cannot be ignored: Satan is an independent figure, while the evil inclination is
part of a human being.
Like Satan the evil inclination is not “evil” in principle. On the one hand it
misleads man to do evil; on the other hand it is indispensable for the existence
of humankind and the world. Without the evil inclination Adam and Eve
would live in Gan Eden without any children.46
Satan as Tempter and Prosecutor

In some texts the function of a tempter shades into that of a prosecutor, for
example in Tanh.uma (ed. Buber) ‫ בלק‬7: “This implies that Balaam destroyed
his soul by going, for when a man is on the way to commit a sin Satan dances
encouragingly before him until he completes the transgression; and after he
has destroyed him, he informs him.”47 The dancing Satan48 seduces man to
transgress and waits until he has finished his deed. Then Satan holds up a
mirror in order to reveal what man has done and that he has lost his life.
The Creation of Eve and Satan

According to Gen. Rab. 17.6 Satan is not a fallen angel, but was created on
the same day as Eve:
R. H
. anina, son of R. ’Adda, said: From the beginning of the Book until here no
samech is written, but as soon as she (Eve) was created, Satan was created with her.
While should one quote, That is it which compasseth—(‫( )סובב‬Gen. 2.11) answer
him: the text refers there to rivers.49
This dictum is unique to Genesis Rabbah and not found in other sources. It is
part of a passage dealing with the differences between man and woman and is
considered highly misogynistic.50 It is one of the rare passages in Palestinian
sources which is not dealing with Satan as accuser. Satan represents sexual
desire, which was created together with Eve.
45 On the evil inclination see Urbach, The Sages, 471–483; Geert H. Cohen Stuart, The
Struggle in Man Between Good and Evil: An Inquiry into the Origin of the Rabbinic Concept of
Yeser Hara (Kampen: Kok, 1984); and, recently published, Ishay Rosen-Zvi, Demonic Desires:
“Yetzer Hara” and the Problem of Evil in Late Antiquity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 2011).
46 Gen. Rab. 9.7; Qoh. Rab. 3.11.3.
47 Num. Rab. 20.11 par.
48 Cf. b. Ber. 33a.
49 Gen. Rab. 17.6.
50 Daniel Boyarin, Carnal Israel: Reading Sex in Talmudic Literature (Berkeley, Los
Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1993), 88–90. Judith R. Baskin, Midrashic
Women: Formations of the Feminine in Rabbinic Literature (Brandeis: Brandeis University Press,
2002), 56.
Satan as Adversary
In some texts in addition to the function of tempter and accuser, another aspect
can be found, namely that of an adversary. In the ‘Aqeda, by trying to restrain
Abraham from fullfilling God’s command Satan acts against Abraham.51
Satan’s hostility can also be found in the passage b. Ned. 31b/32a in a midrash
on Exodus 4.24:
R. Yose said, God forbid that Moses should have been apathetic towards circumcision,
but he reasoned thus: ‘If I circumcise [my son] and [straightway] go forth [on my
mission to Pharaoh], I will endanger his life, as it is written, and it came to pass on
the third day, when they were sore (Gen. 34.25). If I circumcise him, and tarry three
days—but the Holy One, blessed be He, has commanded: Go, return unto Egypt’
(Exod. 4.19). Why then was Moses punished? Because he busied himself first with
the inn, as it is written, And it came to pass by the way, in the inn (Exod. 4.24). R.
Shim‘on b. Gamaliel said: Satan did not seek to slay Moses but the child, for it is
written, [Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and
cast it as his feet, and said,] Surely a bloody h.athan art thou to me (Exod. 4.25). Go
forth and see: who is called a h.athan? Surely the infant [to be circumcised].52
The biblical text of Exodus 4.24 is cryptic and inconsistent. Who is one to be
killed? Moses or his son? Why did God want to kill Moses, after he had sent
him back to Egypt in order to free his people? In the view of the sages God
cannot act against himself, since such an action would thwart the Exodus.
They thus ascribed this action to someone else, namely Uri’el,53 the Angel of
Mercy54 or to just an angel.55 According to the Babylonian Talmud it is Satan
who is acting against God’s will to deliver Israel.
Satan, Sama’el, and the Angel of Death
Satan and the Angel of Death

In b. B. Bat. 16a Satan is equated with the Angel of Death:
A Tanna taught: [Satan] comes down to earth and seduces, then ascends to heaven
and awakens wrath; permission is granted to him and he takes away the soul.
And Satan answered the Lord and said, Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will
he give for his life… . And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold he is in thine hand: only
spare his life. So Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord and smote Job etc.
(Job 2.4-7). R. Isaac said: Satan’s torment was worse than that of Job; he was like
51 b. Sanh. 89b.
52 In the parallels Satan is not mentioned; see Reeg, “Der Satan in der rabbinischen
Literatur,” 627–630.
53 Midr. ’Aggada on Exod. 4.24.
54 Exod. Rab. 5.8.
55 Mek. ‫ יתרו‬1 on Exod. 18.3; j. Ned. 3.12 (35b).
a servant who is told by his master, “Break the cask but do not let any of the wine
spill.”
Resh Laqish said: Satan, the evil inclination, and the Angel of Death are all one.
He is called Satan, as it is written, “And Satan went forth from the presence of the
Lord” (Job 2.7). He is called the evil inclination: [we know this because] it is written
in another place, “[Every imagination of the thoughts of his heart] was only evil
continually” (Gen. 6.5), and it is written here [in connection with Satan] “Only upon
himself put not forth thine hand” (Job 2.12). The same is also the Angel of Death,
since it says, “Only spare his life” (Job 2.7), which shows that Job’s life belonged
to him.
Resh Laqish explains the baraita, which opens the section and is unknown
from any other Tannaitic source by expounding Job 2.4-7: a) Satan is Satan,
because he is called Satan; b) Satan is the evil inclination; the evidence is to
be found in the combination of Gen. 6.5 and Job 2.6 and 1.12;56 c) Satan is the
Angel of Death, because he can take Job’s soul, although he is still restrained
by God.
This text is the starting-point for the equation of Satan, the evil inclination
and the Angel of Death in medieval sources. In rabbinic texts, however, it
is the only occurence. There is no other evidence that Satan is the Angel of
Death.
Satan and Sama’el

Usually Satan is identified with Sama’el57 without questioning this equation.
Yet, only in the late midrash Exodus Rabbah58 or in medieval literature do
both names seem to be interchangeable. It is remarkable that Sama’el appears
in only a very few classical rabbinic texts such as Gen. Rab. 56.4; b. Sot. 10b;
Tanh.uma ‫ וישלח‬8; Exod. Rab. 18.5; 21.7. Pirqe deR. ’Eli‘ezer (ninth century),
Ber. Rabbati (first half of the eleventh century) and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan
(eighth century) may be added.
The figure of Sama’el is connected to the following three traditions:
Sama’el is the fallen Angel,59 a tradition known from apocryphical texts.60
56 There is a textual problem here. The masoretic text of Gen. 6.5 reads ‫ רק‬however, this
word is missing in Job 2.6, while it occurs in Job 1.12.
57 Urbach, The Sages, 167–170. On Sama’el see Stemberger, “Samael und Uzza. Zur
Rolle der Dämonen im späten Midrasch,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die
Dämonen, 636–661; Dan, “Samael and the Problem of Jewish Gnosticism,” 257–276.
58 Exod. Rab. 18.5; 21.7.
59 Pirqe deR. ’Eli‘ezer 12 and 14; Ber. Rabbati ‫ לך לך‬on Gen. 14.13 and Targum Pseudo-
Jonathan; cf. Stemberger, “Samael and Uzza,” 641.
60 Jan Dochhorn, “The Motif of the Angels’ Fall in Early Judaism,” in Friedrich V.
Reiterer, Tobias Nicklas, and Karin Schöpflin (eds.), Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature
Yearbook 2007: Angels – The Concept of Celestical Beings – Origins, Development and Reception
(Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2007), 477–495.
Sama’el is the Prince of Rome.61

Sama’el is the Angel of Death in the story of the Death of Moses.62
None of these traditions is connected in any way to Satan. ’Abot deR. Natan A
addition 2 to chapter 9 (a later addition in one manuscript to ’Abot deR.
Natan),63 describes the eviction of Satan from heaven in the context of Job’s
temptation. This story, however, is different from the fall of Sama’el during
the days of creation in Pirqe deR. ’Eli‘ezer. Further details which cannot be
ignored are: Sama’el can be adressed as “wicked” (‫)סמאל הרשע‬64 whereas
Satan is never denoted as such. The name “Sama’el” points to an angel,65
while we cannot be sure about the status of Satan as an angel. Therefore Satan
and Sama’el are to be seen as independent characters.66 The only feature they
have in common is the role as prosecutor and their struggling with Michael or
Gabriel, as described in Exod. Rab. 18.5; 21.7. This may be the reason why in
the course of time they became synonymous or exchangeable.67
Summary
In rabbinic literature Satan is only a marginal figure. He is depicted in three

different roles: the one of accuser is common to all sources, while the one of
seducer or tempter is almost exclusively restricted to the Babylonian Talmud
and the Tanh.uma. Satan as the Angel of Death occurs in only one text, namely
in b. B. Bat. 16a.
The sages did not speculate on the origin or the nature of Satan at length.
In rabbinic literature he remains an achromatic figure. He is a celestial being
that can also appear on earth. When masquerading he resembles a demon.
According to Gen. Rab. 17.6 he was created the same day as Eve. It is not clear
whether he belongs to the angels who were created before Adam.68 However,
he shares some features with them.
Satan’s function as prosecutor is connected to the divine attribute of Justice,
the counterpart of the divine attribute of Mercy; his role as seducer or tempter is
associated with the evil inclination, the counterpart of the good inclination. The
61 Tanh.uma ‫ וישלח‬8; Ber. Rabbati ‫ וישלח‬on Gen. 36.33 and Synopse zur Hekhalot-
Literatur, ed. Peter Schäfer in cooperation with Margarete Schlüter and Hans Georg von Mutius
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981), §§17, 42, 109, 110. In §17 both Satan and Sama’el are
mentioned as different figures; Stemberger, “Samael and Uzza,” 642–646.
62 Deut. Rab. 10 and parallels; Stemberger, “Samael and Uzza,” 647–652. On the death
of Moses see Rella Kushelevsky, Moses and the Angel of Death (New York: Peter Lang, 1995).
63 Menahem Kister, Studies in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan: Text, Redaction, and Interpretation
(Jerusalem: The Hebrew University, Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 1998), 225f.
64 Tanh.uma ‫ וישלח‬8 and in Hekhalot-Literature.
65 Cf. Exod. Rab. 21.7.
66 Cf. Stemberger, “Samael and Uzza,” 640: “In der späteren rabbinischen Literatur
hingegen ist Samael noch immer nur eine von mehreren Bezeichnungen (vor allem Satan).”
67 Exod. Rab. 18.5; 21.7; Dan, “Samael and the Problem of Jewish Gnosticism,” 260.
68 On the creation of the angels see Jung, Fallen Angels, 15, n. 19.
evil inclination as well as the attribute of Justice can be regarded as important

concepts in rabbinic thought. For Satan, however, no conceptualization can be
demonstrated. His functions can be taken on by others without any problems.
The figure of Sama’el is to be distinguished from that of Satan. Three
traditions connected with Sama’el are to be mentioned: Sama’el who was cast
out of heaven as a consequence of his revolt against God, Sama’el the Prince
of Rome, and Sama’el as Angel of Death. In contrast to Satan, Sama’el can be
denoted as wicked and as an angel.
The figure of Satan occurs in rabbinic sources from the late fourth or the
early fifth centuries, i.e. from the beginning of the Amoraic period. Sama’el,
however, occurs in texts from the eighth or ninth centuries, with some
exceptions. Exodus Rabbah is the first textual witness for the interchangeability
of Satan and Sama’el in the role of persecutor.
The figure of Satan in rabbinic literature is not connected to, or integrated
into, an apocalyptic concept like Belial in the Qumran texts or Satan in the
Apocalypse of John in the New Testament.
In rabbinic literature Satan is not a principle of evil, even though he, like the
evil inclination, seduces humans to do evil. As they have free will, it depends
on them whether they obey or disobey God. It is humans who do good or evil.
Satan will accuse them when they have transgressed God’s commandments.
Harm and evil which befall humans are the result of their own deeds. Satan,
like the evil inclination, is part of the creation, which is basically good. The
angels oppose God in his wish to create humankind, since they predict that
man will sin. It is not Satan, but humankind, who can preserve or destroy the
world created by God.69
69 Arnold Goldberg, “Schöpfung und Geschichte. Der Midrasch von den Dingen, die
vor der Welt erschaffen wurden,” in Margarete Schlüter and Peter Schäfer (eds.), Mystik und
Theologie des rabbinischen Judentums, Gesammelte Studien I (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997),
148–161; Peter Schäfer, “Das Böse in der mittelalterlichen Mystik,” in Carsten Colpe and Wilhelm
Schmidt-Biggemann (eds.), Das Böse. Eine historische Phänomenologie des Unerklärlichen
(Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1993), 90–93. I am grateful to Ulrike Hirschfelder and Tal Ilan
for correcting the English text as well as to Bill Rebiger for discussing the subject with me.
Chapter 5
Miracles of the Devil and His Assistants in Early Judaism

and Their Influence on the Gospel of Matthew
Erkki Koskenniemi
Introduction
Every reader of the Scripture knows that God performs miracles. However, so
do his opponents, namely men, angels, and the Devil himself. From the Old
Testament to early Judaism, and especially in the New Testament and early
Christianity, we have growing evidence that evil powers performed miracles
similar to God’s and his agents’ mighty deeds. This chapter investigates the
miracles of the dark side as well as the reaction they caused among Jewish
theologians and Matthew, a writer usually considered to have been in close
contact with the Jewish tradition.
Greek and Latin Demonology: From dai/monej to Demons
The religions of early Greece and Rome certainly knew mighty powers that were
considered unfriendly and dangerous. Those living in the early imperial age,
especially, widely believed in dark powers, but were miracles attributed to them?
My first question is what is meant by “dark powers”? Early Greek and Roman
religions greatly differed from, for example, the world of Qumran, where people
strictly distinguished between the powers of light and the powers of darkness.
Early sources attest that both Greeks and Romans knew that their own gods
could be angry with them sometimes, such as Poseidon in the Odyssey. Some
figures were consistently expelled to prevent their damaging works, which we
certainly may call miracles. Thus, we have already here, in some sense, miracles
done by “evil powers,” or at least, angry powers. A term more adequate than
“evil powers” would here be, for example, the phrase “das Negativwertig-
Numinöse” used by Hans-Peter Müller, who studied the Phoenician religion.1
However, “evil powers” usually denotes the world of demons and bad spirits.
1 Hans-Peter Müller, “Der Umgang mit dem Negativwertig-Numinosen in der

phönizisch-punischen Religion,” in Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard
Miracles of the Devil and His Assistants 85
Apotropaic magic, as seen for example in mosaics on doorsteps, was used

overall in the Mediterranean world as early as pre-historic Crete,2 and the
earliest written sources give evidence of magic. Homer tells of Circe, who had
magical skills (Od. 10.235-243). However, the early Greco-Roman religion
did not develop a hierarchical system of evil powers. The Greco-Roman
demonology, known from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods, was heavily
influenced by Asian, Egyptian, and Persian views.3 It is not appropriate to
deal with the Greco-Roman background without observing this historical
development.4
The word δαίμων was still neutral in the classical period. Socrates, having
been accused of atheism, defended himself by referring to a δαίμων guiding
him in the right way (Plato, Apol. 31c–32a). Seven hundred years later,
Augustine, referring to Socrates’ words, reveals how the world was changed,
saying that not even a master could say to his slave that he had a “demon”
(Civ. 9.19). Δαίμονες were then considered “demons.” But how had the good
δαίμονες changed into the bad “demons”?
The history of religious concepts is well known.5 Greek philosophers owe
the idea of the three categories of rational beings, namely gods, men and
δαίμονες, to Xenocrates, Plato’s successor in the Academy.6 Δαίμονες
live between gods and men and share features with both of them. Apparently,
Xenocrates here only formulates and systematizes the popular Asiatic religion
known to, for example, Hesiod. However, according to Xenocrates, the minds
of the δαίμονες were touched by emotions, πάθη. Basically, this means that
δαίμονες could do wrong. The δαίμονες were in Xenocrates’ view still not
what we understand by “demons.” It was Apuleius who formulated in his work
De deo Socratis a system that became common property later, although in an
intensified form. Augustine, for example, mainly follows Apuleius’ definition
(Civ. 8.16).
Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen
Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt [Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early
Christian Literature in Context of their Environment] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 108–121.
2 C. Zintzen, “Geister (Dämonen) B. Nichtchristlich. III. Östliche Mittelmeerwelt seit
dem 4./3. v.’C. c. Hellenistische u. kaiserzeitliche Philosophie,” RAC 9 (1976), 640–668. On pre-
Hellenistic Greece see J. ter Vrugt-Lentz, “Geister (Dämonen). B. Nichtchristlich. II Vorhellenisti
sches Griechenland,” RAC 9 (1976), 598–615.
3 See Stefan Maul, et al., “Dämonen,” DNP 3 (1997), 258–264; Saraha Iles Johnston,
Mathias Baltes, and Peter Habermehl, “Dämonlogie,” DNP 3 (1997), 265–269.
4 Thraede, for example, deals with Homer and Lucian simultaneously in his article in
the RAC (“Exorzismus,” RAC 7 [1969], 44–117, e.g. 49).
5 See Martin Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism: Studies in their Encounter in Palestine
during the Early Hellenistic Period (2nd one-volume edn., Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 233–
234; E. Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-Workers in Early Judaism (WUNT, 2.206;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 180–181.
6 On Xenocrates, see Karl-Heinz Stanzel, “Xenokrates aus Chalkedon,” DNP 12.2
(2003), 620–623.
As said previously, as early as written sources exist, we know of magicians

who used forbidden methods and who were considered able to harm people with
their tricks. However, scholars widely believe that magic gained importance
during the first century bce and the first centuries ce, and many reasons for
this are apparent. In Egypt, magical traditions were collected and systematized
in the first century bce, which resulted in the collections of magical papyri
that we have.7 Pax Romana intensified the contact with the East and caused
several Eastern cults to gain support in the West.8 Late antiquity is considered
a golden age of ghosts, magic, and good stories.
Men could also serve dubious powers and use their help. The problem is
that the art of magic included skills that were considered good or bad. Some
of it was greatly honored, even by the noble people and, for example, the
Caesars. Tacitus, who is known for his skepticism, states that Tiberius had
many astrologers, especially Thrasyllus, filling his needs and that Otho took
a man named Ptolemy with him when traveling to Spain (Ann. 6.20-21; Hist.
1.22). Even the higher layer of society considered magicians great, wise men,
although some types of magical skills were strictly forbidden, perhaps even
punished by death.9 Apparently, only few were able to distinguish exactly
between the magic that was allowed and the skills that were morally rejected,
which makes the necessary modern definitions difficult. Modern scholars
tend to define magic sociologically and not theologically.10 To express it very
simply, the maxim “my miracles and your magic” fits better than dogmatic
distinctions. It also means that miracles were interpreted controversially, which
is evident when the reputations of Greek miracle workers are investigated.
Generally, we know only a few names of Greek or Roman miracle workers,11
and still fewer with the sole reputation that they performed miracles with
the help of evil powers. They certainly existed, because laws were needed
to prevent their activity, but the masters of forbidden, magical arts tended
to remain anonymous. The magician using his dark skills in Horace’s comic
poem is not named (Sat. 1.8). But many of the historical figures who were
7 Georg Luck, Arcana Mundi: Magic and the Occult in the Greek and Roman Worlds
(Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985), 15–16.
8 The development was early recognized, for example, by Richard Reitzenstein
(Hellenistische Wundererzählungen [Leipzig: Teubner, 1906]; Die hellenistischen Mysterien
religionen nach ihren Grundgedanken und Wirkungen [Leipzig: Teubner, 1910]), who unfortunately
dated it too early (see E. Koskenniemi, Apollonios von Tyana in der neutestamentlichen Exegese.
Forschungsbericht und Weiterführung der Diskussion [WUNT, 2.61; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
1994], 64–65). A very illuminating example of an Eastern cult is the adoration of Sol Invictus in
Syria. The inscriptions reveal how the cult gained terrain in the West. The first inscription in Rome
is dated 158 ce (see Gaston Halsberghe, “Le Culte de Deus Sol Invictus a Rome au 3è siècle après
J.C.” ANRW 2.17.4 [1984], 2182). Christianity, of course, is another good example of the new
trend.
9 See, for example, the Twelve Tables, 8a (qui fruges excantassit).
10 See David E. Aune, “Magic in Early Christianity,” ANRW 2.23.2 (1980), 1507–1557,
esp. 1514–1516.
11 See the list in Koskenniemi, Apollonios von Tyana, 207–219.
praised as miracle workers were simultaneously rejected by their opponents,

either as mean impostors, such as Proteus Peregrinus by Lucian,12 or as masters
of the dark arts, such as Apollonius of Tyana by his critics.13
The Old Testament and the Septuagint
Israel’s God is omnipotent in the Scripture and he does great miracles, helping
his own people and punishing their enemies. However, his miracles often also
punished his own people, and scholars speak of YHWH “before dualism,” as
formulated by Keel.14 Occasionally the later Old Testament writers attributed
some of God’s punishing acts to dark powers. The Chronicler reinterpreted
2 Sam. 24.1 and replaced God—or rather his wrath—with Satan in 1 Chron.
21.1.15 Moreover, an interesting feature of Scripture—that spirits, which were
later interpreted as evil powers, serve the Omnipotent—makes everything
complicated and challenging. God may send a spirit to lead prophets astray,
by being “a lying spirit in the mouths” (‫ )רוח שקר‬of all of Ahab’s prophets (1
Kgs 22.21). Also, 2 Sam. 16.14-23 tells how God sent a bad spirit, ‫רעה‬-‫רוח‬, to
torture Saul and how David helped the king with his song. Dangerous spirits
do appear in the Scripture. However, it is important to note that it is God who
sends these spirits and has everything under control.
The Old Testament includes several well-known references to evil spirits
who seem to have been more or less independent from God. Modern scholars
may find evidence of sinister figures (Lilith, Deber, ‘Asa‘sel, Resheph), which
were perhaps originally gods of other nations or demons, but monotheism
took the place of these figures,16 and their miracles do not play a major role
in early Jewish texts. On the contrary, the Scripture includes miracle workers
not serving Israel’s God: the sages of Pharaoh were able to imitate many of
12 On Peregrinus Proteus, see Koskenniemi, Apollonius von Tyana, 212–213.

13 The Life of Apollonius by Philostratos presents the Philostratean and not the historical
Apollonius, and we have problems identifying the oldest layer of the tradition. Apollonius
was considered a miracle worker before Philostratus, in a positive (μάγος) as well as in the
negative (γοής) sense. I have tentatively suggested a solution that would explain both parts of his
reputation: as a religious figure he was later at odds with the religious authorities in temples and
was considered a magician; see Koskenniemi, “The Function of the Miracle-stories in Philostratus’
Vita Apollonii Tyanensis,” in Michael Labahn and Bert Jan Lietaert Peerbolte (eds.), Wonders
Never Cease: The Purpose of Narrating Miracle Stories in the New Testament and Its Religious
Environment (ESCO and LNTS, 288; London and New York: T&T Clark, 2006), 82–83.
14 Othmar Keel, “Schwache alttestamentlich Ansätze zur Konstruktion einer stark
dualistisch getönten Welt,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 228–230.
15 See the contribution of Antti Laato in this volume.
16 Matthias Köckert, “War Jacobs Gegner in Gen. 32,23–33 ein Dämon,” in Lange,
Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 160. On Lilith and Deber, see van der Toorn,
“The Theology of Demons,” 61–65; on ‘Asa‘sel, Keel, “Schwache alttestamentiche Ansätze,” 223–
228. On the way of Resheph, see the article of Herbert Niehr, “Zur Entstehung von Dämonen in
der Religionsgeschichte Israels. Überlegungen zum Weg des Rešep durch die nordwestsemitische
Religionsgeschichte,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 84–107.
the mighty deeds of Moses and Aaron, and, although Joseph and Daniel easily
beat their colleagues, Genesis (Gen. 41) and Daniel (chs. 2, 4, and 5) do not
otherwise criticize the sages serving the Pharaoh and the Great Kings. Miracle
workers clearly serving evil powers appear in early Jewish texts, but the topic
is not yet developed in the Scripture.
The problem of magic, clearly present in the Scripture, never ceased to
exist. The Pentateuch strictly forbids some skills (Lev. 19.26; Num. 23.23;
Deut. 18.10-15), and, for example, the story of the witch of Endor mirrors
the problem in 1 Sam. 28. In the Deuteronomistic view, for example, the evil
powers sometimes completely lack the ability to do miracles—such as was
the case with Baal and his people on Mt. Carmel—but sometimes they are
considered powerful and horrible (Deut. 18.10-11).17 All in all, the sources
witness a continuous battle against forbidden skills as well as the partial
adoption of these skills in Israel.
The Septuagint sometimes reveals how new interpretations were present in
the third century bce. The translation may replace God with ἄγγελος κυρίου,
when, for example, God tried to kill Moses in Exod. 4.24.18 This was the first
step toward the idea that the action was not a work of God but of his opponent,
as seen sometimes in later writings19 and in phrasing of the Chronicler. However,
the most important feature is how the words δαίμων or δαιμόνιος, were used
in the Greek translation.20 Although it would be an overstatement to claim that
the words are common, they appear and are evidence of new interpretations. The
word δαιμόνιος/δαιμόνιον appears nine times in Tobit and twice in 1 Baruch
(see below). Several of the rest of the eight appearances (Deut. 32.17; Ps. 90.6;
95.5; 105.5; Isa. 13.21; 34.14; 65.3; 65.11) clearly show that the translators were
well aware of “demons,” as we know them. People sacrifice to δαιμονίοις
(‫)לשדים‬, such as in Deut. 32.17 and Ps. 105.37, and all the gods of the Gentiles
are πάντες οἱ θεοὶ τῶν ἐθνῶν δαιμόνια, ‫( אלילים‬Ps. 96.5). In particular, the
translator(s) of Isaiah now identified wild spirits as δαιμόνια (13.21; 34.14).
The words do not reveal that evil spirits were doing miracles, but they do witness
that the setting existed.
The Old Testament thus knows evil powers, including men serving evil
powers, but it is not easy to find evidence that they did miracles. To be true,
God’s opponents did, when the Egyptian sages were able to repeat many of
Moses’ miracles (Exod. 7.14–12.36). However, the topic is not developed
before the end of the Old Testament era. On the contrary, later writers produced
a strong tradition that also influenced early Christianity, and the Septuagint
was already a witness to new ideas.
17 On the later tradition, especially obvious in the L.A.B., see below. p. 92

18 On the interpretation of the text, see Wolfgang Hüllstrung, “Wer versuchte wen zu
töten? Ein Beitrag zum Verständnis von Exodus 4,24–26,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld
19 On the role of Mastema in Jub. 48.2-3, see below, pp. 90–91, and Koskenniemi, Old
Testament Miracle-Workers, 58–59.
20 See Keel, “Schwache alttestamentiche Ansätze,” 213–223.
Early Judaism
Early Jewish texts share with the Scripture the belief that God performs
miracles to either reward or punish people. Moreover, unlike in the Greco-
Roman sources, we have a huge number of human miracle workers serving
God, as well as Old Testament figures as historical persons.21 However, the
dark powers also made miracles and used human agents in their service.
Early Jewish religion was typically able to develop and expand even very
scarce material present in the Scripture. What is more, Jewish writers could
introduce (almost) completely new elements to their religion. The space
allowed sets some limits for this contribution.22 Several Jewish texts speak
of demons or spirits23 and sometimes give interesting details of their origin.24
The texts may also speak of how demons and spirits tempt or mislead people.25
However, the scope of this chapter limits us to state that evil powers or their
servants do miracles.
First Enoch, a very important composite work, reveals how the idea that
miracles were done by the dark side was adopted in early Judaism. The earliest
part of the work, chapters 1–36, which is usually dated to the third century
bce, tells how the Watchers (Gen. 6) taught people magical tricks and the
26
uses of plants. The book also renders a version of the genesis of demons (1 En.
15) and their imprisonment (ch. 18). In a passage written considerably later,27
the work tells how different angels taught different abominations to people (ch.
69). The basis for the miracles done by evil powers is thus clear. Everything is
21 On the Old Testament miracle workers, see Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-
Workers. On the historical persons, see Koskenniemi, “The Religious-Historical Background of
the New Testament Miracles,” in J. Harold Ellens (ed.), Miracles: God, Science, and Psychology
in the Paranormal; Vol. I: Religious and Spiritual Events (Westport: Praeger, 2008), 77–86.
22 See the contributions by Loren T. Stuckenbruck and Ida Fröhlich in this volume.
23 The important role of Solomon must be mentioned here. The Old Testament tradition
made him a famous, wise king. In the later tradition, this wisdom also included knowledge of
herbs, medicine, magic, and demons. Ultimately, he was able to command an army of demons; see
Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-Workers, 259–264.
24 1QS 3.17–4.1 considers the demons a part of the original creation; see J. J. Collins,
“The Origin of Evil in Apocalyptic Literature and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Congress Volume, Paris
1992 (NTS, 61; Leiden: Brill, 1992); 28–29; and P. S. Alexander, “The Demonology of the Dead
Sea Scrolls,” in Peter W. Flint and James C. Vanderkam (eds.), with the assistance of Andrea
E. Alvarez, The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, 2.331–353.
Leiden: Brill, 1999); Michael Becker, Wunder und Wundertäter im frührabbinischen Judentum.
Studien zum Phänomen und seiner Überlieferung im Horizont von Magie und Dämonismus
(WUNT, 2.144; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 152–153.
25 Some texts (esp. Jub.) telling how demons mislead people are referred to below
because they stand in direct context with miracles. But, for example, The Testament of Joseph tells
how Potiphar’s wife tried to seduce Joseph with the help of magic (6.1).
26 Siegbert Uhlig, “Das äthiopische Henochbuch,” JSHRZ 5 (1984), 494; Mathias Delcor,
“Jewish Literature in Hebrew and Aramaic in the Greek Era,” CHJ 2 (1989), 425–426.
27 Scholars disagree over when chapters 37–71 were written. Delcor (“Jewish Literature
in Hebrew and Aramaic,” 426–429) suggests a time between 103 and 76 bce, but Uhlig (“Das
äthiopische Henochbuch,” 494) argues for the turn of the era.
derived from the ancient mutiny against God. Since then, demons have existed
in the world, and they help people who are masters of dark skills. However,
this does not mean that the Enochian tradition would have rejected every
sinister art as abruptly as one would think. Medicine, sometimes rejected by
Jewish writers, although not at all as completely as modern scholars tend to
assume,28 is accepted in ch. 96, belonging to another section (chs. 92, 94–105),
written in the first century ce.29
Few early Jewish texts tell about the miracles of evil as clearly and openly
as the Book of Tobit. The book is early, written about 200 bce in Hebrew or
Aramaic, and it originates from the Eastern Diaspora.30 Asmodeus, the bad
demon, had killed seven bridegrooms before their sexual union. Tobias, the
son of Tobit, is helped by Raphael the angel and burns the heart and gall of a
fish to expel the demon, who is captured and chained by Raphael (6.1-8; 8.1-
3). The demon “Asmodeus” (Ασμοδαυς) is the Babylonian ŠMDWN,31 and the
technique used to control the demon was known there, too.32
The Book of Jubilees, written about 150 bce, valuably illumines early
Jewish demonology, which is strongly present in certain parts of this work.
The influence from the Enochian corpus is obvious, although the details may
be new. Mastema and other cruel spirits started to mislead the Gentiles (7.4-
5), and the reason for the Flood was the sin of the Watchers (7.21). The most
important passage is that which relates how the demons started to mislead
the sons of Noah. Noah prayed for help, and the Lord intended to bind all
the demons. However, Mastema protested that it was impossible for him to
fulfill the task of misleading the Gentiles without his helpers. Consequently
only ninety percent of the demons were bound, Mastema was able to use the
rest, and Noah was taught to block the work of the demons with different
herbs (10.1-14).33 This story reveals not only that the idea of ‫ רוח שקר‬serving
the Omnipotent (cf. 1 Chron. 22) existed in early Jewish tradition, but also
that a battle between good and evil powers was raging in the world. In this
28 See Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-Workers, 21–22; David Flusser, Judaism
of the Second Temple Period. Vol. 1: Qumran and Apocalypticism (Jerusalem Perspectives; Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans/Magnes Press, 2007), 38–39.
29 Uhlig, “Das äthiopische Henochbuch”: 494; Delcor, “Jewish Literature in Hebrew and
Aramaic,” 430–431.
30 On Asmodi and the miracle, see Beate Ego, “‘Denn er liebt sie’ (Tob. 6,15 Ms. 319)
Zur Rolle des Dämons Asmodäus in der Tobit-Erzählung,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld
31 Cf. the contribution by Ida Fröhlich in this volume.
32 On the use of smoke to expel demons, see Thraede, “Exorzismus,” 45–46; Otto
Böcher, Dämonenfurcht und Dämonenabwehr. Ein Beitrag zur Vorgeschichte der christlichen
Taufe (BWANT, 10; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1970), 193–195; Otto Böcher Christus Exorcista.
Dämonismus und Taufe im Neuen Testament (BWANT, 16; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1972), 96–97.
33 On the story, see James C. VanderKam, “The Demons in the Book of Jubilees,” in
Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 342–344. Obviously, The Book of
Jubilees depends on a lost work, The Book of Noah; see VanderKam, ibid., 356–358. This book
seems to have included much material on protecting oneself from the deeds of evil spirits.
battle, some people use the help of evil powers, and others are protected by
good angels and magical knowledge. The passage referred to speaks only of
the demons’ misleading of people, but miracles are part of this battle. This
is obvious when the Book of Jubilees describes how Moses and his people
had to fight against Mastema and his helpers. It is true that Mastema himself
is an inconsequent figure who tries at times to kill Moses (Jub. 48.2-3) and
sometimes his enemies (Jub. 49.2); again, the ideas of the Chronicler and
the translator of the Septuagint are repeated.34 However, it is a novum that
Mastema also used Egyptian sorcerers to attack the people of Israel. The
leader of the evil powers, his demons, and the human beings in his service
appear in this text, all doing miracles to attack God’s people. The tradition of
Egyptian sorcerers grew stronger later, and their role varies in different Jewish
works. Sometimes evil powers are not mentioned at all, such as in Philo, but
they also may take a decisive role. The only fragment of the lost work Jannes
and Jambres tells how Jannes and his brother Jambres were called on by the
Egyptians to compete with Moses and Aaron, and how they were punished.35
Early Jewish demonology flourishes in all colours in the Scrolls.36 Although
simplified views should not be favored,37 many documents reveal how the
world had changed to be a battlefield between good and evil powers. We know
that the Qumran Community was famous for its (magical) medical skills
(Josephus, B.J. 2.136), and also that they used different methods to block evil
spirits and demons.38 Abraham appears as an exorcist in 1QAp Genar 20:28-
29.39 A very interesting method of averting the attacks of bad spirits was to use
remodelled Davidic psalms, such as 11Q11.40 This kind of apotropaic psalm41
was perhaps used when people joined the Community,42 but it was hardly
their only use.43 Unfortunately, we have very little information concerning the
34 See above, pp. 87–88.

35 See Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-Workers, 61.
36 See especially Armin Lange, “The Essene Position on Magic and Divination,” in M.
Bernstein, F. García Martínez, and J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings
of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies (Cambridge, 1995)
Published in Honour of Joseph M. Baumgarten (STDJ, 23; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 377–435; P. S.
Alexander, “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Flint and Vanderkam (eds.), The Dead
Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years, 331–353.
37 Cf. the contribution by Loren Stuckenbruck in this volume.
38 See Koskenniemi, “Traditional Roles Inverted,” Biblische Zeitschrift 52 (2008), 261–
268.
39 Abraham is presented as an exorcist also in Apoc. Ab. 13.4-14.
40 Other allusions to exorcistic techniques are in 4Q510, 4Q511, and 4Q560.
41 Liber antiquitatum biblicarum retells how David blocked the demon attacking Saul,
and gives the psalm sung by David; see Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-Workers, 219–
222.
42 Menahem Kister, “Demons, Theology and Abraham’s Covenant (CD 16:4–6 and
related Texts),” in Robert A. Kugler and Eileen M. Schuller (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls at Fifty:
Proceedings of the 1997 Society of Biblical Literature Qumran Section Meetings (SBL Early
Judaism and its Literature, 15; Atlanta, Ga., 1997) 174–176.
43 Cf. the contributions of Fröhlich and Stuckenbruck in this volume.
miracles the Community attributed to evil spirits. However, the words used
in Psalm 11Q11 seem to make clear that the temptation was not considered
ideological only but that an attacking demon meant an imminent threat to the
targeted.
Liber antiquitatum Biblicarum, once falsely attributed to Philo, contains
much material valuably illumining early Jewish concepts of evil powers. The
text was written about 70 ce, apparently soon after the fall of Jerusalem, in
Hebrew by an anonymous, very learned Jew.44 Certain passages, especially
ch. 60, reveal a well-considered cosmology, which also shows the place of
demons. In this work, the fallen angels were masters of magic, and they did not
lose their power after their fall. On the contrary, they were leading sorcerers
(qui praeerant maleficiis). That was why Aod the magician, serving these
angels and sacrificing to them, could promise that he would show the Israelites
more than their law, namely the sun in the night, and make them fall (L.A.B.
34).45 The passage shows how closely the work connects magic and heresy,
and how directly the bad angels attacked the heart of the Jewish religion. A
miracle was used to lead Israel astray.
Here, as otherwise in this work, dark magic is by no means nonsense. The
writer describes how the sinners of Asher’s tribe had used powerful magical
stones in the service of evil (L.A.B. 25.10-12). God’s angel takes these stones
and throws them into the sea, but gives others to Kenaz, Israel’s leader (L.A.B.
26.4, 6-13). The stones used by the sinners were not powerless but had been
defiled, which was the reason that they were destroyed. Evil powers were
considered a reality, and they also were able to do great miracles.46 Sorcery is
violently hated in L.A.B.,47 and Kenaz’s slaying of all who had sinned with the
stones is clearly set as an example for later generations.
Several sporadic, brief passages tell of the activity of the evil powers,
especially in the last phases of history. The Treatise of Shem, written during
the Roman period in Egypt,48 says that demons “will attack men but will not
harm them in any way” (2.9). According to 2 Sib. 2.167, written in Greek
around the turn of the era,49 Beliar will come and “do many signs for men.” The
Apocalypse of Elijah, a Jewish work containing obvious Christian elements
and written about 150–275 ce,50 tells about the mighty deeds of the Antichrist
(3.10) and the consequent mourning of those who were led astray with signs
44 On the work and open questions, see Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-
Workers, 190.
45 On this passage, see Howard Jacobson, A Commentary on Pseudo-Philo’s Liber
antiquitatum biblicarum with Latin Text and English Translation 1–2 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 906–911.
46 On the reworked story of the witch of Endor (1 Sam. 28) in L.A.B. 64, see Koskenniemi,
The Old Testament Miracle-Workers, 215.
47 On sorcery in L.A.B., see Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-Workers, 214–215.
48 J. J. Collins, Between Athens and Jerusalem: Jewish Identity in the Hellenistic
Diaspora (The Biblical Resource Series; 2nd edn. Michigan: Eerdmans, 2000), 163–164.
49 The estimated date varies between 30 bce and 250 ce, but Collins argues convincingly
for the period around the turn of the era (J. J. Collins, “Sibylline Oracles,” OTP 1 [1983], 331–332).
50 O. S. Wintermute, “Apocalypse of Elijah,” OTP 1 (1983), 730.
and wonders (5.1, 10-11). The Martyrdom and Ascension of Isaiah, similarly
a Jewish work with Christian passages, tells about Beliar’s age and his great
miracles (ch. 4). In the later texts especially, the end of history will bring a
great temptation, because the Devil will lead people astray using miracles.
However, the foundation was laid much earlier.
Early Jewish texts thus portray a strong tradition of miracles, even the
magic and miracles of evil powers. This tradition challenged rabbinic Judaism.
Unfortunately, we do not have authentic texts written by specific rabbis but
have, rather, collections that have undergone a long and strong redaction. It
is enough here to refer to the conclusions of Michael Becker, who analyzed
and presented the rabbinic concepts of miracles and magic. To sum up very
briefly,51 the Mishnah and the Tosefta only seldom describe miracles performed
by post-biblical figures, but, of course, they honor biblical miracles. According
to Becker, miracles and magic were topics that the rabbis could never overlook.
They were present in rabbinic times and required comment. Far from being
uniformly enthusiastic about miracles, as some earlier scholars seem to have
thought,52 the majority of the rabbinic authorities were rather reserved and
even critical of miracles because of their similarity to magical practices. These
conclusions, together with the points above, certainly help us to take a fresh
look at the Gospel of Matthew.
Matthew: Do Not Try This at Home
Once upon a time scholars, considering miracles primitive and alien to real
Christianity, tried to rescue every New Testament writer they could, claiming
that they tried to play down the role of miracles. As far as I know, no one has
tried to do this service for Matthew, although many have for John and Paul.53
Space does not allow me to present extensively the concept of miracles in
Matthew.54 However, it is interesting to see how his Gospel links miracles to
evil powers. This part of Matthew’s redaction is sometimes noted, especially
when it applies to the problem of how Jesus dealt with demons. The question
of Matthew and demons has been vigorously investigated. Otto Böcher
claimed that Matthew had greatly reduced Jesus’ contacts with demons, and,
for example, Bernd Kollmann agreed with his view.55 This interpretation was
51 See the summary in Michael Becker, Wunder und Wundertäter, 406–414.

52 Especially Paul Fiebig, Jüdische Wundergeschichten des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters
unter besonderer Berücksichtigung ihres Verhältnisses zum Neuen Testament bearbeitet. Ein
Beitrag zum Streit um die “Christusmythe” (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1911).
53 See Koskenniemi, Apollonios von Tyana, 142–147, 150–154.
54 On Matthew and miracles, see Joachim Gnilka, Das Matthäusevangelium 1 (HThK;
Freiburg, Basel, and Wien: Herder, 1986), 348–351; Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus,
Band 2 (Mt. 8–17) (Zürich: Benziger, 1990), 64–73.
55 See Böcher, Dämonenfurcht, and especially his article in the TRE (“Dämonen. IV.
Neues Testament,” TRE 8 [1981], 285): “Besonders der Evangelist Matthäus hat ein Interesse
recently rejected by Martin Rese.56 This problem partly overlaps the question
of magic and miracles, and it has never played the role it deserves in the
interpretation of the miracles in Matthew. The problem is not discussed in
detail, for example, in the commentaries of Joachim Gnilka, Ulrich Luz, or
Richard France.
It would be a tough task to claim that miracles in general were somehow
problematic to Matthew. A number of his famous references to the Old
Testament (“Erfüllungszitate”) that play such an important role in his Gospel57
stand in the context of Jesus’ miracles (1.18-24; 2.1-15; 8.16-17; 12.18-21).
For example, chapters 8–9 contain a chain of miracle stories.58 Matthew
records almost all the Markan miracle stories, but he mostly abridges them
and does so very skillfully.59 In most cases, he is able to give a version that has,
at least theologically, all the elements of the original (for example, Mk 1.40-
45 // Mt. 8.1-4;60 Mk 2.1-12 // Mt. 9.1-861). However, Matthew may also drop
some Markan stories altogether, omit certain features, or make clear changes.
All this seems to stand in line with early Jewish doubts concerning miracles.
Matthew omits some Markan miracle stories altogether. Mark tells
minutiously how Jesus healed a blind man in two phases, revealing the
technique in detail (Mk 8.22-26). Matthew dropped this story, not only
daran, bereits den irdischen Jesus aus der Nachbarschaft gewöhnlicher Exorzisten zu lösen. Er
tilgt dämonistische Perikopen (Mk. 1,23–28 par.; 9,38–41 par-) und dämonistische Aussagen
(Mt. 8,16,29; 9,2; 17,18); ganze Heilungsberichte entdämonisiert er (Mt. 8,28–34; 15,29–31;
17,14–21), und massive Exorzismen verwandelt er in allgemeine Krankenheilungen (Mt. 4,23b;
8,16; 12,15.22; 15,22.25.28.29–31). Wenn überhaupt, dann exorziert für Matthäus Jesus nicht
mehr mit Gottes Finger (Lk. 11,20), sondern in Gottes Geist (Mt. 12,28), nicht mit Öl oder
Speichel, sondern mit dem Wort (Mt. 8,16).” Kollmann (Wunder IV,” TRE 36 [2004], 389–397)
expresses his view briefly: “durch die mattheische Bearbeitung oder Auslassung der markinischen
Wundergeschichten (kommt es) auch zu einer Entdämonisierung und Entmagisierung des
Jesusbildes” (394).
56 Rese justly notes that only a few scholars have investigated the differences between
Mark and Matthew. Böcher and Kollmann, for example, have mainly dealt with the historical
Jesus (Rese, “Jesus und die Dämonen im Matthäusevangelium,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and
Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen, 463–464).
57 On these references, see Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, Band 1 (Mt. 5.1–7)
(Zürich: Benziger, 1985), 134–141; Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1–13 (Dallas: Word Books, 1993),
liii–lvii; R. T. France, The Gospel of Matthew (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 11–14.
58 On the hypothesis that Matthew has presented Jesus as a new miracle-working Moses
after having presented him as a new legislator, see France, The Gospel of Matthew, 301.
59 According to Gnilka (Das Matthäusevangelium, 350), Matthew has strongly reduced
the narrative element of the stories and emphasized the word. According to Luz (Das Evangelium
nach Matthäus, 2, 8), Matthew has emphasized the dialogues by abridging the stories. According
to France (The Gospel of Matthew, 301), Mark “apparently enjoys telling these dramatic stories
for their own sake,” but in Matthew they serve “a more disciplined function.”
60 On the passage and comparison, see Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 2.8–11;
France, The Gospel of Matthew, 305–309.
61 On the passage and comparison, see Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 2.35–40;
France, The Gospel of Matthew, 343–348.
making the symbolism of gradual enlightenment less obvious,62 and barely

merging it with the stories of the two blind men in Mt. 9.27-31 and Mt. 20.29-
34, but avoiding any connotations with magic. Similarly, Matthew takes one
summary of miracles and slightly expands it, but omits the healing of the man
who was deaf and μογιλάλος (Mt. 15.29-31; cf. Mk 7.31-37). This means
that the entire sequence of healing and the technique used by Jesus in Mk
7.33-35 is omitted (καὶ ἀπολαβόμενος αὐτὸν ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄχλου κατ’ ἰδίαν
ἔβαλεν τοὺς δακτύλους αὐτοῦ εἰς τὰ ὦτα αὐτοῦ καὶ πτύσας ἥψατο
τῆς γλώσσης αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀναβλέψας εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν ἐστέναξεν
καὶ λέγει αὐτῷ· εφφαθα, ὅ ἐστιν διανοίχητι).63 Both stories include a
technique that can be imitated. Did Matthew think that his readers should not
try this at home?
Matthew preferred to drop an exorcism (Mk 1.23-28)64 as well as the
story, included in Lk. 9, where Jesus positively mentions an exorcist who did
not follow him but used his name (Mk 9).65 It is clear that Matthew did not
consider exorcisms to be nonsense. He often refers to them, showing that they
were to him a reality that mattered (cf. 8.28-34; 15.21-28; 17.14-20).66 We
have no reason to doubt that the historical Jesus cast out demons.67 However,
it is interesting that two of the four omitted miracle stories had something to
do with exorcisms. This observation gains importance when all the changes
made by Matthew are investigated.
Matthew thus dropped miracle stories that included features that might be
interpreted as too magical. The evidence grows stronger when all his miracle
stories are investigated. When abridging the Markan stories, Matthew often
omits certain elements.
The details of Jesus’ healing technique are often omitted, and the only
reason for this is hardly that the stories are abridged. The words ταλιθα κουμ
(Mk 5.41) are not included when Matthew retells the story of Jairus’ daughter
62 France, The Gospel of Matthew, 764.

