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Article

Journal for the Study of


the New Testament
The Use of Greek in 2016, Vol. 38(3) 356­–395
© The Author(s) 2016
Early Roman Galilee: The Reprints and permissions:
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Inscriptional Evidence DOI: 10.1177/0142064X15621650
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Re-examined*

Scott D. Charlesworth
University of Divinity, Australia

Abstract
Based on numbers alone, Greek had as much currency in first- as it did in second- and
third-century Galilee. But measuring the use of Greek by calculating the number of
inscriptions in each century is flawed methodology. This is because the inscriptional
evidence is patchy and unrepresentative (as the very few inscriptions in