63 Luz observes, when commenting on this story, although not when commenting on
the omission of Mk 8.22-26, that Matthew also omits the magical technique and words (Das
Evangelium nach Matthäus, 2.439); similarly Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 14–28 (WBC, 33B;
Dallas: Word Books, 1995), 445.
64 According to Craig S. Keener (A Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew [Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999], 306–307), Matthew compensates for the omission by doubling the
number of those healed in Mt. 8.28-34.
65 On the anonymous exorcist, see Harry Fleddermann, “The Discipleship Discourse
(Mk. 9:33–50),” CBQ 43 (1981), 57–75; Graham H. Twelftree, Jesus the Exorcist (WUNT, 2.54;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993), 40–43; Ben Witherington III, The Jesus Quest: The Third Search
for the Jew of Nazareth (2nd edn.; Downers Grove: IVP, 1997), 112–114. A similar story in Num.
11.26-29 should not be overlooked.
66 See France, The Gospel of Matthew, 338.
67 Böcher’s strange words in TRE (“Dämonen,” 285) are justly criticized by Rese
(“Jesus und die Dämonen im Matthäusevangelium,” 466). However, few scholars consider Jesus’
struggles with demons unhistorical.
(Mt. 9.18-19, 23-26).68 The resuscitation is described, but apparently Matthew

did not encourage others to repeat Jesus’ deed. Jesus does not rebuke the “deaf
and mute spirit” in Matthew 17.14-21, although he does in Mk 9.25. The story
is abbreviated by more than half,69 which means that several elements are
omitted, but the cumulative evidence speaks for the avoidance of magic.70 The
demons are omitted altogether in Matthew 12.15-21 (cf. Mk 3.11).71 Matthew,
who drops some exorcisms altogether, showed with his redaction that he had
some reservations when writing about demons and exorcisms. All this seems
to speak for Böcher’s view. However, this is only a part of the truth.
Matthew thus omits altogether some miracle stories where Jesus dealt with
demons or reduces the descriptions of his technical skills. His own material,
i.e. what we do not have in Mark or the Sayings Source, includes only a
few miracles after the childhood of Jesus. Moreover, in some passages he
passionately emphasizes that miracles do not necessarily guarantee that truth
is proclaimed by preachers. In 7.21-23 (cf. Lk. 6.46), Matthew has Jesus
emphasizing that miracles do not necessarily mean that people are walking
on the right path:
Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord,” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but
only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on
that day, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out
demons and perform many miracles?” Then I will tell them plainly, “I never knew
you. Away from me, you evildoers!”
Similarly, Matthew lets Jesus say in the synoptic apocalypse: “At that time if
anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Christ!’ or, ‘There he is!’ do not believe
it. For false Christs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs
and miracles to deceive even the elect—if that were possible. See, I have told
you ahead of time” (Mt. 24.23-25). Matthew does not delve into the problem
extensively, but these words are clear enough. Misleading miracles appear,
68 It is true that Matthew has omitted several narrative details (see Gnilka, Das Matthäus
evangelium, 339–340). According to Luz, Matthew abbreviated the story because, unlike Mark,
he did not have to testify to the resuscitation to skeptical readers, but directed his message to the
congregation waiting for resurrection (Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 2.54). France (The
Gospel of Matthew, 360–365) correctly observes that Matthew does not emphasize the miracle,
saying that the story seems “surprisingly low key” and speaking of “Matthew’s understatement,”
but he does not see that Matthew consequently removes the magical healing technique.
69 See Gnilka, Das Matthäusevangelium, 103–111; Luz, Das Evangelium nach
Matthäus, 2.519–526; Hagner, Matthew 14–28, 500–506; France, The Gospel of Matthew, 658.
Hagner briefly states that Matthew considered Jesus’ words “unnecessary and open to a magical
misinterpretation” (Matthew 1–13, 247).
70 According to Luz (Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 2.521), who refers to Böcher, the
reason is Matthew’s dislike of exorcisms (“Matthäus hat offensichtlich Exorzismen nicht sehr
geliebt”). Hagner, who minutiously observes the omissions and additions, also notes that the
details of the exorcisms have been dropped (Matthew 14–28, 502).
71 According to Luz (Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 2.243), the Messianic secret and
especially the role of demons was alien to Matthew.
and they are evidence not of God but of his opponents. As so often in early
Judaism, evil powers tempt people with great signs and miracles.
As seen, many elements in Matthew’s redaction seem to confirm Böcher’s
view. However, this is only one side of the truth. If exorcisms and demons were
so problematic to Matthew, why did he not simply drop them all, as John does
for some reason? On the contrary, Matthew tells how Jesus casts out demons,
and his way of treating the Markan tradition does not prove that his picture
of Jesus would have been totally “dedemonized.” If Matthew indeed tried to
distance Jesus from common exorcists, could he not find a better way than to tell
that Jesus sent twelve men and told them to drive out demons (10.7)?
Conclusion
Matthew follows a strong Jewish tradition in his Gospel. He neither

unambiguously accepts nor rejects exorcisms, but his view is ambivalent and
very similar to the ideas present in L.A.B.: miracles were a reality to him,
including exorcisms as well as other kinds of miracles. There is no trace of
skepticism. However, miracles performed by evil powers appear too, especially
in eschatological times. The words warn of “Beglaubigungswunder,”72 exactly
as in the passage of Aod in L.A.B. Matthew warns of the misleading miracles
and is clearly reserved when speaking about magical techniques. Such
ambivalence reminds us of the problem that miracles posed for the majority
of the early rabbis: They were not rejected, but they were only seldom
uncritically accepted. Matthew still stood in contact with this tradition, which
clearly influenced his Gospel.
72 Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 2.430. See also the story of the centurion of
Capernaum in 8.5-13.
Chapter 6
The Devil in the Gospel of Mark

Jan Dochhorn
Introduction
Regardless of whether or not we take Mk 1.1 as the heading of the whole

Gospel, “Jesus Christ, the Son of God”1 is the subject of the Gospel of Mark.
Consequently, that Gospel is not a gospel about the Devil. Nevertheless, the
Devil plays an important role, especially because he interacts with the main
protagonist of the Gospel, Jesus Christ, in central moments. Therefore, an
investigation of the Satanology of the Gospel of Mark will also concern its
Christology.
The Devil mainly is called Σατανᾶς (Satan) in the Gospel of Mark. This
word is attested in the short notice about the temptation of Jesus (Mk 1.13),
in the dispute between the scribes and Jesus about his exorcisms (Mk 3.22-
29), where also the designation Βεελζεβούλ appears, in Jesus’ parable about
the sower (Mk 4.15) and in the dispute between Jesus and Peter about the
suffering of the Son of Man (Mk 8.33). These pericopae will be analyzed with
special regard to Satan in the following chapters.
Mk 8.33
The last attestation for the word Σατανᾶς in Mark will be the first to be
discussed here. The reason is that Σατανᾶς here appears in a constellation
which is comparably thoroughly outlined (8.27-33): After Peter has identified
Jesus as the Messiah (8.29), Jesus predicts the suffering of the Son of Man,
thus implying that the Messiah is the Son of Man and identifying himself with
both of them (8.31). Peter obviously felt the need to raise an objection against
this unconventional Messianology, but his objection is not verbalized in the
1 The title “Son of God” is missing in some witnesses (among others the original text of
Codex Sinaiticus, the Codex Coridethi, Origenes). NA25 follows this version, and Collins maintains
that it is original because an omission of such a phrase is improbable in the beginning of a text;
cf. Adela Yarbro Collins: Mark: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 2007), 130
and the literature cited there. I am not convinced: In the sequence ΙΥΧΥΥΥΘΥ omissions are not
improbable, and the title “Son of God” fits the macrocontext well; cf. Mk 1.11; 9.7; 14.61; 15.39.
The Devil in the Gospel of Mark 99
text (8.32). Jesus, however, threatens him and says to him: “Go behind me,
Satan” (ὕπαγε ὀπίσω μου, Σατανᾶ—8.33).
What does Jesus mean by calling Peter “Satan”? Is Satan a human being
called Peter or can a human being called Peter be Satan? The latter appears
to be true, because Peter is the one who is given an unexpected name here;
“Satan” is a predicate of Peter, not “Peter” a predicate of Satan.
How is the correlation between Satan and the person denoted as Satan to be
imagined here? We know a passage in the Gospels where another person is
named in a similar way: In Jn 6.70 Jesus says to his disciples that one of them
“is devil” (διάβολός ἐστιν), thus pointing to Judas. Judas is the one who
delivered Jesus, and he did it because Satan went into his heart (Jn 13.27).2
The concept that enables the designation “devil” for Judas in Jn 6.70 can
therefore be described as follows: A person “is” the spirit which dwells in the
person concerned.
Mark also knows this concept. This can be concluded from Mk 1.24, where a
man possessed by an evil spirit says to Jesus, that he, Jesus, has come in order
to destroy “us” (ἦλθες ἀπολέσαι ἡμᾶς). The subject speaking here is not
the man but the spirit which possesses him. Therefore the words of that man
do not refer to himself as a human being but to the spirit which obviously has
replaced his personal centre. It seems probable that also Mk 8.33 presupposes
a pneumatology resp. Satanology of inspiration.
The idea that “I” am the spirit which dwells in me is widespread in early
Christianity and early Judaism. This idea is probably in the background when
Jesus “threatens” the Zebedaides in Lk. 9.55, a speech act normally reserved
for the interaction with evil spirits (cf. Lk. 4.35; 9.42). He realizes that their
desire to destroy an inhospitable village (following the example of Elijah)
is motivated by something that goes beyond mere human psychology.3 This
entity can be an evil spirit or “the” evil spirit par excellence, viz. the Devil,
who is in that very moment the real identity of the Zebedaides. We can detect
the same concept in the First Letter of John, which uses the terms “wrong
prophets” and “spirits that are not from God” in an equivocal manner (1 Jn
4.1-4), thus implying that the wrong prophet “is” the bad spirit by which he
confesses something else than orthodox Christology. A Jewish source which
shows the same pneumatology and Satanology is the Apocalypse of Moses.4
2 The phrase διάβολός ἐστιν appears to be unclear: Is Judas the Devil or a devil? The
fact that Satan (Σατανᾶς) went into Judas’ heart (Jn 13.27) points to an identification of Judas
with the character called διάβολος (8.44; 13.2) or σατανᾶς (13.27) in the Gospel of John. Thus
Judas is not a being that belongs to the category “devils,” but is in a special way identified with
the Devil himself. For the unarthrous use of the word διάβολος cf. καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος in Jn
1.1. Its theological implications cannot be debated here.
3 Cf. Jan Dochhorn, “Die Verschonung des samaritanische Dorfes (Lk. 9:54–55): Eine
kritische Reflexion von Elia-Überlieferung im Lukasevangelium und eine frühjüdische Parallele
im Testament Abrahams,” New Testament Studies 53 (2007), 359–378, esp. 363–369.
4 Cf. Jan Dochhorn, Die Apokalypse des Mose. Text, Übersetzung, Kommentar (TSAJ,
106; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), where the Jewish character of this parabiblical narrative
about the life of Adam and Eve is demonstrated.
In Apoc. Mos. 17–19, for example, sometimes the snake talks to Eve and
sometimes it is the Devil who speaks through the mouth of the snake: It is
obviously not necessary to differentiate between an actor and the spirit which
dwells in him since the spirit is the centre of that actor. The same is also
true for Adam and his “spirit” (πνεῦμα): Concerning the death of Adam, the
Apoc. Mos. can say that Adam leaves his body (Apoc. Mos. 31.1). In Apoc.
Mos. 31.4, however, Adam predicts his death by saying to Eve that he will
hand over his spirit to God, who has given it to him. Thus “Adam” is the same
as his spirit. The same constellation also appears in Luke’s passion narrative:
In Lk. 23.43, Jesus promises a robber that he “today” will be together with
him in paradise. These words imply that Jesus also will soon be in paradise.
Something enabling this is related in Lk. 23.46: There Jesus hands over his
“spirit” (πνεῦμα) to his father: Jesus “is” his spirit.5
We learn by Mk 8.33 that for Mark—as with other Jews and Christians—
Satan is able to act as the ego of another being, especially a human being.
This is important for the reconstruction of the worldview presupposed in the
Gospel of Mark.
Important for Mark’s story and its message, however, is another motive of
the narrative constellation associated with Mk 8.33: Peter as Satan opposes a
decisive moment of Jesus’ Messianic identity: He does not want Jesus to suffer
and be killed by the religious authorities of Israel (cf. Mk 8.31). Satan thereby
tries to make Jesus change his mind about the fulfillment of his Messianic
mission. The moment Jesus should abandon is that of suffering and death. And
this moment is in this pericope explicitly associated with the Messianic title
“Son of Man” (for “Son of Man” as a title for the Messiah cf. Mk 14.61-62,
where χριστός and υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου are used equivocally): It is Jesus
as the Son of Man who will be confronted with suffering and death according
to Mk 8.31.
Mk 1.13
Also in Mk 1.13 Satan opposes a specific moment of Jesus’ Messianic identity.

During his baptism, Jesus has been appointed as the Son of God and thereby the
Messiah (Mk 1.11; for “Son of God” as a Messianic title cf. Mk 14.61).6 After
5 The spirit Jesus hands over to God is not the Holy Spirit; cf. Jan Dochhorn, “‘Vater, in
deine Hände übergebe ich meinen Geist’—Das Kreuzeswort Jesu in Lk 23:46 und die Rezeption
von Ps 31:6 im frühen Judentum und Christentum,” Early Christianity 2 (2011), 468–491.
6 The words of the voice from heaven, σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἐν σοὶ
εὐδόκησα, resemble Ps. 2.7 LXX in the first part and Isa. 42.1 σ΄ θ΄ in the second part (Isa. 42.1
σ΄ θ΄ have a form of εὐδοκεῖν, LXX not). It appears to be plausible to regard them as a blending
of both biblical texts (cf. Collins, Mark, 150). That means that an allusion to Ps. 2.7 is also
intended (pace D. Lührmann: Das Markusevangelium [HNT, 3; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987],
37–38). As a consequence, Mk 1.11 recalls not only the Servant of God of Isa. 42.1, but also the
Messianic king of Ps. 2.7. This fits the fact that by the word υἱός Mk 1.11 is associated with Mk
14.61, which clearly witnesses a Markan Son of God Christology.
that, Jesus stays forty days in the desert, tempted by Satan, in the company
of animals and served by the angels. The motif of the forty days cannot be
discussed here; a recapitulatio of Israel’s primeval history may possibly be
intended (Israel was forty days in the desert; cf. Deut. 8.2-4).
Concerning the temptation by Satan, the animal motif, and the angels,
Collins maintains that they recall Ps. 91 and especially Ps. 91.11-13. Here
the one who trusts in God is promised that the angels will protect him and
that dangerous animals (snakes and lions) will not harm him. Ps. 91 was
used as a spell against demonic affliction in early Judaism; an allusion to this
psalm would establish this pericope as a story about the initiation of Jesus
as an exorcist (a role which he often plays in Mark, see, e.g., Mk 1.23-28).7
However, the verb διακονεῖν, which is associated with the angels, does not
point to protection, and ἦν μετὰ τῶν θηρίων does not clearly indicate a
situation of danger. An allusion to Ps. 91 is to be found in the Q-parallel of
Mk 1.13 (Lk. 4.1-13//Mt. 4.1-11), which, however, omits the animal motif.
Probably, the view proposed by Collins better fits the Q-parallel.
As for Mk 1.13, it has already been more plausibly proposed that Satan,
the animals, and the angels point to early Jewish Adam traditions.8 In fact,
the Vita Adae et Evae and the Apocalypse of Moses (an earlier version of the
Vita Adae et Evae)9 stress all these moments in connection with Adam: Adam
7 Cf. Collins, Mark, 151–153. Collins cites a number of sources attesting the use of Ps. 91
as a spell against demons. The most important is 11Q 11 (11Q Apocryphal Psalms), a composition
of Davidic spells mentioning Solomon and directed against demons, which also comprises a
recension of Ps. 91 (Col. VI). Important is also the fact that Ps. 91 is called ‫“( שׁיר שׁלפנצים‬song
against demons”) in j. Šabb 8b; 21; b. Sheb 15b; cf. Ludwig Blau, Das altjüdische Zauberwesen
(Bucharest: Trübner, 1898), 95, n. 4, and Gustav H. Dalman: Aramäisch-Neuhebräisches
Handwörterbuch zu Targum, Talmud und Midrasch (Göttingen: Pfeiffer, 1938), 327. Not
mentioned by Collins is the Targum to Ps. 91, which is clearly a demonological interpretation
of Ps. 91. It interprets some verses of Ps. 91 as speeches of David to his son Solomon, thus
connecting the psalm to the traditions about Solomon the exorcist (cf. 11Q 11); for the text of
the Targum to Psalm 91 cf. Hagiographa Chaldaice, ed. Paulus de Lagarde (Osnabrück: Zeller,
1967 [reprint; the original edition appeared 1873]), 2–85, esp. 55. Lagarde presents a recension
of the Editio Bombergiana; variants attested by the editions of Augustinus Justinianus (Genua,
1516) and Christophorus Plantinus (Antwerpen) are to be found in L. Techen, Das Targum zu
den Psalmen (Beilage zum Programm der großen Stadtschule [Gymnasium und Realschule] zu
Wismar, Ostern, 1896; Wismar, 1896), especially 37. The Editio Plantiniana omits the references
to Solomon, which are, however, attested by the Bombergiana and the edition of Augustinus
Justinianus.
8 Cf. Erich Grässer: “ΚΑΙ ΗΝ ΜΕΤΑ ΤΩΝ ΘΗΡΙΩΝ,” in W. Schrage (ed.), Studien zum
Text und zur Ethik des Neuen Testaments (FS H. Greeven) (BZNW, 47; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1986),
144–157.
9 Concerning the text of the Apocalypse of Moses cf. Dochhorn, Die Apokalypse des Mose,
where the text is integrated in the commentary (a Lesetext is offered on pp. 647–656). In competition
with this edition is The Life of Adam and Eve in Greek: A Critical Edition, ed. Johannes Tromp
(Pseudepigrapha Veteris Testamenti Graece, 6; Leiden: Brill, 2005); cf. my review in Journal for
the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 17 (2008), 313–319 (with objections concerning methodology and
stemma; for example, why is the Vit. Ad.-tradition not taken into consideration, although it clearly
is to be regarded as a witness for the text of the Apoc. Mos.?). The Greek text of Vit. Ad. is nearly
feeds the animals in paradise (Vit. Ad. 44 [16]) and after leaving paradise he
summons them to the Jordan in order to assist him in his penitence (Vit. Ad. 8).
In comparison to the angels he originally had the higher rank (Vit. Ad. 11–17);
this fits the fact that Jesus is served by the angels in Mk 1.13.10 The temptation
motif also recalls traditions about Adam, who according to Apoc. Mos. and Vit.
Ad. was misled by Satan in paradise; cf. Apoc. Mos. 14//Vit. Ad. 43 and Apoc.
Mos. 15–30//Vit. Ad. 44, where the intrigue in the garden described by Gen.
3 is depicted as being originated by the Devil in order to lead Adam and Eve
astray. We can thus conclude that Mk 1.13 presents Christ as Adam, probably
in the sense that he is the New Adam.
It is the Adamitic moment in the Messianic identity of Jesus which Satan
attacks in Mk 1.13. This Adamitic moment is perhaps the same as the Son
of Man identity of Christ challenged by Satan in Mk 8.33. Many affinities
between Mk 1.13 and Mk 8.33 speak in favor of the suggestion that such
an identification is intended here: Both texts mention Satan, in both texts he
opposes a typical moment of Jesus’ Messianic identity, and he does so by
trying to make Jesus change his mind.
It follows that the New Adam and the Son of Man denote the same concept.
This suggestion is corroborated by 1 Cor. 15.47, according to which Christ will
come as the second Adam from heaven; the same Parousia motif is normally
associated with Christ as the Son of Man, cf. Mk 14.62. The words of Jesus
in Mk 2.27-28 also point in this direction: Here we find “man” (ἄνθρωπος)
and “Son of Man” (υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου) in parallel positions: the Sabbath is
created for man (Mk 2.27), and the Son of Man is also the Lord of the Sabbath
(Mk 2.28). Presupposed is a correlation of identity between Adam and “man”
in genere. In early Judaism, the man created in Gen. 1.27 could be identified
with the person Adam (cf. Vit. Ad. 13). Presupposed is also the idea that the
Son of Man is the one who at present holds the power position of Adam.
The Adamitic identity of the Son of Man seems to be a Jewish concept,
cf. Apoc. Mos. 39, where God promises Adam that he, Adam, will sit on the
throne of the Devil. Maybe Adam is depicted here as the Son of Man, who
(again) will dominate the world. Also the Son of Man in Dan. 7 has Adamitic
features: His rulership is contrasted with the rulership of animals. Probably the
idea is presupposed that the original world order as we find it in Gen. 1.26-17,
where man dominates the animals, will be re-established.
There appears to exist a strong connection between the temptation notice in
completely lost; it is attested in Latin, Georgian, Armenian, and Coptic fragments. For practical use
see A Synopsis of the Books of Adam and Eve, ed. Gary A. Anderson and Michael E. Stone (rev. edn.;
Early Judaism and its Literature, 17; Atlanta, Ga., 1999). It also presents the Apocalypse of Moses
(with a text differing from both editions mentioned above).
10 Angels also serve Adam in Abôt de Rabbi Nātan (rec. A) 1,11: “Rabbi Jehuda says:
‘Adam sat in the Garden of Eden, and the angels of service assisted him, roasted meat for him,
chilled wine for him. The snake came, saw him, stared at his glory and became envious’”; cf.
bSanh 59b; for the text cf. Salomon Schechter: Aboth de Rabbi Nathan (Wien, 1887; repr.
Hildesheim: Olms, 1979), 3, lines 19–20.
Mk 1.13 and the harsh words of Jesus to Peter in Mk 8.33. The same is true
for the temptation story in Matthew (Mt. 4.1-10) and the synoptic parallel
of Mk 8.33 in Mt. 16.23, at least in some witnesses: In Mt. 16.23//Mk 8.33
we read ὕπαγε ὀπίσω μου, Σατανᾶ, and in Mt. 4.10 var. Jesus addresses
Satan with the same words, thereby causing him to leave. The original text
reads ὕπαγε, Σατανᾶ, which is not necessarily an allusion to Mt. 16.23.
The expanded version of the text, however, clearly insinuates a connection to
the dispute between Jesus and Peter. The relationship between the temptation
story and the dispute between Jesus and Peter obviously did not disappear in
the memory of Christianity.
However, a fundamental difference between Mk 1.13 and Mk 8.33 is to be
mentioned. In Mk 1.13 the New Adam resp. the Son of Man is challenged by
the Devil in a superior position: The angels serve him. In Mk 8.33, the same
figure is challenged in a role marked by humiliation: The Son of Man will
suffer and die, and Satan, represented by Peter, opposes that. This ambiguity is
typical of the Son of Man in the Gospel of Mark: In the beginning the Gospel
talks about his authority (cf. Mk 2.10; 2.28), but in 8.33 it becomes clear
that the Son of Man also plays a role contrary to that, whereas in the end the
superiority motifs are again stressed (cf. Mk 13.26; 14.61). The superiority
of the Son of Man is established in Mk 1.13, where Christ is presented as the
New Adam, and his humiliation is made manifest in Mk 8.33. In both texts
Christ is confronted with Satan, and this means that Satan is active where the
two central aspects of the Son of Man are concerned.
Mk 3.22-29
Mk 3.22-29 narrates a conflict between the scribes and Jesus about Jesus’
exorcisms. The scribes explain them by the power of Beelzebul (3.22), the
chief of the demons. Jesus uses two arguments in order to refute his opponents:
(1) Satan cannot expel Satan. If he did so, his kingdom would have no power
(3.23-25). (2) The real reason for Jesus’ exorcisms is that he has bound the
strong one, i.e. Satan, and can therefore plunder him (3.26-27).
After that, Jesus denies the possibility that a blasphemy against the Holy
Spirit will be forgiven. Thereby he indirectly explains his exorcisms by the
power of the Holy Spirit (3.28-29). This pericope contains a good deal of
information about Satanology:
1. Satan is also called Βεελζεβούλ. This can be concluded from Mk 3.25, where
ὁ Σατανᾶς is used in a sense equivocal to Βεελζεβούλ in 3.22. The function
and meaning of this name need not to be discussed here. We find it only here in
Mark, and it is used by Jesus’ opponents.11 We can conclude that this name is
11 As a consequence, the name Βεελζεβούλ is a Jewish tradition. However, there

probably does not exist any attestation of the name Βεελζεβούλ and its variants outside, or
independent of, the synoptic tradition. Βεελζεβούλ functions as the ruler of the demons in the
not important for Mark’s Satanology. He perhaps only uses it as Lokalkolorit

denoting the Palestinian atmosphere where the dispute between Jesus and the
scribes is located. When he presents Jesus’ arguments, which are of course more
important than the views of his opponents, he turns back to the term Satan.
2. In Mk 3.23 the word σατανᾶς is used in a generic sense (the definite article is
missing). This presupposes that the Satan is also a satan, belonging to a kind of
beings called “satans.” The same use of this word is attested in 1 En. 40.7, where the
Ethiopic text mentions “satans” (šajt. ānāt), which are prevented from coming near to
God in order to accuse humanity. In Mk 3.23, σατανᾶς is used as an equivalent to
δαιμόνιον in Mk 3.22. Concludingly, “satans” is another term for “demons.”
3. Satan, called Beelzebul, is the chief of the demons (3.22). This concept is well
established in early Judaism, cf. Jub. 11, where Satan, called Mastema in the
Book of Jubilees, acts as the prince of the evil spirits. We have good reasons
to assume that for Mark Beelzebul=Satan is also a demon himself. This is
presupposed in the question proposed in Mk 3.23: “How could a Satan expel a
Satan?”, which indicates that Beelzebul=Satan and the demons=satans belong
to the same category. Thus a principal differentiation between Satan and the
demons would seem inappropriate. Satan does not differ essentially from the
demons, which according to the exorcisms and miracles narrated in Mark cause
diseases or possess human beings. His function is not restricted to the role of
the tempter and deceiver, who leads human beings astray and destroys their
relationship to God. He also is associated with the multiple adversities caused
by the fact that evil spirits exert their power against humanity.
4. Satan and the Holy Spirit can be confused. It is possible to ascribe effects caused
by the Holy Spirit to Satan. (However, somebody who does so is guilty of
blasphemy—Mk 3.28-29.) Presupposed is a pneumatology, according to which
Satan and the demons on the one hand and the Holy Spirit on the other both
belong to the pneumatic sphere. This concept is also manifest in 1 John, where
the necessity to differentiate between a Spirit deriving from God and other spirits
associated with the Devil is stressed (cf., e.g., 1 Jn 4.1-4). The pneumatic identity
of the Devil is also known in Jewish sources; cf. the fragment of the Assumption
of Moses preserved by Gelasius Cyzicus in Hist. eccl. 2.21.7: Μιχαὴλ ὁ
ἀρχάγγελος διαλεγόμενος τῷ διαβόλῳ λέγει· ἀπὸ γὰρ πνεύματος
ἁγίου αὐτοῦ πάντες ἐκτίσθημεν (“The archangel Michael says in his
dispute with the Devil: ‘We all are created from his Holy Spirit’”). Here, Michael
counts the Devil among the angels and derives the angels from God’s Spirit. This
derivation presupposes that angels and God’s Spirit are of the same—spiritual—
substance (ἀπό does not mean the same as ὑπό: The angels are not created by
God’s Spirit but from God’s Spirit).
5. Satan and his demons are described as a military power. This is typical of
early Christian Satanology and demonology; cf. for example, Lk. 10.19, which
denotes the demons as Satan’s army (cf. Lk. 10.17-18).
Testament of Solomon; cf. especially T. Sol. 3; 6; for the text see Chester Charlton McCown,
ed., The Testament of Solomon (Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, 9; Leipzig, 1922), esp.
16*–18*; 25*–28*. Test. Sol., however, has a Christian superstrate; the Beelzebul material in Test.
Sol. probably depends on the synoptic tradition; cf. Jan Dochhorn: The Testament of Solomon:
Some Preliminary Remarks (forthcoming).
6. That Jesus himself has overcome Satan, and can thereby expel demons, is a
message typical of the Beelzebul pericope. However, there exists a parallel in
Lk. 10.18, where Jesus comments on the subordination of the demons to his
disciples by saying that he has seen Satan falling from heaven. Also here,
successful actions against demons and the defeat of Satan are mentioned side by
side. It is, however, not Jesus himself who causes Satan’s defeat in Lk. 10.18.
The affinity between Lk. 10.18 and the Beelzebul pericope can indicate
that Lk. 10.18, in spite of being attested only by Luke, belongs to an older
stratum of the synoptic tradition. This is probable, not least because a parallel
to the Beelzebul pericope in Mark can also be postulated for Q (the Beelzebul
pericopae in Mt. 12.24-29 and Lk. 11.15-22 differ substantially from Mark
and point thereby to a common source, which is independent of Mark). As a
consequence, the Beelzebul tradition is old, and a tradition close to it can be
old, too.
7. The Beelzebul pericope in Mark and Q on the one hand and Lk. 10.18 on the
other associate a defeat of Satan with Jesus’ life on earth. This is not typical of
early Christianity: Jn 12.31 associates something that corresponds to a defeat
of the Devil, his downfall, with Jesus’ exaltation, i.e. with crucifixion and
resurrection, and Rev. 12.7-12 dates the fall of the Devil to the time of the
seventh trumpet.
There remains the question if for Mark a deprivation of Satan dated in the
time of Jesus’ stay on earth excludes the notion that Satan continues to be
active in the time between his deprivation and Easter as well as after that.
According to Mk 4.15 Satan disturbs missionary activity. This verse belongs
to the allegorical explanation of the parable of the sower and talks not about
the past, but about the narrated present and, perhaps, also the time afterwards
(in which mission mainly took place; cf. Mk 13.10). As a consequence, Mk
4.15 probably presupposes that Satan before and after Easter is capable of
opposing the Church. Is the defeat of Satan by Jesus, according to Mark, only
intermediate, limited to some days in which the Son of Man, who endured
temptation by Satan, proved superior to him? Or does the defeat of Satan only
take place when an exorcism is successful?
Problems like those debated above arise, because the Beelzebul pericopae both
in Mark and Q, as well as in Lk. 10.18, attest a Satanology which is incongruent
with that of early Christian theology as attested by Jn 12.31 and Rev. 12. This
incongruence may indicate that it derives from the historical Jesus.
8. There is uncertainty concerning the logical interrelationship between Mk
3.23-25 and 3.26-27. Initially, Jesus seems to presuppose that Satan has power
(3.23-25). According to his argument, Satan would have no power, if he acted
against himself. In fact he does not act against himself. As a consequence, he
apparently has power. Jesus’ second argument (3.26-27), however, states that he
has overcome Satan.
What is the truth? The Markan text can, as I suppose, be most easily understood
if we read argument no. 1 as hypothetical: It would be illogical if Beelzebul acted
against himself by enabling exorcisms. Therefore, the objection of the scribes
against Jesus is absurd. What really happens is demonstrated by argument no. 2:
Jesus has overcome Satan, and therefore he is capable of exorcizing demons.

The apparent difference between arguments no. 1 and 2 has led researchers to
differentiate two different phases in Jesus’ activity as an exorcist. First he was
only partially successful (cf. Lk. 11.24-26//Mt. 12.43-45) and regarded therefore
Satan as powerful, but later he felt himself to be superior to Satan. This theory
does not concern research on Mark.12
Mk 4.15
Mk 4.15 explains failure in the Church’s mission: Satan takes away the word
which was “sown” by the missionary. He thus opposes the growth of the
Church that is rendered possible by preaching. A similar idea can be found
in 1 Thess. 2.18, where Paul tells the Thessalonians that Satan prevented him
from visiting them. Also here, a missionary activity is disturbed by the Devil.
Thereby he acts as the adversary of the Church, and that suits his function as
adversary of human beings, who tries to disturb their relationship with God.
General Comments on Mark’s Satanology
The preceding paragraphs have demonstrated that Satanology is an important

theme in Mark. However, the importance of Satanology in Mark is related to
the importance of Christ.
As a consequence, we learn a lot about Christ in the Gospel of Mark if we
examine Mark’s view on Satan. We learn something about the Son of Man as
the New Adam and about the Son of Man being challenged in his identity by
Satan, both as the powerful one and as the one who will be humiliated. The
Son of Man, who is superior to the angels and is denoted as the Lord of the
Sabbath, is tempted by Satan, as is the Son of Man, who will suffer death.
Is there something in Mark’s Satanology that is typical of the Gospel of
Mark? Perhaps the idea of confronting both aspects of the Son of Man with
the temptation by Satan is not that well developed in the other Gospels: The
Q-parallels to Mk 1.13 in Mt. 4.1-11//Lk. 4.1-13 do not attest the animal motif,
thereby weakening the Adam references in the temptation story, and Luke
omits the dispute between Jesus and Peter about the suffering of the Son of
Man.
On the other hand, Mark’s passion narrative lacks a Satanologic element:
Both Luke and John explain Judas’ betrayal by Satanic inspiration (cf. Lk.
22.3; Jn 13.2, 26).
Also a Satanologic interpretation of the resurrection is missing in Mark. In
contrast to Jn 12.31, Mark does not correlate something like the exaltation of
Jesus (which includes resurrection in John) with a denigration of Satan. The
12 Cf. Joel Marcus: “The Beelzebul Controversy and the Eschatologies of Jesus,” in
Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans (eds.), Authenticating the Activities of Jesus (NTTSD, 28.2;
Leiden: Brill, 1999), 247–277.
reason may be that, in the Beelzebul pericope, Mark connects the denigration
motif with Jesus’ exorcisms, thus dating a denigration of Satan to before
Easter. Affinities between the Beelzebul pericopae and Lk. 10.18 seem to
suggest that this tendency recalls older tradition and perhaps goes back to the
historical Jesus.
Chapter 7
Binding the Strong Man:

Demon-Possession and Liberation in the
Gospel of Luke
Márta Cserháti
Introduction
Todd Klutz, in his book The Exorcism Stories in Luke-Acts: A Sociolinguistic

Reading,1 notes the curious fact that most of the widely used monographs
or articles on this two-volume work fail to pay sufficient attention to the
analysis of exorcism stories found in it. Consequently, the distinctive Lukan
emphases pertaining to this subject are largely neglected, due to the “abiding
scholarly tendency to read the exorcism stories in Luke’s Gospel chiefly as
units of synoptic tradition rather than as integral parts of the two-volume
narrative Luke-Acts.”2 For his part, Klutz proposes to remedy this situation
by “contextualizing the exorcism stories in relation to their ancient cultural
milieu.”3 In complete agreement with the author, I also intend to place the
Lukan exorcism material in its cultural context, but not so much in the
intertextual environment provided by ancient sources on the subject—which,
as Klutz himself admits, are quite few and far between, and also reflect an
elitist view of exorcistic practices4—as in terms, rather, of an attempt at a
necessarily ethical analysis of the cultural and political world of the first
century ce, where belief in the spiritual (personal) causation of all wordly
events was universally accepted.5
Within this wider context of belief and practice, I will first look at the social,
cultural, and political functions of both demon-possession and its healing
within the health-care system of the time, followed by an analysis of the role
of exorcism stories within the Gospel of Luke, noting the changes Luke makes
1 Todd Klutz, The Exorcism Stories in Luke-Acts: A Sociolinguistic Reading (SNTS,

129; Cambridge: CUP, 2004).
2 Klutz, The Exorcism Stories in Luke-Acts, 3.



5 See Bruce J. Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh, Social Science Commentary on the

Synoptic Gospels (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 350.

Binding the Strong Man 109
in the traditions inherited from his sources as well as the special emphases he
provides by means of inserting his own special material.
Demon-possession and Exorcism in the Context of the Ancient

Mediterranean
Demons or unclean spirits were widely regarded in the ancient Mediterranean

world as personified, evil spiritual forces that attacked humans, causing all
kinds of misery, ranging from economic misfortune to illness, especially of
a psychological nature. Possessed persons were considered deviant and as
such, presented a threat to the community. The solution to this problem was
either an exclusion of such social deviants from the group, or a healing of their
affliction, which was also seen as their restoration and reintegration into their
original environment. Since the charge of demon-possession was primarily
a deviance label, not only the possessed but also their healer was regarded
with suspicion, as someone successfully harnessing supernatural forces (either
good or bad) to effect the cure.6
Limited Good and Demon-Possession
In his essay on “The Madness of Saul: A Cultural Reading of 1 Samuel 8–31”7

Philip Esler draws attention to the relationship between the ways a culture
views extraordinary psychological phenomena and the basic perception
of the values and institutions of society. Within the ancient Mediterranean,
such primary values are ingroup-orientation (with kinship and politics as the
foundational institutions), the pivotal value of honor (a basic orientation to
acquire it and a primal fear of losing it; envy as an attitude of those lacking it),
and the perception of limited good: the idea that all the goods in life exist in
limited quantities and are already distributed (an example Esler mentions is
the fact that Isaac has only one blessing to give in Gen. 27.34-408). The story
of Saul demonstrates how a person exhibiting extraordinary behavior (such
as Saul’s falling into a possession-trance among the prophets in 1 Sam.19.20-
24) is viewed in an ambiguous light and how his experiences of altered-state
consciousness are susceptible to contradictory interpretations: they can either
be a sign of the presence of God’s Spirit or a sign of an evil influence; also, they
inevitably arouse the suspicion of Saul’s original community, which is bound
to interpret Saul’s prophetic behavior as an overstepping of the boundaries of
his inherited social role (cf. the reaction of Jesus’ family, Mk 3. 20-21 par., as
6 See Malina and Rohrbaugh, Social Science Commentary, 350–351.

7 Philip F. Esler, “The Madness of Saul: A Cultural Reading of 1 Samuel 8–31,” in J.

Cheryl Exum (ed.), Biblical Studies/Cultural Studies: The Third Sheffield Colloquium (Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 1998).
8 Esler, “The Madness of Saul,” 222.

well as of the inhabitants of Nazareth, Mk 6.1-6 par., to his initial success as a

teacher, prophet, and healer in the synoptic tradition). From this point onwards,
Esler suggests, there are question marks hanging over Saul’s head, a suspicion
confirmed by his later disobedience to Yahweh and his representative, Samuel,
leading to a loss of honor as king and military leader, and finally to the departure
of the Spirit of Yahweh and the onset of Saul’s affliction caused by an evil
spirit sent by the Lord.9 The notion of limited good, moreover—the perception
that honor also exists in finite quantities—simultaneously means that Saul’s
former glory is bestowed upon a man worthier than him: David. Consequently,
in terms of an honor–shame contest, every victory David wins means a defeat
for Saul, who reacts to his shame with envy and finally with murderous intent.
A cultural interpretation of this story makes it clear that loss of honor and its
consequences may deteriorate into a psychological state that is understood as
demonic possession by the emic interpreters of the phenomenon.
The close connection between the perception of limited good and demonic
possession is evident in the New Testament accounts of possession and
exorcism. John J. Pilch draws attention to the fact that people in traditional
societies, especially those that depend “primarily on animal husbandry for
[their] economic livelihood, regard spirit aggression as either the predominant
or definitely an important secondary cause of illness.”10 The synoptic accounts
bear abundant witness to the fact that even illnesses not usually associated
with spirit aggression, such as fever (see the Lukan account of the healing of
Peter’s mother-in-law), or arthritis (the story of the crippled woman in Lk.
13.10-17), are attributed to the malevolent influence of demons. Narratives
of exorcism also make it clear that victims of unambiguous cases of demonic
possession are driven out of their native community, or human community
in general, to live in deserted places (cf. the story of the Gerasene/Gadarene
demoniac living among the tombs in Mk 5.1-20/Mt. 8.28-34/Lk. 8.26-39),
deprived of the support system of their closest ingroups, and consequently
of their status and honor. It follows from this that a successful healing must
always mean a return of the patient to his or her former community. In the case
of the Gerasene demoniac, this means a return “from the social isolation at the
tombs to the house of his family” (Mk. 5.19).11 In the first century, the notion
of limited good also entails that their loss is somehow related to economic and
social upheaval as well as to foreign occupation, with the local elite and the
colonial power taking more than their share of the available resources. The
9 In the Hebrew Bible, Esler observes, the question of the origin of evil influence is not
a subject of much reflection; as a rule, just as charisma is bestowed upon leaders by Yahweh to
help them accomplish an urgent military or other leadership task, its departure, or the activity of
an evil spirit, is regarded as the consequence of divine decision.
10 John J. Pilch, “Sickness and Healing in Luke-Acts,” in Jerome H. Neyrey (ed.), The

Social World of Luke-Acts: Models for Interpretation (Peabody, Ma.: Hendrickson Publishers,
1991), 196.
11 Christian Strecker: “Jesus and the Demoniacs,” in Wolfgang Stegemann, Bruce J.

Malina, and Gerd Theissen (eds.), The Social Setting of Jesus and the Gospels (Minneapolis:
Fortress, 2002).
imbalance results in a proliferation of misfortune, degradation of status, and

deviance interpreted as sinfulness, impurity, and illness, especially demonic
possession. Hostile and negative responses to the exorcistic activity of Jesus,
expressed in the form of deviance labeling (cf. the so-called Beelzebul
controversy in Mk 3.22-30/Mt. 9.34/Mt. 12.24-30/Lk. 11.15-23), reveal the
extent to which the powers that be interpret liberation from spirit aggression as
a threat to the status quo. The question that demands an unambiguous answer,
at least from the standpoint of the elite, is by what authority or power Jesus
effects the cure of possessed persons.
Exorcism as Political Action
Santiago Guijjaro, in his paper on “The Politics of Exorcism,”12 regards the

accusations against Jesus that he is in league with Satan and his minions
as belonging to the earliest strata of the Gospel tradition;13 a facet of the
synoptic material (also attested by John, although without actual narratives
of exorcism14) that provides a promising starting-point in the study of the
historical Jesus, due to the fact that this negative label would have caused too
much embarrassment to the early Church for it to have invented it.15 These
accusations also provide a link to the trial and execution of Jesus, a connection
that is made especially clearly in the Gospel of Luke (cf. Lk. 13.31-35, where,
in answer to the news that Herod wants to kill him, Jesus sums up his mission
in terms of “casting out demons and performing cures” (v. 32, NRSV),
and, further, links the hostility of the Galilean ruling elite toward him to his
inevitable confrontation with the leaders in Jerusalem, a city that “kills the
prophets and stones those who are sent to it” (v. 34).
The Beelzebul controversy (Mt. 12.22-30 par.) attests both to the accusation
made against Jesus and to his defense and vindication of his exorcistic activity
as a sign of the inbreaking of the Kingdom of God. In Mark and Matthew
Jesus answers the charge by a tripartite argument. The first part of his answer,
about a kingdom divided, “fits the social and political situation in Galilee in
the time of Jesus,”16 Guijarro observes. The second saying connects Jesus’
exorcisms with the arrival of the Kingdom of God, a connection that must
have been made at a very early stage, since the early Church does not make
it.17 The third logion describes the defeat of Satan (a widespread expectation
concerning the Messianic age) in terms of binding a strong man and taking
his possessions away. This saying, together with Lk. 10.18 (“I watched Satan
12 Santiago Guijjaro: “The Politics of Exorcism,” in Stegemann, Malina, and Theissen

(eds.), The Social Setting of Jesus and the Gospels (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002).
13 Guijjaro, “The Politics of Exorcism,” 159.





fall from heaven like a flash of lightning”) may reflect Jesus’ sense of his own
mission as “a struggle against Satan in order to advance the coming of the
Kingdom of God.”18
This story presents the process of deviance labeling on the part of the
authorities, who perceive Jesus’ activities as a threat to the order and stability
of society (where even the demon-possessed serve a useful function of voicing
the discontent of the marginalized, while also being safely removed from
the community), and Jesus’ counter-moves to reject the negative label and
to present his healings in a positive light, as the restoration of the excluded
into the community. Guijarro suggests that the fact that Jesus successfully
defends his honor from the accusations of his adversaries is a fundamentally
political move: by reintegrating the formerly demon-possessed into society, he
simultaneously rejects the elite view and contrasts it to another vision, where
Jesus’ exorcisms “are part of his strategy for restoring Israelite identity.”19
The authority of Jesus over unclean spirits is paralleled, by a non-Israelite
member of the occupying forces, to his own authority as a centurion over his
soldiers. The attitude of the centurion of Capernaum is contrasted favorably to
the reactions of the leaders of his own ethnic ingroup by Jesus: “I tell you, not
even in Israel have I found such faith” (Lk. 7.9b).
Luke’s Special Emphases in the Narratives of Exorcism
Luke’s Presentation of Jesus as an Exorcist

In Luke, right at the outset of his public life Jesus identifies himself “as a prophet
who exorcises and heals,”20 although there is no explicit link to a prophetic
understanding of his miracles in terms of the Hebrew Bible.21 Throughout the
narrative, this aspect comes to the fore time and again, as we have already seen
in Jesus’ reaction to Antipas’ threat in 13.34, in his defense of his practice of
table-fellowship with tax collectors and sinners (“Those who are well have no
need of a physician, but those who are sick” [Lk. 5.31/Mt. 9.12]), and in the
numerous accounts of healings and exorcisms (with a tendency on the part of
Luke to interpret illnesses such as fever as also caused by spirit aggression).
Some commentators suggest that an emphasis on the workings of demonic
influences and the therapy provided by Jesus for their afflictions may be due
to Luke’s closeness to and immersion in the world of Hellenistic magic. Yet, as
Paul Achtemeier observes, there are also tendencies in Luke to downplay the
magical aspects of the healings and exorcisms, such as incantation of foreign
expressions, detailed descriptions of the various conditions, etc.22 Moreover,


20 Pilch, “Sickness and Healing in Luke-Acts,” 193.

21 Paul J. Achtemeier: Jesus and the Miracle Tradition (Eugene, Oreg.: Cascade Books,

2008), 27.
22 Achtemeier, Jesus and the Miracle Tradition, 23–26.

Luke has a tendency to draw attention away from the details of the actual
affliction or the circumstances of the patient to the healing and liberating
activity of Jesus.23 Also, Luke omits six of the Markan miracle narratives
while he adds eight others, where two of the stories are more concerned with
a correct interpretation of the law than the actual healing.24 Still, the miracle
tradition occupies a prominent place within the Lukan narrative, especially if
miracle stories in Acts are also taken into account. According to Achtemeier,
Luke also balances the teaching material with miraculous accounts, in contrast
to the Markan tendency to subordinate the miracles to the teaching.25 In fact, at
the very beginning of Jesus’ public mission, in the sermon in the synagogue at
Nazareth, Jesus points to his activities as a healer and exorcist as proof of the
inbreaking of the Kingdom of God. Similarly, in his reply to John the Baptist’s
question in Lk. 7.18-23, he emphasizes healing and liberation from demonic
oppression as an indication that he is indeed “the one who is to come”: “Go
and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight,
the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the
poor have good news brought to them” (7.22). In Lk. 22.51 (special Lukan
material), Jesus appears as a compassionate healer who heals the wounded ear
of one of the soldiers about to arrest him.26 An outstanding feature of Luke’s
presentation of Jesus’ miracles, Achtemeier suggests, is that the miracles not
only validate the identity of Jesus or inspire faith in him, but also serve as
the basis of discipleship.27 While, interestingly, at the commissioning of the
Twelve, Luke omits Jesus’ promise to give them authority to cast out demons
(cf. Mk 3.15/Mt. 10.1), he does include this promise in Jesus’ sending out
the apostles in Lk. 9.1 (Mk 6.7/Mt. 10.8). More importantly, Luke is the only
evangelist to add a narrative telling about the sending out of seventy disciples,
who, returning from their mission, say that demons were subject to them. This
episode also includes a saying that might be considered as an expression of
Jesus’ understanding of his experience of initial calling, or at least as Luke’s
understanding of Jesus’ mission as a successful battle against Satan (Lk.
10.18).28
Demon-possessed Women in Luke

It has long been recognized that Luke is unique among the evangelists to
assign an important role to women in his Gospel. In 8.2, for example, he
names a few women (“Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons
had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, and Susanna,
and many others, who provided for them out of their resources”) as followers
of Jesus. Two things are worth mentioning in relation to these women: first,
23 Achtemeier, Jesus and the Miracle Tradition, 14.






they provide material support to Jesus and his disciples, apparently in return
for a favor, most probably healing, on the part of Jesus. Also, according to
8.2, some of them “had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities”: it seems as
if women were especially susceptible to spirit aggression as a result of their
double oppression both as members of a colonized ethnic group and as those
embedded in the patriarchal family.29 This apparent prominence of women
in Luke’s Gospel does not, however, mean that they gain in importance as
followers of Jesus and community leaders. Ann Graham Brock observes that,
in Luke, women’s leadership roles are actually diminished: in the twenty-three
passages in which he deals with women, the actual impression that emerges is
that women are presented as “quiet, contemplative role models,”30 not as active
leaders, probably in keeping with the ideal of the Roman matron promoted by
Augustus’ reform to return to the original, pure values of early Roman society.
Brock notes that it is especially Mary Magdalene who figures prominently in
Luke but that she is at the same time presented in an ambiguous light. She is
not only a person afflicted by demonic possession, but is someone from whom
Jesus casts out seven demons. Given the symbolic nature of the number seven
in ancient times, as a number of completeness, an absolute demonic control over
Mary Magdalene is implied by Luke. Moreover, the presentation of women
as a group needing liberation from spirit aggression, with special emphasis on
Mary Magdalene, is paralleled by an elevation of Peter’s status as the leader
of the disciples. Brock draws attention to the fact that while in Luke there is
“no reference to a resurrection appearance of Jesus to Mary Magdalene and the
women” and “no commissioning to them from either an angel or Jesus to spread
the good news,”31 Luke also omits unfavorable references to Peter, such as his
rebuking Jesus when Jesus predicts that he will suffer in Jerusalem (cf. Mk 8.32b/
Mt. 16.22). Also, “only Luke portrays Jesus specifically commissioning Peter to
strengthen the others despite Satan’s demand upon him” (Lk. 22:31-32).32
There is one significant episode special to Luke, however, that seems to go
against the grain of this overall diminishing of the role of women in Luke. In Lk.
13.10-17, the healing of a woman “with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen
years” (v. 11), is presented within a setting of a controversy in a synagogue over
whether it is allowed to cure on the Sabbath. Jesus defends the healing of the
woman by calling her to the centre of the synagogue (presumably from a side
bench assigned for women participating in the synagogue service) and indicating
that her cure also means her reintegration into Israelite community: “And ought
not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long
years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” (v. 16). In other words,
liberation from Satanic affliction entails a restoration to full membership in the
covenant people, even for a woman.
29 Pilch, “Sickness and Healing in Luke-Acts,” 197.

30 Ann Graham Brock, “Mary of Magdala: Christian Polemics and Demonic Influence,”

SBL Forum, n. p.
31 Brock, “Mary of Magdala,” n. p.

32 Brock, “Mary of Magdala,” n. p.

Satan and the Holy Spirit in the Gospel of Luke

The word Satan, a transliteration of the Hebrew word for “adversary” or
“accuser,” occurs in the Lukan special material in contexts where the writer
provides an explanation for the primary cause of human hostiliy against Jesus.
Besides the references Luke takes over from the triple tradition (e.g., the
interpretation of the Parable of the Sower, Mk 4.15/Mt. 13.19/Lk. 8.12) or
from Q (Mt. 9.32-33/Lk. 11.14, where Satan is not explicitly mentioned but
demonic possession is implied as the cause of the illness of the dumb man),
there are important turning-points in the narrative where Luke makes it clear
that Satan is behind the malevolent intent of people who turn against Jesus.
The story of the crippled woman in 13.10-17 and the reference to Jesus’ initial
vision in Lk. 10.18 have already been mentioned. In these instances the aspect
of liberation, or even of final victory over Satan, is implied. In Lk. 22.3, on the
other hand, where Satan enters Judas Iscariot at the Last Supper, evil influence
is used to explain the betrayal of Jesus by a trusted disciple, in contrast to
the attempt of Satan to “sift” the disciples, led by Peter in Lk. 22.31, whose
outcome is still in the future; yet subsequent events, despite Peter’s denial,
will bring to light the ultimate failure of Satan’s plot (cf. episodes in Acts,
where Peter emerges as the unquestioned authority in the early community).
Satan’s destructive influence is countered, in Luke-Acts, by the power of the
Holy Spirit. At the very beginning, in the Nazareth synagogue, Jesus interprets
his mission by a reference from Isaiah to the liberation brought by the one sent
by God: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to
bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives
and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim
a year acceptable to the Lord” (Lk. 4.18-19). The initial, favorable reaction of
the crowd to Jesus in the story of the healing of the man with an unclean spirit
in the same chapter also highlights that it is primarily Jesus’ exorcisms that
draw a reaction of amazement and praise of God from the bystanders: “They
were all amazed and said to one another: ‘What is there about his word? For
with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits, and they come
out’” (Lk. 4.36). Throughout the narrative, Luke presents Jesus’ activity as
a teacher, prophet, and healer, as well as the later mission of the apostles, in
terms of the victorious power of the Holy Spirit, not least in the stories of
liberation from demonic influence.
Chapter 8
The Believing Jews as the Children of the Devil

in John 8.44: Similarity as a Threat to Social Identity
Raimo Hakola
In Jn 8.44, Jesus says that his Jewish opponents are from their father the Devil,
a saying that has often been characterized as one of the most anti-Jewish
passages in the New Testament. It is interesting, however, that the Johannine
Jesus addresses these words to those who are who are said to believe in him
(8.31). This harsh disapproval of Jewish believers is quite often explained by
thinking that John refers here to some Jewish-Christians in his surroundings.
This explanation raises the question of why John reviles a group of believers
who shared his faith in Jesus in some way or another.
In this chapter I use some social psychological insights to explain Jesus’
harsh words in Jn 8.44. According to the social identity perspective, groups
typically define themselves as distinctive in relation to other groups in the
same comparative social context. Conflicts between groups do not always
result from their being totally different, but, on the contrary, similarity
between groups may often trigger an intergroup conflict. Groups that are too
similar to the ingroup may represent a threat to group distinctiveness and thus
be a central motivational factor in attempts to secure intergroup boundaries. I
suggest that the social identity approach helps to explain why it is especially
the believing Jews who are described as the children of the Devil in Jn 8. They
were selected as the target of the attack because they represented a group
that was too similar to John’s own group and thus challenged the sense of
distinctiveness among the Johannine Christians and posed a threat to their
social identity.
Jn 8.44 in Its Literary Context
In Jn 8.30, the Johannine narrator relates that as Jesus spoke, “many believed
in him” (πολλοὶ ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτόν). In the following verse the
narrator notes that Jesus was speaking to the Jews “who had believed him”
(πρὸς τοὺς πεπιστευκότας αὐτῷ Ἰουδαίους). Even though the narrator
here uses slightly different expressions in speaking of believers among the
Jews, there is no reason to think that two different groups of believing Jews are
The Believing Jews as the Children of the Devil in John 8.44 117
meant here.1 Jesus’ next words, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my
disciples,” show that the following dialogue can be seen as a test that reveals
whether the believing Jews really are true disciples in the Johannine sense.2
The first words of the believing Jews already indicate that they will not
pass the test to become true disciples; they claim that they are descendants of
Abraham, and have never been slaves to anyone (v. 33). Their refusal to accept
the freedom Jesus offers shows that, from John’s perspective, belonging to
Abraham matters to them more than becoming the disciples of Jesus. The
following dialogue makes this more evident by disclosing that the faith of
these Jews is not real faith at all because, eventually, even they are counted
among those who try to kill Jesus.
It is significant that the Devil is described not only as a murderer in Jn 8.44
but also as a liar. This description is well in line with the traditional role of
the Devil. Already in Genesis 3 the serpent in paradise is presented as the one
who deceives Adam and Eve (Gen. 3.13). The serpent was not originally seen
as the Devil, but the Devil was later closely connected to the serpent, and the
two were eventually equated.3 In later renderings of the Genesis-story, the
serpent was identified with the Devil who seduced Eve in the form of an angel
(Adam and Eve 9.1; Apoc. Mos. 17.1), traditions presumably known also to
Paul (2 Cor. 11.14). It was also known that the Devil could conceal himself
with different disguises (T. Job 6.4, 17.2, 23.1). These traditions suggest that,
from John’s point of view, the Jews in Jn 8.44 are just like their father: they
try to hide their true nature and seem to believe in Jesus although they in fact
are seeking to kill Jesus.4
It is significant that Jesus’ harshest words in the Gospel, “You are of your
father, the Devil,” are not addressed to those who have been openly hostile to
him right from the beginning, but to Jews who are first said to believe in Jesus
and then are exposed as murderers and liars. The Johannine Jesus here lumps
the believing Jews together with other Jews in the narrative in such a way
1 These different expressions are sometimes taken to mean that v. 30 refers to those
whose faith is deeper than the faith of those mentioned in v. 31. Thus, for example, Francis
J. Moloney, Signs and Shadows: Reading John 5–12 (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 103.
However, John Painter (The Quest for the Messiah: The History, Literature and Theology of the
Johannine Community [2nd edn., Nashville: Abingdon, 1993], 385–388) has shown that both
these expressions are used interchangeably for partial and authentic faith in the Gospel; so too,
Raymond E. Brown (The Community of the Beloved Disciple: The Life, Loves, and Hates of an
Individual Church in New Testament Times [London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1979], 76). There is
thus no reason to think that the narrator is speaking of two different groups.
2 Raimo Hakola, Identity Matters: John, the Jews and Jewishness (NovTSup, 118;
Leiden: Brill), 177–180.
3 It is not exactly clear when the serpent in paradise was identified with the Devil. Wis.
2.24 already suggests a close relationship between the two. In pseudepigraphic literature the
serpent is called the vehicle (σκεῦος) of the Devil (Apoc. Mos. 16.5; cf. also 26.1) or the garment
(ἔνδυμα) of the Devil (3 Bar. 9.7). The full equation of the two is suggested by such passages as
Adam and Eve 16 and Liv. Proph. 12.13. Some passages in the New Testament also presuppose
this equation (Rom. 16.20; 2 Cor. 11.3; Rev. 12.9; 20.2).
4 Hakola, Identity Matters, 181.
that they lose their distinctive characteristics. How can we explain this harsh
condemnation of these Jewish believers?
Dualism and the Construction of Identity
Since the publication of J. L. Martyn’s book History and Theology in the Fourth
Gospel (1968; 3rd edn.; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003), it has been
very common among Johannine scholars to think that John reflects a bitter
and violent conflict between the Johannine group and its opponents identified
as the post-70 ce emergent rabbinic Judaism. According to this scenario, the
persecution of the Johannine Christians explains both the emergence of John’s
dualism and the accompanying stereotyped characterization of the believing
Jews as the children of the Devil. Martyn takes the believing Jews in Jn 8 to
be Christian Jews who tried secretly to maintain a dual allegiance after the
Jewish authorities had decided that one must be either a disciple of Moses
or a disciple of Jesus. For the Johannine Christians, “these former colleagues
of theirs turned out to be horribly instrumental in the martyrdom of some of
the Johannine evangelists, presumably by functioning as informers intent on
preserving monotheism (vv. 37, 40, 44, 59).”5
The former consensus about the persecution scenario has been called into
question in recent years. Following some earlier critics who disputed Martyn’s
references to certain rabbinic passages, Adele Reinhartz has remarked that this
strategy cannot be supported by external evidence.6 Reinhartz also points out
that the two-level reading is one-sidedly based on Jn 9, while there are other
models for interaction between Jesus’ followers and the Jews in John. If read
as a reflection of the social reality behind the Gospel, Jn 11 speaks of ongoing
and peaceful communication between Johannine Christians and other Jews.7
Drawing on recent rabbinic studies, I have suggested that it is not just some
minor details such as John’s alleged connection to a rabbinic curse against
5 J. Louis Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History: Essays for Interpreters
(New York: Paulist Press, 1978), 114. Many other scholars also say that Jn 8.44 concerns only a
particular group of Jewish authorities who killed Jesus or persecuted the Johannine Christians.
For example, M. de Boer, “The Depiction of the ‘Jews’ in John’s Gospel: Matters of Behavior
and Identity,” in R. Bieringer, D. Pollefeyt, and F. Vandecasteele-Vanneuville (eds.), Anti-Judaism
and the Fourth Gospel: Papers of the Leuven Colloquium, 2000 (Jewish and Christian Heritage
Series, 1; Assen: Royal van Gorcum, 2001), 268–269; C. H. Barrett, “John and Judaism,” in
Bieringer, Pollefeyt, and Vandecasteele-Vanneuville (eds.), Anti-Judaism and the Fourth Gospel,
406.
6 Adele Reinhartz, “The Johannine Community and Its Jewish Neighbors: A
Reappraisal,” in Fernando F. Segovia (ed.), “What is John?” Vol. II: Literary and Social
Readings of the Fourth Gospel (SBLSymS, 7; Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1998), 115–118;
idem, Befriending the Beloved Disciple: A Jewish Reading of the Gospel of John (New York:
Continuum, 2001), 37–40; idem, “Judaism in the Gospel of John,” Interpretation 63 (2009), 390–
391.
7 Reinhartz, “The Johannine Community,” 121–130; Befriending the Beloved Disciple,
40–48; “Judaism in the Gospel of John,” 390–391.
heretics (Birkat ha-Minim) in Martyn’s model that are misleading; rather, the
whole scenario needs to be reconsidered.8 The early rabbinic movement has
been repeatedly described in recent studies as a relatively powerless group
concerned with issues of purity. Early rabbis were not representative of Judaism
at the time, nor were they in any position to enforce their views on a deviant
minority like the early Christians. References to the minim, a term covering
different groups that rabbis regarded as heretical, are far too heterogeneous
and scattered to be used as evidence for a large-scale harassment of dissidents
by rabbis. On the basis of rabbinic evidence, it is simply misleading to suppose
that the rabbis were the instigators of any kind of systematic oppression of the
minim in general, or of early Christians in particular.9
The scenario that sees John’s community as a persecuted Jewish minority
is based on the assumption that Jewish synagogue communities had strict
boundaries that were defined by a strong leadership class.10 However, various
pieces of evidence collected from literary sources, papyri, and inscriptions show
that the traditional view of isolated Jewish communities with strict boundaries is
in need of revision; in many surroundings, the boundary between Jews and non-
8 Hakola, Identity Matters, 16–22 and 41–86. For a recent criticism of some of the
positions I have taken, see Joel Marcus, “Birkat Ha-Minim Revisited,” NTS 55 (2009), 523–
551. Marcus defends the basics of Martyn’s reconstruction while nuancing the extent of rabbinic
control in the first centuries ce. Marcus concludes that the Gospels of Matthew and John “probably
emerged from places in which rabbis were able to establish substantial control over the synagogue
and the Jewish life in general. Because they had the upper hand in these areas, they could enforce
an anti-Christian policy through measures such as Birkat ha-Minim. In other localities, however,
the rabbis probably did not exercise comparable control for several centuries, as is attested by
the frequent tension between rabbinic law and piety, on the one hand, and synagogal art and
architecture, on the other” (551). This conclusion simply begs the question of the existence of
such areas of rabbinical control without establishing where such areas might have been or what
they might have looked like—where exactly early rabbis would have had “the upper hand” and
could have exercised “substantial control” over some early Christian groups. The tension between
the archeological record connected to ancient synagogues and rabbinic piety is clearly visible,
for example, in places such as Sepphoris and Tiberias, known centers of rabbinic learning and
influence. If rabbis could not have enforced their ideals on all their Aramaic-speaking fellow Jews
in such places, it is difficult to imagine a locale where they could have harassed emerging Greek-
speaking Christian communities to the extent that is presupposed by the persecution scenario.
This is all the more unlikely in a Diaspora setting, where Martyn and most other Johannine
scholars locate the Gospel.
9 Shaye J. Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh: Pharisees, Rabbis, and the End of Jewish
Sectarianism,” HUCA 55 (1984), 50; Claudia Setzer, Jewish Responses to Early Christians:
History and Polemics, 30–150 C. E. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 161; Martin Goodman, “The
Function of Minim in Early Rabbinic Judaism,” in H. Cancik, H. Lichtenberger, and P. Schäfer
(eds.), Geschichte–Tradition–Reflexion: Festschrift für Martin Hengel zum 70. Geburtstag. Band
I: Judentum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck), 506.
10 For reconsiderations of the persecution scenario, see also Nicklas Tobias, Ablösung
und Verstrickung: “Juden” und Jüngergestalten als Charaktere der erzählten Welt des
Johannesevangeliums und ihre Wirkung auf den impliziten Leser (RST, 60; Frankfurt am Main:
Peter Lang, 2001), 49–72; Warren Carter, John and the Empire: Initial Explorations (New York
and London: T&T Clark, 2008), 19–51, 68–72.
Jews remained crossable.11 In the Diaspora, where the Johannine community is

also frequently placed, synagogues were probably not hierarchical institutions
headed by a strong leadership class.12 The synagogue communities looked very
much like other voluntary associations that were a common feature of Greco-
Roman cities and towns.13 As such associations, these communities interacted
with their non-Jewish surroundings in a variety of ways.
Recent studies on the early rabbinic movement or the Jewish Diaspora do
not provide a fitting background for the persecution scenario where a powerful
Jewish establishment is presented as capable of maltreating their enemies
without the interference of local inhabitants and their authorities.14 Even though
John presents a dualistic image of the world where light and darkness, good and
evil, God and the Devil are clearly distinct from each other, I think we should
be cautious in taking this picture as a direct mirror image of the sectarian and
isolated nature of the Johannine community, as has often been done in Johannine
research.15 Rather than taking Johannine dualism to be a result of the traumatic
experiences of the community we could take John’s application of traditional
dualistic imagery as an attempt to construct a clearly defined social identity in a
complex and diverse social situation. In a similar way, the passages referring to
the exclusion from the synagogue (Jn 9.22, 12.42, 16.2) do not need be taken as
a direct reflection of the otherwise unattested formal policy of some unknown
synagogue leaders but can be seen as an attempt to clarify the boundaries of
the writer’s own group.16 Both John’s dualistic imagery and exclusion passages
11 Michael L. White, Building God’s House in the Roman World: Architectural

Adaptation among Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1990), 92; Shaye J. D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries,
Varieties, Uncertainties (Berkeley: University of California Press), 140–174; Tessa Rajak, The
Jewish Dialogue with Greece and Rome: Studies in Cultural and Social Interaction (AGJU, 48;
Leiden: Brill, 2001), 553–554.
12 Rajak, The Jewish Dialogue, 393–429, esp. 419.
13 White, Building God’s House, 93; Rajak, The Jewish Dialogue, 468–469; Philip
A. Harland, Associations, Synagogues and Congregations: Claiming a Place in Ancient
Mediterranean Society (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 177–212; Martin Goodman, Rome &
Jerusalem: The Clash of Ancient Civilizations (London: Allen Lane, 2007), 238.
14 This is recognized by Wayne A. Meeks, “Breaking Away: Three New Testament
Pictures of Christianity’s Separation from the Jewish Communities,” in J. Neusner and E. S.
Frerichs (eds.), “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late
Antiquity (Studies in the Humanities, 9; Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press), 101–103. Unlike most
other Johannine scholars, Meeks dismisses early rabbis as the opponents of the Johannine
community and a major Greco-Roman city as John’s context. Meeks, however, is unwilling to re-
evaluate the persecution scenario. He suggests that some other Jewish group had sufficient power
in synagogues somewhere in Galilee, Batanaea or “some small polis” in a “society dominated by
the Jewish community” to “expel persons from membership, even to threaten their lives” (p. 103).
15 For a similar conclusion, see Sjef van Tillborg, Reading John in Ephesus (NovTSup,
83; Leiden: Brill, 1996), 101; Carter, John and the Empire, 10.
16 Cf. Carter (John and the Empire, 26) who says that the references to the expulsion
from the synagogue do not reflect already settled separation but “function as part of the Gospel’s
rhetoric of distance to indicate that some conflict and division between the Jesus believers and the
rest of the synagogue ought to exist as a consequence of allegiance to Jesus.”
could be taken as “the rhetoric of distance” that “creates societal boundaries,

establishes clarity of identity, and urges distance among those who the writer or
writers think lack boundaries, clarity, and distance.”17
In light of the evidence sketched above, it is fully possible that the boundary
between the Jews who came to believe in Jesus and other Jews still remained,
at least to some extent, open and fluid at the end of the first century. Jews who
came to believe in Jesus may have interacted with synagogue communities and
their members in different ways. Some who believed in Jesus may have become
alienated from their fellow Jews to the extent that they felt expelled from the
synagogue. A growing separation from the Jewish ethos is clearly visible in
John’s ambivalent attitude to such central markers of Jewish identity as the
Temple, worship, the Sabbath, circumcision, the revelation at Sinai, the law,
Moses and Abraham.18 But although John urges a clear-cut separation from the
synagogue, it is plausible that some others who believed in Jesus may have
continued to interact with other Jews and found the practice of basic matters of
Jewishness still attractive. It may be that we have an allusion to such Jewish-
Christians in Jn 8.31 where the Johannine narrator says that many Jews believed
in Jesus.19 In the course of the dialogue in Jn 8.31-59, John connects even these
Jewish-Christians with the Devil (8.44), creating in the process an imaginary
universe where the sons of light and the sons of darkness are much more clearly
distinct from each other than they may have ever been in real life.
But how plausible it is that John denounced so fiercely those who shared his
faith in Jesus but retained closer ties with a local synagogue? At first glance, it may
be hard to believe that John wanted to present some kind of Jewish-Christians
in his surroundings as the Devil’s children. But I think that certain insights from
the social identity perspective help to explain why tensions between groups that
are somehow similar and close to each other are so common.
The Social Identity Perspective
The social identity theory was first developed by social psychologist Henri
Tajfel and his colleagues in Great Britain in the late 1960s and early 1970s. This
17 Carter, John and the Empire, 75.

18 Hakola, Identity Matters, 215–221.
19 Many scholars have found in Jn 8.30-31 a reference to some kind of Jewish-Christians
whose faith is denounced by John. See, most recently, Michael Theobald, “Abraham – (Isaak-)
Jakob: Israels Väter im Johannesevangelium,” in M. Labahn, K. Scholtissek, and A. Strotmann
(eds.), Israel und seine Heilstraditionen im Johannesevangelium: Festgabe für Johannes Beutler
SJ zum 70. Geburtstag (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2004), 175–177; Ismo Dunderberg,
The Beloved Disciple in Conflict? Revisiting the Gospels of John and Thomas (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2006), 194. For other references, see Hakola, Identity Matters, 183, n. 23.
For a discussion of whether the Johannine community should be seen as a Jewish-Christian
group, see Raimo Hakola, “The Johannine Community as Jewish Christians? Some Problems in
Current Scholarly Consensus,” in M. Jackson-McCabe (ed.), Jewish Christianity Reconsidered:
Rethinking Ancient Groups and Texts (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 181–201.
approach has increasingly been applied to early Jewish and Christian sources.20
One of the key ideas behind the theory was formulated by Tajfel as the “minimal
group paradigm.” In a series of experiments Tajfel and his colleagues found that,
even in minimal groups where there is neither conflict of interest nor previously
existing hostility, people tend to favor ingroup members over outgroup members.
This means that “the mere perception of belonging to two distinct groups—that
is, social categorization per se—is sufficient to trigger intergroup discrimination
favoring the in-group.”21 The need for social differentiation between groups “is
fulfilled through the creation of intergroup differences when such differences do
not in fact exist, or the attribution of value to, and the enhancement of, whatever
differences that do exist.”22
The social identity theory is based on the observation that cognitive,
emotional, and motivational processes connected to intergroup relations
cannot be seen as an extension of interpersonal relations and cannot be
explained simply in terms of personal psychology. The concept of social
identity was later developed into a more general explanation of all cognitive
processes connected to group formation in the so-called Self-Categorization
Theory. According to John Turner and other social psychologists, “the central
hypothesis for group behaviour is that, as shared social identity becomes
salient, individual self-perception tends to become depersonalized.”23 This
means that when we experience ourselves as identical with a certain class
of people and in contrast to some other classes, we tend to stereotype not
only the members of outgroups, but also ourselves as a member of our own
ingroup. When we define ourselves in relation to other people, we experience
ourselves as similar to one clearly defined category of people and therefore
as different from those in other categories. Social categorization, however,
results in a polarization of perception. Individuals who belong to different
groups are viewed as being more different from each other than they really
are, while individuals who belong to the same group are perceived as more
20 Philip F. Esler, Galatians (London and New York: Routledge, 1998), 40–57; Conflict
and Identity in Romans: The Social Setting of Paul’s Letter (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 19–39;
Petri Luomanen, “The Sociology of Knowledge, the Social Identity Approach and the Cognitive
Science of Religion,” in P. Luomanen, I. Pyysiäinen, and R. Uro (eds.), Explaining Early Judaism
and Christianity: Contributions from Cognitive and Social Science (Biblical Interpretation Series,
89; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 199–229; Raimo Hakola, “Social Identities and Group Phenomena in
Second Temple Judaism,” in Luomanen, Pyysiäinen, and Uro (eds.), Explaining Early Judaism
and Christianity, 259–276; Raimo Hakola, “The Burden of Ambiguity: Nicodemus and the Social
Identity of the Johannine Christians,” NTS 55 (2009), 438–455.
21 Henri Tajfel and John C. Turner, “An Integrative Theory of Intergroup Conflict,” in
W. G. Austin and S. Worchel (eds.), The Social Psychology of Intergroup Relations (Monterey,
Calif.: Brooks/Cole Publishing Company, 1979), 38.
22 Henri Tajfel, Human Groups and Social Categories: Studies in Social Psychology
(Cambridge, UK: CUP, 1981), 276.
23 John C. Turner, “Some Current Issues in Research on Social Identity and Self-
Categorization Theories,” in N. Ellemers, R. Spears, and B. Doosje (eds.), Social Identity:
Context, Commitment, Content (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999), 12.
similar. Categorization has been described as “a cognitive grouping process

that transforms differences into similarities, and vice versa.”24
The social identity perspective predicts that groups tend to play down or
suppress their common points with other groups in their comparative contexts
and claim that they are distinctive. From this perspective, it can be expected
that similarity between different comparative groups may cause a threat to
a social identity that leads groups to “differentiate themselves from other
groups that are too similar to the ingroup and which, accordingly, threaten
group distinctiveness.”25 The social identity perspective thus conceptualizes
and gives experimental evidence for a commonsense observation that it is
often groups that are somehow akin to each other that are each other’s worst
enemies. This phenomenon is easily recognizable in many intergroup conflicts
and it has been discussed in various contexts.26
According to some recent studies, however, the above-described
phenomenon is not as straightforward and universal as it might seem at first
glance. First, while proximity and similarity between groups may on some
occasions cause and escalate intergroup conflicts, it has also been shown that,
at least on the level of individuals, similarity between a person’s own beliefs
and those of an outgroup member may sometimes reduce discrimination of
the outgroup member in question.27 Second, not only similarities but also pre-
existing differences between groups quite often lead to attempts to legitimize
differentiation and enhance ingroup favoritism.28 These observations have
caused scholars to seek more nuanced ways of describing the circumstances
in which similarity becomes a factor in intergroup conflicts. The type of the
group may have an effect on how similarity is perceived, in that similarity is
24 Penelope J. Oakes, S. Alexander Haslam, and Katherine J. Reynolds, “Social

Categorization and Social Context: Is Stereotype Change a Matter of Information or of Meaning?”,
in D. M. Abrams and M. A. Hogg (eds.), Social Identity and Social Cognition (Oxford: Blackwell,
1999), 62.
25 Nyla E. Branscombe, et al., “The Context and Content of Social Identity Threat,” in
Naomi Ellemers, Russell Spears, and Bertjan Doosje (eds.), Social Identity: Context, Commitment,
Content (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999), 45.
26 Already Sigmund Freud referred to this phenomenon as “the narcissism of small
differences.” See Jolanda Jetten and Russell Spears, “The Divisive Potential of Differences and
Similarities: The Role of Ingroup Distinctiveness in Intergroup Differentiation,” European Review
of Social Psychology 14 (2003), 204 and 207. Not only is this common wisdom backed up by
the social identity perspective but other social psychological theories also support it. Cf. Gérard
Lemaine, Joseph Kastersztein, and Bernard Personnaz, “Social Differentiation,” in Henri Tajfel
(ed.), Differentiation between Social Groups: Studies in the Social Psychology of Intergroup
Relations (European Monographs in Social Psychology, 14; London: Academic Press, 1978), 291:
“Individuals or groups do not necessarily seek similar others … being in a state of ‘undistinctiveness’
may provoke unpleasant feelings, and … a threat to what one considers important for one’s ‘identity’
leads to a search for, or creation of, differences between self and others.”
27 Cf. Sonia Roccas and Shalom H. Schwartz (“Effects of Intergroup Similarity on
Intergroup Relations,” European Journal of Social Psychology 23 [1993], 582–583), who refer to
the so-called belief congruence theory.
28 Jetten and Spears, “The Divisive Potential,” 207–209.
a more serious threat in groups where personal and emotional investments

of the members are greater (religious groups, political parties) in comparison
to some other groups (occupational groups).29 Furthermore, it has been
suggested that similarity has two seemingly paradoxical consequences; it
“increases readiness for contact with an outgroup even as it simultaneously
increases ingroup favouritism at the expense of the outgroup.”30 Some studies
demonstrate that the level of identification with the ingroup predicts how
serious a threat similarity is for the identity of different members of the group.
It has been proposed that “high identifiers” who have invested more in the
group than “low identifiers” are more motivated to defend the common group
identity when the distinctiveness of the group is threatened. High identifiers are
more ready to perceive similarity as a threat and to enhance the differentiation
of the ingroup, while low identifiers, who may be insufficiently aware of the
common group identity, do not have an urgent need to display ingroup bias
by maximizing the differences between the ingroup and relevant outgroups.31
Conclusion: Similarity as a Threat to the Social Identity of the

Johannine Community
The theoretical background presented above is useful in explaining why John

wants to present those Jews who are said to believe in Jesus as the children of
the Devil. This background both clarifies the reconstruction of the situation of
the Johannine community sketched above and explains John’s bitter attack.
Earlier in this chapter I argued for the possibility that the boundaries between
developing early Christian communities and Jewish synagogue communities
remained unsettled and mutable at the time of John’s writing. In a situation
like this, there was the opportunity for various kinds of dealings between
those Jews who believed in Jesus and other Jews. The discussion of the social
identity and similarity between groups illuminates concerns and motives that
may have arisen in a context of this kind.
I have mentioned the possibility that similarities between groups in the
same context may have paradoxical consequences for the members of the
ingroup because these similarities may simultaneously increase willingness
for contacts with the outgroup and enhance the discrimination of the outgroup.
I suggest that we can detect both of these tendencies in John’s condemnation
of the Jews who believed in Jesus. On the one hand, the Jews who believe in
Jesus stand out in John’s highly dualistic framework and give evidence for a
much more diverse and complex social reality than John’s monochrome view
of the world would imply. The mere presence of these Jews in John’s narrative
29 Roccas and Schwartz, “Effects,” 592.

30 Roccas and Schwartz, “Effects,” 594.
31 Jolanda Jetten, Russell Spears, and Antony S. R. Manstead, “Similarity as a Source
of Differentiation: The Role of Group Identification,” European Journal of Social Psychology 31
(2001), 623, 636–638; Jetten and Spears, “The Divisive Potential,” 218–223.
suggests that the categories John wants to keep intact and separated were, as a
matter of fact, overlapping and flexible, and the desire for contacts that cross
these categories never disappeared. On the other hand, John’s uncompromising
disapproval of the Jewish believers in Jesus demonstrates how the similarity
that has the potential to encourage border-crossing may, at the same time,
generate anxiety concerning the clarity of intergroup boundaries and lead to
attempts to solidify the existing or perceived differences between groups.
The prediction that high identifiers are more ready than low identifiers
to perceive similarity between groups as threatening may also have some
explicatory value in the Johannine context. In his writing, the Johannine
writer is keen to establish a view of the world based on two-dimensional
and extreme polarities which speaks for the willingness to clarify intergroup
boundaries and enhance positive social identity among group members by
accentuating the distinctiveness of the ingroup at the expense of the outgroup.
John and his supporters appear as high identifiers who would have perceived
a possible similarity between the ingroup and an outgroup as intimidating. In
the situation described above, it is fully possible that there were also those
who did not share a need to maximize differences between the ingroup and
the outgroup. They may have invested less in the shared ingroup identity and
thus have been less motivated to protect ingroup identity. The social identity
perspective explains why intergroup similarities may be perceived as a threat
by some group members while other members are more open to perceiving
these similarities in a more positive way.
From the theoretical perspective presented, it is not surprising that those
Jews who are the target of Jesus’ most bitter attack in John are those who
seem to share John’s faith in Jesus in some way. It is understandable that
John did not have any sympathy for his fellow Jews who believed in Jesus
as the Messiah but still continued to interact with local Jewish synagogue
communities. These Jews posed a threat that would invalidate the faith of
those who had left the synagogue and joined the Johannine community. As
the boundary between emerging Christian communities and Jewish synagogue
communities still remained at least somewhat open, the solid distinction
between the true believers and the Jews, who are all exposed as murderers
and the children of the Devil, may be taken as an attempt to protect a social
identity that was perceived to be at risk.
Jesus’ condemnation of the seemingly believing Jews blurs any distinction
among different Jewish groups, and labels as the children of the Devil both the
believing and the openly hostile Jews. This has had far-reaching consequences
for subsequent Jewish–Christian relations. As Stephen G. Wilson notes, the
fact that John lifts the conflict between Jesus and the Jews to a cosmological
level does not mitigate John’s view of the Jews but “compounds the anti-
Judaism and pushes it in a disastrous direction.”32 Of course, John’s rhetorical
32 Stephen G. Wilson, Related Strangers: Jews and Christians 70–170 C. E. (Minneapolis:

Fortress, 1995), 334, n. 165.
assault against Jesus’ Jewish opponents could only become intimidating to

some real Jewish groups with the future shift in the balance of power that
eventually led Christianity to emerge as an imperial power in late antiquity.33
In this changed situation, a combination of the charge that the Jews are of the
Devil with the charge that they murdered Jesus gave a strong impetus to the
growth of an anti-Jewish-Christian tradition in which these two charges had a
prominent role.
33 Adele Reinhartz, “John 8:31–59 from a Jewish Perspective,” in J. K. Roth, E. Maxwell,

M. Levy, and W. Whitworth, Remembering for the Future: The Holocaust in an Age of Genocide.
Vol. 2: Ethics and Religion (New York: Palgrave, 2001), 795.
Chapter 9
Paul and the Evil One1

Michael Becker
The last decades have seen a vast number of publications on Paul: his
soteriology, Christology, harmartology, pneumatology, ethics, their relationship
to early Jewish and pagan concepts—and even Paul’s cosmology, his use of
spirits and the understanding of a spiritual world—have been the subject of
several publications.2 All these contributions and topics imply a certain notion
of the relationship of good and evil, and they can prove the importance of this
subject in Paul’s theology. Nevertheless, Paul’s understanding of evil and of
figures representing evil is still not a central matter of interest—neither of
Paul’s nor of modern scholarship’s.
Even if we can observe a certain change in the assessment of the Pauline
evidence, the reason for the lack of interest lies not so much in the scarcity
of references as in the theological presuppositions of modern exegesis in
general. Following Rudolf Bultmann and his hermeneutical concept of
demythologization these questions were marginalized. This tendency and other
objections against a thinking in terms of specific figures of evil, angels, demons
or further mythical beings or powers, give reason for a sincere disinterest in
these matters. Although the difference between antique and modern ideas does
not seem to be the only factor, it is easier to skip a debate than to relate to an
often-sophisticated discussion on religious history, the change of concepts and
their theological implications.
But there are some exceptions, because a number of publications on
Paul and his theology nowadays refer to the problem.3 Furthermore, a
number of monographs relate to a more comprehensive perspective on the
1 I want to thank my former Munich colleague Dr. Jutta Leonhard-Balzer—now at the

University of Aberdeen—for reading a draft of this chapter and for her correcting remarks on the
English version.
2 See esp. T. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul: The Material
Spirit (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010); and G. Williams, The Spirit World in the Letters
of Paul the Apostle: A Critical Examination of the Role of Spiritual Beings in the Authentic
Pauline Epistles (FRLANT, 231; Göttingen: V&R, 2009).
3 Cf., e.g., U. Schnelle, Paulus. Leben und Denken (Berlin and New York: de Gruyter,
2003), 571–579; J. D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (London and New York: T&T
Clark, 1998), 102–110; see also 27–43.
New Testament.4 Paul and demonology were not much discussed in early
scholarship. However, in the twentieth century a discussion had already begun
concerning “principalities and powers,”5 which has many implications for the
Pauline worldview.
1. Paul and Evil
Paul’s understanding contains some ambivalence. On the one hand he is

cautious with his mentioning of aspects of the “dark side” of his soteriology.
Even when he argues concerning the sin of all people—Jews and Gentiles—he
never mentions a theory of evil or speaks about its origins.6 But on the other
hand he can refer to several figures and spiritual beings representing evil—
without any suspicion. He uses Jewish terms such as Satan (and Beliar?7) to
name these figures. And his references to demons, idols, and angels represent
examples of a common Jewish (and also pagan) custom.
Certainly the references are infrequent and it seems difficult to place them
in an overall system related to other Pauline theologoumena. Nevertheless,
the question seems neither trivial nor irrelevant for Paul and his theology.
Many of his arguments, especially in soteriological matters, have premises in
4 Cf., e.g., H. Haag, Teufelsglaube (Tübingen: Katzmann, 1974); on Paul and the
Deuteropauline letters see esp. 346–366; L. Wehr, “Funktion und Erfahrungshintergrund
der Satansaussagen des Paulus,” MThZ 52 (2001), 208–219; F. Hahn, Theologie des Neuen
Testaments, Vol. 2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 331–333. 758–762; R. H. Bell, Deliver Us
from Evil: Interpreting the Redemption from the Power of Satan in New Testament Theology
(WUNT, 216; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007); on Paul, see esp. 230–241; J. Leonhardt-Balzer,
“Gestalten des Bösen im frühen Christentum,” in J. Frey and M. Becker (eds.), Apokalyptik und
Qumran (Einblicke, 10; Paderborn: Bonifatius, 2007), 203–235.
5 Cf. O. Everling, Die paulinische Angelologie und Dämonologie (Göttingen: V&R, 1888);
M. Dibelius, Die Geisterwelt im Glauben des Paulus (Göttingen: V&R, 1909); G. H. C. MacGregor,
“Principalities and Powers: The Cosmic Background of Paul’s Thought,” NTS 2 (1955), 17–28;
G. B. Caird, Principalities and Powers: A Study in Pauline Theology (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1956); H. Schlier, Mächte und Gewalten im Neuen Testament (QD, 3; Freiburg: Herder, 1958); C.
D. Morrison, The Powers That Be: Earthly Rulers and Demonic Powers in Romans 13.1–7 (StBTh,
29; London: SCM, 1960); W. Carr, Angels and Principalities: The Background, Meaning and
Development of the Pauline Phrase hai archai kai hai exousiai (SBLMS, 42; Cambridge, UK: CUP,
1981); W. Wink, Naming the Powers: The Language of Power in the New Testament (Philadelphia:
Fortress Press, 1984); idem, Unmasking the Powers: The Invisible Forces that Determine Human
Existence (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986); see also n. 2.
6 This indicates a difference from some early Jewish, especially apocalyptic traditions
(see esp. A. T. Wright, The Origin of Evil Spirits [WUNT II, 198; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2005]), but it joins Paul with other texts of the New Testament, which also do not mention a theory
or reflect about the origin and development of evil and figures of evil.
7 This term is questionable for Paul because it is a hapaxlegomenon. It is still
questionable whether 2 Cor. 6.14–7.1 belongs to the original text or represents a gloss or some
comment. Although the thesis of an interpolation does not altogether lack plausibility there are
counter-arguments proposing its original disposition. Cf. Th. Schmeller, Der zweite Brief an die
Korinther, Vol. 1 (EKK, VIII/1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2010, 22f, 366–382).
Paul and the Evil One 129
an understanding of evil, even if Paul for some part uses other categories and
terminological concepts—especially those of sin, death, and the law. These
concepts can only be discussed in certain aspects.8
Beyond this, the evidence for evil figures does not seem to be evenly
distributed throughout Paul’s letters. A closer look at his letter to the Romans,
especially, proves a particular inconsistency, because in contrast to his other
genuine letters the references here to those figures are less frequent, and even
where we might expect a reference to Satan Paul does not offer it.9 He is not
interested in mythological speculations concerning the origin of evil, although
he presents a very detailed outline of his soteriological concept in this letter.
Instead he prefers to use typical terminology characterizing good (ἀγαθός)
and evil (πονερός). To be sure, even in Romans Paul participates in the
worldview of his era and several times he switches to mythological concepts
as means of expression. But on the whole he does this in a quite different way
from in his other letters.
The difficulty of the present contribution is that it is not possible to follow
up all the numerous aspects and implications in view of Paul’s understanding
and to reflect the questions considering a theological conceptualization of
the problem of evil.10 Nearly all these aspects reveal fascinating details—but
really remarkable is the inconsistency in Paul’s use of terminology and of
traditional concepts, in view of his theological basis. The cumulative evidence
in the Deuteropauline letters stresses the importance of these aspects. But
this later development seems to follow its own dynamics, which cannot be
discussed here either. All in all, it seems appropriate to concentrate on two
aspects: Paul’s use of figures representing evil, and his terminology.
Before starting along these lines it is important to study the way in which
Paul links up with the biblical and early Jewish tradition, particularly whether
and how some of the concepts mentioned there influence Pauline interests and
his reflection upon these. This is especially true in view of the traditions of
creation and fall in Genesis 2–3 and also of the much-discussed tradition of
the “fall of the angels” in Gen. 6.1-4.
As an impressive example of the ambivalence and difficulties of the Pauline
position in view of Gen. 6 we can point to his line of argument considering the
behavior of Corinthian women in 1 Corinthians 11. Mention of an ἐξουσία
that the women should wear when they are praying “because of the angels”
(v. 10) reminds us of a certain link to Gen. 6, where the sons of the gods are
8 See H. Merklein, “Paulus und die Sünde,” in H. Frankemölle (ed.), Sünde und
Erlösung im Neuen Testament (QD, 161: Freiburg: Herder, 1996), 123–163; Dunn, Theology,
102–161; Schnelle, Paulus, 571–598.
9 See Rom. 5.12-21; cf. Bell, Deliver, 233f. In Rom. 5 the lack of references seems to be
caused by Paul’s strategy to stress the responsibility of Adam—resp. all sinners—and not to open a
kind of dispense by the identification of Satan as the originator of sin. See also Dunn, Theology, 94–97.
10 For a reader with different historical and philosophical positions on this topic see
M. Larrimore (ed.), The Problem of Evil, Malden: Blackwell, 2001, and for a comprehensive
study in systematic perspective see I. U. Dalferth, Malum. Theologische Hermeneutik des Bösen
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008).
tempted by the beautiful daughters of the human race. Nevertheless, Paul refers
in this passage primarily to another notion: the belief in the presence of angels
during the daily service.11 This aspect, however, cannot explain the necessity
for women to behave in that way. Therefore, the concept of temptation related
to Gen. 6 seems to be important for the understanding of this passage. Yet the
omission of any distinct feature connecting Paul’s argument to Gen. 6 prevents
a more detailed explanation.12
The fact that any tangible connection is left obscure once again shows that
Paul is not interested in the development of a mythological explanation. But
he seems aware of some early Jewish tradition.13 This is also important for his
understanding of Gen. 2–3. In their biblical interpretation these chapters have
“nothing to do with an immortal Adam and Eve and ‘death coming into the
world through sin’.” But Paul seems congruent with this tradition, combining
the expulsion from paradise with the tradition of Gen. 6 and including an
understanding of sin as “a serious rebellion against God.”14 This points to an
early Jewish discussion,15 even if Paul never explicitly gives an explanation
for his argument.
Paul interprets the transgression of Adam as sin—related to death and the
law—which takes up two chapters in Paul’s argumentation (Rom. 5; 1 Cor.
15). But Paul does not mention much more than the facts according to his
interpretation. He is interested in anthropology and therefore his main attention
is given to the theme of temptation. This opens a large horizon of difficulties
in the Pauline argumentation because it relates less to Gen. 6 than to Gen. 3.
There is only one place—or possibly two—in which Paul seems to make
a direct reference. In 2 Cor. 11.3 he mentions the biblical myth of the snake
seducing Eve. In his line of argument the biblical tradition functions as an
analogy and warning example for the Corinthians that their thoughts “will be
led astray from a sincere and pure devotion to Christ” if they will follow the
super-apostles. Paul does not explain how the biblical tradition relates to the
present situation, but he draws an analogy to temptation and seduction then and
now. This means that Paul interprets the recent inner-Christian competition in
terms of the conflict of the first men with God. Both events seem to be situated
at the same level for Paul.16
The second reference is not so obvious. At the end of his letter to the Romans
Paul mentions in 16.20 that soon the God of peace will crush Satan under their
feet. This seems to refer to Gen. 3.14f, but Paul’s reference is neither a citation
11 See esp. the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice 4Q400–407 and 11Q17, and some other
references such as 1QSa II 8f at the Qumran library.
12 See H. Merklein and M. Gielen, Der erste Brief an die Korinther (Kapitel 11,2–16,24)
(ÖTK, 7/3; Gütersloh: Gütersloher, 2005), 61f; D. Zeller, Der erste Brief an die Korinther (KEK,
5; Göttingen: V&R, 2010), 358–360.
13 See also 1 Cor. 6.3, where the angels must refer to fallen angels.
14 Cf. Bell, Deliver, 231.
15 Bell, Deliver, 232; he stresses esp. Sap. 2.23f.
16 It also seems remarkable that Paul chooses quite the same words, as in Gal. 1, to
characterize the intention of his adversary.
nor an explicit allusion.17 It is remarkable that again the argument stands in the
context of a warning against temptation by adversaries.
The preceding verse makes a connection with the obedience of the Roman
congregation, which in the view of Paul is known to all and founded on their
wisdom to distinguish what is good (τὸ ἀγαθόν) and to be guileless as to
what is evil (τὸ κακόν). It is noteworthy that Paul explicitly identifies the
snake of the biblical tradition with the figure of Satan, which we will talk
about a little later. It also seems significant that the encounter will take place
soon. Both aspects transcend the horizon of the Book of Genesis and seem to
be connected with apocalyptic traditions in early Judaism.
This interpretation of time is also present in several other references.
Galatians 1.4, referring to the redemptive act in Jesus Christ, defines it not only
as the sacrifice for our sins but also as the removal from the harmful sphere
of the present evil age. This reference makes a connection between evil and
sin, even if this evil is not qualified but qualifies the present age mankind lives
in. An important aspect is that, in contrast to most other Pauline references
about evil, the ethical aspect is not stressed18 (even if it seems present in
the plural form “sins”), while the reflection concerning soteriology—resp.
the “Heilsgeschichte”—and therefore a primarily theological aspect is. The
reflection concerning the temporal structure of the redemptive act points
to a basic issue in Pauline thought that always has some resonance in his
argumentation, even if there are only a few explicit references.19
This structure also seems to be one of the most significant characteristics
of the apocalyptic drama. The specific point in Paul’s argument is the
relationship between the redemptive act in Christ and the final destruction
of evil and its representatives. The acts are not identical, because even if the
redemptive act in Christ has already happened the final destruction is still
pending. The present age as the “time between” is still an evil eon and in
opposition to the future salvation. But the Christian believer will participate in
this salvation, which has already begun. Most prominently, Paul reflects this
development in his argument about resurrection in 1 Cor. 15. Especially in vv.
20-28 he describes this final act, including the destruction of πᾶσαν ἀρχὴν
καὶ πᾶσαν ἐξουσίαν καὶ δύναμιν. It is curious that only these hostile
principalities and powers, and death as the last enemy, are mentioned—and
again Satan is not. All this calls to mind the different ways in which early
Jewish apocalypses wrestle with the question of the redemption of evil. While
the reference to an eon points to the category of historical apocalypses, other
references in Paul (cf. 2 Cor. 12.2-5) show that he is also aware of traditions in
17 Cf. also Ps. 91.13 and the notion of the eschatological destruction of all the spirits of
deceit when they are “given to be trodden under foot” (T.Sim. 6.6; see also T.Levi 18.12 with another
accentuation, because the binding of Beliar by God shall give power to His children to tread upon
the evil spirits). A destruction of a figure of evil is also mentioned in Jub. 23.29 and AssMos 10.1.
18 See chapter 2: figures of Evil.
19 See on Paul, F. Hahn, Frühjüdische und urchristliche Apokalyptik. Eine Einführung
(BThS, 36; Neukirchen: Neukirchener, 1998), esp. 99–107.
which the temporal aspect is dominated by a spatial one, as in the journeys to

heaven. Yet even in this context Paul is conscious of the provisional character
of these revelations. He mentions an angel of Satan (12.7-9) that will keep him
from being too elated by the revelations.
Paul thinks in patterns of the biblical tradition or—to be more precise—his
thinking in these traditions is patterned in an eschatologically interpreted way that
is known from early Jewish, especially apocalyptic20 and sapiential traditions.21
Therefore, it is possible to draw on this context of ideas and conceptions.
But this is no license to include all the patterns we can find in these
apocalypses. The relationship is never sufficiently concrete as to make it
possible to identify a distinct connection via texts and citations. Therefore,
it seems awkward to supplement or to fill all the gaps in the Pauline
argumentation using different texts and specific concepts of early Judaism.
Even if there are certain bridges, the antithesis between sin and evil on the
one side and God’s love and redemption in Jesus Christ on the other does not
seem to imply a clear-cut dualistic concept with a clearly defined structure and
personal figures, as in many early Jewish traditions. Therefore, it is misleading
to extract a theory or an abstract concept from these texts to identify the basis
of Paul’s thinking. Nevertheless, Paul does not merely argue ad hoc. He seems
to be interested in certain early Jewish traditions, but in his argument he does
not make use of them explicitly or in a direct way.22 The relationship seems far
more complex and Paul has altered these traditional patterns in his own way
by connecting them to the act of redemption in Jesus Christ.
2. Figures of Evil
Apart from Satan Paul uses several other figures with an analogous, mostly
evil, appearance: demons and angels, principalities and powers, and several
20 See J. J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to the Jewish Matrix of

Christianity (Grand Rapids and Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2nd edn. 1997); idem, “Wisdom, Apocalypticism
and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in idem, Seers, Sibyls and Sages in Hellenistic-Roman Judaism (SJSJ,
54; Leiden, New York, and Köln: Brill, 1997 [repr. 2001]), 369–383; M. Becker, “Apokalyptisches
nach dem Fall Jerusalems,” in M. Becker and M. Öhler (eds.), Apokalyptik als Herausforderung
neutestamentlicher Theologie (WUNT, II/214; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 283–360.
21 See J. Frey, “Different Patterns of Dualistic Thought in the Qumran Library,” in M.
Bernstein, F. García Martínez, and J. Kampen (eds.), Legal Texts and Legal Issues (Leiden: Brill,
1997), 275–335; idem, “Flesh and Spirit in the Palestinian Jewish Sapiential Tradition and in the
Qumran Texts: An Inquiry into the Background of Pauline Usage,” in Ch. Hempel, A. Lange,
and H. Lichtenberger (eds.), The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential
Thought (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 367–404.
22 Apart from several texts of the Qumran-library 4 Ezra with its discussion of sin and
law exhibits a certain affinity to the Pauline thinking, although the solution and the strategies are
still different. See Schnelle, Paulus, 577f. His remark that there is an analogous discourse (575f.)
concerning the origin of evil and the reasoning in the human behavior in the Greco-Roman world
(esp. Epictetus and Cicero) illuminates predominantly a possible reception of these problems, but
not the roots of Paul’s thinking.
isolated references to figures such as Beliar (2 Cor. 6.15), the god of this world
(2 Cor. 4.4), the destroyer (1 Cor. 10.10) and the tempter (1 Thess. 3.5; see
also 1 Cor. 7.5). The following subsections give a short survey of the different
categories of Pauline terms and their context.23
Idols and Demons

References to idols and demons make a very short list, and with one exception,
in 1 Thessalonians, all references belong to 1 Corinthians. A closer look at
these references explains this distribution. In 1 Thess. 1.9 Paul refers to the
former belief of the congregation and the change that resulted from their
conversion.24 The assertion is part of a—Jewish—polemic against foreign
gods, declaring their inefficiency, that was taken over by early Christianity.25
The monotheistic conviction that all the gods of the nations are idols (Ps. 96.5;
1 Chron. 16.26) therefore is repeatedly cited.26
But Paul can modify this argument if a situation necessitates it. In 1 Cor. 8
and 10 these idols represent a social reality. Paul wants to make a distinction
between the eating of food that was part of εἰδωλοθύτα—because some
have the knowledge that “an idol has no real existence,” and that “there is no
God but one” (8.4)—and making others fall by eating εἰδωλοθύτα in this
knowledge (8.7; see also 8.10f; Rom. 14.20).
In chapter 10 his argumentation is even more rigid because here he refers
to participation in cultic meals. While in chapter 8 the problem concerns
individuals, now it relates to all people. Participation turns the partaker into an
idolater—and Paul compares this situation with the tradition of the worship of
the Golden Calf of Exod. 32 and the retaliation by the destroyer27—combining
further traditions such as Exod. 12.23, Num. 14.2, 36; and 21. Even if Paul does
not want to give these εἴδωλα any spiritual reality or theological importance
(10.19) he cannot deny their reality. Therefore, he draws a clear-cut limitation
and defines a status confessionis, because participation in these sacrificial
meals corresponds for him to communion with demons (10.20f), which seem
present in these sacrificial meals.28 Paul is aware of a spiritual dimension to
these meals. He signals this by the use of the term demons and also by the
23 Comprehensiveness of all possible associations is not intended, but the main

references are included here. For the history of research see the earlier mentioned contributions,
esp. Williams, Spirit World, 31–55.
24 See also 1 Cor. 12.2.
25 Cf. Bell, Deliver, 237f; Dunn, Theology, 32–38.
26 Cf. Schnelle, Paulus, 441–444.
27 See S. A. Meier, art. “Destroyer—‫משׁחית‬,” DDD2, 240–244.
28 P. Lampe, “Die dämonologischen Implikationen von I Kor 8 und 10 vor dem
Hintergrund paganer Zeugnisse,” in Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard
Römheld (eds.), Die Dämonen. Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen
Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt [Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early
Christian Literature in Context of their Environment] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 584–599;
see also Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 92f.
reference to the destroyer,29 which is described in the biblical tradition as a

destructive force under the rule of God but which is also identified as a kind
of demon in itself because of its attributes. Paul, therefore, can switch from
the social aspect to an aspect that is relevant for believers. But even if it seems
undeniable that these demons are evil, Paul does not discuss their status in the
way that early Jewish and early rabbinic tradition do, although he displays a
very similar desire to stress the exclusive efficiency of the true God.30
Principalities, Powers, Angels

There is much debate about these entities, their character and function, which
cannot be explored here. They seem to an extent to be supernatural entities
and to another extent to be human rulers relating to governing authorities
and the political reality (see Rom. 13.1.3: ἐξουσίαι31 and ἄρχοντες; 1 Cor.
2.6.8: ἄρχοντες τοῦ αἰῶνος τούτου [τῶν καταργουμένων]).32 But that
is only one problem and there are many further questions. It is also not always
clear whether these supernatural beings are good or evil, or how to distinguish
between the various names and categories of entities and their character.33
Some other references have already been mentioned—especially descriptions
of the eschatological drama and its “happy end” such as in 1 Cor. 15.20-28
and Rom. 5.12-21. For the most part, the principalities and powers there seem
to be hostile agents in the salvation history. The ἀρχαί, δυνάμεις, and
ἐξουσίαι, the other phenomena mentioned in Rom. 8.38f—which seems to
be a key-text not only in Romans but also for the Pauline understanding of the
whole topic—are all acting subjects in the supernatural sphere, influencing
and enslaving humankind (Gal. 3.8).34 They can include astronomical
phenomena (Gal. 4.3, 9: στοιχεῖα [τοῦ κόσμου]35; see also βάθος and
ὕψωμα in Rom. 8.3936), and even certain angels37 are mentioned, referring
for some part to benevolent or neutral ones (Gal. 4.14; cf. 1 Cor. 4.9; 13.1;
1 Thess. 3.13; 4.16) and for some part to fallen or malevolent ones (Rom. 8.38;
1 Cor. 6.3; 2 Cor. 12.7; Gal. 1.8; cf. 1 Cor. 11.10[?]; 2 Cor. 11.14; Gal. 3.19[?]).
29 Cf. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 93.

30 For the early Jewish and rabbinic discussion see M. Becker, Wunder und Wundertäter
im frührabbinischen Judentum (WUNT, II/144; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 159–181.
31 Cf. H. D. Betz, art. “Authorities ἐξουσίαι,” DDD2, 124f.
32 It is very difficult to decide whether the references in 1 Cor. 2 belong to either or both
of these categories, and if either, then which. Cf. D. E. Aune, art. “Archon ἄρχων,” DDD2, 82–
85. On the one side the difference between ἄρχοντες and ἀρχαί (see D. E. Aune, art. “Archai
ἀρχαί,” DDD2, 77–80) has to be discussed and on the other side a pagan background of at least
some of these references must be considered. See St. Krauter, Studien zu Röm 13,1–7. Paulus und
der politische Diskurs der neronischen Zeit (WUNT, 243; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck), 2009; Wink,
Naming, 13–15, 39–50, 151–156.
33 See the remarks on the research in Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 90f; see also Dunn,
Theology, 104–110.
34 See Bell, Deliver, 235–237; Dibelius, Die Geisterwelt, 7–37.
35 See L. J. Alderink, art. “Stoicheia στοιχεῖα τοῦ κόσμου,” DDD2, 815–818.
36 See Dibelius, Die Geisterwelt, 112; Wink, Naming, 49.
37 Cf. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 94; Williams, Spirit World, 111–125.
All this mirrors the early Jewish interpretation of reality present in various,
mainly apocalyptic, texts and to an extent also mirrors the pagan worldview.38
For Paul, two further aspects seem to be very important. These principalities
and powers continue to work against Christians because their final defeat is
still impending (1 Cor. 15.24-27). Yet their power and influence has been
broken and limited by the redemptive act in Christ. They will not “be able to
separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8.39). Most
interesting is the specific fact that for Paul these references detail a theological
relationship between sin, the law, and death. Therefore, they fit the scenario
and become something akin to these principalities and powers.39
Satan and Satan-like figures

References to Satan govern Paul’s argumentation. This is not surprising,
because not only has the tradition a basis in the OT but it is also and even
more frequently used in early Judaism.40 However, the references in Paul are
infrequent and the distribution throughout his letters is very imbalanced.41
In general it does not seem to be possible to reconstruct a Pauline system,
because of the scarcity of the references.
Nevertheless, “Satan” seems to be the term most consistently used by Paul.
A majority of aspects has some equivalent in other terms such as those already
mentioned: Beliar,42 the god of this world, the destroyer, and the tempter.43
It is significant that apart from general opposition to Christ (2 Cor. 6.15;
see also Rom. 16.20) opposition to Paul and his missionary activities is also
considered important (1 Thess. 2.18). This enmity seems to be a traditional
and very fundamental characteristic of Satan.44 The “god of this world,”
which seems to be a kind of transcription of Satan,45 has “blinded the minds
of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the
glory of Christ, who is the likeness of God” (2 Cor. 4.4). But the time of this
enmity runs out. Even if the final defeat of Satan is still unresolved, for Paul
it will happen soon (Rom. 16.20). The power of Satan has been broken in the
redemptive act of Christ, although it still works in this evil eon.
38 See Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 90–105, who stresses the parallels to the Stoic
worldview, although there are relevant differences.
39 Cf. Schnelle, Paulus, 571–579.
40 C. Breytenbach and P. L. Day, art. “Satan,” DDD2, 726–732; Leonhardt-Balzer,
“Gestalten,” 205f; Caird, Principalities, 31–53; Wink, Unmasking, 9–40; Williams, Spirit World,
87–109; H.-J. Fabry, “Satan”—Begriff und Wirklichkeit. Untersuchungen zur Dämonologie
der alttestamentlichen Weisheitsliteratur,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.), Die
Dämonen, 269–291.
41 See Table 9.1.
42 On Beliar see n. 7.
43 Worthy of note is the lack of the term διάβολος which is used intensively in the
Deuteropauline letters. Missing also is the term “antichrist.”
44 Cf. Leonhardt-Balzer, “Gestalten,” 205; for the early rabbinic tradition see Becker,
Wunder und Wundertäter, 172–175.
45 Cf. Bell, Deliver, 238f.
Table 9.1: Satan and Satan-like figures in the letters of Paul
Satan
[Beliar]
god of this world
destroyer
tempter
Rom. 16.20 x
1 Cor. 5.5 x
7.5 x (tempted by)
10.10 x
2 Cor. 2.11 x
4.4 (blinded by)
[6.15] [x]
(seduced by
11.3
the snake)
11.14 x
12.7 x
1 Thess. 2.18 x
3.5 x
In the context of these figures, other characteristics—especially individual

aspects—are also important. These can include ethical problems and questions
concerning sexuality (1 Cor. 7.5). But the main functions of Satan and Satan-
like figures are: temptation (1 Cor. 7.5; 2 Cor. 2.11; 11.3, 14; 1 Thess. 3.5),
blinding and disguise (2 Cor. 2.11; 4.4; 11.14), obstruction (1 Thess. 2.18),
causing harm and painful experiences (2 Cor. 12.7), and destruction (1 Cor.
5.546; 10.1047).48 All this is the work of Satan—and also of one of his angels (2
Cor. 12.7). The latter reference is remarkable in that it is the only place where
Paul mentions a kind of Satanic hierarchy in analogy to the heavenly retinue.
Satan and all the Satan-like figures are involved in a process of leading the
believers astray from the right path, either by tempting them and damaging
those who go astray, or by giving a reason for the fact that outsiders still stay
away from the Christian community.
46 This reference is notoriously difficult because, in accordance with 5.13, it transcribes

a kind of excommunication; see Leonhardt-Balzer, “Gestalten,” 225f. But in this case Satan is
also included in the soteriological strategy. This breaks all dualistic conceptions and seems to
have certain parallels in the ambivalence of the law in Paul. Cf. Dunn, Theology, 37f, 109; Caird,
Principalities, 41–43.
47 See n. 27.
48 Cf. Bell, Deliver, 239f; but his categories are strongly influenced by Dibelius, Die
Geisterwelt, 38.
3. Pauline Argument and Vocabulary of “Evil”
In this section I address another dimension of the question about evil in Paul.
It has already been mentioned that the discussion in Romans seems to follow
its own agenda. Although texts such as Rom. 8 demonstrate that this letter is
no exception in Pauline thought, his strategy of arguing using the central term
“sin” pushes the reasoning in transpersonal powers and mythical figures to
the side.
Instead of these figures Paul argues using two terms, which can imply the
meaning of “evil”: he uses the root κακ- and its derivates twenty-six times, and
the root πονηρ-, resp. the related lexemes, is used six times. Paul concentrates
on these common but interpretable lexemes.49 In general the distribution of
both roots is remarkable.
Table 9.2: Lexemes for “evil” in Paul
1 Thess.
1 Cor.
2 Cor.
Phlm.
Rom.
Total
Phil.
Gal.
κακία 1 2 3
κακός 15 3 1 1 2 22
κακοηθεία 1 1
πονηρία 1 1 2
πονηρός 1 1 1 1 4
Total 19 7 1 1 1 3 0 32
The vocabulary has a clear focus in Paul’s letter to the Romans. Most of
the references occur in his ethical or moral argument. It is remarkable that the
ratio of distribution is very similar to the root ἁμαρτ-.50 The lack of references
in Galatians can further prove a difference between both letters because of
the much more pronounced concern of Galatians, while Romans stresses the
universal dimension of sin and salvation. The following tables point to the
emphases of the use in Romans (3a) and the other letters (3b), as well as the
correlation between the lexemes (4).
49 Apart from these lexemes only φαῦλος (Rom. 9.11; 2 Cor. 5.10) and perhaps ἧσσον
(1 Cor. 11.17[; 2 Cor. 12.15]) could be mentioned. But both lexemes are less important because of
the scarcity of the references. On the whole see J. P. Louw and E. A. Nida (eds.), Greek-English
Lexicon of the New Testament based on Semantic Domains (2 vols., New York: UBS, 19892),
I:623–625, 754–756 (773–777).
50 Rom.: 60x; 1 Cor.: 12x; 2 Cor.: 3x; Gal.: 5x; 1 Thess.: 1x.
Table 9.3a: References to “evil” in Romans
ἀγαθός/-ά/-όν
κακός/-ά/-όν
consequences
ethical/moral
opposition to
κακοηθεία
vice-catalog
deed/doing
theological
reflection
κακία
Rom.
x (x) x x x
1.29
1.29 x (x) x x x
1.30 x (x) x x x
2.9 A51 A x x (x) x
3.8 A A x x sinner x
7.19 x x x x sin
7.21 A A/K52 x x law
12.17
x K repayment
(2x)
12.21
A A overcoming
(2x)
13.3 x x works x
13.4 (2x) A A/K x x x
13.10 x x x love
14.20 x K make fall eating
16.19 A A x
5152
In general, the references using the root κακ- show an ethical or morally
negative qualification. They refer to any kind of harmful behavior against
people and in most cases they are mentioned in opposition to some “good”
behavior characterized by the lexemes ἀγαθός or καλός. They qualify the
value of a deed, an attitude or conviction, even if the aspect of acting seems to be
stressed. A translation is not easy, because the meaning “evil” includes all kinds
of shading: “bad,” “harsh,” “harmful,” “wicked.” The meaning “evil” in the
comprehensive sense—including a transcendent dimension—is therefore rare,
but as Rom. 7 clearly shows, even this aspect is part of Paul’s understanding.
The context of Paul’s argument seems most relevant—especially in the case
of a reference to ἁμαρτία, which seems to be an irresistable power leading
to evil behavior.53 Even if Paul does not claim a direct link between sin and
evil he joins them in a close relationship. This is most apparent in Rom. 7,
even if the interpretation of this section is notoriously difficult. The dilemma
of wanting (the) good and doing (the) evil is obvious in verses 19 and 21. For
51 A = with article.
52 K = καλός/–ά/–όν.
53 Cf. Merklein, Paulus.
Paul, neither Satan nor any demon, principality or power is the driving force
that influences human behavior, but sin. This is present in a kind of inherent
law (νόμος), which he finds in his mind, that—even if he wants to do the
good—he is doing evil. Therefore, sin is clearly a powerful force and it is
impossible to reduce it to the pattern of doing sins.54
Evil behavior seems to be the consequence of sin, and it stands under God’s
judgment, with capital punishment as the consequence (Rom. 1). But it needs
to be noted that in the catalog of vices listed in Rom. 1.29-31 the references
of πονηρία, κακία, and κακοηθεία stand side by side55 with quite different
kinds of evil human practices. The fact that only in this catalog of vices is
such a mixture mentioned seems to be important, as does the continuation
of the catalog in the phrase ἐφευρετὰς κακῶν [inventors of evil things] in
which Paul takes a look at the “böse Kreativität”—the creativity of all evil.56
In Rom. 1 Paul lists all the evils of the world, and each seems to justify God’s
abandoning of humankind and his sentence of capital punishment.57 But apart
from divine judgment, Paul also knows of a political dimension to evil deeds.
He mentions the power of punishment of the government and the immanent
consequences of such evildoing (Rom. 13.3f).
On this basis, for Paul it is necessary to act against evil. It is striking that
Paul mentions this several times (Rom. 12.17; 1 Thess. 5.15). He stresses
not only that Christians should avoid being overcome by evil, but also that
they should overcome evil with good (Rom. 12.21). Here the opposite power
of love joins the struggle, because love does no harm to a neighbour (Rom.
13.10) and love does not even consider the evil (1 Cor. 13.5) suffered at the
hands of an evildoer. Still, the knowledge of the “strong ones” has to be used
cautiously, because all knowledge can be misinterpreted and cause those who
are weak to fall (Rom. 14.20).
The end of Romans (16.19) has already been mentioned. Paul wants his
readers to be wise with regard to what is good, and guileless as to what is evil.
He continues with an eschatological promise (v. 20) that the God of peace
will soon crush Satan under their feet. However, this is given in the context
of a warning against heretical adversaries quite similar to the admonition to
beware of κακοὶ ἐργάται (evil workers) in Phil. 3.2.
54 Nevertheless, it is very difficult to demonize sin—or even to create a kind of

antagonist to God, undertaking or replacing a Satanic function or Satan himself. Paul can argue
quite differently. Cf. the remarks in Bell, Deliver, 233–235.
55 This placement side by side is mentioned only once again. In 1 Cor. 5.8 Paul speaks of
the leaven κακίας καὶ πονηρίας. This metaphor is used to stress evil’s efficiency and power to
pervade and transform the whole congregation.
56 U. Wilckens, Der Brief an die Römer Bd. I (EKK, VI/1; Neukirchen and Zürich:
Neukirchener, 1978), 114.
57 Rom. 2.9 mentions also θλῖψις καὶ στενοχωρία (tribulation and distress) as
consequences for every human being who does evil; see also Rom. 3.8.
Table 9.3b: References to “evil” in other Pauline letters
ἀγαθός/-ά/-όν
κακός/-ά/-όν
ethical/moral
opposition to
deed/doing
theological
reflection
κακία
1 Cor. 5.8 x x
10.6 x x typos
13.5 A x
14.20 x x
15.33 (cit.) x x
2 Cor. 13.7 x A/K x x
Phil. 3.2 x x
1 Thess. 5.15 (2x) x A repayment
To hate what is evil (Rom. 12.9), to abstain from every form of evil (1 Thess.
5.22)—both references are expressed with πονηρός—the warning concerning
apostasy, which rises from the lust for evil (1 Cor. 10.6), the request to be
childlike/naive in the face of evil (1 Cor. 14.20), and the prayer that they do
no evil (2 Cor. 13.7) all point in a similar direction, well known from Paul’s
argument in Romans. Finally, the citation of Menander in 1 Cor. 15.33 seems
to be unique: φθείρουσιν ἤθη χρηστὰ ὁμιλίαι κακαί [Bad company ruins
good manners]. This reference demonstrates that Paul was conversant with
such terminology and its use in his Hellenistic environment.
Table 9.4: Correlation between references to “evil” in Paul’s letters

πονηρός/-ά/-όν
catalog of vices
parallel to κακ-
eschatological
consequences
ethical/moral
qualification
deed/doing
theological
πονηρία
reflection
Rom. 1.29 x x (x) x x x

12.9 x x
1 Cor. 5.8 x x x
5.13 x x x
Gal. 1.4 x x eon
1 Thess. 5.22 x x
With the exception of the references in Gal. 1.4 and 1 Cor. 5.13, discussed
above, all references (and even those using the root πονηρ) have now been
addressed. Almost all of these references indicate an ethical or moral emphasis,

even if the aspect of “doing” seems less important. Most aspects, therefore,
point to a particular synonymity with the root κακ-.
4. Conclusion
A reflection on the vocabulary used by Paul to denote evil things and evil
behavior shows that an exclusive treatment of evil figures will fall short of
a comprehensive treatment. Most relevant is the integration in the overall
strategy of Paul’s argument concerning sin in Romans.
Yet Paul never defines his vocabulary, or his argument, although it seems
almost self-evident. Therefore, the vocabulary widens the horizon, which
also sheds some further light on the other parts. It is important that Paul’s
argumentation relates to an apocalyptic frame where evil still works as a
mighty power influencing human reality, even if the soteriological deed in
Christ has overcome it in principle. Consequently, the understanding of sin
is quite similar to that of the principalities and powers. Furthermore, this
understanding offers the possibility of discussing the anthropological condition
and the connection with ethical and moral aspects in ways that would not be
possible with references to Satan or the principalities and powers, because
the dualistic model makes it difficult to discuss responsibility. This is a
radicalization—although we should keep in mind that even the frame of this
discussion is mythically coined: to replace the concept of satan-like figures
by speaking of “sin”—as Paul does—is by no means an un-mythical concept,
as the frame of Paul’s discussion can show. Furthermore, the Pauline line of
argument follows a temporal resp. “heilsgeschichtliche” structure also coined
in early Jewish—apocalyptic—traditions.
Paul has indeed no interest in a speculative interpretation. He is not interested
in theories but in people. There is no need to deny the reality of a spiritual
world, but it should be recognized that its importance has been broken by the
salvific act in Christ and the change in Paul’s thinking initiated by the shift to
the thematic issues of sin, death, and the law.58
58 Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 93; but see also the differentiation in the controversy
with Wink in Dunn, Theology, 110.
Chapter 10
1 Peter and the Lion

Lauri Thurén
All of a sudden, a mighty beast appears at the end of 1 Peter. A lion walks
around seeking whom to swallow up (1 Pet. 5.8). Whence does it come, who
is hidden beneath its skin? Why are the addressees told to be vigilant in the
presence of an aroused predator? What effect does the author seek to achieve
by this vivid image? In this chapter, I shall focus on the persuasive function of
the Devil’s bestial alter ego in the epistle.
Intertextual Background
Although the lion’s specific function in 1 Peter is unique in the NT,1 the image
has widespread traditional and intertextual connotations. The lion appears
in, for example, the Psalms, Ezekiel, Daniel, Qumran, and the NT,2 usually
referring to the enemy of God’s people. However, a positive meaning may be
found, too. The author’s references are verbatim, inasmuch as similar verbs
(ὠρυόμενος, καταπιεῖν) are traditionally associated with the lion.
In Jewish and early Christian imagery, the lion’s negative role refers to
various degrees of danger. A certain escalation of threat can be found. In
Joseph and Aseneth (12.9), the lion hotly pursues Aseneth, and the Devil
tries to swallow her up (καταπιεῖν). The threat increases when a λέων
ὠρυόμενος opens its mouth against the Psalmist (Ps. 22.13 [21.14 in the
LXX]). A prayer for deliverance from the lion’s mouth (Ps. 22.21) may refer
to a similar incident. The situation deteriorates when the author is caught in
a lion’s jaws (2 Tim. 4.17)—fortunately he is saved notwithstanding. But the
threat can be realized so that the lion actually rends its prey (Ezek. 22.25).
In the final stage, the beast has already swallowed its victims, the martyrs
1 Otto Knoch, Der Erste und Zweite Petrusbrief. Der Judasbrief (Regensbug: Pustet,
1990), 137.
2 For a detailed presentation, see Leonhard Goppelt, Der Erste Petrusbrief, ed.
Ferdinand Hahn (KEK, 12.1; Göttingen: V&R, 1978), 339, n. 11; J. N. D. Kelly, A Commentary
on the Epistles of Peter and Jude (BNTC; London: Black, 1969), 209. Contrary to Rickhard
Perdelwitz, Die Mysterienreligionen und das Problem des 1. Petrusbriefes (RVV 11.3; Giessen:
Töpelmann, 1911), 101–102), they find no connection with the mother-goddess Cybele.
1 Peter and the Lion 143
(Eusebius, HE 5.1–2). To be sure, it has to disgorge them—recalling the

salvation of Jonah (2.10).
On this scale of perception of the danger, the lion in 1 Peter is the mildest
of them all: it neither swallows, bites, nor even pursues the addressees, but
merely walks around them. The magnitude of the threat is not clear. According
to Michaels, the lion may symbolize physical death in 2 Tim. 4.17, whereas in
the epistle from the churches of Vienne and Lyons (Eusebius, HE 5.1–2), the
leonine reference (building on both Jeremiah and 1 Peter) denotes a spiritual
death, viz. “renouncing one’s allegiance to Christ.”3 Michaels sees a reference
to Nebuchadnezzar, who, according to Jer. 51.34, is also a predator, although
a dragon instead of a lion.4 As Babylon is mentioned in 1 Pet. 5.13, a link with
this imagery is possible.
The lion has a positive significance, too, symbolizing Judaism in general
(e.g. 4 Ezra 12.31-32). The image is recycled in the Apocalypse to depict
Jesus (Rev. 5.5). Although any positive connotation is excluded in 1 Pet. 5.8,
one could in principle associate the image with Jewish opponents. However,
as there is no other reference to Judaism in the document, such a hypothesis
would be hard to support.
Although the intertextual references discussed above may illuminate some
aspects of the expression, the crucial issue concerns the author’s view of his
audience’s interpretation of the image in its context. In this question, unduly
profound or detailed historical observations may be misleading, as the audience
(or even the author) did not necessarily share that information with us. The actual
relevance of the traditional connotations to the interpretation of 1 Pet. 5.8-9
depends on three aspects. In what way does the author specifically and consciously
refer to the literary material known to us? How far does he assume his audience
is cognizant of these connotations? To what extent do they make sense in the
immediate context of the image and the broader strategy of the epistle? Not all the
ancient material which may be linked with the verse is relevant to its interpretation.
As a goal-oriented orator,5 the author probably took into account his audience’s
ability to comprehend his imagery. It can be assumed that his knowledge of their
situation and familiarity with Jewish traditions was limited.6 Moreover, the author
likes to use traditions in an active way. It is typical of him to refresh different images
and refer to new details therein, instead of turning them into dead metaphors or
3 Ramsay J. Michaels (1 Peter [WBC, 49; Waco: Word Books, 1988], 298–299) finds in 2
Tim. 4.17 a connection between a lion and death in ancient funerary inscriptions. He refers to Greg
H. R. Horsley (New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity [North Ryde: Macquarie University,
1983], 3: 50–51) and says that “Peter’s consistent assumption is that physical death holds no fear for
those who know they will ‘live before God in the Spirit’ (1 Pet. 4:6: cf. 1:3, 21).”
4 Michaels, 1 Peter, 298–299.
5 Norbert Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief (EKKNT, 21; Zürich: Benziger, 1979), 32, 34;
Lauri Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy of 1 Peter with Special Regard to Ambiguous Expressions
(Åbo: Abo Academy Press, 1990), 185.
6 For a detailed description of the situation, see Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy, 34–38,
93–112. References to the addressees’ “empty” life as “non-people” (1 Pet. 1.14, 18, 23-24; 2.10)
hardly refer to a Jewish background.
theological concepts.7 In general, he relies heavily on traditions, but uses them for
his own purposes.8
In 1 Pet. 5.8-9, the lion is not a metaphor, but a simile, introduced by the
particle ὡς. It is identified with ἀντίδικος and διάβολος. These are not
simply the proper names of Evil, but refer to the specific task of an accuser.
Moreover, the lion itself is not presented as a static figure representing God’s
counterpart. Instead, its actual hunting habits are described.
It is my hypothesis that by depicting this vivid image before the eyes of
his audience, the author refers not only to religious traditions but also to their
previous knowledge concerning lions. Thereby, he seeks to create a certain
effect. It is crucial to learn more about this desired result. Thus, it seems that
Goppelt is wide of the mark when stating: “Solche Anschaulichkeit liegt
jedoch dem traditionellen Bild an unserer Stelle fern [Such descriptiveness,
however, is far from the traditional image in this sentence].”9
The Accuser
Before focusing on the lion’s hunting habits, I shall discuss the judicial
imagery, which the animal illustrates in the epistle. The addressees’ difficulties
are envisaged not only by presenting a lion behind them, but also by another
character, an accuser (ἀντίδικος, διάβολος). Such a combination of zoological
and judicial themes is peculiar indeed.
The term διάβολος is usually axiomatically and simply translated as der
Teufel, das Böse, der Widersacher Gottes,10 viz. the Devil, the Satan, or the
“archenemy of God and the source of evil in the world.”11 The issue is self-
evident, but no further grounds are presented. If such an archenemy is meant,
the threat perceived by the addressees is thereby interpreted in theological
terms, viz. seen as an earthly counterpart of a heavenly drama.
Although associations with Jewish beliefs about the person of evil can hardly
be avoided, ἀντίδικος and διάβολος here denote more than a sinister traditional
character. Unduly mythologization of this judicial image is misleading. As with
the lion, and several other images in 1 Peter, the author is keen to utilize the actual
contents of the themes to which he refers, instead of seeing them as set pieces of
tradition. Thus, when speaking of διάβολος, he also indicates the significance of
the concept. This is done in two ways: referring to what it is and to what it does.
7 E.g. the images of refining gold by fire (1 Pet. 1.7), being born again (1 Pet. 2.23-25)
and shepherds and chief shepherd (1 Pet. 5.2-4) are depicted and utilized in a detailed way instead
of just referring to theological terms with which the addressees are expected to be familiar.
8 Goppelt, Der Erste Petrusbrief, 47–48.
9 Goppelt, Der Erste Petrusbrief, 340, n. 12, actually refers to Benedikt Schwank’s
(“‘Diabolus tamquam leo rugiens’ (1 Petr 5,8),” Erbe und Auftrag 38 [1962], 15–20) presentation
of the lion’s hunting habits. Although the latter is not wholly satisfactory (see below), his basic
idea of asking how the addressees have understood the practical image is important.
11 Michaels, 1 Peter, 297.
The author points to the etymological background of διάβολος. Since its

Hebrew counterpart ‫ שטן‬originally refers to an accuser in a lawsuit, the author
here provides an exact Greek translation, ὁ ἀντίδικος.12 Several scholars
deny any connection to an earthly courtroom or even to a heavenly one.13 The
reason is twofold: In the context there is no reference to a lawsuit, and due
to the traditional usage of the term in the LXX, such a specification would be
superfluous.14 The argumentation is not convincing. Regarding the references
to a legal trial earlier in the text (e.g. 1 Pet. 2.14; 4.15), it can be assumed that a
certain connection exists. In fact, the language and metaphors used in the epistle
are often judicial. One of the themes instructs the addressees how to avoid
legal punishment when facing local officials, and when in God’s courtroom,
and the author repeatedly refers to God as a judge. The connection between the
reference to the διάβολος, with special emphasis on its meaning of accuser, and
this specific vocabulary is striking, as demonstrated in Table 10.1.
Table 10.1: The structure of judicial references in 1 Peter

(A) (B) (C) (D)
Theological Official Domestic Social
Judge God (1.17; King, Masters (2.20) Fellow
2.23; 4.5-6) governors citizens (3.13-
(2.13-14) 17; 4.4 (4.6?)
Place Heaven Courtroom House Daily life
(4.17-18) (4.15-16) (3.15-16)
Accuser Devil (5.8-9) Official accuser Fellow
(above) citizens (3.16)
Subject Everybody/ Citizens Servants Addressees
Addressees
The epistle does not solely present a chain of command God-Caesar-Governor-

Master/Husband-Slave/Wife. The imagery has a specific judicial dimension,
emphasizing the possible sanctions resulting from disobedience.
The author refers to the addressees’ real or anticipated experiences of official
court trials (B). The situation is expanded in two directions. First, he presents
a domestic dimension of the trials (C), where the slaves or servants are subject
12 Michaels (1 Peter, 298) rightly observes that the semantic range of the three words is
similar. See also Edward Selwyn, The First Epistle of St. Peter (2nd edn., London: MacMillan,
1947), 236. The concept is frequently used in the OT and in Jewish literature: Num. 22.22, 32;
Zech. 3.1-2; Job 1.6-9, 12; 2.1-7; 1 Chron. 21.1; 1QSb 1.8; T. Dan. 3.6; 5.6; 6.1; T. Gad 4.7; T.
Asher 6.4; T. Job 3.6; 4.4; 6.4; 7.1. In Mk 8.32 a transliteration σατανᾶ is provided instead.
14 Peter H. Davids, The First Epistle of Peter (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1990), 190; cf. Michaels, 1 Peter, 297; I. Howard Marshall, 1 Peter (The IVP New Testament
Commentary Series; Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1991), 170. Selwyn (The First Epistle of
St. Peter, 237) is more specific: “The picture of the lion ranging at will for his [sic!] prey suggests
the action of swirling tides of irrational prejudice used by a Gestapo …”
to their masters’ vindication. The description of the wives’ position is yet

another example of the addressees’ situation in the society.15 A more general
version of the domestic trials is illustrated by the social pressure experienced
by the addressees (D). Their fellow citizens are not only curious (1 Pet. 3.15),
and regard the addressees’ behavior as strange (4.4); they also condemn the
addressees’ behavior (3.16; 4.4) and harass them (3.17). The theological
dimension (A) of this pattern is glimpsed throughout the text.
The origin of the judicial imagery in 1 Peter is not clear, as the exact situation
of the addressees or the sender cannot be determined. Even if the author was
aware of the social and religious difficulties faced by the addressees, these
may have varied considerably, since the document was sent as a circular letter
to several congregations in Asia Minor. Thus, the text has to solve several
problems simultaneously and cannot be specific.16 The judicial principles
applied by the officials (1 Pet. 2.14) and the possibility of suffering as a
murderer, thief, or ἀλλοτριεπίσκοπος (4.15) refers to actual court trials.
Metaphors concerning the addressees’ “trials” (testing with fire in 1.6-7 and
4.12) can be understood in this light as well. They may include actual court
trials, although this is emphatically denied by many commentators.17 Our
bourgeois picture of Christians hardly fits the lower-class Gentile addressees in
Asia Minor. Despite the traditional background of the list of offenses in 1 Pet.
4.15, it is feasible that there were actual criminals in the congregation, and such
rumors may have triggered the whole epistle.18 On the other hand, the judicial
metaphors function on a more general level as well, referring to a multifaceted
social pressure. In both cases, the διάβολος is a vital feature of the epistle’s
courtroom terminology.
The document was probably sent from Rome,19 where official actions against
Jews or Christians actually occurred. Thus, the reference to the solidarity
of the senders at trials is understandable (1 Pet. 5.9). Presumably it reflects
similar experiences of the author’s own congregation in Rome.
All the dimensions function together; the same legal principles and rules for
behavior apply. Moreover, whereas the domestic level serves as an example for
the judicial and social ones, the theological level presents a deeper perspective
on this structure. It enables the addressees to observe their difficulties from
another angle and provides them with a metaphysical or religious explanation
of their experiences—but also of the ordinances imposed on them.
Common to all the judicial imagery in 1 Peter is the author’s requirement of
innocence, and respect for the judge. The king and the governors are said to be
just and to inflict suffering on criminals and evildoers only (2.14). Masters, too,
follow this rule. Therefore, deference toward all in authority is emphasized.
15 Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, 139–140; Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy, 146, n. 55.
16 Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy, 106–125.
17 See Michaels, 1 Peter, 266.
18 For the discussion, see William L. Schutter, Hermeneutic and Composition in I Peter
(WUNT, 2.30; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1989), 16–18, esp. n. 74.
There may be exceptions to the rule among masters (2.18), but even then the
addressees ought to keep a good conscience. The same applies on a more
general social level: reverence, humility, courtesy are to be preferred (3.15),
irrespective of the behavior of others. Christ is presented as an example of this
attitude (2.21-24; 4.1).
What then is the role of the accuser in this system? If the judge and the
system are said to function correctly, no criticism can be leveled against the
accuser. The crucial issue is the behavior of those who are accused. The accuser
is not vilified or denigrated in the epistle; he performs an appropriate role in
the theological version of the judicial system, where God acts as an impartial
judge (1.17). It is not by accident that the accuser appears only a few verses
after a description of the divine court trial (4.17-18). When the addressees are
told to resist him, this means in practice striving for good behavior and a good
conscience.
Therefore, the accuser does not represent God’s counterpart, the archenemy,
or the source of all evil, but a necessary theological official. The trial may
dramatize the earthly judicial or pseudojudicial procedures, but the accuser’s
direct identification with any visible character would be incorrect.
The Predator
The author enriches the judicial picture of the accuser with zoological features.
In order to understand the implied effect of the lion and how it embodies
the judicial imagery, we must focus on what the beast is actually doing. The
lion is said (a) to roar,20 (b) to prowl, and (c) to seek to consume somebody
(καταπιεῖν, literally “to drink down”). In the translations and commentaries,
this image tends to be blurred: The lion is not just “on the move” or “ready to
swallow.”21 Instead, the author depicts the actual techniques of a hunting lion.
He thereby counts on some previous knowledge of the animal’s behavior.
In ancient Palestine and Asia Minor, a lion was not an obscure figure on a
coat of arms, but a living reality. Good information for assessing the range of
the lion in ancient North Africa and southwest Asia is provided by Guggisberg
(1963).22 He gathers literary and biological data and draws on, for example,
Aristotle and Herodotus. An illustrative distribution map has been issued by
the Asiatic Lion Information Centre.23 The animal, then, could have been
known to both the addressees and the author. Moreover, the OT accounts
and images of a lion refer to a known phenomenon, not just a mythological
monster like a dragon or Leviathan. Although, in Palestine, wolves may have
constituted a clearer danger to cattle and sheep, it is likely that the lion was
20 ὠρύομαι refers to “howling” or “roaring” (Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, et al.,
A Greek-English Lexicon [Oxford: Clarendon, 1996], 2038) and is onomatopoeic.
21 Against Michaels, 1 Peter, 298.
22 C. A. W. Guggisberg, Simba: The Life of the Lion (Philadelphia: Chilton, 1963).
23 http://www.asiatic-lion.org/distrib.html.
known to the degree that concrete references to it were well understood among
the original addressees.
What, then, is the image of a hunting lion envisaged by the addressees implied
in 1 Peter? According to Goppelt24 its roaring seeks to frighten the addressees.
But the very exhortation implicit in the image of the lion is to “stay awake”
and “be alert” (νήψατε, γρηγορήσατε). Does not a roaring lion awaken
everybody even without exhortation? Schweizer offers an interesting vision:
The prey lets itself be impressed and paralyzed by the lion’s hypnotic gaze.25
Unfortunately, no zoological reference is presented. One can wonder whether
such views of the lion’s hunting habits are based on real-life observations.
This German desktop zoology is insufficient for understanding 1 Peter.
A less theological but more accurate description of a lion’s hunting technique
may be found in an empirical study by Elliott et al.26 These scholars have
meticulously observed the lion’s actual stalks, and contrived experiments.
The crucial factor for a successful hunt is that the prey should not detect the
approaching lion until it is within its effective distance, twenty to thirty meters
from the attack. When the lion strikes, the prey still has a good chance to
escape. A typical victim is an animal which does not perceive the lion in time,
stumbles or runs into an obstacle, or is young, sick, old, or slow.
This description is well suited to 1 Peter’s exhortation to be awake and alert.
If perceived and identified correctly, the social and theological dangers can be
avoided by the addressees. Moreover, the image’s emphasis on staying within
the group and not straying serves 1 Peter’s purpose of enhancing the internal
cohesion of the addressees’ congregations.27
However, the attribute associated with the lion—ὠρυόμενος—contradicts
the zoological observations. The words περιπατεῖν and ζητεῖν are perfect
choices for describing the predator’s stalking; the lion does not then roar.
It remains as quiet and invisible as possible. Is this participle derived from
the OT tradition without premeditation, whereas the other verbs convey the
author’s actual message? The same problem does not arise in the author’s
chief sources for the combination of the participle and the lion: Ps. 22.13 and
Ezek. 22.25. They are more realistic, as the lion roars after the hunt when
rending the prey. If the dramatic participle was too closely associated with the
lion in that tradition, the author was perhaps reluctant to change it, although it
did not actually fit the image.
24 Goppelt, Der Erste Petrusbrief, 340.

25 Eduard Schweizer, Der erste Petrusbrief (Prophezei; Zürich: Zwingli-Verlag, 1942),
77. The description may be better suited to the situation in contemporary Germany.
26 John. P. Elliott, Ian McTaggart Cowan, and Crawford Holling, “Prey Capture by the
African Lion,” Canadian Journal of Zoology 55 (1977), 1811–1828.
27 Cf. David Balch, “Let Wives Be Submissive”: The Domestic Code in 1 Peter (SBLMS,
26; Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1981), 81.
Yet, there is another explanation. When attacking a buffalo herd, the lion
applies other hunting techniques. No stalking occurs; instead, several lions
follow the group for long distances and attempt to panic them into scattering,
in order to “break up the formidable phalanx of buffalo making it easier
to select a victim.”28 If water buffalos (Bubalus bubalis) existed in ancient
Palestine (the jamus in Deut. 14.5), and 1 Peter reflects Petrine traditions, this
could explain such a use of the image. However, the interpretation of Deut.
14.5 is problematic and there is no clear evidence of buffalos in the region
before the Middle Ages.29 But if any slower prey was meant, Schwank’s
suggestion would be correct: in 1 Pet. 5.8 the lion roars in order to strike
panic into the group of animals.30 The traditional roaring is well suited to this
image, although it is less relevant to the actual command to be vigilant. The
application to the author’s message is clear: staying calmly within the group is
important even in this case. If an animal is separated from the herd, it becomes
an easy victim for the predator.31
Is it possible to combine the two hunting images, or is the author simply
mingling two ideas without consideration? Does the Devil stalk or roar? The
former would require an alert attitude, as recommended in 1 Pet. 5.8a. In the
latter case, such a call for attention is unnecessary, as the lion itself demands
wariness. Instead, a proper reaction is the opposite: remain calm. This is
actually what the author recommends in 5.8b: ἀντίστητε στερεοὶ. The
English translation, to “stand” firm, is naturally misleading.32 What does the
author actually command? Do the addressees need to be alert or courageous?
The two motivations and the two commandments combined in the image of a
lion convey a double message.
The lion roars (ὠρύομαι) → do not panic (ἀντίστητε στερεοὶ)

The lion stalks (περιπατεῖν, ζητεῖν) → be alert (νήψατε, γρηγορήσατε)
Perhaps the author, who sends the document to people facing different
difficulties (1 Pet. 1.6: ἐν ποικίλοις πειρασμοῖς), has two separate messages.
I have previously suggested that such a strategy can be discerned on several
levels. For this purpose, the author utilizes ambivalent participles and other
forms.33 The double image of a hunting lion fits smoothly in this picture. In this
case, it is not only a blur caused by the traditional material, but an intentional
device. It indicates that the difficulties encountered by the implied addressees
28 http://www.african-lion.org/lions_e.htm.
29 Zohar Amar and Yaron Zerri, “When Did the Water Buffalo Make Its Appearance in
Eretz Israel?”, Qatedrah le-tôldôt Eres Yísra’el el we-yîššûbah 117 (2005), 63–70.
30 Schwank, “Diabolus tamquam leo rugiens,” 15–20.
31 Another option is that the author refers to people who had heard a lion’s roar from a
distance, together with accounts of its hunting and stalking, and combined these two without any
further consideration.
32 Thus, e.g., NIV.
vary from unnoticed social challenges to their faith to explicit religious, social,
physical, or even judicial pressure. In both cases, the image of the lion serves
to dramatize the situation and, thereby, to intensify the addressees’ resistance.34
But, even then, it remains unclear what exactly the lion represents.
The Lion in Context
After illuminating the lion’s background and function, I shall proceed to focus
on its purpose in the context. Here, modern argumentation analysis, rhetorical
criticism, and ancient epistolography will be applied.
Regarding the argumentation in the section, and the double exhortation
discussed above, the following structure can be discerned in verse 8. The
analysis in Table 10.2 follows Toulmin’s renowned model, where each part of
the argumentation structure has a specific role:35
Table 10.2: The structure of argumentation in 1 Peter 5.8-9
A) Backing: Knowledge of the lion’s general hunting habits

↓
Warrant: One should be alert amid an imminent danger
↓
Data: The lion is stalking → Claim: You should be alert (5.8)
B) Backing: Knowledge of the lion’s specific hunting habits

↓
Warrant: One should not panic at the sight of a threatening lion
↓
Data: The lion roars → Claim: You should be steadfast (5.9)
34 Brox (Der erste Petrusbrief, 31–34, 238), too, sees the lion as a dramatic visualization
of the addressees’ difficulties.
35 In Toulmin’s model (see Stephen E. Toulmin, The Uses of Argument [Cambridge:
CUP, 1958], and Toulmin, et al., An Introduction to Reasoning [2nd edn., New York: MacMillan,
1984], 25–69; also Lauri Thurén, Argument and Theology in 1 Peter: The Origins of Christian
Paraenesis [JSNTSup, 114; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995], 41–46), Claim is the
opinion put forward, Data shows the specific facts from which the conclusion is drawn, Warrant
is a general rule indicating how to proceed from Data to Claim, and Backing denotes general
information which guarantees the reliability or the Warrant. Despite the seemingly simple
structure, and close resemblance to classical modes of reasoning, correct use of the model requires
practical training and theoretical studies. Concerning 1 Pet. 5.8-9, my earlier presentation of the
same structure (Thurén, Argument and Theology, 182) is somewhat different.
In both cases, but especially concerning the latter, the solidarity of the brethren
(v. 9) serves as an additional booster (Table 10.3):
Table 10.3: Additional argumentation in 1 Peter 5.8-9
Backing: Personal experience

↓
Warrant: Knowledge of solidarity enhances one’s efforts
↓
Data: Solidarity of the brethren → Claim: You have more reason to be
steadfast
Data: (previous C) You should be steadfast

On a more general, abstract level, the author’s call throughout the epistle
for the right attitude in social and religious difficulties is enhanced in these
peroratory verses with three aspects: The judicial and theological image of
the accuser, the zoological image of the lion, and the social reference to the
solidarity of the brethren in Rome.
Regarding the formal, epistolary genre, the lion appears in the epistolary
Body Closing.36 From a functional, rhetorical perspective,37 the section belongs
to the peroratio,38 the meaning of which is to ensure the eventual result of the
communication. Therefore, the author has to repeat the previous message, but
in a more straightforward and emphatic manner. The pathos-aspect is crucial.39
In this task, the stark symbol of the lion, referring both to Jewish traditions and
to the addressees’ knowledge of the beast and its hunting habits, well serves
the rhetorical goal of this part of the “speech.” Whereas the author previously
discussed the addressees’ difficult situation in society in mild terms, exhorting
politeness (e.g. 1 Pet. 3.15: μετὰ πραΰτητος καὶ φόβου), the peroratio
finally presents the situation in a dramatic and theological dimension.
Considering the previous text, the effect may be stronger than in, for example,
Galatians, where a high emotional level is utilized from the outset.
Why the Personal Evil?
The dangerous transcendent individual is not portrayed at the end of the epistle
solely for the sake of dramatization. Obviously, the author seeks to personify
an attribute discussed earlier in the epistle. The combination of the accuser
and the lion overrides the general intertextual connotations of these images.

37 For the necessary differentiation of the formal epistolary level and the functional
rhetorical level, see Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy, 57–64.
38 Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy, 160.
39 Thurén, The Rhetorical Strategy, 77.
For the addressees, the accuser is not merely a general “Prince of Darkness,”
but is specifically engaged in the process against them, be this an official
court trial or, more specifically, a conflict between them and their fellow
citizens. Likewise, the lion is not simply another antagonist, but personifies
the difficulties or threats experienced by the addressees.
In ancient rhetoric, the personification of abstract ideas was a typical
rhetorical device, prosopopoiia.40 Thereby, an abstract idea was more clearly
conveyed to the audience. Is the author revealing the true nature of the
addressees’ fellow citizens by referring to the accuser and the lion? Does this
technique, combined with the rhetorical requirements of the peroratio, involve
a shift in the description of these honorary fellow citizens and officials, to an
evil accuser, who must be resisted?
According to Michaels, this actually happens in 5.8: the author refers to a
single Devil instead of several opponents. He personifies the antagonists of the
Christians with a single adversary.41 The negative “others” found by Michaels
in the letter are generally presented in the plural: ἀπιστοῦσιν (1 Pet. 2.7);
ἀπειθοῦντες (1 Pet. 2.8); ἀπειθούντων (1 Pet. 4.17); τοῖς ἔθνεσιν (1
Pet. 2.12), τῶν ἀφρόνων ἀνθρώπων (1 Pet. 2.15); οῖς δεσπόταις (1
Pet. 2.18); τοῖς ἰδίοις ἀνδράσιν (1 Pet. 3.1); οἱ ἐπηρεάζοντες (1 Pet.
3.16); βλασφημοῦντες (1 Pet. 4.4); αὐτῶν (1 Pet. 3.14). However, such a
characterization is one-sided. These groups are rarely depicted as hostile; on
the contrary. This makes the connection with the human opposition and the
accuser/lion problematic.
To be sure, severe denigration of an adversary was typical in ancient
literature. Both Greek and Jewish texts witness harsh condemnation of
opponents.42 Early Christian documents are by no means free from this feature.
In both the Catholic Epistles and the Corpus Paulinum, stereotypical negative
expressions referring to the adversaries abound. Whereas other NT documents
abide chiefly by the classical technique of vilification, for Paul attacking the
antagonist is almost obligatory. He does not hesitate to curse his enemies (Gal.
1.8-9). He needs antagonists not only in order to convey his message, but also
40 Walter Bühlman and Karl Schrerer, Stilfiguren in der Bibel: Ein kleines
Nachschlagewerk (Biblische Beiträge, 10; Fribourg: Schweitzerisches Katholisches Bibelwerk,
1973), 70. Nowadays reference to this device is often misused when the first person singular in
Rom. 7 is seen as Paul’s means of describing something, which does not include himself. Such
a use of prosopopoiia was not known in antiquity (save in the theater); thus, Paul could hardly
expect his recipients in Rome to understand his expression in this way (see closer, Lauri Thurén,
Derhetorizing Paul: A Dynamic Perspective on Pauline Theology and the Law [WUNT, 124;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000], 118–120).
42 Lauri Thurén, “Paul Had No Antagonists,” in Antti Mustakallio (ed.), Lux Humana,
Lux Aeterna—Essays on Biblical and Related Themes in Honour of Lars Aejmelaeus (Helsinki:
Finnish Exegetical Society; Göttingen: V&R, 2005), 268–288; Luke T. Johnson, “The New
Testament’s Anti-Jewish Slander and the Conventions of Ancient Polemic,” JBL 108, 419–441.
to formulate his theology. When they are hard to find, he even invents them.43
Although Paul can recommend obedience toward Gentile authorities and a
positive attitude vis-à-vis one’s enemies, just as in 1 Peter (Rom. 13.1-7), his
general habit of blaming the opposition does not follow this rule.
Regarding the antagonists, 1 Peter is an exceptional document. No explicit
human adversaries are mentioned. When the author describes the addressees’
ordeals, impersonal expressions are often used. They face “all kinds of trials”
(1.6-7), they may suffer (2.20; 3.14), or, with a combination, they “suffer
in a painful trial” (4.12), and they “participate in the sufferings of Christ”
(4.13–16.19). The evil is found in their own past (1.14, 18, 23-24; 2.10). Their
difficulties are presented as something natural for a believer (μὴ ξενίζεσθε
in 4.12). However, their non-believing fellow citizens are not simply labeled
as the source of their difficulties.
In the first part of the epistle, the author may speak with traditional pejorative
phrases of those who do not believe, reject the stone, fall, and disobey. Yet,
the first people identified with “them” are the addressees themselves in their
gloomy past (2.9-10). In the argumentation of the second part of the epistle,
the author refers to the Gentiles’ current life in a negative way (3.12; 4.3-5,
17).44 But this is not primarily done in order to vilify them. Instead, the author
wants to enhance the addressees’ appreciation of their own new status.45 For
that reason, their position is compared to even additional groups, such as the
prophets and angels (1.10-12), certainly without any denigration.46 Even when
referring to God’s future judgment, the focus is on the addressees, not on their
adversaries (4.17-19). The recipients may receive insults and they must suffer
(e.g. 4.14-16), but the author does not emphasize the role of the fellow citizens
in this context. Instead of saying that they beat the recipients, he says that the
latter receive beatings (2.20).
A specific missionary goal concerning the “others” is found in 3.1, where
they are represented by the Christian wives’ “own men”—hardly a vilifying
description. The goal is again to “win,” viz. to convert them. The guidelines
presented to the men among the addressees follow the same structure, but
their counterparts, the wives, are by no means denigrated. A similar effect of
the addressees’ behavior is found in 2.12, where the purpose is to make the
Gentiles praise God because of the addressees’ good works. The same structure
with a somewhat similar positive result may be found in 2.15 and 3.16. Finally,
in 4.4 the vilifying fellow citizens—who act just as the addressees formerly
did—will have to give account to God. Yet, even then, the addressees ought to
preserve Christ’s attitude toward them.
43 Thurén, “Paul Had No Antagonists.”

44 Thurén, Argument and Theology, 195–196.
46 Thurén, Argument and Theology, 197.
In 2.18 the author explicitly tells the servants not to differentiate between bad
and good masters.47 Such obedience vis-à-vis Gentile authorities was neither a
Christian innovation nor a tactical move, but a standing Jewish principle with
deep theological foundations.48
Only once do the “others” appear as unequivocally negative characters, in
order to set them apart from the addressees and create internal cohesion; 3.19-
20 refers to disobedient spirits in the time of Noah. He was saved by water (δι᾽
ὕδατος), not from it. Thus, the danger from which Noah was saved could not
have been the Flood. Instead, this saved him. Both the danger and the means
of salvation are presented as reflecting the addressees’ situation. Obviously,
Noah was threatened by the influence of his fellow citizens, and separated
from them by the water, which drowned them. The addressees’ baptism is
depicted in similar terms.49 Even here, their fellow citizens are not mentioned;
instead the author utilizes traditional imagery from the Scriptures. The Devil
as a roaring lion follows the same pattern.
To sum up, the author does not attack any antagonists. Instead, he is
interested in modifying the addressees’ own behavior. One of the epistle’s aims
is to promote an attitude of courtesy vis-à-vis fellow citizens. They should
not be insulted but blessed (3.9) and treated “with gentleness and respect”
(3.15). First Peter is one of the few early Christian documents where Jesus’
exceptional command to love one’s enemies50 is adopted and applied. Paul
may articulate the same principle (Rom. 12.14), but in general his own texts
bear witness to an opposite attitude toward his opponents.
The difference between the human “antagonists” and the personified,
metaphysical accuser/lion is striking. Behind the addressees’ ordeal there is
a theological beast. The fellow citizens can be seen as possible victims of the
same predator, however; “winning” or converting them means saving them
from the lion. The animal personifies bad external influence upon and danger
to the addressees, and their inappropriate behavior, but it is not to be interpreted
as a collective description of any human antagonist. In the Apocalypse all this
is different (e.g. the Beast in Rev. 13).
Projecting the threat experienced by the addressees onto two mythological
figures, instead of naming the officials or fellow citizens, befits the author’s
goal. He does not want to denigrate the human antagonists, who are potential
new Christians.
47 The idea resembles Mt. 5.45: God is good ἐπὶ πονηροὺς καὶ ἀγαθοὺς καὶ βρέχει
ἐπὶ δικαίους καὶ ἀδίκους.
48 Lauri Thurén, “Jeremiah 27 and Civil Obedience in 1 Peter,” in Michael Labahn and
Jürgen Zangenberg (eds.), Zwischen den Reichen: Neues Testament und Römische Herrschaft
(Tübingen: Francke Verlag, 2002), 215–228.
50 Mt. 5.43-48. For a detailed study of this ethical idea, see John Piper, “Love Your
Enemies”: Jesus’ Love Command in the Synoptic Gospels and in the Early Christian Paraenesis
(SNTSS, 38; Cambridge: CUP, 1979), 63–65.
Conclusion
First Peter is known for frequent references to traditional material, but these
ideas and images are actively applied. The description of personified evil’s
activities as a lion threatening a herd, and as an accuser in a courtroom, seeks
to dramatize the situation, to intensify the addressees’ internal coherence in
the face of an external threat, and also to enhance their willingness to act
appropriately. The lion itself is used in two ways. By referring to two hunting
techniques, the author attempts to explain two contradictory exhortations: to
be alert and to keep calm. In other words, he is simultaneously both raising
and lowering the level of mental activity among his addressees.
The lion and the accuser appear in the peroratio in order to enhance
the epistle’s emotional impact. Following the idea of prosopopoiia, the
addressees’ difficulties are personified. This does not mean identifying their
human antagonists with the lion, which would nullify the author’s missionary
goal. The beast threatens everybody, including the brethren in Rome. Not even
the lion is vilified, and God is not expected to kill the animal, but to provide
necessary mental help in the dangerous situation (1 Pet. 5.10).
The description of the threat to the addressees in the form of a lion cannot be
attributed solely to the author’s rhetorical strategy. As a religious document,
the epistle also reflects his theology. Obedience to a secular authority is a
traditional Jewish theological principle, and love of one’s enemy is a specific
Christian virtue.
Chapter 11
The Dangerous Loser:

The Narrative and Rhetorical Function of the Devil
as Character in the Book of Revelation
1
Michael Labahn
Linguistic Evidence
Within the Book of Revelation, the narrative figure of “Satan”2 is developed

through a complex linguistic system, so that he could be identified as
a “patchwork” character—a narrative character that is assembled from
different textual data, images, and traditions. That Satan is a patchwork figure
becomes obvious in Rev. 12.9 and 20.2, where he is described by a list of
different designations that transfer the values associated with images and
titles from various conceptual domains to his character. Here, this figure is
at once the “great dragon” (ὁ δράκων ὁ μέγας), the “old serpent” (ὁ ὄφις
ὁ ἀρχαῖος), the “Devil” (Διάβολος), “Satan” (Σατανᾶς), and, using
a substantive participial construction, “the seducer of the whole world”
(ὁ πλανῶν τὴν οἰκουμένην ὅλην). Within the narrative world of
Revelation, various traditional data and allusions drawn from the Hellenistic-
Jewish “encyclopedia”3 combine to create a composite image of the Devil as
1 This chapter is a thoroughly revised, expanded, and translated version of my

Habilitationsvortrag at the Martin-Luther-University Halle-Wittenberg, June 2009. For help with
the English text and further comments, I am once again grateful to Tom Thatcher.
2 According to P. Trummer, “Die Frau und der Drache. Skizzen zu Offenbarung
12,” in K. Huber and B. Repschinsky SJ (eds.), Im Geist und in der Wahrheit. Studien zum
Johannesevangelium und zur Offenbarung des Johannes sowie andere Beiträge (FS for M.
Hasitschka SJ; Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen. Neue Folge, 52; Münster: Aschendorff, 2008),
363–384, esp. 371, the dragon is a “Hauptakteur” (“main character”). Trummer prefers to call the
figure a “symbol.” However, as an actor identified by a specific name, the dragon may be analyzed as
a character within the narrative of Revelation, even if he is depicted through imagery and symbols.
On the Devil in Revelation in general see also K. Wengst, “The Devil in the Revelation of
St John,” in H. Graf Reventlow and Y. Hoffman (eds.), The Problem of Evil and its Symbols in Jewish
and Christian Tradition (JSOTS, 366; London: T&T Clark, 2004), 68–74. Wengst, ibid., 68, describes
the literary character as “a person who acts quite on his own, but who is acted upon as well.”
3 On the term “encyclopedia” as designating the entire range of collective knowledge
cf. U. Eco, Lector in fabula. Die Mitarbeit der Interpretation in erzählenden Texten (München:
Hanser, 1987).
The Dangerous Loser 157
a new and distinct character, one that can be described as “the absolute anti-
divine power” (“die gottesfeindliche Macht schlechthin”).4
Among the various characterizations of the Devil in Revelation, the noun
δράκων is of special interest. While this word is used nowhere else in the
New Testament, it appears in Revelation thirteen times—in the contexts noted
above (chapters 12–13 and 20) and also in 16.13. All the other terms noted
above have already been used in the text of Revelation before Rev. 12.9,5
an observation that is of some importance for the overall interpretation of
the figure. The combination of names and characteristics as presented in
the catalog of Rev. 12.9 and of 20.2 is crucial for understanding Satan as a
character within the text of Revelation.6
In the current chapter, the term “Satan” will be used to refer to this figure in
its broad function throughout Revelation. It will be shown that this figure is a
literary construct that is used to interpret real-world events that are understood
by the narrative as a major threat to the adherents of God and of the Lamb.
These events are integrated into the narrator’s rhetorical vision of the final
victory of God’s reign. The construction of a meaningful textual world thus
4 J. U. Kalms, Der Sturz des Gottesfeindes. Traditionsgeschichtliche Studien zu

Apokalypse 12 (WMANT, 93; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001), 77; see also E.
Schüssler Fiorenza, “The Words of Prophecy: Reading the Apocalypse Theologically,” in S.
Moyise (ed.), Studies in the Book of Revelation (Edinburgh and New York: T&T Clark, 2001),
1–19, esp. 10: “the anti-divine power par exellence.”
5 Although the term “serpent” (ὄφις) has thus far only been used to describe the horses’
tails in the sixth trumped vision (9.19), which is hardly a part of the literary conception of Satan
in Revelation.
6 The lists in Rev. 12.9 and 20.2 indicate that “Satan” can be identified by different
designations within the narrative world of Revelation, a fact which suggests that this figure
could also be present in the story under various other guises. Rev. 9.11 refers to a “king, the
angel of the bottomless pit” (βασιλέα τὸν ἄγγελον τῆς ἀβύσσου), who is called “in Hebrew
Abadon” (ὄνομα αὐτῷ Ἑβραϊστὶ Ἀβαδδών). Noting this name, Aune finds in this figure a
representation of “Satan” (D. E. Aune, Revelation [WBC, 52A–C; Dallas, Tex.: Nelson, 1997/98],
534; differently, e.g., H. Giesen, Die Offenbarung des Johannes [RNT; Regensburg: Pustet,
1997], 220: a demonic figure). This challenging thesis is not convincing, however, since the Devil
is locked in the abyss as his prison (20.3) and will not be able to emerge as a ruler or king.
The same may be said of Rev. 9.1. Some scholars argue that the “fallen star” (ἀστέρα
ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ πεπτωκότα εἰς τὴν γῆν) is a possible reference to Satan, inasmuch as
this text is somehow paralleled in Rev. 20.1 (cf., e.g., G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A
Commentary on the Greek Text [NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999], 494: “the angel in v 1
is either Satan or one of his minions”; see also B. K. Blount, Revelation [New Testament Library;
Louisville, Ky.: WJK, 2009], 173). A clearer argument could be deduced from the defeat of Satan
in Rev. 12.9, where he is thrown from heaven (ἐβλήθη εἰς τὴν γῆν), similar to the imagery of
Lk. 10.18. However, it is not evident that Rev. 20.1 refers to Satan, nor is the imagery of 9.1 in
itself a clear reference to the semantic concept of Satan in Revelation. It seems more natural to
identify the figure in 9.1 with an angel, probably “an angelic messenger … not to be identified
with the angel of the abyss” (Aune, Revelation, 525; see also S. S. Smalley, The Revelation to
John (London: SPCK, 2005), 225.
In any case, the current chapter will discuss only those passages that use unambiguous
terminology to identify this character (“Satan,” “Devil,” or “the dragon”).
provides an orientation for the addressees in their actual world. For sake of
precision, I will use appropriate English translations for each individual Greek
term applied to this figure—i.e., “dragon,” “serpent,” “devil,” or “Satan.”
Two different hermeneutical methods might be adopted in analyzing the
complex terminological system used to characterize Satan in the Book of
Revelation.7
(a) The intertextual paradigm:8 This paradigm highlights and attempts to trace the
complex combination of motifs drawn from different elements of the cultural
encyclopedia, which would be accessible to any reader familiar with those
motifs. Approaches of this type also provide a diachronic orientation by focusing
on the pre-history of elements of the characterization of Satan.
While individual readers might recognize established elements in
Revelation’s portrait of Satan, every reader will be led to a new understanding
through the text itself—different strands of pre-knowledge are brought together
by the text to form a new and distinctive understanding. This observation points
to a second methodological paradigm for understanding the concept of Satan in
Revelation.
(b) The intratextual paradigm:9 Combining different characterizations of the anti-
divine figure known from the lists of Rev. 12.9 and 20.2, one can see that Satan
is portrayed in Revelation as a complex entity, one defined by various episodes
throughout the entire story.10 Approaches of this type are essentially synchronic
in their orientation, focusing on the presentation and development of Satan
across the larger movement of Revelation.
While both of the above paradigms produce insightful readings, the current
chapter will focus primarily on the intratextual paradigm, considering the
overall development and characterization of Satan within the text itself in
7 In early Christian literature, the “false prophet” is closely connected to the concept of
Satan (cf. 2 Thess. 2.9-10); cf. R. L. Thomas, Magical Motifs in the Book of Revelation (LNTS,
416; London and New York: T&T Clark, 2010), 62–64. The false prophet is, however, a separate
character who belongs to the eschatological alliance with Satan: see also Rev. 19.20; 20.10.
8 On intertextuality cf., e.g., R. Allen, Intertextuality (New Critical Idiom; London:
Routledge, 2000). On the exegetical use of the hermeneutical approach see also S. Alkier,
“Intertextualität—Annäherung an ein texttheoretisches Paradigma,” in D. Sänger (ed.), Heiligkeit
und Herrschaft. Intertextuelle Studien zu Heiligkeitsvorstellungen und zu Psalm 110 (BThSt,
55; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2003), 1–26; B. Kowalski, “Intertextualität als
exegetische Methode,” ThGl 96 (2006), 354–361, and the bibliography of M. Schneider in S.
Alkier and R. B. Hays (eds.), Die Bibel im Dialog der Schriften. Konzepte intertextueller
Bibellektüre (Neutestamentliche Entwürfe zur Theologie, 10; Tübingen and Basel: Francke,
2005), 257–264.
9 On intratextuality cf., e.g., A. Sharrock and H. Morales (eds.), Intratextuality: Greek
and Roman Textual Relations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).
10 However, it cannot be overlooked that the “The Apocalypse is a complex story, and
no reader will ever imagine all the possible connections between incidents. What follows is one
reading of one set of interconnections”: D. L. Barr, “The Story John Told: Reading Revelation for
its Plot,” in idem (ed.), Reading the Book of Revelation: A Resource for Students (Resources for
Biblical Study, 44; Atlanta, Ga., Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 11–23, esp. 13.
order to understand the function of this figure within the pragmatics of the
entire document.
The Rhetoric of Revelation and Its Hermeneutical Horizon
Revelation is not a blueprint of a “reality” outside the text, nor a simple chart
of events to come.11 Revelation is, rather, a text that promotes a particular
construction of reality in an attempt to persuade the ideal reader to affirm the
book’s perception of the world and to accept the program of Christian behavior
advocated in the text.12 The book’s genre is pragmatic, and its rhetoric all
serves this larger aim, as does its characterization of Satan.
On the literary form of the Book of Revelation,13 one notes first that the
text is structured as an autobiographical narrative with a first-person narrator
who is part of the story.14 The narrator describes the auditions and visions
that take place where God sits enthroned: “heaven.”15 In heaven, the narrator
faces the risen Christ, describes how the present time, especially the life of
the Christian communities in Asia Minor, is evaluated by the risen Lord, and
receives visions showing that God will implement his rule, starting with an
action by the slaughtered Lamb. In God’s final victory, his rule will come
to its fulfillment in the cultic and moral purity of the New Jerusalem, a
place of immediate community with God (21.9–22.5). Such a plot does not
refer to a list of forthcoming final events, as is widely supposed in popular
interpretations and by sectarian groups.16 Revelation is, rather, best understood
as a Sinnbildung (construction of meaning), whose narratives, demands,
visions, and auditions, including an expectation of final events, seek to help
the addressees in organizing and managing their lives in the present time.
11 On the understanding of Revelation as “a chart of History” in the history of

interpretation cf., e.g., A. W. Wainwright, Mysterious Apocalypse: Interpreting the Book of
Revelation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1993), 49–66.
12 Cf., e.g., D. A. DeSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of
Revelation (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).
13 On the genre of the Book of Revelation cf. G. Strecker, Literaturgeschichte des Neuen
Testaments (UTB, 1682; Göttingen: V&R, 1992), 261ff, who summarizes the discussion.
14 See the discussion of the first-person narrative by J. L. Resseguie, The Revelation of
John: A Narrative Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 47–53, who deals mostly
with stylistic features.
15 On the toponomy of the Book of Revelation cf. M. Labahn, “‘Apokalyptische’
Geographie. Einführende Überlegungen zu einer Toponomie der Johannesoffenbarung,” in M.
Labahn and O. Lehtipuu (eds.), Imagery in the Book of Revelation (CBET, 60; Leuven: Peeters,
2011), 107–143.
16 See the recent critique by J. Beutler, “Die Hermeneutik der Apokalypse und ihrer
Bildersprache angesichts ihrer fundamentalistischen Deutungen,” in Labahn and Lehtipuu (eds.),
Imagery in the Book of Revelation, 11–27. On the millenarian interpretation of Revelation as
referring to final events that will take place in the reader’s time cf. Wainwright, Mysterious
Apocalypse, 21–87.
The projection of the present into the visions and auditions of the Book of
Revelation tries “to make transparent the readers’ sense of meaning by which
he or she is able to live.”17 Marlies Gielen rightly states, “it [Revelation] is
about managing the present, which receives its power through the expectation
of the eschatological future.”18 This formation of meaning is produced by a
literary construction of the world outside the text, a construction that views the
current world of the addressees against the horizon of the ultimate triumph of
God’s rule19—real power in the world outside the text is thus viewed by the
narrative as a defeated but still dangerous power. Revelation thus evidences a
subversive narrative strategy that characterizes political power beyond the text
as a Satanic, demonic, already-defeated, and therefore empty rule that can harm
the addressees but not overcome them.20 By constructing a reality that portrays
the narrative characters in a conflict between good and evil21 (between God and
Satan), the Book of Revelation develops a system of values22 and invites the
17 K. Backhaus, “Apokalyptische Bilder? Die Vernunft der Vision in der

Johannesoffenbarung,” EvT 64 (2004), 421–437, esp. 424 (“… dem Lesenden … Sinngründe
transparent [machen; ML.], aus denen er leben kann”).
18 M. Gielen, “Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft (Offb 12). Das Verhältnis von Macht und
Religion in der pragmatischen Konzeption der Johannesoffenbarung,” in M. Gielen and J. Kügler
(eds.), Liebe, Macht und Religion. Interdisziplinäre Studien zu Grunddimensionen menschlicher
Existenz. Festschrift H. Merklein (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2003), 163–183, esp. 163
(“es geht um Gegenwartsbewältigung, die ihre Kraft aus der Erwartung der eschatologischen
Zukunft schöpft”). Similarly, Jürgen Roloff, who argues that the Book of Revelation puts “alles
Gewicht auf die Deutung der gegenwärtigen und zukünftigen geschichtlichen Konstellationen
und Kontroversen” and highlights “die Bedeutung der jetzt anstehenden Entscheidungen für die
Zukunft”: Die Kirche im Neuen Testament (GNT, 10; Göttingen: V&R, 1993), 179.
19 In accordance with Gielen, “Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft,” 163, the parts of
Revelation narrating the visions are a depiction of the implementation of God’s final rule.
20 On the function of a subversive narrative cf. D. Rustemeyer, “Welt im Text? Kurt
Röttgers Theorie kommunikativer Texte und die Lineatur der Geschichte,” Journal für
Phänomenologie 14 (2000), 52–58, esp. 58; on applying this concept to the Book of Revelation
cf. Labahn, “Apokalyptische Geographie.”
21 Cf., e.g., the remarks by Thomas, Magical Motifs, 46–47: “John finds that his
proclamation conflicts with the statements brought by others, who claim to be prophets or who are
working in such guise, prophets whom John considers to be false. It appears that John envisions
the conflict … as evocative of the conflict between the forces of good and evil.”
22 On the ethical program of Revelation cf., e.g., D. L. Barr, “Towards an Ethical Reading
of the Apocalypse: Reflections on John’s Use of Power, Violence, and Misogyny,” SBL.SP 36
(1997), 358–373; J. A. Du Rand, “The Ethical Response of an Alternative Community in a Critical
Situation: Marturia and Martyrdom in the Apocalypse of John,” in J. G. Van der Watt (ed.), Identity,
Ethics, and Ethos in the New Testament (BZNW, 141; Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 2006),
565–593; J. Kerner, Die Ethik der Johannes-Apokalypse im Vergleich mit der des 4. Esra. Ein Beitrag
zum Verhältnis von Apokalyptik und Ethik (BZNW, 94; Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1998);
K. Scholtissek, “‘Mitteilhaber an der Bedrängnis, der Königsherrschaft und der Ausdauer in Jesus’
(Offb 1,9). Partizipatorische Ethik in der Offenbarung des Johannes,” in K. Backhaus (ed.), Theologie
als Vision. Studien zur Johannes-Offenbarung (SBS, 191; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2001),
172–207; D. Sänger, “Destruktive Apokalyptik? Eine Erinnerung in eschatologischer und ethischer
Perspektive,” in C. Böttrich (ed.), Eschatologie und Ethik im frühen Christentum. Festschrift
G. Haufe (Greifswalder theologische Studien, 11; Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 2006), 285–307, esp.
ideal reader23 to understand himself or herself anew, according to the model

presented in the text. In this respect, Revelation adopts the rhetorical strategy
of a “radicalization of reality” (“Radikalisierung der Wirklichkeit”: Harald
Ulland), one that is evident in the various visions and the seven letters and that
is particularly notable in chs. 12–14.24
This radicalized reality is best understood as a narrative construction of an
extratextual situation: Roman rule in the province of Asia under the Emperor
Domitian (81–96 ce).25 The cities mentioned in the seven letters in Rev. 2–3
played a notorious role in the spread of the Roman imperial cult, participation
in which served as evidence of loyalty to the empire.26 While no widespread,
systematic persecution of Christians can be documented in the extratextual
world of this period,27 the radicalized reality constructed by Revelation reflects
299–307; M. Wolter, “Christliches Ethos nach der Offenbarung des Johannes,” in F.-W. Horn (ed.),
Studien zur Johannesoffenbarung und ihrer Auslegung. Festschrift O. Böcher (Neukirchen-Vluyn:
Neukirchener-Verlag, 2005), 189–209.
23 Cf., e.g., D. Mieth, “Literarische Texte als Quelle ethischer Verunsicherung oder
ethischer Modellbildung?”, in S. and C. Krepold (eds.), Schön und gut? Studien zu Ethik und
Ästhetik in der Literatur (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2008), 19–40, esp. 21: the narrative
develops “Regulierungen … die eine gewollte Balance herstellen, welche die Rezeption zwar nicht
beherrschen will, aber ihr doch bestimmte Wege empfiehlt und andere versperrt [regulations …
which provide an intentional balance that is not so much about mastering a reception as about
recommending particular ways of understanding it and disregarding other ways].”
24 H. Ulland, Die Vision als Radikalisierung der Wirklichkeit in der Apokalypse des Johannes
(TANZ, 21; Tübingen: Francke, 1997); supported by, e.g., Kalms, Der Sturz des Gottesfeindes, 26.
25 The date of the Book of Revelation is still debated. Some scholars prefer an earlier
time under Emperor Nero, others a much later period under Hadrian as, e.g., T. Witulski, “Ein
neuer Ansatz zur Datierung der neutestamentlichen Johannesapokalypse,” in SNTU.A 30 (2005),
39–60, who claims that the text mirrors a situation of a severe intensification of the veneration of
the emperor (on the history of the veneration of the Roman emperor, see T. Witulski, Kaiserkult
in Kleinasien. Die Entwicklung der kultisch-religiösen Kaiserverehrung in der römischen Provinz
Asia von Augustus bis Antoninus Pius [NTOA, 63; Göttingen: V&R, 2007]). All these models take
certain literary constructions of the historical situation for granted, either the later portrait of Nero
by the Church Fathers and negative propaganda by Roman historians or the “radicalized” view of
the narrative of Revelation itself; on recent discussion and for a possible date late in Domitian’s
rule cf. U. Schnelle, Einleitung in das Neue Testament (UTB, 1830; Göttingen: V&R, 2007), 551.
26 All seven cities were important for the imperial cult; cf. C. J. Hemer, The Letters to
the Seven Churches of Asia in their Local Setting (JSNT.SS, 11; Sheffield, JSOT Press, 1986) and
S. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2001).
27 No such widespread persecution can be documented from the paucity of extra-
biblical historical sources: cf., e.g., J. Ulrich, “Euseb, HistEccl III,14–20 und die Frage nach
der Christenverfolgung unter Domitian,” ZNW 87 (1996), 269–289; see also B. W. Jones, The
Emperor Domitian (London and New York: Routledge, 1992), 114–117; J. Molthagen, “Die Lage
der Christen im römischen Reich nach dem 1. Petrusbrief. Zum Problem einer domitianischen
Verfolgung,” Hist. 44 (1995), 422–458; idem, “‘Cognitionibus de Christianis interfui numquam’.
Das Nichtwissen des Plinius und die Anfänge der Christenprozesse,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und
Gemeinde 9 (2004), 112–140; U. Riemer, Das Tier auf dem Kaiserthron? Eine Untersuchung zur
Offenbarung des Johannes als historischer Quelle (BzA, 114; Stuttgart: Teubner, 1998).
the religious claims of the imperial cult,28 claims that conflict with the belief and
practices of Jesus’ followers.29 Deviation from the Roman standard of loyalty
was evidently suspect and could lead to social isolation, official sanctions, and
even to death, as evident from the correspondence between Pliny the Younger
and the Emperor Trajan (denunciation, interrogation, proof of loyalty, and
condemnation).30 While this exchange must be dated some twenty years after
the writing of the Book of Revelation, it appears to reflect earlier legal practice.31
Revelation thus constructs readers who understand themselves and their
present experience in light of the narrative.32 Within this larger objective,
the patchwork characterization of Satan is one element of Revelation’s
hermeneutical strategy. Revelation attempts to develop a reader who is able to
interpret himself or herself in his or her own world in light of the narrative’s
construction of meaning, and the characterization of Satan is a key element in
this larger Sinnbildung.
While scholars have often posited a distinction between the proclamations to
the seven communities in Rev. 2–3 and the subsequent visionary passages, the
two sections are united by the literary concept of “Satan,” an idea that develops
coherence in the movement between the different elements of the story.33
Five of the eight references to σατανᾶς (2.9, 13, 13, 24; 3.9), one of the five
occurrences of διάβολος (2.10), and one of the eight references to πλανάω
(2.20) within the book appear in the seven proclamations. Not surprisingly, the
more picturesque terms “dragon” and “serpent” are restricted to the visionary
sections of the book. The distribution of the different elements of the concept
“Satan” has not come purely by chance, but rather has a hermeneutical function.
The main concentration of elements appears in Rev. 2–3, 12–13, and 20.
Present, past (which helps in understanding the present), and future (to which
present time looks and in light of which one lives in the present)34 are reflected
28 T. Söding, “Heilig, heilig, heilig. Zur politischen Theologie der Johannes-Apokalypse,”

ZThK 96 (1999), 49–76, claims a political theology in Revelation.
29 Cf., e.g., H. Giesen, “Das Römische Reich im Spiegel der Johannesapokalypse,” in
idem, Studien zur Johannesapokalypse (SBAB, 29; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2000),
100–213; on the meaning of the emperor cult for the rhetoric of Revelation see also J. Frey, “The
Relevance of the Roman Imperial Cult for the Book of Revelation: Exegetical and Hermeneutical
Reflections on the Relation between the Seven Letters and the Visionary Main Part of the Book,”
in J. Fotopoulos (ed.), The New Testament and Early Christian Literature in Greco-Roman
Context: Studies in Honor of D. E. Aune (NT.Sup., 122; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 231–255.
30 Pliny the Younger, Ep X 96–97.
31 K. Thraede, “Noch einmal: Plinius d. J. und die Christen,” ZNW 95 (2004), 102–128.
32 Cf. S. J. Friesen, “The Beast from the Land: Revelation 13:11–18 and Social Setting,”
in Barr (ed.), Reading the Book of Revelation, 49–64, esp. 64: “… John’s Revelation articulated
a way for his hearers and readers to understand their world, a way that was at odds with the
basic tenets of public culture. The text reinterpreted the audience’s experiences, transforming their
perspective and creating the potential for conflict.”
33 It is methodologically questionable to use the parallels in the catalogues of names of
“Satan” in 12.9 and 20.2 to identify out a secondary gloss (so Aune, Revelation, 1082). Such an
intratextual phenomenon effects formation of meaning, leading the reader from one passage to another.
34 Cf. Jörn Rüsen and his concept of understanding and narrating “history”: Rüsen, Kann
in these sections of the story in a special way. The distribution of terminology

demonstrates that the literary concept built around the references to Satan
provides meaning for the present time of the addressees. It fully fits within the
overall hermeneutical program of Revelation.
The “Defeat of Satan” (Rev. 12): Present Time in Light of the Past
as a Time of Threat from the Defeated
The episode of the “defeat of Satan,” his fall from heaven, and his war
against the Christians (12.17) is placed within the timeframe of the narration
of the story (“Erzählzeit”).35 Chapters 12–13 thus interrupt the cycles of
seven within the visionary section of the book,36 making it possible to speak
of a centre, if not the centre (cf. Kalms37), of the Book of Revelation.38
Both the proclamations to the seven churches and the visions convey an
interpretation of the contemporary world of the addresses,39 a world that is
newly understood and constructed by means of radicalization.
gestern besser werden? Zum Bedenken der Geschichte (Kulturwissenschaftliche Interventionen,

2; Berlin: Kadmos, 2003); idem, Kultur macht Sinn. Orientierung zwischen Gestern und Morgen
(Köln: Böhlau, 2006), 30: “Geschichte hat ihren Sinn im rekonstruktiven Rückgang auf die
historische Erfahrung. Sie dient der Plausibilisierung handlungslei tender Zukunftsentwürfe.
Und Sinn spielt im Verhältnis dieser Zeiten—zwischen der geschehenen Vergangenheit und der
gewünschten Zukunft—eine zentrale Rolle [History develops its meaning in a reconstructive
deduction on the basis of historical experience. It serves to make plausible such conceptions of
future time as may help advise actions. Within the relationships of the various periods—between
what has taken place and the desired future—meaning plays a central role].”
35 Cf., e.g., H. Utzschneider and S. A. Nitsche, Arbeitsbuch literaturwissenschaftlicher
Bibelauslegung. Eine Methodenlehre zur Exegese des Alten Testaments (München: Gütersloher
Verlagshaus, 2001), 161–162.
36 According to T. Söding, “Siegertypen. Der Triumph des Glaubens nach den
Sendschreiben der Johannesapokalypse (Offb 2–3),” in Huber and Repschinsky SJ (eds.), Im Geist
und in der Wahrheit, 331–362, Rev. 12–14 forms an “apocalypse in the apocalypse” (“Apokalypse
in der Apokalypse”). Cf. A. Yarbro Collins, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (HDR,
9; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1976), 231: “… it is a midpoint structurally speaking as the
introduction to the second great circle of visions.” In support of Yarbro Collins, the controversies
and the victory narrated in ch. 12 are of major importance for the entire book.
37 Kalms, Der Sturz des Gottesfeindes, 18: “das zentrale Kapitel des Buches,” see also H.
Gollinger, “‘Das ‘Große Zeichen’. Offb 12—das zentrale Kapitel der Offenbarung des Johannes,”
BiKi 39 (1984), 66–75.
38 On the central place of Rev. 12 in the structure of the Book of Revelation cf. Gielen,
“Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft,” 175, 176; see also E. McEwan Humphrey, The Ladies and the
Cities: Transformation and Apocalyptic Identity in Joseph and Aseneth, 4 Ezra, the Apocalypse
and The Shepherd of Hermas (JSPS, 17; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), 100–103.
39 Any reading of the Book of Revelation which differentiates the seven letters and the
visions on the grounds that the letters discuss the social, political, and historical situation of the
author and his addressees while the visions are purely fictions that express future hopes is too
simplistic; Söding, “Siegertypen,” 334, gives a more differentiated statement: “Johannes bespricht
in den Sendschreiben die geschichtliche Gegenwart der Adressaten, in den Visionen aber beschreibt
(a) Chapter 12 opens with mythological imagery,40 describing a pregnant woman41

who gives birth in the sky to a child who, like the woman herself, is threatened
by a great red dragon (12.1-5a). The episode develops a special cosmological
complex of motifs.42 The story ends with the child being taken away into heaven
and the woman escaping into the desert as a place of shelter (12.5b-6 with
12.14). The mythological presentation of the son’s birth and his fortunate fate
(12.5) condenses and remembers Jesus’ work in an abbreviated narrative.43
(b) The threat of the dragon is described in Rev. 12.3-4 in its own fashion, although
the adjective μέγας anticipates 12.9. This threat leads into a new scene, which is
headlined as “war in heaven” (πόλεμος ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ) (12.7a). The conflict
between the dragon, who endangers the newborn child, and his adherents on
one side, and the Angel Michael and his adherents on the other, is reported only
in a brief summary (12.7b). The direct result of the “war” is the dragon’s loss
er die Zukunft der Gottesherrschaft, die sich zwar schon in der Gegenwart ereignet und der
Geschichte ihren Stempel aufdrückt, jedoch sie transzendiert [In the letters, John discusses the
historical situation of the addressees, whereas in the visions he describes the future of God’s reign,
which begins to take shape in the present, and which puts its stamp on history, yet transcends it].”
40 The mythological imagery shows that “der Verfasser … [sich; M.L.] einer Vielzahl
von Motiven und Vorstellungen unterschiedlicher Provenienz bedient und sie nach Art eines
Mosaiks zu einer neuen Einheit zusammenschließt [the author uses a variety of motifs and ideas
of divergent origin and puts them together into a new entity like a mosaic]”: H. Omerzu, “Die
Himmelsfrau in Apk 12. Ein polemischer Reflex des römischen Kaiserkults,” in M. Becker and
M. Öhler (eds.), Apokalyptik als Herausforderung neutestamentlicher Theologie (WUNT, 2.214;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 167–194, esp. 170. She assumes a critical concern in relation
to the emperor cult; see also D. L. Balch, “‘A Woman Clothed with the Sun’ and the ‘Great Red
Dragon’ Seeking to ‘Devour Her Child’ (Rev. 12:1, 4) in Roman Domestic Art,” in Fotopoulos
(ed.), The New Testament and Early Christian Literature, 287–314.
41 On the different interpretations of the woman cf. P. Farkaš, La “donna” di Apocalisse
12. Storia, bilancio, nuove prospettive (Tesi Gregoriana. Serie Teologia, 25; Roma: Pontificia
Università Gregoriana, 1997).
42 Cf., e.g., Kalms, Der Sturz des Gottesfeindes, 113–131, who also links the scene in
Rev. 12.1-5a with conflicts over the propaganda of imperial veneration; ibid., 125: “Der An
spruch des weltlichen Herrschers auf Göttlichkeit dagegen wird auf ironische Weise umgekehrt:
Der römische Kaiser, der sich selbst als Gott und Gottessohn, als Apollon oder als Sohn des
Apollon sieht, muss sich in der gegensätzlichen Rolle wiederfinden. Für die Johannesapokalypse
repräsentiert gerade er den Gottesfeind, den Satan, den Drachen, Typhon oder Python [The claim
of the secular ruler to be divine is ironically inverted. The Roman emperor, regarding himself as
God or God‘s son, as Apollo or the son of Apollo, needs to discover himself in the opposite role.
As far as the Revelation of John is concerned, he symbolizes the enemy of God, Satan, the dragon,
Typhon, or Python].”
43 E.g., T. Holtz, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (ed. K.-W. Niebuhr; NTD, 11;
Göttingen: V&R, 2008), 93; J.-W. Taeger, Johannesapokalypse und johanneischer Kreis. Versuch
einer traditionsgeschichtlichen Ortsbestimmung am Paradigma der Lebenswasser-Thematik
(BZNW, 51; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989), 98. Such an interpretation is supported by the heavenly
hymn (12.10-12) which interrupts and interprets the event in ch. 12. There is an actual defeat of
Satan by the Christian follower of the Lamb which follows from the salvific death of Jesus, which
could be read as a reference to 12.5 and its interpretation; cf. E. M. Humphrey, “A Tale of Two
Cities and (at least) Three Women: Transformation, Continuity, and Contrast in the Apocalypse,”
in Barr (ed.), Reading the Book of Revelation, 81–96, esp. 86. Differently, Gielen, “Satanssturz
und Gottesherrschaft,” 176, who claims that “here the whole earthly life of Jesus is excluded.”
of his place in heaven, the space of God’s power, from whence the narrator
develops his theocentric construction of meaning.44 At first, the absence of the
dragon from this place is taken as a pronouncement of victory: οὐδὲ τόπος
εὑρέθη αὐτῶν ἔτι ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ (12.8), which is immediately stated more
precisely: ἐβλήθη εἰς τὴν γῆν (12.9b). The aorist passive of v. 9 presents the
main meaning, while the threefold repetition of the verb applies this meaning to
the dragon, the snake, the Devil, and Satan, who appear as the deceiving figure.
The same judgment applies to his adherents. The Devil and his angels are thrown
out of that space which belongs to the power of God and from which God and the
Lamb will finally execute their victory. This expulsion is to be seen as a definite
loss of power on Satan’s part, inasmuch as he has now lost the possibility of
acting in God’s mighty sphere.
The fall of Satan recalls a synoptic saying of Jesus, which is reported only in
the Gospel of Luke: ἐθεώρουν τὸν σατανᾶν ὡς ἀστραπὴν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ
πεσόντα (Lk. 10.18). While the verbal affinities are too few to assume literary
dependence, the motif of Satan’s fall from heaven to earth is quite similar. The
Lukan context connects the fall of Satan to the exorcisms performed by Jesus’
disciples (10.17-20), thus allowing the disciples to take part in the fight against
Satan and his adherents. Revelation describes Satan’s fall from heaven as his
fall to earth (ἐβλήθη εἰς τὴν γῆν: 12.9, 1345), where he is now endangering
the Christian communities. They need to withstand this danger, and they will
be able to do so because Satan himself has already been besieged.46 The seer of
Revelation may thus be regarded as an independent witness for an early Jesus
tradition. Here, the seer takes up tradition and uses it in a creative manner when
placing it within his new construction of meaning.
(c) After Satan is thrown down to earth, he actively threatens the inhabitants of this
space and therefore represents a danger to the earth and to everyone who lives on
it. Rev. 12.11 reminds the reader that all Christians can overcome “by the blood
of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony” (διὰ τὸ αἷμα τοῦ ἀρνίου καὶ
διὰ τὸν λόγον τῆς μαρτυρίας αὐτῶν), and 12.12 calls the heavens to rejoice
over the defeat of Satan. Heaven is the most powerful place in the narrative
geography of Revelation (cf. Rev. 4f).47 Thus, the note of joy in heaven functions
as an authoritative statement documenting the complete defeat of Satan.
Revelation evokes the motif of the accuser—which traditionally is linked
with Satan—only in 12.10 (ὁ κατήγωρ τῶν ἀδελφῶν ἡμῶν).48 The allusion
44 On this, see U. Schnelle, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (UTB, 2917; Göttingen:
V&R, 2007), 714–715.
45 An inclusio that frames the hymn in heaven which celebrates the defeat of Satan
as accuser of the Christian brethren; cf. J. L. Resseguie, The Revelation of John: A Narrative
Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 27–28.
46 A comparison of the two visions of the fall of Satan that focuses on the differences
between them is offered by E. M. Humphrey, “To Rejoice or Not to Rejoice? Rhetoric and the
Fall of Satan in Lk. 10:17–24 and Rev. 12:1–17,” in D. L. Barr (ed.), The Reality of Apocalypse:
Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation (SBL.Symp, 39; Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical
Literature, 2006), 113–125, esp. 115.
47 Cf., e.g., Labahn, “Apokalyptische Geographie.”
48 Cf. Job 1.6ff; Zech. 3.1 (… ὁ διάβολος εἱστήκει ἐκ δεξιῶν αὐτοῦ τοῦ ἀντικεῖσθαι
αὐτῷ); Jub. 48.15 (temporary binding of lord Mastema as accuser of Israel).
touches on cultural memories of Satan as the one who accuses people before
God, but in this context the motif becomes a cipher for the danger that Satan
represents. Since this accusation does not form a separate theme, it must be
understood alongside the motif of space, presenting the victory over Satan
and the joy that people receive along with it. The divine act of salvation from
heaven comes then as a reflection on soteriology. The hymn at 12.10-12 praises
God’s salvation and power as well as Christ’s authority (v. 10: ἡ σωτηρία καὶ
ἡ δύναμις καὶ ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ ἡ ἐξουσία τοῦ χριστοῦ
αὐτοῦ). Finally, the adherents of Jesus in heaven are represented as those who
have conquered through the blood of the Lamb (v. 11). The defeat of Satan and
his casting down to earth function as an ethical as well as religious principle,
exhorting the followers of Jesus to resist the dangers of Satan that follow from his
actions. Rooted in soteriological claims, the Christian conquerors are those who
have suffered death due to their word and testimony for Jesus. In reality, there
was just one true witness of this kind, Antipas, but in Revelation he becomes
a multitude of people through the radicalization of reality. The multitude of
witnesses have already taken their place in heaven49 and become a model for
enduring the danger that follows from Satan’s move to earth.50
Verse 12b also articulates a “woe” on earth and sea, both of which are now
directly confronted with Satan’s wrath. The shout anticipates the scene with the
beast from the sea and the inhabitants of the earth in chapter 13.51 What follows
is the cardiognosy of the omniscient narrator, who reports on the short period
of Satan’s activity, which is nonetheless a period of great danger due to Satan’s
immense wrath. The motif of a “short period” (cf., e.g., Rev. 6.11; 17.10; 20.3)
is part of Revelation’s program for generating comfort, setting limits to the time
span of danger. It also indicates that God is in control of what happens, because
he remains the ruler of history and stands side by side with those who keep his
commandments and give witness to Jesus (12.17). The previous actions of God
make it possible for Jesus’ allies to survive the danger.
(d) The next scene (Rev. 12.13-17) not only interprets the present time of the
Christian community in mythological imagery as it is maintained by the defeat
of Satan, but also demonstrates how Satan, although the loser of the heavenly
49 Cf. M. Labahn, “The Resurrection of the Followers of the Lamb: Between Heavenly
‘Reality’ and Hope for the Future – The Concept of Resurrection within the Imagery of Death
and Life in the Book of Revelation,” in G. Van Oyen and T. Shepherd (eds.), Resurrection of the
Dead: Bible Traditions in Dialogue (BETL 249; Leuven: Peeters, 2012), 319–342; see also T.
Nicklas, “‘Die Seelen der Geschlachteten’ (Offb 6,9)? Zum Problem leiblicher Auferstehung in
der Offenbarung des Johannes,” in T. Nicklas and F. V. Reiterer (eds.), The Human Body in Death
and Resurrection (Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Yearbook, 2009; Berlin and New
York: de Gruyter, 2009), 329–349.
50 See also Gielen, Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft, 163: “Durch die Verknüpfung
des Bekennertodes mit der Anteilhabe am Sieg über Satan dient er pragmatisch der Motivation
der Adressaten trotz Gefährdung ihres Lebens sich vom heidnischen Staat und Ansprüchen
abzugrenzen [Through linking death due to confession with partaking in victory over Satan, he
pragmatically serves the motives of the addressees to distinguish themselves from the pagan state
and its demands, despite this putting their lives in danger].”
51 Resseguie, The Revelation of John, 175.
war, produces a period of danger. He is, however, limited by God (cf. 12.14),
who is about to demonstrate his power.52
Thus, on one hand, Satan’s expulsion from heaven comforts those who
adhere to Jesus (12.10), but on the other hand it confronts them with the warning
to escape Satan’s and his allies’ actions on earth during their own lifetime. This
reading can be deduced from the characterization of Satan as “the deceiver of the
whole world;” in Greek, “the whole oikumene” (ὁ πλανῶν τὴν οἰκουμένην
ὅλην, 12.9). The term “whole world” reflects the scope of imperial power as
conceived by Roman imperial ideology.53 When Satan’s domain is described
using the same term, his characterization gains a political overtone. The participle
πλανῶν links the endeavor of Satan to the world, the sphere of his actions,
thus pointing to the jeopardy that the addressees of Revelation face from Roman
power and its religious claims. Therefore, the participle not only prepares for
this third scene but also leads the ideal reader forward to the depiction of Roman
power as Satanic in chapter 13 (… ἐδόθη [passivum divinum] αὐτῷ … 13.7).
(e) In the scene where Satan has been thrown out off heaven, the seer of Revelation
develops a conception of earthly power54 as exercised by one who has already
been besieged and who knows his own powerlessness. Satan acts in the mode
of powerless revenge.55 Rev. 12.8–13.8 depicts Roman imperial power with
this same conception of the powerless yet still dangerous might of Satan. Thus,
Revelation intends to demonize political and administrative Roman power.
The message of victory brings comfort to the addressees, but also necessitates
that they follow a strategy of maintaining what they have received (cf. 12.17 with
its context in 12.18–13.18; see below, “Satan’s Actions in Early-Christian Time
(Rev 2–3): Present Time as the Time for Surviving the Danger”), paragraph 5.
The danger loses its menace since the adherents of Jesus are aware of Satan’s
ultimate powerlessness. Satan’s intent to deceive will fail since the visionary
construction of Revelation presents his actions from the perspective of their
final outcome—the end of history will clearly reveal that Satan’s power has
previously been overcome (see below, paragraph 4 of “The Elimination of Satan
(Rev 20): Future as Certainty of Conquest in the Present”).
From this perspective on the loss of Satan’s power due to his defeat in heaven,
the seer admonishes his addressees to live according to God’s commandments
without fear. Revelation presents such a way of life as a prospect for the model
reader. The present time, a period for acting according to certain rules and
remaining separate from Roman power (cf. 18.4), is stretched across statements
of victory over Satan. The narrative construction of Revelation presents this
period of time as a period of threat from Satanic power and also as a period of
protection by God and the Lamb, though not without pain, suffering, and the
need for persistence.
52 Cf., e.g., Schnelle, Theologie des Neuen Testaments, 731.

53 The Roman emperor claimed to be the “master of the whole world” (ὁ τοῦ παντὸς
κόσμος κύριος): Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, 3rd edn., 814 (Nero); quoted in U. Schnelle,
M. Labahn, and M. Lang (eds.), Neuer Wettstein. Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und
Hellenismus. Band I.2. Texte zum Johannesevangelium (Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 2001), 249.
54 Cf., e.g., Wengst, “The Devil in the Revelation of St John,” 71: “The vision of the war
in heaven in 12.7–12 … is John’s way to settle the objective structures of power.”
55 Cf. Wengst, “The Devil in the Revelation of St John,” 71: “It is fighting a lost cause.”
Contrary to Kalms, Marlies Gielen interprets Satan’s fall as his “final

defeat”56 while judging his earthly actions as “ein zum Scheitern verurteiltes
Nachhutgefecht [a doomed rearguard action].”57 Satan’s actions form an
“irdische(s) Noch-Nicht … als einer zeitlichen Verschiebung des sach lich
parallelen Geschehens im Himmel und auf Erden [an earthen ‘not-yet’ … as
a temporal shift of materially parallel events in heaven and on earth].”58 Her
comment underscores the ongoing danger for the addressees, even though the
victory over Satan turns into a preliminary event as far as its effect on earth
is concerned. Nevertheless, the most remarkable achievement of the seer is to
give insight into an enduring risk to life provoked not by a figure acting sub
specie aeternitatis but rather by a powerless figure who was rendered impotent
by God’s power.
The Elimination of Satan (Rev. 20): Future as Certainty of Conquest in

the Present
Rev. 20.1-3 depicts a temporary binding of Satan for one thousand years,
during which time Christ rules with those loyal followers who were killed
because of their testimony (20.4ff).
The motif of temporary binding recalls the binding of Prince Mastema
as reported in Jub. 48.15, 18. Mastema, the ordinary name for Satan in the
Book of Jubilees, is captured so that he cannot accuse the children of Israel
for five days. When Mastema is afterwards freed he helps the Egyptians and
pursues Israel, yet his actions ultimately assist God’s secret plan to defeat the
Egyptians in the Red Sea (cf. Jub. 48.16-17).59 A similar interim period can be
detected in Revelation as well.
(a) In Revelation, the binding of Satan occurs after the victory over “the whore
Babylon” and the beast with its prophets (chs. 18–19). These events represent
the final act in the narrated history, coming about in various episodes.
The temporary binding of Satan follows a final attack on the community of
God. Hence, the depiction of the binding contains elements of humor or parody.
The capture of Satan lacks any indication of a battle, such as was mentioned in
12.7ff. Rev. 20.2 simply states that God “laid hold of the dragon” (ἐκράτησεν
τὸν δράκοντα), who is presented as a powerless and somehow toppled figure
who has no ability to defend himself—in an eschatological perspective, the
56 Gielen, “Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft,” 180.

57 Gielen, “Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft,” 182; differently, Kalms, Der Sturz des
Gottesfeindes, 20, who interprets the fall of Satan as preliminary.
58 See Gielen, “Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft,” 181.
59 A. Satake, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (KEK, 16; Göttingen: V&R, 2008), 383,
regards the final binding of anti-divine power by God or by a representative (“endzeitliche
Gefangennahme der gegengöttlichen Mächte durch Gott oder seinen Vertreter”) as a close parallel
to Rev. 20.1ff. 1 En. 10.10-12 presents an important example, showing the binding of the evil for
seven generations before they are freed for their final condemnation.
scene portrays “the absurdity of”60 Satan’s power after his defeat. Here again,
Satan is introduced with a catalog of different names that varies somewhat from
that in Rev. 12.9b. Rev. 20.2 calls him “the dragon, the serpent of old, who
is the Devil and Satan” (τὸν δράκοντα, τὸν ὄφιν τὸν ἀρχαῖον, ὅς ἐστιν
διάβολος καὶ ὁ Σατανᾶς).61 The list here lacks the adjective μέγας and
does not mention Satan’s ability to deceive people.62 Both the parallels and the
differences between the two lists are significant. On the one hand, the similarities
indicate that the figure in Rev. 20 is the same as the one mentioned in Rev.
12, who fought a battle with Michael, was defeated,63 and then endangered the
inhabitants of the earth. On the other hand, the differences indicate that Satan
has already been besieged and that his power to endanger people is coming to
an end. The narrator now says that Satan has been bound and will be locked
safely away in prison (20.3). It follows, then, that for a span of a thousand years
no further danger of deceit will emerge from this figure (v. 3: μὴ πλανήσῃ ἔτι
τὰ ἔθνη; cf. 12.9). The binding of Satan and the public reign of those whom he
had harmed presents this figure as an overwhelmed character and indicates that
justice—the justice of a just God64—remains the last and conclusive word in the
history of humankind.65
(b) The release of Satan from prison reported in Rev. 20.7 is one of the most
surprising and threatening aspects of his portrait in Revelation. Although Satan
has already been overcome and stripped of power, and although the martyrs
have regained their powerful status once lost by death, a final endangering of the
allies of the Lamb presents itself (Rev. 20.8). Satan escapes from prison one last
time (ἐξελεύσεται), again a caricature that prepares ultimately for his decisive
defeat. The danger of the possible deceit of the nations (πλανῆσαι τὰ ἔθνη) is
also portrayed with an element of parody, since Satan has already lost his power.
When the powerless character again acts against the saints, he is now clearly a
figure who does not truly represent a threat: he acts within approved limits rather
than on the merits of his own power.
(c) The final elimination of Satan, as well as that of the beast of chapter 13 and the
false prophets (cf. 13.12; 19.20), is reported in 20.10. Just as Satan was “thrown
down” from heaven in chapter 12 and “thrown” into the pit at 20.3, so now
60 Cf. S. J. Friesen, “Sarcasm in Revelation 2–3: Churches, Christians, True Jews, and
Satanic Synagogues,” in Barr (ed.), The Reality of Apocalypse, 127–144, esp. 134–141, who
defines satire and parody. According to Friesen, “satire” is widely used in Revelation: “satire and
sarcasm describe many of the important features of John’s denunciations” (131). This is true for
some aspects of the concept of Satan as well.
61 See, e.g., Kalms, Der Sturz des Gottesfeindes, 77.
62 Instead of καλούμενος, like in 12.9, Rev. 20.2 now presents ὅς ἐστιν διάβολος καὶ
ὁ Σατανᾶς.
63 See also Satake, Offenbarung des Johannes, 384: “Der Vf. will … den Leser an die
entscheidende Niederlage des Satans erinnern [The author intends to remind the reader of the
crucial defeat of Satan].”
64 On God as a just figure in Revelation cf. T. Söding, “Gott und das Lamm. Theozentrik
und Christologie in der Johannesapokalypse,” in Backhaus (ed.), Theologie als Vision, 77–120,
esp. 82–85.
65 On depicting God’s justice in Rev. 20.1ff, cf., e.g., R. J. McKelvey, “The Millennium
and the Second Coming,” in Moyise, Studies in the Book of Revelation, 85–100, esp. 98.
he suffers yet another “throwing”: ἐβλήθη (20.10; cf. the threefold ἐβλήθη,
respectively ἐβλήθησαν in Rev. 12.9; see also 12.13). As the deceiver of
all nations, who have been mentioned earlier in the context (v. 10: πλανῶν
αὐτούς; cf. 20.3, 8), the Devil will be thrown into a lake of fire and brimstone.
The personal pronoun αὐτούς has a general meaning here and should not be
limited strictly to the previous episode. The deceiving of Satan’s adherents
leads him to the place of his final destruction, which Revelation treats as an
eschatological place for the elimination of God’s enemies. The main sin of Satan
is seen in his efforts to lead people away from God. Such a fault will ultimately
cause Satan’s removal, as well as the removal of all his allies and adherents.
These final stages of Satan’s activity demonstrate that he truly is dangerous,
but that his power is broken and hence limited. Rev. 20 underscores that this
power is broken by presenting Satan’s judgment. Deceiving people is seen as the
act that will merit final punishment.
Since the narrator claims that God has given him foreknowledge (Rev. 1.1-3),
such a view into the future diminishes the danger of the present time. Hence,
the hazardous actions of Satan turn into their own caricature, since Satan’s
power is already broken and limited. Satan is driven by his wrath, which
certainly takes the form of a threat (12.17), but his possibilities for success
are limited by God’s power: he is dangerous, but in the end a loser. For the
addressees of Revelation, Satanic deceptions in the extratextual world should
be viewed as bygone acts, because they will be exposed to a judgment that sets
God’s allies into their rights. The literary construction of Satan thus opens a
hermeneutic to interpret the world outside the story.
The addressees should thus read Revelation as both admonition and
exhortation, since both together emerge from the two facets of Satan’s
elimination in 20.10. The reader who understands the seer’s conception of
Satan as a powerless and conquered character will understand his or her own
place in society: those who keep God’s commands risk their lives, but they
will no longer be deceived by the social and political representations that the
text calls “Satanic.” Satan’s intent to deceive will thus be discredited by the
broken fascination of his power.
Satan’s Actions in Early Christian Time (Rev. 2–3): Present Time as the
Time for Surviving the Danger
Most occurrences of the term “Satan” in Revelation (five of eight references)

appear in the letters of proclamation in chapters 2–3. Taken together, these
letters form a critical interpretation and construction of the addressees’
situation,66 referring to passages from Scripture and to typical motifs from
their local settings. The seer analyses the social, political, and religious
66 Cf., e.g., B. Kowalski, “Das Verhältnis von Theologie und Zeitgeschichte in den
Sendschreiben der Johannes-Offenbarung,” in Backhaus (ed.), Theologie als Vision, 54–76, esp. 75.
situation of the addressees, and also their modes of religious and social
response to those situations. The main task is to promulgate the mode of
religious and ethical behavior that is recommended throughout the larger
story. The seer communicates praise and blame to the communities in the form
of a communication between the elevated Christ and a representative of each
community, the so-called “angels,” who are probably located in God’s sphere
in heaven as well.67 Each letter is an authoritative message to the addressees
that presents the model reader as someone who enjoys eschatological salvation
because s/he acts in accordance with the ethic proposed by the seer. The letters
of proclamation thus adopt an exemplary tone, reaching beyond the specific
local situations described in each of them.
(a) In Rev. 2.9 and 3.9, the reader meets the “synagogue of Satan” (συναγωγὴ
τοῦ σατανᾶ).68 People who belong to such “synagogues” in Smyrna (2.9) and
Philadelphia (3.9) claim that they are “Jews” (τῶν λεγόντων Ἰουδαίους
εἶναι). The seer characterizes this claim as false (οὐκ εἰσίν; 2.9) and, indeed, as
a “lie” (ψεύδονται; 3.9). This interpretation ties a social and religious entity, the
Jewish synagogue, to the literary construction of Satan. If Satan is an antagonist
of God and a liar, it follows that his synagogue and its people would share in the
same lie.
The label “synagogue of Satan” appears to parody LXX references to the
“synagogue of Israel” or “synagogue of Israelites” (e.g., Exod. 35.1, 4, 20; Lev.
4.13; 16.5, 17; 19.2; 22.18; Deut. 33.4). This alteration raises the question of why
particular synagogues are characterized as anti-divine and portrayed as a setting
for Satanic actions. The corresponding reference to the “blasphemy of those
who say they are Jews and are not” (2.9) is of crucial importance, but scholars
disagree on the meaning of this phrase. One solution interprets this “blasphemy”
through the lens of 2.10, which notes a danger originating from Satan that may
illustrate the effects of such blasphemy: “the Devil is about to cast some of
you into prison that you may be tested, and you will have tribulation.” Thus,
some members of the audience will be cast into prison in order to test the whole
community (ἐξ ὑμῶν … ἵνα πειρασθῆτε).69 The most likely interpretation
of the social-political reality behind this statement suggests that members of
the community “are reported by men outside the Church for withdrawing from
public life which means being enemies of the existing order and therefore being
67 The manuscripts evidence some variation, so one could at least ask if the most original
form of some letters leaves the location of the “angels” open; cf. M. Karrer, “The Angels of the
Congregations in Revelation – Textual History and Interpretation,” Acta Patristica et Byzantina
21 (2011) 57–84.
68 On the term and its different interpretations cf., e.g., P. Duff, “‘The Synagogue of
Satan’: Crisis Mongering and the Apocalypse of John,” in Barr (ed.), The Reality of Apocalypse,
147–168; D. Frankfurter, “Jews or Not? Reconstructing the ‘Other’ in Rev. 2:9 and 3:9,” HThR
94 (2001), 403–425; S. J. Friesen, “Sarcasm in Revelation 2–3,” 134–141; J. Lambrecht,
“‘Synagogues of Satan’ (Rev. 2:9 and 3:9): Anti-Judaism in the Book of Revelation,” in R.
Bieringer and D. Pollefeyt (eds.), Anti-Judaism and the Fourth Gospel: Papers of the Leuven
Colloquium, 2000 (Jewish and Christian Heritage Series, 1; Assen: Van Gorcum, 2001), 514–530.
69 Rev. 2.10b may allude to Dan 1.12, 14.
politically disloyal.”70 When 2.10 calls the source of such action the “devil”
instead of “Satan” (2.9), this modification does not refer to a different source or
situation but rather reflects a typical literary variation that occurs several times
in Revelation.
The blasphemy of the synagogue thus does not consist in a verbal attack
against God, but rather in precise actions by members of the synagogue who play
into Satan’s hands by accusing Christians. As Wengst notes, the blasphemers
here “are men who act,”71 and these men/women belong to different social and
religious parties that are closely connected to Satan. The action of men and
women inside (and possibly outside) the text is presented as an action of Satan/
the Devil, a characterization that clearly serves a rhetorical purpose. Because
these activities are described as “Satanic,” they should be understood within the
larger literary conception of Satan developed in the story of Revelation.
Compared to the letter to Smyrna, the letter to Philadelphia (3.7-13) is less
precise in explaining why a certain “synagogue” is charged with collusion with
Satan. Here the reference to a “synagogue of Satan” is associated with acts of
honoring Christ, which the members of this group will be forced to perform.72
The seer does not explain, however, why such forced subjugation is merited.
One reason can be deduced from the positive praise given to the community,
who adhere to the word and name of the risen Christ (καὶ ἐτήρησάς μου τὸν
λόγον καὶ οὐκ ἠρνήσω τὸ ὄνομά μου; 3.8; see also v. 10). Such terminology
points to a situation in which effort is required to keep the word and the name
of the risen Christ (cf. 12.17).73 In 3.10, this same situation is described as an
“hour of temptation” (ὥρα τοῦ πειρασμοῦ), recalling the language of 2.10.
The combined references to “temptation” and the “synagogue of Satan” thus
reasonably suggest that the situation envisioned in Philadelphia is parallel to that
already mentioned in Smyrna.
Taking Rev. 2.9-10 and 3.8-10 together, the seer envisions a situation of arrest
and imprisonment as the result of behavior that opposes the general religious and
political norms of society. Such arrests seem to be provoked by the denunciation
of Christians by members of the “synagogue of Satan.” A similar situation
is described in the letters of Pliny and Trajan,74 which speak of a practice of
denouncing Christians that leads to their arrest and interrogations by members
of the state, who attempt to force them to curse Christ (“maledicerent Christo”).
Such denunciations urge the accused to abandon their belief and to bring an
offering to Caesar instead of Christ or suffer the death penalty (cf. the mention
of Antipas in Rev. 2.13).75 One may assume that Jews sometimes participated
70 Wengst, “The Devil in the Revelation of St John,” 69.

71 Wengst, “The Devil in the Revelation of St John,” 69.
72 Cf. Satake, Die Offenbarung des Johannes, 182.
73 U. B. Müller, Die Offenbarung des Johannes (ÖTbK, 19; Gütersloh: Gütersloher
Verlag and Würzburg: Echter, 1984), 130.
74 E.g., Wengst, “The Devil in the Revelation of St John,” 69.
75 See Klauck on the link between killing the “loyal witness” (ὁ μάρτυς μου ὁ πιστός
μου) Antipas and the characterization of the Roman treatment of accused Christians according
to the letters between Pliny and Trajan: H.-J. Klauck, “Das Sendschreiben nach Pergamon und
der Kaiserkult in der Johannesoffenbarung,” Bib 73 (1992), 153–182, esp. 161–163: “Nach
diesem Modell dürfen wir uns das Schicksal des Antipas am ehesten vorstellen. Er war sozial
in such denunciations,76 perhaps simply as a way of protecting themselves.

If this is indeed the case, then such a situation might be taken as the most
reasonable background for Rev. 2.9-10 and 3.8b-10a. Hence, the seer identifies
the synagogue with anti-divine actions by Satan and exhorts the reader to keep
the witness. Read against the seer’s larger conception, the testing of Christians
is a test of one’s ability to survive the danger caused by Satan, whose power has
already been overcome by God. Surviving these attacks (i.e., maintaining the
Christian confession) allows one to participate in Satan’s loss of power and to
view him as a powerless loser.
On the level of the text, Satan stands for the Roman administrators, who are
identified with Satan inasmuch as the risen Christ explicitly characterizes their
actions as the deeds of Satan. According to the seer’s construction of reality,
Christians are exposed to the direct actions of Satan himself. The wrath of the
besieged devil (12.17) is a danger for the social integrity of the community
and its members. Knowing that God is truly the victorious one will empower
believers to endure Satan’s schemes. However, Satan and his followers, who
have been deceived by him, will be defeated. Once more, exhortation and
admonition merge in the story.
(b) According to Rev. 2.13, the community at Pergamum lives near the “throne of
Satan” (κατοικεῖς, ὅπου ὁ θρόνος τοῦ σατανᾶ).77 Indeed, Satan himself
auffällig geworden aufgrund seiner neuen, vom Glauben bestimmten Lebenspraxis und hatte eine
Anzeige provoziert. Im Gerichtsverfahren verweigerte er das Opfer vor Götter- und Kaiserbild, er
bekannte sich weiter zu Jesus als seinem Herrn, anstatt ihn, wie es Plinius forderte, zu verfluchen.
Das kostete ihn das Leben [We may imagine what, at best, was the fate of Antipas according to
this model. He became socially conspicuous due to his new way of life dominated by faith, and
consequently provoked a complaint. In court proceedings, he refused to make an offering in front
of the statues of the gods and the emperor, continuing to confess Jesus as Lord instead of cursing
him as Pliny demanded. That cost him his life].”
76 In the context of λεγόντων ἑαυτούς, Söding, “Siegertypen,” 342, envisions a group
of people who sympathize with Jewish synagogues or who hide themselves behind the Jews.
77 The city of Pergamum received the allowance to build a temple for the veneration
of Dea Roma and Augustus in 29 bce; this may be the predecessor to the later temple of Trajan:
Klauck, “Das Sendschreiben nach Pergamon,” 158–159. In 20 bce a statue of Augustus was
erected in the yard of the temple of Athene. This means that particular elements of the imperial
cult were present in Pergamum either in architecture or in cultic matters, providing an adequate
backdrop to references to the “throne of Satan” in Pergamum (see also the reference in H.
Koester [ed.], Pergamon, Citadel of the Gods: Archaeological Record, Literary Description,
and Religious Development [HTS, 46; Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press, 1998]; W. Radt, Pergamon.
Geschichte und Bauten einer antiken Metropole [Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft,
1999]). Thus, it is not necessary to limit the reference at Rev. 2.13 to the single temple for Roman
imperial veneration which was later erected under Hadrian.
According to Resseguie (The Revelation of John, 91 with note 29), there is no need
to identify any specific place with “the throne of Satan.” It is a “counterfeit” to God’s throne, by
which the text raises the question: “Who rules?” (ibid., 109; referring to E. Schüssler Fiorenza,
Revelation: Vision of a Just World [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1981], 58, 120). However, the “throne
of Satan” is located in one specific city in the seven letters and it is also referred to as the place
where Satan dwells. Although I do not deny that “throne of Satan” carries a general meaning,
characterizing Roman power as a representation of Satanic rule on earth, the reference in the letter
to Pergamum links the symbolic meaning with a distinct place that represents that power and its
interpretation in the story.
lives in this city (ὁ σατανᾶς κατοικεῖ). The term κατοικεῖν may suggest both
a geographical and a symbolic interpretation. Symbolically, the term “throne
of Satan” forms a semantic line that points to the “throne of the dragon” (13.2)
and the “throne of the beast” (16.10), linking the letters of proclamation to the
visionary section of the book. The bridging element may be seen in the desire
of the latter figures (dragon and beast) to obtain anti-divine power, which is first
seized by the beast from the sea (13.2, 4) and then by the dragon. The throne
of Satan in Pergamum belongs to this same complex, since it represents power.
According to Revelation, Christians are threatened by anti-divine religious
and social power; in the face of this power, they must maintain the name of
Christ and belief in him even in the face of death, as in the case of the only
Christian martyr mentioned by name in the book, Antipas (2.13). The wording
(οὐκ) ἠρνήσω τὴν πίστιν μου (“you did not deny my faith,” 2.13) recalls
the term maledicere as used by Pliny the Younger (Ep. X 96.5). The anti-divine
claim of power depicted in the throne of Satan realizes itself in the pressure on
Christians to reject their belief. Christian belief is nothing more than superstition
from a Roman perspective (superstitio), yet this Roman perspective is, in turn,
reckoned as Satanic by Christians. Geographically, the reference to the “throne
of Satan” takes its precise locus on the acropolis in Pergamum with its places
of Roman imperial veneration. The danger for the community and its members
is heightened by the fact that the anti-divine claim comes to them in an ongoing
and visually fascinating presence of power located in their home city.
Thus, the presence of Satan is clearly visible in institutions and places outside
the Christian community. But while these are outside, Satan is still a particular
danger for the existence of the community, challenging it to maintain the word
of God and the name of the risen Christ and to persist in their belief.
(c) In contrast to the proclamations to Smyrna and Pergamum, the letter to the
community in Thyatira addresses an inner-Christian debate. Rev. 2.24 refers to
the teaching of the female prophet “Jezebel” mentioned in Rev. 2.20-21,78 whose
doctrines are not shared by those addressees whom the seer holds in positive
regard.79 Her teaching is a divergent one (τὴν διδαχὴν ταύτην). The seer refers
to a Christian group who are, in his view, self-deceived (ὡς λέγουσιν) and who
assert that they know “the deep things of Satan” (τὰ βαθέα τοῦ σατανᾶ). It is
difficult to determine whether the term “deep things of Satan” is to be taken as
a quotation of their doctrine80 or simply reflects the larger conception of Satan
developed in the story.
The teaching of Jezebel is clearly portrayed as a false and dangerous doctrine
(2.20). She calls herself a prophetess and “teaches and leads my bond-servants
astray, so that they commit acts of immorality and eat things sacrificed to idols”
(διδάσκει καὶ πλανᾷ τοὺς ἐμοὺς δούλους πορνεῦσαι καὶ φαγεῖν
78 Cf. Satake, Offenbarung des Johannes, 173.

79 The difference between blame in 2.20 and praise in 2.24 is indicated by divergent
terms mentioning tolerating (ἀφεῖς) in v. 20 and embracing teaching (ἔχουσιν τὴν διδαχὴν
ταύτην) in v. 24.
80 Cf., e.g., Satake, Offenbarung des Johannes, 173; J.-W. Taeger, “Begründetes
Schweigen. Paulus und paulinische Tradition in der Johannesapokalypse,” in idem, Johanneische
Perspektiven. Aufsätze zur Johannesapokalypse und zum johanneischen Kreis 1984–2003 (ed.
D. C. Bienert and D.-A. Koch; FRLANT, 215; Göttingen: V&R, 2006), 121–138, esp. 130.
εἰδωλόθυτα). The terms used here indicate the seer’s primary concern: Jezebel
is too open to the religious claims of the environment, especially those of Roman
rule, apparently in response to economic necessities.81 The accusation of idolatry
is often used in the OT to blame the Israelites for the veneration of foreign cults,
rather than to criticize bodily/moral misdeeds, and thus may be viewed here as
a rhetorical commonplace (cf. Hos. 2.4-17; Isa. 1.21; 57.7-13; Jer. 3.1–4,4;
Ezek. 16.15-22; 23). In contrast, the accusation of eating sacrificial meat offered
to foreign deities could reflect historical realities.82 For Jezebel, taking part in
ancient social life was not a form of compromise, even in cases involving certain
religious practices and customs. Becoming aware of the “deep things of Satan”
means to realize his ineffectiveness and, consequently, to adopt a posture that
allows participation. A similar notion is evident in 1 Cor. 8.4, and may thus be
recognized as emerging from Pauline ideas.83 Obviously, the seer agrees that
Christians should acknowledge their victory over the anti-divine world; his main
point of disagreement with Jezebel relates to his interpretation of the present time.
According to Jezebel, Satan is a loser who no longer has influence over the lives
of Christians; according to the seer, Satan is ultimately defeated but still may
lead people astray. Christians are endangered by the Devil’s deceit and may share
his eschatological annihilation. The seer therefore does not permit compromise,
opting instead for a radical escape from current social structures (cf. 18.4).84
Jezebel’s teaching is characterized as an act of deceit, and it is not coincidental
that the same verb is used to characterize Satan. Since the seer allows for no
compromise, the teaching of the Christian prophetess is seen as similar to the
actions of Satan. It follows that the seer regards every posture of openness toward
society and its political or religious claims as reflecting the mood of Satan. The
classification of anti-divine actions comes as a strong rhetorical impetus, similar
to the mode of discourse in ancient polemical statements (e.g., the term “sons of
darkness” in the Dead Sea Scrolls) that serve a destructive rhetorical strategy.85
The rhetorical impulse seeks to change the addressees’ mind, but it also builds
social boundaries within the Christian community. Such demonization is a
typical element of ancient rhetorical discourse, but this fact does not prevent
modern exegetes from adopting a critical posture toward the text.86
(d) Another pillar of the seer’s model for interpreting present times may be found in
the cycle of visions in Rev. 12.18–13.18. Rev. 13 is crucial for the understanding
of Satan and his power, because the beast from the sea, which represents Roman
81 Klauck, “Das Sendschreiben nach Pergamon,” 167.

82 Giesen, “Das Römische Reich im Spiegel der Johannesapokalypse,” 141: “Teilnahme
an heidnischen Festmählern [participation in pagan banquets].”
83 Differently, Kalms, Der Sturz des Gottesfeindes, 25, who puts the claim in line with
Pauline tradition: “Dies nimmt vermutlich den mit I Kor 2,10 formulierten eigenen Anspruch der
Irrlehrer auf, ‘die Tiefen Gottes’ (τὰ βάθη τοῦ θεοῦ) erkannt zu haben [Presumably, it takes up
the claim of the false teachers of 1 Cor 2.10 to have knowledge of the ‘depth of God’ (τά βάθη
τοῦ θεοῦ)].”
84 Cf. Scholtissek, “Mitteilhaber an der Bedrängnis,” 172–207.
85 Cf., e.g., D. Sänger, “Literarische Strategien der Polemik im Galaterbrief,” in O.
Wischmeyer and L. Scornaienchi (eds.), Polemik in der frühchristlichen Literatur. Texte und
Kontexte (BZNW, 170; Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 2011), 155–181, esp. 172.
86 See Schüssler Fiorenza, “The Words of Prophecy,” 17–18.
power and its political leader(s), is depicted as carrying out the rule of Satan
with the permission of God himself. In the mode of visual perception, the seer
offers a construction of the social, religious, and political world of his addressees
with regard to Roman imperial power.87 The wrath of Satan is here much more
concrete, taking the form of offering his power to the beast from the sea (13.2:
καὶ ἔδωκεν αὐτῷ ὁ δράκων τὴν δύναμιν αὐτοῦ καὶ τὸν θρόνον αὐτοῦ
καὶ ἐξουσίαν μεγάλην) and to the second beast, which is linked to the first
by exercising power on its authority (13.12). As far as the second beast exercises
the power of the first beast, who again represents Roman imperial power, it
exercises its claim to authority (τὴν ἐξουσίαν τοῦ πρώτου θηρίου πᾶσαν
ποιεῖ ἐνώπιον αὐτου) predominantly in public and ritual acts. Often the
second beast has been identified with the priesthood of the imperial cult,88 a
thesis that is highly plausible. This thesis fits with the active nature of the figure
of Rev. 13.11ff, highlighting its unity and diversity compared to the first beast,
and also fits with the categorization of this figure as a pseudo-prophet in 16.13,
19.20, and 20.10. The cultic aspect of claiming authority is important, since it
means danger for Jesus’ adherents and since it forms the anti-divine claim of
Roman authority that is present in these figures.
The fascination that imperial power generates is depicted in a vivid sensory
fashion through the portraits of both beasts. Their actions emerge from power
and melt into a scene of religious authority,89 as it is presented in Rev. 13.3ff. At
the same time, the seer presents this spectacle as an imitation of Christological
as well as soteriological demands.90 However, the real reader understands this
spectacle as a parody of Christ, as evident from the fact that common elements
in the portraits of these beasts and the Lamb/Christ reveal that the former are
inferior in both their nature and their claims to power. These common elements
include the performance of signs (13.13), which deceive the inhabitants of the
earth (13.14a: καὶ πλανᾷ τοὺς κατοικοῦντας ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς); bringing life to
people (13.15); horns like those of the Lamb (13.11 and 13.1); and, the lethal
wound healing itself (13.13a, 14b; see also 13.3). Sometimes the vision of the
beast in Rev. 13 is reckoned as a counter depiction of the Lamb.91 The dragon as
a source of power (13.4a: καὶ προσεκύνησαν τῷ δράκοντι, ὅτι ἔδωκεν τὴν
ἐξουσίαν τῷ θηρίῳ), just like the beast exercising authority, obtains divine
veneration (13.4, 8, 12); refusal to venerate him would lead to death (13.15).
87 See Söding, “Siegertypen,” 335, who correctly sees a mixture of allusions to imperial
veneration in Rev. 13.
88 See, e.g., Aune, Revelation, 756; Gielen, “Satanssturz und Gottesherrschaft,” 168;
Klauck, “Das Sendschreiben nach Pergamon,” 173.
89 Cf. the impressive interpretation of “looking on the backside of the animal and
being amazed” in Rev. 13.3b regarded as a depiction of fascination by the beast by D. Pezzoli-
Olgiati, “Between Fascination and Destruction: Considerations on the Power of the Beast in Rev.
13:1–10,” in M. Labahn and J. Zangenberg (eds.), Zwischen den Reichen. Neues Testament und
Römische Herrschaft (TANZ, 36; Tübingen and Basel: Francke, 2002), 229–237.
90 Cf., e.g., D. Pezzoli Olgiati, Täuschung und Klarheit. Zur Wechselwirkung zwischen
Vision und Geschichte in der Johannesoffenbarung (FRLANT, 175; Göttingen: V&R, 1997),
128 on Rev. 13.3.
91 Schnelle, Theologie des Neuen Testaments, 720: “Tiervision … als Gegenbild zur
Heilsgestalt des Lammes.”
However, the narrator clearly states that any distribution of power is finally the
prerogative of God, who permits all these acts. Such a statement might seem
puzzling, but ultimately the seer keeps everything under God’s control, a strategy
that again might serve to comfort the reader.92
The venerators of the beasts include Christians who cannot resist the
fascination of Roman imperial power (cf. 13.8: all inhabitants on earth worship
the beasts, secondarily excluding those whose names are written in the Book
of Life). The defeat of Satan and his final elimination provide a counter to the
fascination that their power generates, which is judged by the value system of the
text as anti-divine.
The seer of Revelation uses the literary concept of “Satan” every time he
wishes to confront difficult circumstances, especially in the seven letters to the
churches. At first glance, it is all about political and administrative power. This
theme is particularly prominent in cases of persecution, which are also initiated
by members of Jewish synagogues in the region where Revelation was written—
for this reason, such “Jews” are counted on the side of Satan rather than God.
The letters of proclamation represent religious as well as social dimensions of
Roman imperial power under the mask of Satan (12.18–13.18). They illustrate
the outcome of Satan’s defeat on earth, where he fights a desperate battle fueled
by his great wrath. Considering Rev. 12.17, the letters of proclamation, and the
multiple exhortations to maintain faith, it becomes quite obvious that the Lamb’s
victory over Satan implicitly means that all Christians can survive the dangers
of the present time. Revelation admonishes its readers to stand against the fallen
and seized one.
Conclusion
In Revelation, the figure of Satan, which is not without reason suspect to

modern minds,93 is translated through a literary construct into the dangerous
loser. Revelation is shaped to give encouragement and exhortation to its
addressees, as can be demonstrated from the narrative concept of the figure
of Satan. The aim is to combine two opposed realities: the dangers that
come with life in a society which the seer views as anti-divine in character,
and God’s ongoing protection of those who adhere to him. The story brings
comfort and, simultaneously, admonishes the addressees to endure the danger
by being aware of the eschatological powerlessness of the present powers and
their political representatives.
The acts of God and his heavenly allies create an atmosphere of
encouragement, since God has already seized anti-divine authority94 and will
92 Cf., e.g., Pezzoli Olgiati, Täuschung und Klarheit, 141.

93 Cf., e.g., E. Pagels, The Origin of Satan (New York: Random House, 1995).
94 Cf., e.g., Thomas, Magical Motifs, 144: “The main vision conveyed by John throughout
the Apocalypse is that God and Jesus are sovereign rulers of the universe and that nothing occurs
outside the realm of their power… . John has created a literary environment in which the tension
between what existed and what ought to exist is heightened and clarified. Distinctions are drawn
ultimately assert his rule. The anti-divine power is limited and, consequently,
Revelation presents the anti-divine power as a caricature through the
eschatological preview in Rev. 20. Showing that political power depends on
Satan, a dangerous loser, creates a subversive plot, so that Roman rule can
no longer be seen as glorious and powerful. Yet the bound Satan remains a
dangerous figure to the addressees of the narrative so long as those addressees
permit the anti-divine authority represented by Roman rule to deceive them
with its fascinating power. On earth, there is still danger, to which Christians
must respond by keeping God’s commandments and maintaining the witness
for Christ while also drawing a sharp line between themselves and the world
outside the community. Maintaining one’s witness for Christ and refusing the
anti-divine power has consequences for eternal life, consequences that the seer
presents in his visions in a radical way.95
The point of Revelation’s literary conception is not historical speculation
about an uncertain future or the development of some kind of chart to outline
God’s impending actions. Interpreting Revelation as a literary entity created
to build meaning (Sinnbildung) helps one understand the text’s concept of
Satan. The figure of Satan, whose depiction combines divergent motifs from
the Jewish encyclopedia and lacks any detailed determination, is adequate
for creating a new construction of meaning. Revelation presents itself as
such a new construction,96 taking up aspects of tradition, combining some
familiar elements, and deleting others that did not fit. The motif of Satan’s fall
from heaven works as a catalyst for the construction transmitted through the
memory of Jesus (cf. Lk. 10.18).
The fact that the seer begins to develop the concept of Satan with the
proclamations to the seven communities demonstrates that the seer intends to
interpret the situation of his addressees through his use of this figure, giving
them a general orientation for their lives and also providing exhortation
and admonition. His story develops new insights into good and evil, divine
and anti-divine, to allow the readers to understand their experiences from
a different perspective. There is a hermeneutical function in the concept of
Satan that can thus been seen in providing a glimpse into past time (i.e., the
fall of Satan) and into future time (i.e., the final defeat of Satan), all deduced
from a perspective on God’s actions and God’s power. Such a strategy seeks to
interpret the present time and to shape each addressee’s duties in life according
to the claims and the value system developed within the narrative (i.e., how
to live in the time of the wrath of Satan). Political authority, described as a
between the rule of God and the rule of Satan, between the rule of Christ and the rule of Caesar,
using Symbols representing the rule of each.”
95 Revelation uses the theme of “resurrection” to establish a counter reality to the
addressees’ world and, ultimately, to change this reality by reversing the current structures of
power; cf. Labahn, “The Resurrection of the Followers of the Lamb.”
96 Cf., e.g., the votum of Henrike Frey-Anthes, art. “Satan,” WiBiLex, 2008, www.
wibilex.de (last accessed May 16, 2009): “Die Konzepte der Satansgestalt weisen im Alten
Testament keine einheitliche Linie auf.”
Satanic entity, is an actual danger for their present lives, one that threatens the
social and physical integrity of the members of the Christian community but
that also inspires them to become more sober in following Christ. The Jewish-
Christian author of Revelation regards such a situation as effected by the anti-
divine power whose actions he identifies as deeds of God’s opponent, Satan.
This power can only be understood as a besieged one, as presented in the
narrative of Revelation. The ultimate power behind Satan is God, who tolerates
Satanic deeds (13.7). Creating such a structure, the seer takes the danger of
his addressees as a reality and places a high emphasis on the possibility of
fighting against this power and calling for resistance. Comfort comes from the
conviction that the anti-divine actions derive from an already-besieged power,
leading the reader into an awareness of the possibility of surviving the danger
and of the need to step voluntarily into a life on the edge of society.
Chapter 12
“Evil is not a Nature”: Origen on Evil and the Devil

Anna Tzvetkova-Glaser
Origen’s conception of evil and its fate is one of the most controversial
topics in Origenian research. As G. Sfameni Gasparro states, it is impossible
to segregate Origen from his historical background.1 Indeed, the dualism of
Gnostics and Marcionists influenced the discussions concerning evil in the first
centuries of Christian thought. According to some Gnostic texts the Demiourg
was part of the evil forces or he had a psychic nature and a middle position
between God and the demons.2 The Gnostics and the Marcionists accepted the
existence of an evil principle, independent of God and struggling against him.
The first Christian writers who polemicized against this dualistic conception
(Tatian, Tertullian, Clement of Alexandria), accepted the Jewish interpretation
of the Devil and his ministrants as fallen angels. The conception that the fallen
angels have been chased from paradise because of their own sins permitted
Christian writers to refuse the existence of something ontologically wicked.
As we will see, Origen follows this logic and puts new accents on it.
1 Cf. G. Sfameni Gasparro, “Eguaglianza di natura e differenza di condizione dei

λογικοί: la soluzione origeniana nel contesto delle formule antropologiche e demonologiche
greche del II e III sec.,” in R. J. Daly (ed.), Origeniana Quinta, Papers of the 5th International
Congress, Boston College, 14–18 August 1989 (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum
Lovaniensum, 105; Leuven: Peeters/Leuven University Press, 1992), 301–319, esp. 301–303.
2 Cf. Iren., haer. 1.5.4, Irénée de Lyon, Contre les Hérésies. Livre I, Tome II: texte et
traduction. Édition critique par A. Rousseau et L. Doutreleau (SC, 264; Paris: Cerf, 1979); A.
Monaci Castagno, Il diavolo e i suoi angeli, Testi e tradizioni (Secoli I–III) (Fiesole: Nardini,
1996), 77–80, 230–232; G. Filoramo, “Aspetti della demonologia gnostica,” in E. Corsini and E.
Costa (eds.), L’autunno del diavolo, Convegno di Torino 17–21 Ottobre 1988 (Milano: Bompiani,
1990), 1:199–213; G. Filoramo, Tra demoni e diavoli gnostici, in S. Pricoco (ed.), Il Demonio
ed i suoi complici. Dottrine e credenze demonologiche nella tarda antichità (Soveria Mannelli:
Rubbettino, 1995), 151–168; H. Struwolf, Gnosis als System. Zur Rezeption der valentianischen
Gnosis bei Origenes (Göttingen: V&R, 1993), 106–107 (on the Epistle of Ptolemaeus to Flora
according to Epiph., Panarion 33.7, 5–7); E. Grypeu, “Dämonologie der koptisch-gnostischen
Literatur,” in Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard Römheld (eds.), Die
Dämonen. Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext
ihrer Umwelt [Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in
Context of their Environment] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 600–609.
“Evil is not a Nature” 181
The Origin of Evil
Origen’s starting-point is the conception that all the world, both the visible
and invisible, is an act of work of only one Creator.3 This conception is very
significant for our proposal, because it means that no nature exists outside
of God. As God is perfectly good, He cannot create something wicked.4
Origen accepts that all beings have been created good. In Origen’s model of
thought there is nothing ontologically wicked. In one of the fragments from
his Commentary on Genesis, he is reflecting on Gen. 2.17. Concerning the
tree of the knowledge of good and evil, he says that the tree offered only the
possibility of knowing what is not good, because “evil is not a nature.”5 This
interpretation shows that Origen does not accept the conception of evil forces
as being such by nature. It is a clear polemic against the Gnostic teaching of
the different natures of beings.
In Origen’s opinion, the fact that the world is not perfect and that there are
forces adversarial toward God is explained through the fall of rational beings. It
is well known that Origen understands the creation of the world as undertaken in
two stages: the first concerns the creation of rational beings, the second concerns
the creation of the material world after the fall of rational beings. Rational
beings, according to Origen, are those who existed primarily.6 They are part of
the invisible world, but they have probably some kind of body. For, despite the
controversial opinions expressed in Origen’s works concerning the corporeality
of rational beings, it seems plausible that he accepted the Trinity as the only
purely spiritual and completely bodiless reality.7 All the creatures distinguish
themselves qualitatively from the Trinity and have a body. A further characteristic
of the creatures is their changeability. The ontological changeableness allows that
rational beings have a free will and the possibility to change their condition.8
Origen understands the fall of rational beings as an act of disobedience.
Because of their disobedience and sin, rational beings removed themselves
from God. Origen derives the etymology of ψυχή from ψύχομαι (to become
cold), as a consequence of moving away from God.9 The sin of rational
3 Princ. Praef. 4; ComJo 1.102, Origenes, Johanneskommentar, ed. E. Preuschen (GCS,

10; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1903).
4 Cf. Cels. 6.55–56 (SC).
5 Fr. in Gen. 279 (Petit): Οὐκ ἔστι τὸ ξύλον τὸ γνωστὸν καλοῦ καὶ πονηροῦ
ἐν τῷ παραδείσῳ, ἀλλ’ἐν μέσῳ τοῦ παραδείσου. Οὐκ εἴρηται· ἀπὸ ξύλου τοῦ καλοῦ
καὶ πονηροῦ – οὐ γὰρ ἦν οὕτω· τὸ γὰρ πονηρὸν οὐκ ἔστι φύσις – ἀλλ’εἴρηται· ἀπὸ δὲ
καρποῦ τοῦ ξύλου τοῦ γινώσκειν καλὸν καὶ πονηρὸν, οὐ γεύσασθε. Ὅπερ καὶ ἐν τῷ
παραδείσῳ ἦν, καὶ οὐκ ἦν ἐν τῷ παραδείσῳ, καὶ τοῦτο νόει.
6 Cf. Princ. 1.2,2.
7 Cf. Princ. 1.6,4; 2.2,2; 4.3,15; the text of De principiis has been cited according to
Origenes Werke, V, De principiis, ed. P. Koetschau (GCS; Origenes, 5; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1913).
8 Cf. Princ. 2.9,2.
9 Cf. Princ. 2.8.3; A. C. L. Jacobsen, “The Construction of Man according to Irenaeus
and Origen,” in B. Feichtiger, S. Lake, and H. Seng (eds.), Körper und Seele, Aspekte spätantiker
Anthropologie (München: Saur, 2006), 67–93, esp. 85–86.
beings was possible because of their free will.10 This process of removing
themselves from God finishes with the creation of the material world,11 which
was completed by God as both punishment for the transgression, and the
framework that allows the correction of fallen rational beings.
Where is the place of the Devil in this process? According to his conception
of the fall of rational beings, Origen thinks that they obtained different bodies.
Those who committed the biggest sins fell very deep. They are the adverse
forces. Despite their fall, they remained, just like the good angels, some
kind of middle-beings, lower than God and higher than man. This concept
corresponds to the meaning of δαίμων in Greek and Roman mythology, in
which it was understood as a mediator between gods and human beings.12
As we will see, Origen adopted this concept consciously and applied it in
polemical contexts.
In De principiis 1.5.2-4 Origen comments on the different kinds of angels
and their nature. The angels belong to rational beings who dispose of a free
will and have the possibility to sin. Because, if they could not sin, we should
conclude that they did not have free will and that there are some species of
angels that are ontologically wicked. Because it is absurd to ascribe to God
any kind of injustice, Origen has to accept that the goodness of the first ones
and the wickedness of the second ones are due to their free will.13 Fallen from
God, they are moving away from goodness and become less good. In his
Commentary on John, Origen says that wickedness is the absence of existence,
as only goodness exists.14
Speaking about the Devil, Origen uses different notions: “diabolus,” “Satan,”
“the adversary of God,” or simply “the wicked.” Other notions he uses concerning
the wicked forces, are “angeli diaboli,” “potestates,” “principes mundi huius,”
“rectores tenebrarum,” “daemones immundi,” “spiritalia malitia in coelestibus,”
“δαίμων,” “δυνάμεις ἀντικείμεναι,” etc.15 Origen is uncertain about the
kinds of wicked forces and their inner interdependence on each other. He says
that he does not know anything about the hierarchy of the wicked forces.16 Unlike
Tatian, Origen does not accept the primary role of one fallen angel. According to
Tatian, the Devil was the firstborn of God, who disposed of an excellent intellect
and many talents and seduced the other fallen angels to follow him.17 Origen is
very careful and tries to avoid a hierarchy of the fallen angels. In similar ways he
10 Cf. Princ. 1.5.1.

11 Cf. Princ. 2.311.
12 Cf. for example, Plato, Theag. 128 d-2; Ti 90 a.
13 Cf. Princ. 1.51.3.
14 ComJo 2.191–192.
15 See A. Monaci Castagno, “Diavolo,” in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Origene,
Dizionario, la cultura, il pensiero, le opere (Roma: Città Nuova, 2000).
16 Cf. Princ. 1.5.2. Diaboli igitur nomen et Satanae et maligni in multis scripturae locis
designatur, qui et inimicus dei esse describitur. Necnon et quidam “angeli diaboli” nominantur, sed
et “princeps mundi huius”, qui utrum sit dabolus aut alius quis, nondum manifeste declaratum est.
17 Cf. Orat. 7–8, Tatiani Oratio ad Graecos, ed. M. Marcovich (Berlin: de Gruyter,
1995).
speaks also about the “good angels,” who did not sin through their free will and
stayed by God. Origen knows the different notions like “potestates,” “throni,”
etc., transmitted by the Scripture, but he does not want to engage himself in
discussions concerning the different angelical species.18
The fallen angels are responsible for their own sin.19 In the section 1.2.3 of
De principiis, concerning the fall of the angels, Origen does not comment on
the possible sins. Searching for testimonies from the Old Testament, which
prove the existence of the wicked beings, he cites Isa. 14.12-22 on Lucifer.20
The Isaiah-text explains that Lucifer’s sin consisted of arrogance: “adscendam
in caelum, supra stellas caeli ponam thronum meum, sedebo in monte excelso
supra montes excelsos, qui sunt ad aquilonem, adscendam super nubes, ero
similis altissimo.” Arrogance and the desire to be like God provoked the fall
of Lucifer (nunc autem in infernum demergeris et in fundamenta terrae).
Combining Isa. 14.12-22 and Lk. 10.18 Origen shows that light and thunder
belong to the typical signs of Lucifer, because his origin is celestial.21 Here,
Origen is polemicizing against certain opponents who believed that Lucifer
belonged by nature to darkness (natura tenebrarum). He is very likely arguing
against Gnostic or Marcionite opponents. Indeed, Origen knows the allegory
of darkness/sin versus light/moral integrity, which he uses in the Homilies
on Genesis 1.1,22 but this allegorical interpretation has a typical moral and
didactic character, which was probably too simple for his discussion in De
principiis. Origen understands the force of the wicked beings as limited to the
material world. It is why the Devil has been called “a ruler of this world.”23
Very interesting accents are to be found in Against Celsus 3.29 and 3.37,
in which Origen deals with pagan deities. Origen agrees to ascribe to them
18 Cf. Princ. 1.5.3: Igitur tot et tantis ordinum officiorumque nominibus cognominatis,
quibus certe est subesse substantias, requirendum est, utrum conditor et creator omnium deus
quosdam quidem ex his ita sanctos fecerit et beatos, ut nihil possint recipere omnino contrarium,
et quosdam ita fecerit, ut possint tam virtuti quam malitiae esse capaces; aut putandum est quod
alios ita fecerit, ut omnino incapaces sint ad virtutem, et alios malitiam quidem nequaquam posse
recipere, solummodo autem posse in beatitudine permanere, alios vero tales, qui possint utraque
recipere.
19 Cf. Princ. 1.5.2 : Tum deinde sciendum est quia omne quod rationabile est et rationis
terminos statutaque declinat, sine dubio per praevaricationem recti iustique efficitur in peccato.
Est ergo omnis creatura rationabilis laudis et culpae capax; laudis, si secundum rationem, quam
in se habet, ad meliora proficiat, culpae, si rationem recti tenoremque declinet; propter quod
recte etiam poenis ac suppliciis subiacet. Quod etiam de ipso diabolo et his, qui cum ipso sunt et
dicuntur eius angeli, sentiendum est.
20 Cf. Princ. 1.5.5.
21 Princ. 1.5.2.
22 Cf. Hom. in Gen. 1.1; Baehrens: Invisibilis et incomposita terra erat, antequam Deus
diceret: fiat lux et antequam divideret inter lucem et tenebras, secundum quod sermonis ordo
declarat. Verum quoniam in consequentibus firmamentum iubet fieri et hoc coelum appellatum
ratio coeli firmamentique dicetur, cur etiam firmamentum appellatum sit coelum. Nunc autem ait:
tenebrae erant super abyssum (Gen 1.2). Quae est abyssus? Illa nimirum in qua erit diabolus et
angeli eius.
23 Cf. ibid.
a certain kind of superiority over human beings, but only like angels, who
proclaimed themselves gods and seduced man to consider them gods and to
make primitive material sacrifices.24 We will deal with the demonization of
the pagan deities in the following paragraph, but now it is important to state
that Origen mentions in this case also self-divinization as a sin of the angels.
It is also essential to note that the angels were not tempted by an external
force, as there was nothing wicked at the time of their fall. This is the main
difference between the sin of the angels and the transgressions of human
beings, who are tempted by wicked forces.
An important exegetical tradition, mentioned by Philo,25 1 Enoch26 and
Tertullian,27 found an approbation of the doctrine of the fallen angels in
the biblical narration in Gen. 6.1-4. Origen does not consider Gen. 6 very
important. He alludes to the text only cursorily, as in his Homily on Joshua
15.3, in order to show that sexual desire was also one of the vices and sins of
the fallen angels.28
The Pagan Deities, Represented Like Demons
A. Monaci Castagno studied Origen’s different mentions of the adversary

forces29 and stated that the substantive δαίμων is useful in the polemics
24 Cels. 3.29, Borret: Περὶ δὲ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ εἴποιμεν ἂν ἐπεὶ συμφέρον ἦν τῷ τῶν
ἀνθρώπων γένει παραδέξασθαι αὐτὸν ὡς υἱὸν θεοῦ, θεὸν ἐληλυθότα ἐν ἀνθρωπίνῃ
ψυχῇ καὶ σώματι, καὶ οὐκ ἐδόκει τοῦτο τῇ λιχνείᾳ τῶν φιλοσωμάτων δαιμόνων καὶ
τῶν νομιζόντων αὐτοὺς θεοὺς εἶναι λυσιτελές, διὰ τοῦθ’οἱ μὲν ἐπὶ γῆς δαίμονες,
παρὰ τοῖς μὴ παιδευθεῖσι περὶ δαιμόνων νομιζομένοι εἶναι θεοί, ἀλλὰ καὶ οἱ
θεραπεύοντες αὐτοὺς ἐβουλήθησαν κωλῦσαι τὴν νομὴν τῆς Ἰησοῦ διδασκαλίας·
ἑώρων γὰρ τὰς λοιβὰς καὶ τὰς κνίσσας, ἐφ’αἷς λίχνας ἥδοντο, καθαιρουμένας
ἐκ τοῦ κρατεῖν τὰ Ἰησοῦ μαθήματα. Cf. also Cels. 36: Χριστιανοῖς μεμαθηκόσι τὴν
αἰώνιον αὐτοῖς εἶναι ζωὴν ἐν τῷ γινώσκειν “τὸν μόνον” ἐπὶ πᾶσιν “ἀληθινὸν θεὸν
καὶ ὂν” ἐκεῖνος ἀπέστειλεν Ἰησοῦν Χριστόν”, μαθοῦσι δὲ καὶ “ὅτι πάντες μὲν θεοὶ
τῶν ἐθνῶν εἰσι δαιμόνια” λίχνα καὶ περὶ τὰς θυσίας καὶ τὰ αἵματα καὶ τὰς ἀπὸ τῶν
θυσιῶν ἀναφορὰς καλινδούμενα ἐπὶ ἀπάτῃ τῶν μὴ προσφευγόντων τῷ ἐπὶ πᾶσι
θεῷ, οἱ δὲ τοῦ θεοῦ θεῖοι καὶ ἅγιοι ἄγγελοι ἄλλης εἰσι φύσεως καὶ προαιρέσεως παρὰ
τοὺς ἐπὶ γῆς πάντας δαίμονας, καὶ ὅτι οὗτοι σφόδρα ὀλίγοις γινώσκονται τοῖς περὶ
τῶν τοιούτων συνετῶς καὶ ἐπιμελῶς ζητήσασιν, ἐὰν παραβάλῃς Ἀπόλλωνα καὶ Δία
ἤ τινα τῶν μετὰ κνίσσης καὶ αἵματος καὶ θυσιῶν προσκυνουμένων οὐκ ἀνέξονται.
25 Cf. Philo, Gig., 6–17. In De Gigantibus §6 we read: “Ἰδόντες δὲ οἱ ἄγγελοι τοῦ
θεοῦ τὰς θυγατέρας τῶν ἀνθρώπων ὅτι καλαί εἰσιν, ἔλαβον ἑαυτοῖς γυναῖκας
ἀπὁ πασῶν” (Gen. 6.2). Οὓς ἄλλοι φιλόσοφοι δαίμονας, ἀγγέλους Μωυσῆς εἴωθεν
ὀνομάζειν· ψυχαὶ δ’εἰσὶ κατὰ τὸν ἀέρα πετὸμενοαι.
26 1 En. 1.6-7, according to OTP 2 (transl. E. Isaac); cf. also M. Delcor, Le Dieu des
apocalypticiens, in idem, Études bibliques et orientales de réligions comparées, 218–219; Monaci
Castagno, Il diavolo e i suoi angeli, 16–18.
27 Cf. De cultu feminarum 1.31–33 (Sources Chrétiennes).
28 Cf. Hom. in Jos. 15.3 (Griechische christliche Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte).
29 Cf. A. Monaci Castagno, Il diavolo e i suoi angeli, 353–466.
against pagan deities.30 One of the most interesting texts is Against Celsus
3.29: οὐκ ἐδόκει τοῦτο τῇ λιχνείᾳ τῶν φιλοσωμάτων δαιμόνων καὶ
τῶν νομιζόντων αὐτοὺς θεοὺς εἶναι λυσιτελές, διὰ τοῦθ’οἱ μὲν ἐπὶ
γῆς δαίμονες, παρὰ τοῖς μὴ παιδευθεῖσι περὶ δαιμόνων νομιζομένοι
εἶναι θεοί, ἀλλὰ καὶ οἱ θεραπεύοντες αὐτοὺς ἐβουλήθησαν κωλῦσαι
τὴν νομὴν τῆς Ἰησοῦ διδασκαλίας·
According to this text, demons seduced man to consider them as gods. They
are said to be “demons on earth” (ἐπὶ γῆς δαίμονες), because they desire to
be venerated through material sacrifices and meals. They are φιλοσώματοι
(lovers/likers of bodies or matter).31 The text from Against Celsus 3.37 points
to this conception. Celsus reproached the Christians for intolerance in not
allowing their God to be compared with Apollo or Zeus. As an example of
the opposite conduct, Celsus cited the Egyptians, who were proud to compare
Antinoos with some of the Greek gods. Celsus pointed to the religious
syncretism of late antiquity. In reply, Origen (citing Ps. 90) affirms that God is
singular. The existence of other similar beings is absolutely impossible. Those
who the Greeks venerated as gods could be only demons, i.e. beings, situated
between human beings and God. Origen knows two kinds of such beings:
those who, because of their deception, do not find refuge in God, and those
who rest by him, “the divine angels.” He says that there are differences in
the nature (φύσις) and free choice (προαίρεσις) between the two groups.
According to his argument in De principiis,32 changes in their nature should
be due to free choice (προαίρεσις) on the part of the angels. As we noted,
changeableness is one of the typical characteristics of creatures. These changes
in their nature depend also on the different choices of the beings. The fallen
angels became “terrestrial,” as they were subject to human passions such as
desire and greed.33 Origen aims to degrade the pagan deities to the state of
demons, because they are also ruled by passions. No angel is on the same
level as God, no angel is uncreated, no angel is wicked by nature, but only
because of its will. Origen probably knew that some philosophers (such as
Empedocles) taught about a fall of the souls and the demons.34 The fact that
Origen degrades pagan deities to the state of demons does not lead him to
deny their action and influence on human beings. In Against Celsus Origen
is dealing with two important abilities of pagan deities: prophecy and their
reaction to human prayers (in particular concerning the weather and fertility).
Both of these overcome human faculties. Origen does not deny that Pythia,
Apollo’s priestess and prophetess in Delphi, uttered truth. He nevertheless
thinks that Pythia’s inspiration cannot derive from God. God would choose
30 Cf. A. Monaci Castagno, Origene predicatore e il suo pubblico (Milano: Franco

Angeli, 1987), 158–159.
31 Cf. Cels. 3.29 and 7.3.
32 Cf. Princ. 1.5.2.
33 Cf. Cels. 3.29 and hom. in Jos. 15.3.
34 Cf. G. Sfameni Gasparro, Eguaglianza di natura e differenza, 307–310; L. Albinus,
“The Greek δαίμων between Mythos and Logos,” in Lange, Lichtenberger, and Römheld (eds.),
Die Dämonen, 425–446.
as a prophet a wise man or a virgin, not a sinner woman. The sins of the
prophetess speak of the wickedness of a demon. In a similar way he comments
on the influence of demons on weather and fertility. According to Origen it is a
deception that they could cause favorable conditions. On the contrary, the true
“merits” of the demons are hunger, trouble, and failed crops.35
Origen’s interpretation of the fall of the angels aims to reply to both the
inner-Christian controversy with dualistic opponents, such as the Gnostics and
Marcionites, and to critics from the pagan milieu who reproached Christians
for intolerance. Origen’s degradation of the pagan deities to demons is a
very polemical interpretation. Philo also saw an analogy between the “fallen
angels” in Gen. 6.1-4 and the “demons” in Greek mythology, but when he
speaks about “demons” he has in mind certain middle-creatures (according to
the Platonic δαιμόνιον) and not the gods of the Greeks and Romans.36
The Devil and the Seduction of Human Beings
The fall of some angels and their sin have an effect on human beings. For,
unlike the angels, who fell only because of their free will, human beings are
tempted by wicked forces. In De principiis 3.2.1 Origen comments on several
biblical texts that testify to the deeds of the Devil among human beings.
Speaking about the sin of Adam and Eve (Gen. 2.8–3.21), he explains the role
of the Devil in this process. Unlike some Jewish and Christian writers, who
interpreted the serpent as an allegory of the Devil,37 Origen cites the Epistle
of Jude 9-10 concerning the eschatological discussion between the archangel
Michael and the Devil. Origen adds an extra-canonical tradition, according to
which the Devil admits to having seduced the serpent to collaborate with him
and to induce humans to sin.38 Origen understands the serpent as an instrument
of evil. This probably reflects his desire to deny the existence of any wicked
nature in paradise. According to Origen’s logic, the serpent was tempted by
the Devil and, upon its consent, was able to seduce human beings. Because
of its consent, the serpent did not only sin, but obtained also some unnatural
abilities (such as the ability to speak) which allowed it to commit evil deeds.
This “transfer of wickedness” explains the process of human temptation and
sin. Speaking about the treason of Judas, Origen distinguishes the same two
levels of the sin-process. Judas was first tempted to betray Jesus, but he was
not under the power of the Devil. The Devil entered into Judas when he started
35 Cels. 8.31, Borret.

36 Cf. Gig. 12.
37 Cf. Gen. Rab. 135.2, Clement, Prot. 11.1 Mondésert; see also E. Testa, Il peccato di
Adamo nella patristica (Gen. III) (Gerusalemme: PPP Francescani, 1970).
38 Cf. Princ. 3.2.1. Et primo quidem in Genesi serpens Evam seduxisse perscribitur: de
quo serpente in Ascensione Moysi, cuius libelli meminit in epistola sua apostolus Iudas, Michael
archangelus cum diabolo disputans de corpore Moysi ait a diabolo inspiratum serpentem causam
exstitisse praevaricationis Adae et Evae.
to act according to the project of the Devil (cf. Jn 13.27), taking the bread
from Jesus.39 Origen understands the biblical text as evidence that only human
consent could induce people to sin. Several Old Testament texts support this
conclusion, testifying to the battle against temptation and sin.40
Origen concludes that it is proper for simple humans, who are just starting
out on the journey to inner perfection, to ascribe all their errors to the Devil.41
Paul’s encouragements to combat the Devil (Eph. 4.27) can be understood only
in this context. But as Origen considers fallen angels, like middle-creatures, to
be higher than human beings—though lower than God—it is logical that their
power should overcome human forces.
In order to be successful against temptation, human beings need the help of
another mediator between themselves and God. In order to explain the victory
of Christ over the Devil, Origen does not stress the episode of Jesus’ temptation
in the desert, but the fact that Jesus was able to purify people possessed by
wicked demons. These miracles of purification testify that Jesus has power
over evil and can protect human beings. This protection is not an exemption
from responsibility, but it alleviates the situation of human beings. Origen’s
opinion differs from Stoic ethics, which attributes to human reason alone the
ability to resist or to commit errors.42
In De principiis 3.2.2-3 Origen comments on the different human instincts
(such as thirst, hunger and sexual desire). He agrees with the Stoics that the
Logos, which is inherent in each human being, has to rule over the irrational
instincts. Unlike the Stoics, he ascribes to wicked forces an important role,
because they try to induce humans to wrongly use their natural instincts.43
Unlike the angels, who have never been tempted by external factors, humans
have always been tempted to sin. Angels, whose bodies are different from
those of humans, do have not any kind of material instincts. Origen considers
instincts to be the greatest weakness of human beings; most sins are, for him,
nothing other than a wrong use of the natural instincts. In order to adhere
to correct conduct and avoid errors, humans need the help of Christ. This
help is absolutely necessary,44 as the human being alone is not able to accept
the goodness of God (humanum propositum solum per se ipsum inperfectum
est ad consummationem boni).45 This is an important difference between
angels and human beings. Angels are not tempted and can remain in goodness
39 Cf. Princ. 3.2.1.

40 Cf. Princ. 3.2.1 on Gen. 22.12; Exod. 4.24; Exod. 12.23; Lev. 16.8; 1 Sam. 18.10; 1
Kgs 22.19-23; 1 Chron. 21.1; Ps. 34.5, 6; Ps. 103.4; Isa. 27.1; Ezek. 29.3; Zech. 3.1.
41 Cf. Princ. 3.2.1. Clement from Alexandria held the same opinion in Strom. 2.111–117,
Früchtel/Treu.
42 Cf. A. Monaci Castagno, La demonologia di Origene: Aspetti filosofici, pastorali,
apologetici, in R. Daly (ed.), Origeniana Quinta, Papers of the 5th International Origen Congress
Boston College, 14–18 August 1989 (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensum,
105; Leuven, 1992), 320–323, esp. 321.
43 ComJo 20.40.
44 Cf. Princ. 3.2.2: audiutorio namque divino ad perfecta quaeque perducitur.
45 Cf. Ibid.
through their good will. Human beings are tempted, however, and are unable
to achieve salvation without the help of Christ.
Demons cannot resist the interference of Christ. They have a chance to induce
humans to sin only if the latter consent and decline the help offered by God.
According to Origen, humans should actively seek the intercession of God.46
Origen notes that this could be misunderstood. If human dependence on divine
help is emphasized exclusively, it could lead some to deny the efficacy of any
human efforts (a question which became very problematic a century later with
the Pelagian controversy). He admits that God helps us to avoid mistakes, but
only to be able to bear temptation, not to vanquish it. The victory should be
a fruit of human efforts. Origen finds support for his assumption in Gal. 5.17
and 1 Cor. 10.13 (“And God is faithful, he will not let you be tempted beyond
what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out
so that you can stand up under it”).
In many cases in his interpretation of the Pentateuch, Origen argues that God
even uses temptation in order to test His people.47 The deeds of the wicked
angels gain in this manner a specific didactic function.
Conclusion
Origen concurs with the traditional opinion that wicked forces are nothing
else than fallen angels. The reason for this assumption is not the interpretation
of Gen. 6, but his theory of the fall of rational beings and creation on two
levels. His purpose is to deny the existence of something ontologically wicked
(against Gnostics and Marcionites) and to explain the existence of forces
higher than the human beings, but not comparable with God (against any kind
of polytheism and religious syncretism). He tries to distinguish Christian from
Stoic ethics by introducing temptation as an important factor in human actions
and errors. All this shows that his intentions were predominantly polemical.
It has not been our purpose to discuss the vexed question of the eschatological
future of fallen angels, as understood by Origen. It is well known that Jerome
accused Origen of having accepted the eschatological ἀποκατάστασις
(restoration) of all creatures to their original condition. Indeed, as Jerome
himself says, Origen understood the salvation of wicked forces as evidence
that nothing is ontologically bad, and used this argument in his polemics
46 Cf. ibid.: Verum nisi aequalis fuerit concertantium virtus, non erit iusta palma
vincentis, nec iuste culpabitur victus; propter quod permittit nos quidem deus temptari, non
tamen “supra id quod possumus”: pro viribus enim nostris temptamur. Nec tamen scriptum est
quia faciet in temptatione etiam exitum sustinendi, sed “exitum, ut sustinere possimus”, id est:
ipse praestat, “ut sustinere possimus”. Ut vero hoc, quod posse nobis ipse dedit, vel strenue vel
segniter impleamus, in nobis est. Dubium enim non est quod in omni temptatione adest nobis
tolerandi virtus, si tamen nos conpetenter utamur virtute concessa.
47 Cf. Cels. 6.55–56; Princ. 3.1,14; Hom. in Exod. 5.2, Baehrens.
against the Gnostics (in this case, against Candidus).48 It was his main
argument against the Gnostic doctrine of the different natures of beings. The
primary cause, then, for Origen’s speculations on evil and the Devil seems to
be the different controversies of his time.
48 Apol. Adv libr. Ruf. 2.18–19, Lardet.

Chapter 13
Augustine and Evil

Frederick Van Fleteren
An attested principle in Augustine studies has been termed une methode

phénomenologique—his thought arises out of his life experience.1 A corollary
to this principle is that Augustine’s thought develops in light of changed life
circumstances. Augustine’s deliberations on evil are a case in point. Augustine
is not a systematic thinker. Attempts to systematize his thought, especially in
terms of post-Cartesian categories, are doomed to fail. They can only end in
impoverishment and disappointment. Further, the debt that modern Augustine
studies owes to philology can scarcely be denied, but his synthetic style is
studied only with difficulty by contemporary analytic methods.
Childhood
Augustine thought of the infant as sinful from birth. Infants sucking at the
breast envy one another.2 The scriptural basis for the sinfulness of the infant
lies in Psalm 51.5 and Job 14.4f. Augustine first consciously encountered evil
in his childhood. As a young student he was beaten for not having learned his
lessons. Like both his peers and his elders, he preferred to play. He received no
sympathy whatsoever. He prayed to God that he should not be beaten.3 Later
in his youth, at age sixteen, during a year away from school in his hometown,
Tagaste, Augustine joined the crowd. He and his companions pulled a childish
prank. They stole pears from a nearby orchard merely to throw them to the
pigs. He later reflected upon the gratuitousness of this deed, doing evil for
its own sake. In addition, he did with companions what he would never have
done alone.4
1 O. du Roy, L’intelligence de la foi en la Trinité selon saint Augustin (Paris: Études

autustiniennes, 1966) preface.
2 Confessiones 2.7.11.
4 Confessiones 2.4.9-19.
Augustine and Evil 191
Manicheanism
At age nineteen, Augustine, an impressionable student of rhetoric at Carthage,

read Cicero’s Hortensius.5 There he learned to desire wisdom. As a result, he
became involved with Manicheanism.6 It was his first stride, misstep though it
was, in pursuit of wisdom. His principal grounds for entering this Gnostic sect
were a promise of rational understanding, devoid of faith, and a resolution of the
problem of evil, without personal responsibility.7 This second Manichean tenet
bears directly upon the problem of evil.
Mani, a third-century religious teacher in Babylonia (perhaps contemporary
Palestine) founded this sect.8 It spread across aristocratic circles in North Africa
during the fourth century. Likely, Manichean doctrine varied with its several
practitioners in various locales. At its most basic, Manicheanism is a complex
concatenation of mostly Gnostic teachings derived from several sources, most
notably Zoroastrianism, Buddhism, and Christianity.9 Manichean cosmogony
appealed to two cosmic principles: a principle of good (light) and a principle of evil
(darkness). The entire universe was composed of these two material substances. At
the beginning, the principle of evil and principle of good waged war against one
another. The triumph of the principle of evil led to the imprisonment of the principle
of good within this world. This primordial struggle continues into the present day
within both the entire universe and the individual human being. Immoral acts stem
from this principle of evil residing within the individual. A complex Manichean
mythology taught that the world was to end with the triumph of the principle
of good, but only after a period of great conflict and final conflagration. G. K.
Chesterton, the great nineteenth- and twentieth-century Christian thinker, thought
every Christian heresy to be a version of Manicheanism.10
As with most Gnostic sects, Manichean membership was divided into the elect,
an elite group who directly possess divine revelation, and auditors (hearers), who
were initiated into the sect, served the elect, and could eventually become candidates
for full-fledged membership. The elite were to attempt to liberate the principle
of good from the principle of evil in this fallen state through various activities.
Augustine never became a member of the elect and the extent of his knowledge
of, and commitment to, Manicheanism remains an open question. A continuing
study of contemporary science gradually led to Augustine’s disenchantment with
Manichean mythology.11 After nine years, his slow but sure disillusionment with
Manicheanism reached a climax with his encounter with Faustus, a Manichean
7 Confessiones 3.6.10-11; De utilitate credendi.
8 Contra Faustum.
9 K. Coyle, “Mani, Manicheism,” in A. Fitzgerald, F. Van Fleteren, et al. (eds.),
Augustine through the Ages: An Encyclopedia (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 520f.
10 G. K. Chesterton, Heretics, Orthodoxy, and the Blatchford Controversy (San Francisco:
Ignatius, 1986); The Book of Job (London: Hayward & Palmer, 1916).
bishop and renowned teacher. Faustus utterly failed to answer Augustine’s several
questions concerning Manichean doctrine.12 For example, how could the principle
of evil do the principle of good any harm if the latter refused to fight? Though
Augustine remained practically involved with the Manichean sect for two more
years, both in Carthage and in Rome, he became intellectually a practical skeptic.13
He moved from teaching rhetoric in Carthage to teaching the same art in Rome.
Through Roman connections, Augustine was appointed imperial rhetor at the
Milanese court in 384.14 He had heard of the renown of the preaching of Ambrose,
Bishop of Milan. Out of professional curiosity, he attended his Sunday sermons.15
Gradually, Augustine became acquainted with a Neoplatonic Christianity,
fashionable in Milanese Christian circles and preached by Ambrose in his pulpit.16
Through this association, especially with Simplicianus, Ambrose’s mentor,
Augustine began to realize possible orthodox answers to questions raised by
Manicheanism.17 The problem of evil was one of these issues.
Plotinus and Porphyry
The problem of evil has a metaphysical and moral component. Plotinus and
Porphyry, the two Neoplatonists in question, had considered the subject of evil
and divine providence in some detail. A metaphysic of being and non-being, as
developed by them, undercuts Manichean materialistic cosmogony. Evil is not a
substantial material principle, but a deviation from being, non-being in that sense.
Evil is “privation of the good.” It has a place in the universe, unfathomable by
the narrow vision of the human intellect.18 Much time has been spent, and much
ink spilled, over which treatises of Plotinus and Porphyry Augustine read in Latin
translation in 386. Plato had incipiently treated the question of evil throughout his
works. Plotinus had written a treatise “Whence evil?” (Enneads 1.8) and Porphyry
had treated the question of evil in Philosophy from Oracles and De regressu
animae. In Milan, Augustine began to realize that an answer to the problem of
moral evil could be found in free choice of the will. Likely Augustine heard of
this freedom through Ambrose’s sermons.19 Although Augustine knew of the fall
of the soul because of a primordial sin in a higher realm, as found in Plotinus and
Porphyry,20 he never accepted such a doctrine in any definitive sense.
12 Confessiones 5.6.10-11. Augustine replies to Faustus’ Chartula in Contra Faustum,

written in 404.
15 Confessiones 5.13.23-24
17 Confessiones 7.11.17–7.12.19; 8.2.3-4.
18 Enneads 3.2.3.
20 Augustine had certainly read Enneads 5.1.1 where the teaching is found. The teaching
in its fullness is found in Enneads 4.7 and Porphyry’s De regressu animae. From Contra
Academicos 1.1.1 it is certain that Augustine had read Philosophy from Oracles. It is not necessary
to posit that Augustine had read Enneads 4.7.
After his encounter with Neoplatonic Christianity, Augustine left his Milanese
chair of rhetoric and retired in autumn, 386, to Verecundus’ villa in Cassiciacum
in northern Italy.21 De ordine, an early dialogue on divine providence and
evil, was written there. It ends in failure. More study and mental training was
necessary for his students, not to mention Augustine himself.22 After his baptism
in Milan on April 25, 387 at the hands of Ambrose, Augustine traveled to Ostia,
the Roman seaport. He was preparing to depart for Africa to begin a monastic
life on his father’s estate in Tagaste (contemporary Souk Arah, Algeria). His
mother’s untimely death, a dispute over leadership of the empire, and the usual
inclement Mediterranean weather conspired to prevent his departure in autumn,
387.23 Augustine remained in Rome for the winter of 387/388.
Liberum Arbitrium
Among his treatises authored in Rome is De libero arbitrio I and parts of

De libero arbitrio II.24 The second book was completed and a third added
sometime between his return to Africa in spring/summer of 388 and his
episcopal ordination in late 395 or 396. In some manuscripts, the work is
entitled Unde malum? The thesis of De libero arbitrio is human responsibility
for evil. This responsibility stems from the free choice of the will. A good
God, though Creator, could not be responsible for evil. Whether and how
much Stoicism stands behind this doctrine is a disputed question.25 Certain it
is that (even perhaps from the beginning, certainly later) chapter 7 of Paul’s
Epistle to the Romans was a fundamental influence. Though the term liberum
arbitrium appears earlier in patristic literature, no specific work is devoted
to it. In this sense, Augustine may be considered the founder of free will in
Western thought. Augustine’s conception of free will as a power of the rational
soul independent of the human intellect is a distinct contribution. No longer is
choice merely intellectual preference.26
21 The exact place of Cassiciacum is disputed. Usually it is associated with Cassiago di

Brianza, approximately twenty-one miles northeast of Milan. See A. di Berardino, “Cassiciacum,”
in A. Fitzgerald, F. Van Fleteren, et al. Augustine through the Ages, 135. G. O’Daly, “Cassiciacum,”
Augustinus Lexikon 1, 177–181.
22 De ordine 2.12.35.
23 Confessiones 9.7.17; see L. Sebastián, Mémoire ecclésiastique, Vol. 13, §48. English
trans. and commentary F. Van Fleteren (New York: Lang, 2009).
24 The exact place he may have ceased writing is not known.
25 See M. Colish, The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages (Leiden:
Brill, 1985) 142–238; G. Verbeke, “Augustin et Stoiïcisme,” Recherche Augustinienne 1 (1958),
67–89; F. Van Fleteren, “Anselm’s ‘De libertate arbitrii’. Sein Hintergruende in Augustins
‘De libero arbitrio’ und ‘Contra Iulianum opus imperfectum’ (uebersetzt von J. Eck),” in Die
Gnade Lehre as “salto mortale” der Vernunft. Natur, Freiheit, und Gnade in Spannungfeld von
Augustinus und Kant, ed. N. Fischer (Freiburg and Muenchen, 2012), 131–145.
26 See V. Bourke, The Will in Western Thought (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1964); A.
Dihle, Die Vorstellung vom Willen in Antike (Göttingen: V&R, 1985).
Augustine saw the Neoplatonic teaching on evil as in harmony with the Bible.
God is the unchangeable good. This good God created changeable goods. These
changeable goods consist of being and non-being. They are not God. The human
soul is good, but a median good between higher and lower goods. It can turn
toward the higher good or the lower good. This turn toward lower good we call
moral evil or sin.
Unlike Cicero, Augustine believed divine foreknowledge to be in harmony
with human free will.27 God knows what man will do and how he will do it,
namely freely. The problem lies in harmonizing divine eternity, understood as
timelessness, with world time. God holds his entire being simultaneously while
humans hold their being consecutively. Augustine reasons to both divine eternity
and human free will. Foreknowledge does not necessitate. Foreknowledge and
human freedom exist in harmony.
Peccatum originale
In De libero arbitrio III, Augustine first explicitly mentions original sin.28

Incipient treatment can be found in De Genesi contra Manichaeos (written
in 389) and further development in De vera religione (early 391). Though
Augustine coins the term, this teaching may be found essentially in Irenaeus,29
Origen,30 Cyprian,31 Gregory of Nazianzen,32 and Ambrose before him.33 Original
sin is Adam’s sin in paradise. The sin itself (peccatum) and its consequences
(poena peccati), darkness of the intellect (ignorantia) and inclination of the will
toward evil (difficultas), are passed on to his progeny. The effects of original
sin are confirmed by personal sin. Much later, during the Pelagian controversy,
Augustine thinks original sin and its effects are passed on to Adam’s progeny by
the act of intercourse. Augustine accepted the genetic unity of the human race
as found in Genesis. Augustine preferred both a historical and an allegorical
interpretation. Original sin extended to every member of the human race from
the beginning of life, except for Christ—Augustine explicitly did not consider
the case of Christ’s mother.34 Unmerited grace, first extended to human beings
in baptism, expunges the guilt for this sin, but its consequences remain. Human
inability to control lower desires (concupiscentia carnis), of which the lack of
complete control of genitalia is one, remains a direct consequence of original
sin. So are pride and curiosity. In the pre-lapsarian state, the human being would
27 De civitate dei 5.9; see De natura deorum 2–3. Cicero denied divine foreknowledge
on the grounds it threw human freedom into question.
28 De libero arbitrio 3.19.53.
29 Adversus haereses 5.2.1; 6.1; 16.3.
30 Letter 496; Letter 501.
32 Oratio 22.13.
33 Explanatio in Psalmum 38. 29; Apologia prophetae David 56.
34 De natura et gratia 36.42.
have controlled the movement of his genitalia much like in the present state he
controls the movement of his arms.35 Even sub gratia man struggles continually
against inclination toward evil. Human death (both physical and spiritual) and
suffering (life’s constant companion) follow from the primordial sin.
Patristic thought is principally a consideration of Scripture. The origins of the
doctrine of original sin are biblical. The Old Testament inspires this doctrine.36
In the New Testament, Paul and John provide doctrinal foundation. Augustine
famously followed the erroneous Latin translation of Romans 5.12, in quo
(in whom) as rendering ἐφ᾽ ᾧ (because). However, other Pauline texts speak
directly to a spiritual death of the human race in Adam.37 Likewise the First
Letter of John mentions the sinfulness of all men.38 Augustine interprets 1 Jn
2.16 in terms of the triple concupiscence found probably in Porphyry. Voluptas
(lust) is the vice of the desiring (erotic) part of the soul, superbia is the vice
of the spirited (thumitic) part of the soul, and curiositas is the vice of the
intellectual (reasoning) part.39 Augustine believes of course in man made in the
image of God.40 This image of God resides principally in the rational part of the
soul.41 Though tarnished through original and personal sin, the imago is never
completely lost.42 No doubt Augustine’s anthropology at times has its dark side.
However, Augustine does not ultimately consider the human being as totally
depraved, as in Martin Luther. “Nothing is so social by nature and so anti-social
in its perversion as the human race.”43
Ad Simplicianum 1.2 (written in 396) represents a decisive turning-point
in Augustine’s consideration of the sinful human condition. Simplicianus,
Augustine’s early mentor,44 sent se veral questions concerning scriptural
interpretation.45 In answering the second question concerning Romans 9.9-
29, the story of Esau and Jacob, Augustine for the first time explains in some
detail his teaching on grace. This doctrine will eventually lead in his final works
to a much-disputed belief in predestination.46 Every human being is a massa
damnata, a damned lump of clay. Only unmerited divine grace can save him.
Because of original sin all human beings deserve eternal damnation. Augustine
applies Paul’s complex communitarian thought on the nation of Israel to
the individual human being. The massa stems from Paul, the damnata from
35 De civitate dei 14.24.

36 See Job 14.4; Ps. 51.5; Prov. 20.9.
37 Rom. 3.9; 1 Cor. 15.22.
38 1 Jn 1.8-10.
39 Enarratio in Psalmum 8.3; Sermo 112; Sermo 284; Sermo 313A; De uera religione 32.
40 Gen. 1.26.
41 Confessiones 13.32; Letter 120.2; Letter 166.5; cf. Ambrose, De Noe 26.99 and several
texts in his commentaries on the Psalms.
42 Retractationes 2.24.2.
45 Ad Simplicianum 1, praefatio.
46 Ad Simplicianum 1.2: There is still what later is called Semi-Pelagianism in Augustine’s
answer to the first question.
Augustine.47 God bestows his grace on whom he will. Those are saved. “I will
have mercy on whom I will have mercy.”48 Others upon whom he does not
bestow his grace are not saved, justifiably in light of original sin. Though God
does not cause human beings to sin, inevitably human beings will sin without
grace. At the end of his life, Augustine maintains both freedom of the will and
the necessity of divine grace.49
Through God’s grace man achieves a higher state than Adam.50 The angels
were given divine grace, the power not to sin. Likewise, in paradise Adam was
given a similar power. Both possessed posse non peccare. However, by divine
grace man is now given something more, the impossibility of sinning, non
posse peccare. How, precisely, the angels and Adam, possessed of undarkened
intelligence as they were, sinned presented a problem for Augustine. But,
through pride, sin they did, and the rest is history.
How grace and freedom precisely harmonize remains a mystery of divine
providence, impenetrable to the human intellect. However, according to
Augustine grace informs the human will in such a way that the will is drawn to
the good and is delighted by it (delectatio victrix).51 On this view, the question
is not grace or free will, but grace and free will. Augustine is dealing with
the central question of human salvation. Somehow human salvation depends
upon God, somehow on the human being himself. Sixteenth- and seventeenth-
century extreme doctrines of predestination will tend to emphasize De dono
perseverantiae and De praedestinatione sanctorum, two of Augustine’s late
works. Ultimately human salvation remains an unfathomable part of the divine
plan for his creation.52 Augustine’s apophasis, so praised with regard to human
knowledge of God, is often criticized, quite unjustifiably, when it comes to grace
and free will.53
Libertas
Besides liberum arbitrium, Augustine speaks of libertas. Augustine adapts

ancient eudaimonism to his own purposes.54 The human will (voluntas)
47 See Rom. 9.21; 11.16; See Letter 194; Sermo 301; Enchiridion m 8; De civitate dei
14.26; 21.12; Contra Iulianum opus imperfectum 1.141.
48 Rom. 9.15; Exod. 33.19.
49 De gratia et libero arbitrio, passim.
50 De civitate dei 22.30.3.
51 De peccatorum meritis et remissione et de baptismo parvulorum 2.19.32.
52 Rom. 9.11.
53 See P. van Geest, “‘Agustín ‘teólogo negative?’ Una vision nueva sobre Ad
Simplicianum de diuersis quaestionbius (396),” in Guntram Förster, Andreas E. J. Grote, and
Christof Müller (eds.), Spiritus et Littera. Beiträge zur Augustinus-Forschung. Festschrift zum
80. Geburtstag von Cornelius Petrus Mayer OSA (Cassiciacum. Studien über Augustinus und den
Augustinerorden, 39.6 = Res et Signa Augustinus-Studien, 6; Würzburg: Augustinus bei Echter,
2009), 165–182.
54 De libero arbitrio 1.14.31.
unavoidably seeks happiness. Happiness is attained by possession of the good.

However, often particular human choices (voluntates) do not accord with the
attainment of happiness—indeed they bring about the exact opposite. The
cause of this disharmony is original sin. Only freely given divine grace can
bring voluntates into harmony with the voluntas. Such harmony is termed
freedom (libertas). This notion is found in 388, is developed throughout the
Pelagian controversy (411–430), and reaches its fruition in Contra Iulianum
opus imperfectum (429). Romans 7 lies in the background.
Under this reading, Augustine is not a libertarian. Freedom of the will
does not necessarily involve the capability of sinning. God, for example, is
supremely free, but incapable of sin.55 For this reason Augustine’s theory
of libertas is often compared to contemporary compatibilism. However,
contemporary compatibilists do not ordinarily consider original sin and the
role of divine grace.56
Malum physicum
Metaphysics and morality aside, physical evils present problems for the
believer. How can a good God be harmonized with the disorder evident
in the world? God’s goodness is indisputable. The goodness of creation is
undeniable.57 God created according to “measure, number, and weight.”58
Nevertheless, evil exists within this good creation, as disorder and imperfection.
God is not necessitated to make the best of all possible worlds. However,
such events as earthquakes and storms, which did not exist in the original
paradise, are disorders in an otherwise rationally ordered world. Such evils
were brought about by sin.59 In the final analysis, such evils are permitted by
divine providence for some greater good, many times unknown to us.60
Human death is an example of physical evil. Death was introduced into the
world by sin.61 Death can mean physical death (first death) or eternal death
(second death).62 The latter was not part of the pre-lapsarian state. If Adam
had not sinned, the human being would not have died, but would have passed
into another state by a means other than death. Physical death is an example of
God bringing good out of evil: the world would suffer overpopulation without
it. Christ has conquered death (1 Cor. 15.55) and has given the human race
55 Contra Iulianum opus imperfectum 1.81.

56 For a comprehensive discussion of the history of compatibilism until the present day,
see M. McKenna, “Compatibilism,” in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy2 2 (2004), 2006. For
a comprehensive bibliography on libertarianism, see “Incompatibilist (nondeterministic) Theories
of Free Will,” Stanford Encyclopedia.
57 De doctrina christiana 1.32.
58 Wis. 11.21
59 De genesi ad litteram 3.6-10, 5.32; Sermo 313A.
60 Confessiones 7.12.19; Plotinus, Enneads 3.2-3.
61 Paul, 1 Cor. 15.21, 56; Augustine, Retractationes I,13; 26.
62 Sermo 344; De civitate dei 13.8.
the possibility of something more than it would have possessed in its original
state.
During Augustine’s lifetime, Goth invasions under Alaric threatened Rome
and the Vandal invasions threatened North Africa. Such invasions were the
precursor to the fall of Rome in 476 and the Dark Ages (circa 500–1000).
In 408–410, Alaric laid siege to Rome. The Vandals laid siege to Hippo as
Augustine was on his deathbed in 430. Hippo’s position on a bluff prevented
easy access to barbarian soldiers. Augustine regarded these invasions as
physical evils. He thought the Vandal invasions of North Africa and the
Gothic invasions of Rome were caused by human sin and were a punishment
for it.63 The Roman Empire was disintegrating from within. The adoption of
Christianity by Rome had not led to its destruction, as some pagans maintained.
Rather, not following the Christian ethic had led to its ruin.64
Civitas dei
Augustine was a proud Roman. Nevertheless, “the virtues or the pagans are
merely splendid vices.”65 His musings over the probable fall of the Roman
Empire led him far beyond his present situation. He divided both human beings
and angels into a city of God and a city of man. This vision is fundamentally
biblical: “Glorious things are said of you, O city of God.”66 The notion of
mankind distinguished into two cities is found throughout Augustine’s
works.67 However, the Visigoth invasion of Rome provided the occasion for
Augustine to explain his universal vision in De civitate dei. The city of God is
comprised of those who love God with indifference toward this world. Christ
is its leader. Members of the city of God have received divine grace. The
trait of this city is love of God and man—humility is its characteristic virtue.
The city of man is comprised of those who love this world with indifference
toward God. The Devil is its leader. The characteristic of this city is desire for
power (libido dominandi). Libido dominandi is similar to Nietzche’s will to
power (Wille zur Macht). Augustine considers it a vice, Nietzsche considers
it a virtue. These two cities have existed since the fall of the angels and will
be present until the end of time. However, this vision is not political. The city
of God can be equated with the Church, but not necessarily the institutional
Church. Members of the city of God can be members of the Church, but some
Church members are members of the city of man. Likewise some outside the
Church are members of the city of God. The first member of the city of God
was Abel. The first member of the city of man was Cain. Jerusalem (vision of
peace) is the symbol of the city of God. Babylon (confusion) is the symbol of
63 Possidius, Vita Augustini 30; De urbis excidio, passim.

64 De civitate dei 1–5.
65 Ibid.
66 Ps. 86.3.
67 Letter to Firmus; De Genesi ad litteram 11.15.20; Enarratio in Psalmum 64.
the city of man. The secular realm, symbolized often by Rome, is the place
wherein these two cities exist. These two cities also exist within the hearts of
individual men. Two opposed tendencies exist within the individual person.
“My love is my weight. It carries me wherever I go.”68 Augustine’s vision is
grandly eschatological, including the angels. The good angels are part of the
heavenly city, the Devil and his cohort part of the earthly city. The two cities
exist together now and will be separated only at the end of time.69 Augustine
believed the saved would be few in number.70
Bellum iustum
An understanding of the evil of war was crucial to Augustine’s defense of

Moses and the Jews in the Old Testament. The Manicheans had rejected the
Old Testament, in part because of the immoral activity of the patriarchs.71 The
wars of the Jews were part and parcel of Manichean objections.72 Beyond this,
consideration of the Roman wars and barbarian invasions also led Augustine
to consider the morality of war. The profession of ‘soldier’ was justified in
the New Testament.73 In fact, war is a physical evil whose root is found in
the divided human will.74 Peace, not war, is the desired condition for man—
Augustine is no Hobbesian. Wars are fought only to attain peace.75 Augustine
thought some wars justified. The wars of Moses brought Augustine to posit
grounds for justification of those wars. A just authority, a right intention, and
proper conduct were the necessary conditions for a just war. For the Mosaic
wars, God was the proper authority. The soldier cannot question the authority
for a war—such questioning would lead to chaos.76 The soldier could fight
other soldiers, but hate for the enemy remained a vice.77 Violence can be
justified, but should be used only as a last means to the end of peace.78
Consideration of the empire’s perilous state in face of the Goths and the
Vandals caused Augustine to advise Marcellinus, a Christian and Roman
Prefect in Carthage, and Boniface, a Christian and Roman general in North
Africa.79 Augustine advised similar principles to those he considered in judging
Mosaic wars. While consideration of the morality of war in the widest sense
69 De civitate dei 1.35; 10.32.
70 De Genesi ad litteram 9.6-9; De civitate dei 14.10.
72 Contra Faustum 22.74.
73 Lk. 3.14.
74 De civitate dei 3.14; 14.15; 19.28; 22.14.
76 Contra Faustum 22.74
77 Ibid.
78 De civitate dei 19.28; Contra Faustum 22.74.
may be found in Plato80 and Cicero,81 Augustine was the first to consider war
at length under the guise of morality. Pseudo-Augustinian sermons continued
this tradition. Augustine’s considerations passed through various canonists82
to Thomas Aquinas, where we find the first academic treatment of just war.83
In this sense, Augustine may be considered the “father of the just war theory.”
Preservation of the Roman Empire did not supersede personal salvation.
When the death of Boniface’s wife occasioned him to take up with prostitutes
and eventually marry an Arian, Augustine advised him to enter the monastic
life, as he had originally intended.
The Circumcelliones, the terrorist wing of the Donatists, a schismatic sect
dominant in North Africa in the fourth and early fifth century, terrorized the
orthodox Christians of North Africa.84 In the end, Augustine came to believe
that the use of secular power was justified against them. In fifteenth- and
sixteenth-century Spain, in different circumstances, several of Augustine’s
comments were taken out context to justify the Inquisition. Suffice it to say
that Augustine was not Torquemada.
Diabolus et daimones
Augustine accepted the existence of daimons as found in the ancient Greek

world, for example Plato’s Symposium.85 Some were good; some were
evil. These daimons were transported into Neoplatonism in the philosophy
of Porphyry.86 Though Porphyry was the “noblest of all the ancient
philosophers,”87 Augustine accused him (and the Manicheans) of trafficking
with demons. Porphyry advised use of theurgy to purify the lower parts of
the soul.88 Augustine tended to identify these demons with the daemones of
the Bible, especially the New Testament.89 The Devil was the leader of these
daemones.90 Though possessed of great knowledge, he and his companions
fell from grace through pride, of their own free will.91 These daimons can
influence human activity by presenting images to the human mind.92
80 Republic 2.
81 Ad Catalinum, passim.
82 Pseudo-Augustine, Sermo 82; Gregory the Great; Isidore of Seville; Ivo of Chartres;
Gratian’s decretals.
83 Summa Theologiae II-II, 40, art. 1.
84 Letter 43; Letter 88; Letter 108.
85 Symposium 203c ff.
88 Ibid.
89 For texts, see F. Van Fleteren, “Demons,” in A. Fitzgerald, F. Van Fleteren, et al. (eds.),
Augustine through the Ages, 266–267.
90 Enarratio in Psalmum 72.5; Sermo 112A; see Mt. 9.34.
91 De civitate dei 11.15; 14.3; 17.20.
92 Letter 9.2.
From Scripture, Augustine believed in the existence of heaven and hell.93 He

did not believe in apokatastasis, the ultimate salvation of all creation, as found
in Origen and Gregory of Nyssa.94 Some passages in Augustine’s writings
suggest he was acquainted with the notion of a place of purification after this
life. However, following Paul in his letter to the Romans, he more frequently
speaks of vessels of glory and vessels of wrath without any intermediate
position. The number of saved human beings will correspond to the number
of fallen angels.
Concluding Remarks
Augustine lived in a different world than we live in. He could hardly have
known about the evolution of the human species, as post-Darwinian man does.
He could scarcely have anticipated post-Mendelian genetics. Contemporary
natural science is certainly still in the initial stages of understanding the origins
of the human being. However, an idyllic paradisiacal state surely did not
exist. Contemporary anthropology tends to think in terms of a few primordial
parents —not so far distant from biblical thought—with several intermediate
stages. Natura non facit saltum. Christian thought remains Augustinian in
maintaining an essential difference between the human being and the irrational
animal. Christian thought, while not maintaining an original historical
paradisaical state, nevertheless still asserts a tendency toward evil existing in
the human being prior to any act he commits. This tendency is rooted in some
historical event and is reinforced by individual acts. Only human beings can
sin; therefore only human beings need salvation. Like Augustine, Catholic
thought maintains that the human being is good but fallen. The image of God
is never completely lost.
With Augustine, moral and physical evil are still seen as deviations from
the good. Moral evils of murder, injustice, and rape show disorder in the
individual. Floods, wild fires, and earthquakes, though the product of the
laws of nature, are deviations from the norm. Goods that come from moral
and physical evils are at times difficult to see. We know, however, that
earthquakes allow the planet to let out pressure, volcanoes produce fertile soil,
and death saves us from overpopulation. Moral deviations cause good laws to
be enacted. However, ultimately these solutions do not suffice. Evil is a not-
being, a privation of the good. Since the time of Parmenides intelligibility and
being have been thought coextensive. At the end of the day, evil as not-being
is unintelligible. The existence of evil remains difficult for the human mind—
even the mind of the believer—to reconcile with a good God.
93 For the existence of hell, see Mt. 25.41; Mk 9.44-48; Rev. 19.20; 20.10. De civitate dei
21.3, 18; Enchiridion 93. For the existence of heaven see Mt. 3; Jn 16; Rom. 13; Col. 3; 2 Thess. 1;
Heb. 8; De civitate dei 22.30.
94 Origen, De Principiis 456; 468. Gregory of Nyssa, De anima et resurrectione 13.
A short outline of Augustine’s notions of evil such as this can hardly do

justice to the complexity and nuance of the over-five-million words of
Augustine that have come down to us. Remarks of a scholar can scarcely
scratch the surface of his pre-eminent genius. That men of every century have
looked to him for guidance concerning the problem of evil is tribute enough.

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Wehr, L., “Funktion und Erfahrungshintergrund der Satansaussagen des
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Verlag Butzon & Bercker, Neukirchener Verlag, 1971), 71.
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Bibliography 231
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Index of Sources
1. Old Testament 36.33 82 22.18 171

37 77
Genesis 32, 33, 41 88 Numbers
131, 194 42.38 76 4.7, 14 37
1.26 195 4.16 37
1.26-27 102 Exodus 6.24-27 68
1.27 102 4.19 80 6.24-46 67
2–3 129, 130 4.24 80, 88, 187 7.14 37
2.1–4.2 4 4.24-26 18, 66 11.26-29 95
2–5 4 7.3 3 14.2, 36 133
2.8–3.21 186 7.11 38 16 37
2.11 79 7.14–12.36 88 17.1 37
2.17 181 9.9-11 42 22 x, 19
3 102 12 18 22.22 2
3.13 115 12.23 133, 187 22.22, 32 145
3.14f 130 12.29 66 22.22-32 2, 3
4.1-2, 25 4 32 133 23.23 88
4.10 30 34.10-16 30 27.23 41
6 54, 89, 35.1, 4, 20 171 34.17-18 9
130, 188 38.4 37
6.1-4 17, 21, 22, Deuteronomy
53, 129, Leviticus 8.2-4 101
184 4.13 171 14.5 149
6.1-6 186 9–22 41 18.10-11 88
6.5 81 10 20 18.10-15 88
8.21 37 10.1 37 21.1-9 30
9.3-4 28 16.2 37 21.22-23 30
11 77 16.3 74 22.9-11 30
11.2 77 16.5, 17 171 23.10 71
12.10-20 39 16.8 187 24.1-4 30
12.12-20 39 16.8, 10 4 28.27, 35 42
12.15 39 17–26 29, 30 28–30 68
12.17 39 18.1-30 29 32 5
14.13 81 18.27-30 30 32.8 5, 7, 18
18–19 47 19.2 171 32.16-17 57
21.8 75 19.19 30 32.17 8, 88
22 18, 34, 75 19.26 88 32.24 8
22.12 187 19.29 29 32.26, 30,
27.34-40 109 19.31 30 36, 39-43 7
34.25 80 20.6 30 32.36-39 5, 7
234 Index of Sources
32.40 7 21 x, 1, 2, 4, 96 [95].5 57
32.43 5 18, 20, 21 103.4 187
33.4 171 22 90 105.5 88
34.9 41 105.37 88
Job 5, 19, 73 106.35-37 18
Joshua 1–2 x, 3, 19, 22 119.33b 63
19.49 9 1.6-9, 12 145
1.12 81 Proverbs
Judges 2.1-7 145 16.1, 9, 19, 21 3
9.23 24 2.3 78 20.9 195
12.2-25 27 2.4-7 80, 81
2.6 81 Isaiah
1 Samuel 2.7 42, 81 1.21 175
2.6 7 2.12 81 6 13
16.14 24 4.7-8 40 13–14 11
18.10 187 5.6-7 40 13.21 88
19.20-24 109 6.4 46 14 10, 12
26.19 3 14.4 195 14.12 12
28 88, 92 14.4f 190 14.12-15 10
28.11-14 47 14.12-22 183
Psalms 27.1 187
2 Samuel 2 8 29.9-10 13
6 20 2.7 100 34.14 88
16.14-23 87 22.13 142, 148 40–55 12, 13, 15,
24 1, 2, 3, 10, 22.21 142 22
18, 20 27.3 74 40.3 13
24.1 87 29.1 9 40.12-17 14
24.1ff 3 32.1 73, 74 40.21-24 14
24.10-17 27 34.5, 6 187 41.1-5 14
48.3 10 41.21-29 14
1 Kings 51.5 190, 195 42.1 100
14.10, 21.21 7 82 12 42.18-25 16
21.19-23 13 82.8-9 9 43.8-13 14
22 5 85.3 73, 74 43.8-15 14, 15
22.19-23 13, 187 86.3 198 43.14-15 14
22.21 87 89.7 9 43.22-28 16
90 185 44.6-8, 21-22 14
2 Kings 90.6 88 44.24–45.7 14, 16
5.1-14 4 91 50, 101 45.1-7 15
5.11 42 91.1 45 45.5-7 16
9.8 21 91.2 45 45.7 16
17.5-23 29 91.2, 9 45 45.9-13 14
91.11-13 101 46.8-11 14
1 Chronicles 91.12-13 46 48.11-16 14
3 21 91.13 130 57.7-13 175
16.26 133 95.5 88 65.3 88
21.1 1, 78, 87, 96.4-5 19 65.11 88
145, 187 96.5 88, 133
Jeremiah Zechariah Mark

3.1–4.4 175 1–6 19 1 98
23.18, 22-24 13 3 x, 3, 19, 1.11 100
50.20 73 20, 22, 73 1.13 xi, 98,
51.34 143 3.1 187 100–103,
3.1-2 145 106
Lamentations 3.8-10 20 1.23-28 95, 101
3.37-38 7 13.2 25 1.40-45 94
5.7 20 2.1-12 94
2.10 103
Ezekiel 142 2. New Testament 2.27-28 102
17 12 2.28 103
17.12-21 12 Matthew xi 3.11 96
22.25 148 1.18-24 94 3.15 113
26–28 12 2.1-15 94 3.20-21 par. 109
28 11, 12 3 201 3.22 103, 104
28.11-19 12 4.1-10 103 3.22-29 98, 103
28.12-16 11 4.1-11 101, 106 3.22-30 111
29.3 187 4.10 103 3.23 104
4.15 115 3.23-25 103, 105
Daniel 18, 42 5.43-48 154 3.26-27 103, 105
2 88 5.45 154 3.28-29 103, 109
4 88 7.21-23 96 3.35 103
4.10, 20 47 8.1-4 94 4.15 98, 106,
5 88 8.5-13 97 115
7 102 8.16-17 94 5.1-20 110
8.16 38 8.28-34 95, 110 5.9 46
9.21 38 9.1-8 94 5.19 110
9.24-27 20 9.12 112 5.23 42
10.13 18 9.18-19, 23-26 96 5.41 95
10.13, 20 27 9.27-31 95 6.1-6 par. 110
10.13, 21 38 9.34 111 6.7 113
10.20 18 10.1 113 7.31-34 95
12.1 27, 38 10.7 97 8.22-26 94, 95
12:7 7 12.18-21 94 8.27-33 98
12.14 171 12.22-30 par. 111 8.29 98
12.24 111 8.32 98, 114
Hosea 12.24–29 105 8.33 xi, 98, 99,
2.4-17 175 12.43-45 106 100, 102,
5.14 7 15.21-28 95 103
15.29-31 95 8.37 145
Jonah 143 16.22 114 9 95
16.23 103 9.29 69
Habakkuk 17.14-20 95 9.44-48 201
2.23 20 17.14-21 96 10.8 113
3.3-5 8 20.29-34 95 13.26 103
24.23-25 26 14.61 100
25.41 201 14.61-62 100
14.62 102 John 11.16 196

6.70 99 12.9 140
Luke 8.30 116, 117 12.14 154
3.14 199 8.31 xii, 116, 12.17 138, 139
4.1-13 101, 106 121 12.21 138, 139
4.15 105 8.31-59 121 13 201
4.18-19 115 8.33 117 13.1, 3 134
4.35 99 8.37 118 13.1-7 153
4.36 115 8.40 118 13.3 138
4.40-41 42 8.44 xi, 99, 13.3f 139
5.31 112 116–118, 13.4 138
6.46 96 121 13.5 140
7.9b 112 8.59 118 13.10 138, 139
7.18-23 113 9.22 120 14.20 133, 138–
7.22 113 12.31 105, 106 140
8.2 113, 114 12.42 120 15.33 140
8.12 115 13.2 99 16.19 138, 139
8.26-39 110 13.2, 26 106 16.20 117, 130,
8.30 46 13.27 99, 187 135, 136
9 95 16 201
9.1 113 16.2 120 1 Corinthians
9.42 99 2 134
9.55 99 Acts xii, 115 2.6, 8 134
10.17-18 104 4.9 134
10.17-20 165 Romans 129 4.16 134
10.18 x, 105, 1 139 5.5 136
107, 111, 1.29 138, 140 5.8 139, 140
113, 115, 1.29-31 139 5.13 136, 140
165, 178, 1.30 138 6.3 130, 134
183 2.9 138, 139 7.5 133, 135,
10.19 104 3.8 138, 139 136
11.15-22 105 3.9 195 8.4 133, 175
11.15-23 111 5 130 8.7 133
11.24-26 106 5.12 195 8.10f 133
13.10-17 110, 114, 5.12-21 134 10.10 133, 136
117 7 138, 152, 10.13 188
13.11 114 193, 197 10.19 133
13.16 114 7.19 138 10.20f 133
13.31-35 111 7.19, 21 138 11.10 129, 134
13.32 111 7.21 138 11.17 137
13.34 112 8 xii, 137 13.1 134
22.3 106, 115 8.38f 134 13.5 139
22.31 115 8.39 134, 135 14.20 140
22.31-32 114 9.9-29 195 15 130, 131
22.51 113 9.11 137, 196 15.20-28 134
23.43 100 9.15 196 15.21, 56 197
23.46 100 9.21 196 15.22 195
10.6 140 15.24-27 135
15.55 197 5.1 139 4.4 145, 146,

5.15 140 152, 153
2 Corinthians 5.22 140 4.5-6 145
2.11 136 4.6 145
4.4 133, 135– 2 Thessalonians 4.12 153
136 1 201 4.14-16 153
5.10 136, 137 4.15 145, 146
6.14–7.1 128 2 Timothy 4.15-16 145
6.15 133, 135, 4.17 142, 143 4.17 152
136 4.17-18 147
11.3 117, 130, Hebrews 4.17-19 153
136 8 201 4.31 147
11.3, 14 136 5.2-4 144
11.14 117, 134, 1 Peter 5.8 xii, 142,
136 1.6 149 143, 149
11.17 136 1.6-7 146, 153 5.8-9 143, 144,
12.2-5 131 1.7 144 150, 151
12.7 134, 136 1.10-12 153 5.9 146
12.7-9 132 1.14, 18 153 5.10 155
12.15 137 1.14, 18, 23-24 143 5.13 143
13.7 140 1.17 145
2.8 152 1 John
Galatians 151 2.9-10 153 1.8-10 195
1 130 2.10 143, 153 2.16 195
1.4 131, 140 2.12 152, 153 4.1-4 99, 104
1.8 134 2.13-14 145
1.8-9 152 2.14 145, 146 Jude
3.8 134 2.15 152, 153 9-10 186
3.19 134 2.18 147, 152,
4.3, 9 134 154 Revelation xiii, 83
4.14 134 2.20 153 1.1-3 170
5.17 188 2.21-24 147 2–3 162, 170
2.23 145 2.9 171, 172
Ephesians 2.23-25 144 2.9, 13, 24 162
4.27 187 3.1 152, 153 2.9-10 172, 173
3.5 151 2.10 162, 171,
Philippians 3.9 154 172
3.2 139, 140 3.12 153 2.13 173, 174
3.13-17 145 2.20 162, 174
Colossians 3.14 152, 153 2.20-21 174
3 201 3.15 146, 147, 2.24 174
154 3.7-13 172
1 Thessalonians 3.15-16 145 3.8, 10 172, 173
1.9 133 3.16 145, 146, 3.9 171
2.18 106, 135– 152, 153 3.10 172
136 3.17 146 4f 165
3.5 133, 136 3.19-20 154 6.11 166
3.13 134 4.3-5, 17 153 9.1 157
9.11 157 16.10 174 xx 28-29 40, 91

12 38, 163, 16.13 157, 176 xx 30-31 40
169 17.10 166 xxi 16-17 39
12.1-5a 164 18–19 168
12–13 157, 162, 18.4 166, 175 1Q36 58
163 19.20 169, 176, 1Q36 16.3 54
12–14 161 201
12.3-4 164 20 157, 162, 1QHa 34
12.5 164 166, 168, 4.6 62
12.5b-6 164 169, 178 5.4 58
12.7a 164 20.1 157 5.6 58
12.7-12 105 20.1-3 168 iv 23 58
12.7ff 168 20.1ff 169 xi 18 58
12.8 165 20.2 117, 156– xi 28 66
12.9 117, 156, 158, 162, 45.3 62
157, 158, 168–169
162, 164, 20.3 157, 166, 1QM 34, 58, 61
165, 169, 169 i 15 60
170 20.3, 8 170 xii 11 60
12.9, 13 165 20.4ff 168 xiii 10-12 64
12.10 165 20.7 169 xiii 11 58
12.10-12 166 20.8 169 xiii 2, 4 58
12.11 165, 166 20.10 169, 170, xiv 9-10 67
12.12 165, 166 176, 201 xv 14 58
12.13 170 21.9–22.5 159
12.13-17 166 1QS 34, 66
12.17 163, 166, i 11-18 66
170, 172, 3. Qumran i 12, 22.24
173, 177 i 16–iii 11 67
12.18–13.18 175, 177 1 Q20 (Genesis i 23-24, ii 19 67
13 154, 169, Apocryphon, ii 4-5 59
175 1QApGenar) 38, 39, 43, ii 4-10 66
13.1 176 51, 54 ii 5-9 62
13.2 174, 176 ii 1, 16 61 ii 19 59
13.2, 4 174 ii 1; vi 20 61 ii 20, 21 62
13.3 176 xv 14 61 iii 13-16 62
13.3ff 176 xix 10-20 39 iii 17–iv 1 89
13.4 176 xx 14 40 iii 18 62
13.4, 8, 12 176 xx 16 57 iii 18, 24 58
13.7 179 xx 16-17 39 iii 18-19 62
13.8 177 xx 18-20 39 iii 20-21 60
13.11 176 xx 20 38, 57 iii 23 64
13.11ff 176 xx 21-22 39 iv 2-8 62
13.12 169, 176 xx 22 39, 42 iv 9-14 62
13.13 176 xx 24-26 39 iv 12 60
13.13a, 14b 176 xx 26 40, 57
13.14a 176 xx 26-27 39 1QSa II 8f 130
13.15 176 xx 28 39, 57
1QSb 1.8 62, 145 4Q242 42 4Q495 2.4? 60
1-3 2-3 42
4Q157 1 ii 3 61 4Q504
4Q243 13.2 56 1-2 iv 12 63
4Q177 58 1-2 iv 23.29 63
1-4.7 58 4Q244 12.2 56
12-13 i 9 58 4Q510 25, 68, 91
iii 8 67 4Q257 ii 1-7 66 1.4a-6a 68
1.4-8 55
4Q180 1.7-8 60 4Q266 2 ii 18 61 1.5 56, 58, 60
1.5-8 25, 47
4Q180–181 26 4Q270 11 25
6 ii 8 65 12 25
4Q196 6 ii 18 60 13 25
13.2, 17; 4 i 5 61
14 i 5, 12 56 4Q271 4Q510-11 25, 50, 55
4 ii 6 60
4Q196–199 36 5 i 18 58, 59 4Q511 25, 86, 91
2 i 2 26
4Q197 4Q280 1.2-7 62 2i6 58
4 i 13 57, 58 10.1-3a 68
ii 9, 13 57 4Q286 59, 64 10.1-4 55
7 ii 3 59 10.1-5 26, 47
4Q200 36 10.3b-6 68
4Q386 1 iii 56 15.5 58
4Q201 1 i 3 61 18 ii 7 26
4Q387 32.2-3 26
4Q202 1 iv 6 61 2 65 35.7 55, 58
2 ii 4 34, 60 43.6 58
4Q203 7a.7; 48-49+51.2-3 55, 58
7b i 4 61 4Q390 86 25
1 11 34, 60 121 55
4Q204 1 vi 8 61 2 i 7 60 182.1 58
4Q213a 4Q400–407 130 4Q525 19 4 34

1 i 10 63
2.18 61 4Q444 55 4Q529 1.1, 4 61
1-4 i+4.8 59
4Q225 1-4 i+5.2 58 4Q531 31
2 6 65 1-4 i+5.4 58 1.1 30, 59
2 13 34 1-4 i+5.8 58 36.1? 61
2 ii 6 34, 60 47.1 61
2 ii 6-7 34 4Q449 1.3 58
2 ii 7 34 4Q532 2.7 61
2 ii 14 64 4Q455 2.13-16 62
4Q543 2a-b.4 61
4Q227 2.4 61 4Q491 67
14–15.10 58 4Q544 2.13 62
4Q545 1a i 9, 17 4QMMT ii 13 58
61 (4Q394–399) 30
11Q14 34
4Q546 22.1 61 4QMMT
(4Q531 51) 30 11Q17 130
4Q552 1.5 61
4QPseudo- 11QM xii 11 34
4Q553 2 ii1 61 Ezekiel 56
11QMilhamah 46
4Q557 2 61 5Q11 1.2-6 66
11QT 25, 33
4Q560 43, 69, 91 11Q5 63 ii 1-15 30
1 i 2-3 43 xix 5 59 xlvii 6-7 30
1 i 3 43 xix 13-16 63 xlviii 30
1 i 4 43 xlviii 10 30
1 i 5 43, 44 11Q10 xxx 5 61 xlviii 11-17 30
1 ii 5 43 lxivii 11-12 30
1 ii 5, 6 44, 58 11Q11 45, 49, 47,
49, 50, 55, CD (Damascus
4QBerakoth 59 56, 58, 69, Document) 25, 52, 58,
92, 101 60, 61
4QCatena i 1[-14] 48 1,i 7-11 34
see 4Q177 i 11[-14] 49 ii 3, 14 34
ii 1–v 3 48 ii 6 60
4QDeut 6 ii 2 48 ii 18 par. 61
ii 3-5 48 xii 2 par. 59
4QEnar ii 3 58 xii 2 58
(4Q201) 27 iii 4, iv 1 49 xvi 2-5 65
iv 7 49 xvi 6 60
4QEn aar iv 10 49
(4Q204) 30 v 3 49 Genesis
v 4 46 Apocryphon
4QEnGiants aar v 4–vi 3 46 see 11Q20
= 4Q203 v 6 46, 61
8.9 30 v 7 46
v 8–vi 3 48 4. Rabbinical Texts
4QEnGiants b v 9 48
(4Q530) v 10 48 ’Ag. Ber. 38.51 76
3.4-5 38 vi 3 48
vi 3-4 45 Abôt de Rabbi
4QEnGiantsb vi 6 45 Nātan
(4Q530) (rec. A) 1,11
1 iii 4 31 11Q12 7.1 54
Babylonian
4QMa 8-10 i 11Q13 Talmud 72, 73, 80
6-7 67 (=11QMelchizedek)
66 b. B. Bat. 16a 73, 78, 80
4QMMT 33, 52 ii 12 58
b. Ber. 84.3 77 Pirqe deR ’Eli‘ezer

19a par. 77, 78 91.9 par. 76 12, 14 72, 81
33a 79 91.9 76
135.2 186 Qoh. Rab. 3.11.3
b. Ned. 31b/32a 80 79
Yerushalmi 76
b. Qidd. Sefer ha-Razim 69
81a 77, 78 j. Ber. 1 (2d) 76
81b/82a. 78 Sipra ‫ שמיני‬parasha
j. Ned. 3.12 (35b) 3 71
b. Sanh. 89b 75, 80 80
Sipre Deut.
b. Sheb. 15.b 101 j. Šabb. 2.6 (5b) 218 71
76
b. Sot. 10b 81 j. Šabb. 8b 101 Sipre Num. 42 71
b. Yoma 67b. 77 Lev. Rab. Tosefta 71

21.4 77
Ber. Rabbati 81 21.4 par. 74 t. ‘Abod. Zar.
1.17-18 76
‫ וישלח‬on Mek. ‫ יתרו‬1
Gen. 36.33 82 on Exod. 8.3 80 t. ‘Abod. Zar.
‫ לך לך‬on 1.17-18 par. 71
Gen. 14.13 81 Midr. ’Aggada
on Exod. 4.24 78, 80 t. Šabb.
Deut. Rab. 10 82 17 (18).2-3 71, 76
Midr. Ps.
Est. Rab. 15.5; 27.4 77 Tanh.uma 73
7.12 77 ‫ וירא‬22 78
7.13 77 Midr. Ps. 27.2 77 ‫ בלק‬7 79
‫ וישלח‬8 82
Exod. Rab. 73, 81, 83 Midr. Tann.
1.36 77 on Deut.23.10 71 Targum Job 61
3.2 77
5.8 80 Mishnah 73, 76 Targum Pseudo-
18.5 77, 81, 82 Jonathan 81
20.10 76 m. Šabb. 2.6 76
21.7 81, 82 Yal. Šim‘oni ‫ויחי‬
Num. Rab. §161 78
Gen. Rab. 72, 75 20.11 par. 79
9.7 79
17.6 79 Pesiq. deR. 5. Other Early Jewish
17.6 79 Kahana Texts
38.7 77 12.23 77
42.38 76 1 Baruch 88
53.14 77 Pesiqta Rabbati
55.4 75, 77 45.2 74 1 Enoch x, 17, 35,
56.4 81 50, 53, 56
1–36 4, 89 65.6 28 Jubilees x, 17, 21,

1.6-7 184 69 28, 30–31 33, 35, 50,
1.11 57 85–90 33, 34 51, 55–57,
4–6 48 88.1 48 69, 89
5.8 47 88.3 38, 48 1.19-20 63, 67
6.1–7.62 28 90.7 57 1.20 60, 66
6–7 4 92, 94–105 90 2.2 59
6–11 27, 28, 46 106.5-6, 12 61 4.15 33, 47, 60,
6–16 53 61
6.2 28 2 Maccabees 5.1-2 33
6.2, 8 61 2.4-7 20 5.1-19 33, 47
6.3 28 7.4-5 90
6.6 28 2 Sibyllines 7.21 61, 90
7–8 53 2.167 92 8.3 61
7.3-5 53 10 66
7.4 28 4 Ezra 132 10–11 60
7.5-6 28 12.31-32 143 10.1-6 67
8 4 10.1-10 55
Apocalypse of
8.1 31, 32 10.1-14 47, 90
Abraham
8.1-2 28 10.3, 5, 8, 60
13.4-14 91
8.3 53 10.3-6 64
8.3-4 28 Apocalypse of 10.5 61
9.1 38 Elijah 10.7-8 18
9.1ff 28 3.10 92 10.8 34
9–10 53 5.1, 10-11 93 10.10-13 67
10.1 56 11 104
10.1-2 61 Apocalypse of 11.5 60, 65
10.1-3, 20-22 29 Moses 101, 102 11.10-12 34
10.4-6 38 16.5 117 12.19-20 67
10.4-7 28 17.1 117 12.20 60
10.7 61 17–19 99 15.30-33 66
10.9 54, 55 26.1 117 15.31-32 60
10.10-12 38, 168 31.1 100 15.32 59
10.11-12 28 31.4 100 17.15-18.19 18
15 89 17.16 34, 66
15–16 53 Assumption of 18.19, 12 66
15.4-12 38 Moses 104 19.28 64
15.8 30 10.1 131 22 61
15.8-16 54 23.29 131
15.8–16.1 58, 69 Jannes and 48.2, 9, 12, 15 65
15.12 54 Jambres 91 48.2-3 44, 35, 88,
16.1 54 91
18 89 Josephus 48.5, 18 168
20.4 38 B.J. 2.136 91 48.9 66
21.10 62 48.9-18 34
22.17 57 Joseph and 48.16-17 168
37–71 89 Aseneth 49.2 18, 91
40.7 104 12.9 142
Liber antiquitatum T. Sol. 69 2.4.9-19 190

biblicarum (L.A.B.) 3 103 2.7.11 190
88, 91, 97 5.1-11 56 3.4.7 191
25.10-12 92 6 103 3.6.10 191
34 92 3.6.10-11 191
60 92 Tobit 36, 48, 51, 3.7.13-14 199
56, 88, 90 5.6.10-11 192
Lives of the Prophets 3.7-15 36 5.10.19 192
12.13 117 3.8 36 5.13.23 192
6–8 69 5.13.23-24 192
Martyrdom and 6.8 58 7.3.5 192
Ascension of 6.10-12a 37 7.9.13-14 192
Isaiah 6.15 36, 37 7.11.17–7.12.19
4 93 6.16 37 192
6.18 38 7.12.19 197
Philo 8.3 18, 48 8.2.3 195
Gig. 12.12-15 38 8.2.3-4 192
6-17 184 12.13 38 9.7.17 193
12 186 12.15 38 13.32 195
12.19 38, 39 13.9.10 199
Sap. 2.23f 130 12.20 38
Sir. 52 Contra
Treatise of Academicos
T. Asher Shem 92 1.1.1 192
6.4 145
Visions of Contra
T. Dan. Amram 61 Faustum 191
3.6 145 22.74 199
5.6 145 The Life of
6.1 145 Adam and Eve Contra Iulianum
(Vit. Ad.) 101 opus imperfectum
T. Gad 9.1 117 1.141 196
4.7 145 11–17 102 1.81 197
13 102
T. Job 16 117 De civitate dei xiv
3.6 145 43 102 1–5 198
4.4 14 44 [16] 102 1.35 199
6.4 117, 145 3.14 199
7.1 145 5.9 193
17.2 117 6. Patristic texts 8.16 85
23.11 117 10.32 199, 200
Augustinus 11.15 200
T.Jos. 89 Ad Simplicianum 1, 12.28 195
praefatio. 195 13.8 197
T. Levi 63 1.2: 195 14.3 200
18.12 131 14.10 199
Confessiones 14.15 199
T.Sim. 130 1.9.15 190 14.24 195
14.26 196 De predestina- Apologia

17.20 200 tione 196 prophetae
19.28 199 David
21.3, 18 201 De urbis 56 194
21.12 196 excidio 198
22.3 200 De Noe
22.14 199 De vera 26.99 195
22.30 201 religione 194, 195
22.30.3 196 Explanatio in
Enarratio in
Psalmum
De doctrina Psalmum 8.3 195
38.29 194
Christiana
Enarratio in
1.32 197 Cyprian
Psalmum 64 198
Epistulae
De dono 64 194
Enarratio in
perseverentiae 196 296 194
Psalmum 72.5 200
De Genesi ad
Enchiridion Eusebius H.E.
litteram
8 196 5.1-2 143
3.6-10, 5.32 197
93 201
9.6-9 199
Gelasius Cyzicus
11.15.20 198 Epistles Hist. Eccl.
9.2 200 2.21.7 104
De Genesi
43 200
contra
88 200 Gregory of
Manichaeos 194
108 200 Nazianzen
De gratia et 120.2 195 Oratio
libero arbitrio 139 199 22.13 194
passim 196 166.5 195
189 199 Gregory of
De libero 194 196 Nyssa
arbitrio I 193 De anima et
De libero Letter to
resurrectione
arbitrio II 193 Firmus 198
13 201
1.14.31 196
Retractationes
3.19.53 194 Irenaeus
2.24.2 195
Haer. 1.54 180
De natura et 5.2.1; 6.1; 16.3 194
gratia 36.42 194 Sermones
112 195
112A 200 Origen
De ordine
284 195 Cels. xiii
2.12.35 193
301 196 3.29 183, 184,
De peccatorum 313A 195, 197 185
meritis et 344 197 3.36 184
remissione et 3.37 183, 185
de baptismo Ambrose 6.55-56 181, 188
parvulorum Apocryphon 8.31 186
2.19.32 196 Iohannis xiv
ComJo 4.3.15 181 Horace

1.102 181 Sat. 1.8 86
2.191-192 182 Apol. Adv.
20.40 187 Libr. Ruf. Philostratus
2.18-19 189 Life of Apollonius
Commentary 87
on Genesis 181 Possidius
Vita Augustini Plato
De Principiis 30 196 Apol. 31c–32a 85
456; 468 201 Republic 2 200
Pseudo- Symposium 203c ff.
Epistulae Augustine 200
496 194 Sermo Theag. 128d-2 182
501 194 82 200 Timaeus 90 a 182
Fr. In Gen. Tertullian Plinius the Younger

279 181 De cultu Ep. X 96.5 174
feminarum Ep. X 96-97 162
Hom. In Exod. 1.31-33 184
5.2 188 Plotinus
Thomas Aquinas Enneads
Hom. In Gen. Summa 1.8 192
1.1 183 Theologiae 3.2.3 192, 196
II-II, 40, art. 1 200 4.7 192
Hom. In Jos. 5.1 192
15.3 184, 185
7. Other texts Porphyry
Praef. 4 181 De regressu animae
1.2.2 181 Apuleius 192
1.2.3 183 De deo Socratis 85 Philosophy from Oracles
1.5.1 182 192
1.5.2 183, 185 Cicero
1.5.2-4 182 Ad Catilinam Tacitus
1.5.3 183 passim 200 Ann. 6.20-21 86
1.5.5 183 De natura Hist. 1.22 86
1.6.4 181 deorum 2-3 194
2.2.2 181 Hortensius 190 Twelve Tablets,
2.3.11 182 Enuma Elish 6, 9, 15, 32 8a 86
2.8.3 181 I.7-9 15
2.9.2 181
3.1.14 188 Homer
3.2.1 186, 187 Odyssey 84
3.2.2-3 187 10.235-243 85
Index of Scholars
Achtemeier, P. J. 112, 113 Boccaccini, G. 29, 32

Albani, M. 10, 15 Böcher, O. xi, 90, 93–95
Albertz, R. 12 Boer, M. de 118
Albinus, L. 185 Bohak, G. 42
Albright, W. F. 5 Botterweck, G. J. 46
Alderink, L. J. 134 Bourke, V. 193
Alexander, P. S. 24, 25, 26, 34, 44, 50, Bousset, W. 71
53, 54, 59 Boyarin, D. 79
Alkier, S. 158 Boyce, M. 37
Allen, R. 158 Boyd, G. A. 3
Amar, Z. 149 Branscombe, N. E. 123
Anderson, G. A. 102 Braude, W. G. 74
Auffahrt, C. 10 Breytenbach, C. 135
Aune, D. E. 86, 134, 157, 162, 176 Brock, A. G. 114
Brown, J. E. 117
Backhaus, K. 160 Brox, N. 143, 146, 150
Baillet, M. 25 Bühlmann, W. 152
Balch, D. L. 148, 164 Bultmann, R. 127
Barr, D. L. 158, 160
Barrett, C. H. 118 Caird, G. B. 128, 135
Baskin, J. R. 79 Campbell, B. 44
Beale, G. K. 157 Caquot, A. 45
Beck, P. 48 Carr, W. 128
Becker, M. xi, xii, 89, 93, 132, 135 Carter, W. 119, 120
Beit-Arieh, I. 48 Charles, R. H. 33
Bell, R. H. 128, 129, 130, 133, 134, 135, Chesterton, G. K. 191
136, 139 Clifford, R. J. 10
Ben-Amos, D. 36 Cohen, S. J. D. 119, 120
Berardino, A. di, 193 Colish, M. 193
Berger, U. 16 Collins, J. J. 42, 89, 92, 132
Bergich, J. 14 Coyle, K. 191
Betz, H. D. 134 Cross, F. M. 13, 14, 21
Beutler, J. 159 Cryer, F. H. 23
Bhayero, S. 17 Cserháti, M. xi, 108
Bietenhard, H. 71
Biggs, R. A. 40 Dahl, N. xiv
Blair, J. M. 24 Dalferth, I. U. 129
Blau, L. 101 Dalman, G. H. 101
Blount, B. K. 157 Dan, J. 71, 72, 81, 82
248 Index of Scholars
Daube, D. 41 Gasparro, G. S. 180, 185

Davids, P. H. 145 Geller, M. 45
Davies, W. D. 29 Gielen, M. 130, 160, 166, 168, 176
Day, P. L. 3, 19–21, 24, 135 Giesen, H. 162, 172
Delcor, M. 89, 184 Gnilka, J. 93, 94
Denis, A. M. 27 Goldberg, A. 83
DeSilva, D. A. 159 Gollinger, H. 163
Dibelius, M. 134 Goodfriend, E. A. 39
Dimant, D. 51, 64, 65 Goodman, M. 119
Dochhorn, J. xi, 81, 98–101, 104 Goppelt, L. 142, 144, 146, 148
Du Rand, J. A. 160 Grässer, E. 101
du Roy, O. 190 Green, A. 47
Duff, P. 171, Greenberg, M. 12
Dunderberg, I. 121 Gressmann, H. 71
Dunn, J. 129, 141 Grintz, Y. M. 37
Dupont-Sommer, A. 40 Grypeu, E. 180
Guggenheimer, H. W. 76
Eco, U. 156 Guggisberg, C. A. W. 147
Eliade, M. 31 Guijjaro, S. 111, 112
Elliott, J. P. 148
Engberg-Pedersen, T. 127, 133–135, 141 Haag, H. 128
Epstein, I. 75 Haas, V. 32
Eshel, E. 25, 35, 53 Hagner, D. A. 94–96
Esler, P. E. 109, 110, 122 Hahn, F. 128
Everling, O. 128 Hakola, R. xii, 116, 117, 119, 121
Halpern-Amaru, B. 29
Fabry, H.-J. 1, 135 Halsberghe, G. 86
Farkaš, P. 164 Hamilton, V. P. 1
Fiebig, P. 93 Hanson, P. D. 17, 20
Filoramo, G. 180 Harland, A. 120
Fitzmyer, J. A. 36, 41 Hemer, C. J. 161
Fleddermann, H. 95 Hempel, Ch. 51
Flemming, J. 27 Hengel, M. 85
Fleteren, F. Van xiv, 200 Henten, J. W. van 4
Flusser, D. 90 Holling, C. 148
Forsyth, N. 2 Holtz, T. 164
France, R. T. 94–96 Horsley, G. R. H. 143
Frankfurter, D. 171 Horst, P. W. van der, 3
Freedman, H. 74 Hossfeld, F.-I. 9
Frenschkowski, M. 36 Hüllstrung, W. 88
Freud, S. 123 Humphrey, E. M. 164, 165
Frey, J. 58, 132, 162 Hunter, E. C. D. 45
Frey-Anthes, H. 178
Friedman, H. H. 73 Isaac, E. 184
Friesen, S. J. 162, 169, 171
Fröhlich, I. x, 23, 26, 36, 47, 89–91 Jacobsen, A. C. L. 181
Jacobson, H. 92
García Martínez, F. 28, 43 Japhet, S. 2
Jeremias, Chr. 19 Luck, G. 86

Jetten, J. 123, 124 Lührmann, D. 100
Johnston, S. I. 85 Luomanen, P. 122
Jung, L. 72, 82 Luz, U. 93–94, 96–97
Justinianus, A. 101
MacGregor, G. H. C. 128
Kadushin, M. 74 Mach, M. 4
Kalms, J. U. 157, 161, 164, 168, 169, Maier, J. 49, 50
175 Malina, B. J. 108, 109
Karrer, M. 171 Manstead, A. S. R. 124
Kastersztein, J. 123 Marcus, J. 106, 119
Kee, M. S. 5, 13 Marshall, H. I. 145
Keel, O. 24, 87–88 Martyn, J. L. 118
Keener, C. S. 95 McCown, C. C. 103
Kelly, H. A. 3 McEwan Humphrey, E. 163
Kerner, J. 160 McGarry, E. P. 6
King, P. 48 McKelvey, R. J. 169
Kirschschläger, W. 41 McKenna, M. 197
Kister, M. 34, 91 McTaggart Cowan, I. 148
Klauck, H.-J. 172, 173, 175 Meeks, W. A. 120
Klutz, T. E. 44, 108 Meier, G. 32
Knibb, M. A. 27 Meier, S. A. 133
Knoch, O. 142 Merklein, H. 129, 130, 138
Knox, W. L. 44 Mettinger, T. N. D. 9, 12
Köckert, M. 87 Michaels, R. J. 143–146, 152
Kollmann, B. 94 Mieth, D. 161
Kooij, A. Van der 6 Milik, J. T. 18, 27–28
Koole, J. L. 14 Mobley, G. 1, 3
Koskenniemi, E. xi, 84–86, 88–93 Moerzu, H. 164
Kowalski, B. 158, 170 Moloney, J. 117
Krauter, St. 134 Monaci Castagno, A. 182, 184, 185, 187
Kreuzer, F. 3 Moore, C. A. 38
Kundert, L. 75 Morales, H. 158
Morrison, C. D. 128
Laato, A. x, 20, 87 Müller, U. B. 84, 172
Labahn, M. xiii, 156, 159, 165–167 Müller-Kessler, C. 26
Labat, R. 26
Lagarde, P. de 101 Naveh, J. 42–44, 47
Lambert, W. G. 6 Newsom, C. 51
Lambrecht, J. 171 Nickelsburg, G. W. E. 17
Lampe, P. 133 Nicklas, T. 37, 166
Lang, M. 167 Niehr, H. 8, 87
Lange, A. 35, 50, 51, 63, 68, 88, 91 Nielsen, K. 2
Lemaine, G. 123 Nitsche, S. A. 163
Leonhard-Balzer, J. 128, 135–136 Nitzan, B. 26, 50
Leslau, W. 31 Nyberg, H. S. 16
Liddell, H. G. 147
Lindström, F. 3, 7, 13, 16, 22 Oakes, P. J. 123
250 Index of Scholars
Oppenheim, A. L. 41 Schutter, W. L. 146

Schwank, B. 144, 149
Pagels, E. 2, 17, 177 Schwartz, M. D. 37, 45, 51
Pearson, B. xiv Schwartz, S. H. 123, 124
Penney, D. L. 43 Schweizer, E. 148
Perlewitz, R. 142 Scott, R. 147
Personnaz, B. 123 Scurlock, J. 40, 41, 49
Pezzoli-Olgiati, D. 176, 177 Sebastián, L. 193
Pilch, J. J. 110, 112, 114 Segol, J. B. 45
Piper, J. 154 Sengers, G. 36, 37
Plantinus, C. 101 Setzer, C. 119
Preus, H. D. 5 Shaked, S. 37, 42, 47
Puech, É. 43 Sharrock, A. 158
Shipp, R. M. 10
Radermacher, L. 27 Simon, M. 74
Radt, W. 173 Skehan, P. W. 6
Rajak, T. 120 Smalley, S. S. 157
Rasimus, T. xiv Söding, T. 162, 163, 169, 173, 176
Reeg, G. xi, 71–73, 75, 80 Soldt, W. H. van 31
Reinhartz, A. 118, 126 Spears, R. 123, 124
Reitzenstein, R. 86 Sperling, S. D. 4
Rese, M. xi, 94–95 Stanzel, K.-H. 85
Resseguie, J. L. 159, 165, 166, 173 Stemberger, G. 72, 75, 81, 82
Rickards, T. 26 Stol, M. 40, 42, 43, 49
Riede, P. 45 Stone, M. 29
Ringren, H. 46 Strecker, C. 110
Roccas, S. 123, 124 Strecker, G. 159
Rohrbaugh, B. J. 108, 109 Stuart, G. H. C. 79
Roloff, J. 160 Stuckenbruck, L. T. x, 10, 17, 28, 38, 48,
Rüsen, J. 162 51, 55, 57, 68, 89, 91
Rustemeyer, D. 160 Stuhlmueller, C. 15
Stummer, F. 15
Sacchi, P. 29 Stuwolf, H. 180
Sanders, P. 7 Suter, D. 29
Sänger, D. 158, 160, 175
Satake, A. 168, 169, 172, 174 Taeger, J.-W. 164
Schachter, S. 102 Tajfel, H. 121, 122
Schäfer, P. 71, 74, 76 Techen, L. 101
Scherer, K. 152 ter Vrugt-Lentz, J. 85
Schiffman, L. H. 37, 45, 51 Testa, E. 186
Schmeller, Th. 128 Theobald, M. 121
Schmidt, B. B. 23, 24 Thomas, R. L. 158, 160, 177
Schneider, M. 158 Thraede, K. 85, 90, 162
Schnelle, U. 127, 132, 133, 135, 161, Thurén, L. xii, 142, 143, 149, 150–154
165, 167, 176 Tigchelaar, E. 43
Scholem, G. 71 Tillborg, S. van 120
Scholtissek, K. 160, 175 Tobias, N. 119
Schüssler Fiorenza, E. 157, 173, 175 Toorn, K. van der 8, 23, 40, 43
Toulmin, S. E. 150 White, M. L. 120

Tov, E. 9 Whybray, R. N. 13, 14
Trummer, P. 156 Widengren, G. 16,
Trunk, D. 41 Wiggermann, F. A. M. 45, 47
Tsevat, M. 12 Wilckens, L. 139
Tsukimoto, A. 49 Williams, G. 127, 133–134
Turner, J. C. 122 Williams, M. xiv
Tvetkova-Glaser, A. xiii, 180 Williamson, H. G. M. 21,
Twelftree, G. H. 95 Wilson, S. Q. 125
Wink, W. 128, 135, 141
Uhlig, S. 89, 90 Wintermute, O. S. 92
Ulland, H. 161 Wise, M. O. 43
Ulrich, E. 6 Witulski, T. 161
Urbach, E. E. 79, 81 Wolter, M. 161
Utzschneider, H. 163 Wray, T. J. 1, 3
Wright, A. 53, 54, 55, 128
Vanderkam, J. C. 4, 18, 19, 33, 35, 90 Wright, J. W. 2
Volz, P. 3, 8 Wright, P. D. 29
von Rad, G. 2, 5
Yarbro Collins, A. 98, 101, 163
Wainwright, A. W. 159
Waltke, B. K. 4 Zeller, D. 130
Wanke, G. 8 Zenger, E. 9, 45
Weiher, E. von 46 Zerri, Y. 149
Wengst, K. 156, 167, 172 Zintzen, C. 85
Westermann, C. 14
Wheeler Robinson, H. 5
Index of Subjects
Aaron 88 Azazel (‘Azaz’el) 4, 60

Aaronic 68 see also ‘Asa’el
Abaddon 49
Abel 4, 198 Baal 88
Abihu 20 Babylon (Babylonia) 11, 12, 14, 15, 16,
Abraham (Abram) 18, 34, 39, 40, 41, 47, 57, 72, 143, 198
64–66, 75, 77–78, 80, 114, 117, Balaam x, 2, 19
121 Basil the Great xiv
Academy, the 85 Beast, the 154
Adam 54, 55, 72, 79, 82, 100–102, 130, Beelzebul 98, 103, 104, 105, 107
186, 194–197 Belial (Beliar) x, 4, 58–60, 62–66, 68–
Africa 147, 191, 193, 198, 199, 200 69, 83, 92, 128, 131, 135, 136
Ahab 87 Boniface 199, 200
Alaric 198 Branch, coming of 20
Alexander the Great 53 Book of Giants 28, 30–31, 54–55, 59,
Ambrose 192, 193 61, 69
Angel of Animosity 65 Book of Life 177
Angel of Darkness ix, 58–60, 62, 69 Buddhism 191
Angel of Death 73, 81, 82
Angel of Mercy 80 Cain 4, 31, 198
anger of Yahweh 1, 2 Candidus 189
Antichrist 92 Capernaum 112
Antipas 112, 166, 172, 174 Carthage 191, 192, 198
Aod, the magician 92, 97 Catholic Epistles 152
Apollon Smintheus 46 Celsus 185
Apollonius of Tyana 87 Chuza 113
Apsu 15 Cicero 132, 191, 200
Apuleius 85 Circe 85
Aquinas, Thomas 200 Circumcelliones 200
Arian 200 Clement of Alexandria 180
Aristotle 147 Corinthians 130
‘Asa’el 4, 28, 48, 53, 61, 87 Corpus Paulinum 152
see also Azazel (‘Azaz’el) Crete 85
Aseneth 142 Cyprian 194
Asher 92 Cyrus 14, 15
Asia Minor 85, 146, 147, 159
Asmodeus (Ashmedai) 36–38, 56, 90 Daniel 88
Assur (Assyria) 6, 12, 29 David 1, 20, 73, 87, 91, 110
Augustine x, xiv, 190–201 Day of Atonement 73, 74
Augustus 114 Deber 87
254 Index of Subjects
Demiourg (Demiurge) xiv, 180 Herodotus 147

Deuteropauline letters 128, 129, 135 Hesiod 85
Diaspora 90, 119, 120 High Priest 20
divine council x, 4, 5–17, 18–19, 21–22 Holiness Code 29, 30
Domitian 161, xiii, 200 Homer 85
dragon 143, 147, 156, 157, 158, 162, Horace 86
164, 165, 169 Horvat Qitmit 48
Eden 11, 79 Irenaeus 194

Edomite shrine (Horvat Qitmit) 47–48 Isaac 34, 66, 73, 75, 78, 109
Egypt 34, 36, 37, 41, 48, 85, 86, 91, 92, Ishmael 75
168, 185 Isidore of Seville 200
El Shaddai 25 Ivo of Cartres 200
Elijah 99
Elisha 42 Jacob 195
Empedocles 185 Jannes and Jambres 91
Endor 92 Jeconiah 20
Ephraem the Syrian xiv Jeroboam 29
Epictetus 132 Jerome 188
Epistle of Enoch 57, 61, 67 Jezebel 174, 175
Erra 46 Joab 1
Eve 79, 82, 102, 117, 130, 186 Joanna 113
exorcism xi, 34, 37, 38, 41–49, 54, 67, Job 81
68, 69, 91, 95–98, 101, 103–113, John (Johannine) 116–121, 124, 125,
115, 165 195
John the Baptist 113
Faustus 192 Jordan 102
Flood 28, 30, 32, 33, 37, 47, 53, 54, 57, Joseph 77, 78
90, 154 Josephus 91
Joshua 19
Gabriel 73 Judah 20
Gentiles 57, 63, 66, 88, 90, 128, 153, Judas 99, 106, 115, 186
154 Judean 12, 16, 20, 43, 48
Gerasene/Gadarene 110
Giants x, 28, 30, 32, 33, 47, 53, 54, 56, Kenaz 92
57, 58, 60, 63, 69
Gnostics xii, 180, 183, 188, 189 Leviathan 147
Golden Calf 133 Lilith 26, 34, 55, 58, 67, 87
Goths (Gothic) 198 lion 142, 143, 144, 147, 154, 155
Gratian 200 Logos 187
Greece (Greeks) 18, 84, 185 Lucian 87
Gregory of Nazianzen 194 Lucifer 183
Gregory of Nyssa 201 Luther, Martin 195
Gregory the Great 200 LXX see Septuagint
Hadrian 161 Mani (Manicheanism) xiv, 54, 191, 198,

Hasmonean dynasty 33 200
healings xi Marcellinus 198
Index of Subjects 255
Marcionists xiii, 180, 183, 186, 188 Pharaoh 40, 42, 80, 87
Marduk 6, 12 Philadelphia 171, 172
Mary Magdalene 113, 114 Philistine 37
Maskil 26, 68, 73 Philo 91, 184, 186
Mastema ix, 4, 19, 33, 34, 55, 60, 62, Plato 85, 200
67, 69, 88, 90, 91, 104, 168 Pliny, the Younger 162, 172, 173, 174
Media 38 Plotinus xiv, 192
Melki-resha‘ ix, 62, 69 Porphyry xiv, 192, 195, 200
Menander 140 Poseidon 84
Mesopotamia 26, 31, 37, 43, 47, 48 “Prayer of Deliverance” 59, 63
Micaiah ben Imlah 13 Prince of Animosity 64
Michael 18, 28, 32, 48, 73, 164, 169, Prince of Lights 59, 62
186 Prince of Rome 82, 83
Milan 192–193 Proteus Peregrinus 87
Moab 19, 37 Pseudo-Daniel 57
Moses 57, 60, 63, 65, 67, 80, 82, 88, 91, Ptolemy 86
94, 118, 121, 198 Pythia 185
Muslim xiv
Q (Sayings Source) 96, 101, 105, 115
Nabonid/Nabonidus 42 Qeteb 8
Nadav 20 Qumran x, 20, 24, 26, 27, 33, 35, 47,
Nazareth 110, 113 50–52, 57, 64, 69, 84, 91, 132,
Neoplatonic Christianity 192–194 142
Nergal 46
Nero 161, 167 R. ’Adda 79
Nietzsche, Friedrich 198 R. ‘Aqibah 78
Ninurta 46 R. H.anina 79
Noah 18, 33–35, 55, 57, 64, 67, 90, 154 R. H.elbo 78
Northern Mountain 10 R. Isaac 80
R. Jehuda 102
Origen x, xii, 180–189, 194 R. Shim’on b. Gamaliel 80
Ostia 193 R. Yose b. R. ’Abun 77
Otho 86 R. Yose 78, 80
Rabbinic xi, 119
Palestinian milieu and sources 42, 72, Ramoth-Gilead 13
73, 78, 79, 104 Raphael 28, 32, 38, 47–49, 90
Parmenides 201 Rebbi Yose ben Rebbi ’Abun 76
Paul (Pauline) xii, 93, 106, 127–141, Red Sea 168
175, 193, 195 Rešep 8, 87
Pelagian controversy 188, 194, 197 Resh Laqish 73, 81
Pelimo 78 Rome (Roman) 84, 146, 151, 155, 156,
Pentateuch, the 188 167, 174–178, 192, 198
Pergamum 173, 174
Persia (Persian) 12, 14–16, 18–20, 24, Sabbath, curing on 114
85 Sama’el 71, 72, 75, 77, 81–83
Peshitta 6 Samaritan Pentateuch 6
Peter (Petrine) 98, 99, 100, 103, 106, Samson 27
114, 115, 149 Samuel 110
256 Index of Subjects
Sarah (Sarai), wife of Abraham 39, 40, Tatian 180, 182

41 Temple Scroll 35, 52
Sarah, wife of Tobias, 36, 37, 49, 56 Tertullian 180, 184
Satan passim Thessalonians 106
Saul 24, 87, 104 Thrasyllus 86
Sayings Source (Q) 96, 101, 105, 115 Tiamat 15
Šedim 8 Tiberias 119
Seleucids 52 Tiberius 86
Sepphoris 119 Tobias 38, 56, 90
Septuagint 6, 88, 191, 145, 191 Tobit 38, 49, 90
Serekh ha-Yah.ad 52, 58, 62, 66, 67, 68 Trajan 172
serpent (snake) 46, 58, 78, 100, 101, Treatise on the Two Spirits 58, 59, 60,
117, 130, 131, 137, 156, 157, 62, 69
158, 162, 165, 169, 186 Trinity, the 181
Sethian branch xiv Tyre (Tyrian) 11, 12
Shabbat 134
šēdim 27, 56 Ugaritic 10
Shem 18 Uri’el 80
Shemih.azah 28, 31, 32, 48, 61
Sheol 48 Valentinian branch of Gnosticism xi
Sinai 121 Vandals 198
Smyrna 171, 172, 174 Verecundus 193
snake see serpent Visigoth invasion 198
Son of God 98, 100 Vulgata 6
Son of Man 98, 102, 103, 106
Spain 86, 200 Watchers, the x, 27–34, 90
Stoicism 187, 193 Words of the Luminaries 63
Susanna 113
synagogue 113, 114, 115, 119, 120, 124, Xenocrates 85
125, 169, 171–173, 177
Syria (Syrian) 26, 41, 47 Zebedaides 99
Zedekiah 12
Tacitus 86 Zerubbabel 20
Tagaste 190 Zeus 185
Tannaitic xi, 81 Zion 10
Targumim 6 Zoroastrianism 191

(The Library of New Testament Studies) Erkki Koskenniemi, Ida Fröhlich - Evil and The Devil-Bloomsbury T&T Clark (2013)

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(The Library of New Testament Studies) Erkki Koskenniemi, Ida Fröhlich - Evil and The Devil-Bloomsbury T&T Clark (2013)

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International studies on christian origins

LON DON • N E W DE L H I • N E W YOR K • SY DN EY

50 Bedford Square 1385 Broadway

First published 2013

© Ida Fröhlich and Erkki Koskenniemi, 2013

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

ISBN: ePDF: 978-0-567-60738-6

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Typeset by Free Range Book Design&Production

1. The Devil in the Old Testament 1

2. Evil in Second Temple Texts 23

3. The Demonic World of the Dead Sea Scrolls 51

4. The Devil in Rabbinic Literature 71

5. Miracles of the Devil and His Assistants in Early Judaism

6. The Devil in the Gospel of Mark 98

7. Binding the Strong Man: Demon-Possession and Liberation

8. The Believing Jews as the Children of the Devil in John 8.44:

9. Paul and the Evil One 127

10. 1 Peter and the Lion 142

11. The Dangerous Loser: The Narrative and Rhetorical

13. Augustine and Evil 190

9.1: Satan and Satan-like figures in the letters of Paul 136

spirit aggression, status-degradation, and deviance within a colonial context is

Augustine’s influence on the theology of the Western Church can hardly be

1 See esp. Tuomas Rasimus, Paradise Reconsidered in Gnostic Mythmaking:

The Devil in the Old Testament1

1 This article was completed in March 2010.

Chronicler interpreted “the anger of Yahweh” as personal power and identified

The Chronicler’s reading of 2 Sam. 24.1 is corroborated by Num. 22.22 where

3 Different attempts to regard Satan in 1 Chronicles 21 as a human adversary fall by this

Satan—A Proper Name in the Old Testament?

Scholarly discussion of Satan in the Old Testament focuses on four texts:

9 B. K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona

The Concept of the Divine Council

It is essential to observe that the imagery of the divine council or court is

classical example is the Babylonian version of Enuma Elish where Marduk

The Divine Council Imagery in the Pre-exilic Yahwistic Monolatric

We begin with Deuteronomy 32; a pre-exilic text.18 The passage is a central

When the Most High gave the nations their inheritance,

17 W. G. Lambert, “The Assyrian Recension of Enūma eliš,” in H. Waetzoldt and H.

36 Yahweh will judge his people

It is worth noting that Deuteronomy 32 refers not only to other deities

3 God came from Teman,

Psalm 82 is in many respects parallel to Deuteronomy 32, even though in its

Exilic Apology and the Divine Council Imagery

analysis indicates that the intellectual problem of “who is governing history”

12 How you have fallen from heaven,

16 Those who see you stare at you,

Monotheistic Modification of the Divine Council

32 T. N. D. Mettinger (The Eden Narrative: A Literary and Religio-historical Study of

God. This theological tendency in Isaiah 40–55 influenced the perception of

35 Concerning the divine council in Deutero-Isaiah see F. M. Cross, “The Council of

dictate the course of history.37 Westermann identifies trial speeches in Isaiah

21 “Present your case,” says Yahweh.

The final proof of Yahweh’s power to control history is provided by the

37 See arguments in R. N. Whybray, The Heavenly Counsellor. See further, J. L. Koole,

í-nu-ma ilāni la šu-pu-u ma-na-ma

In scholarly discussion Isa. 45.5-7 has been regarded as opposing Persian

5 I am Yahweh, and there is no other;

This passage postulates that Yahweh is behind everything that happens.

Rewriting Genesis 6.1-4 and the Origin of Evil Demons

Four “Satanic Verses” in the Old Testament

We have now discussed the wider theological frameworks of the divine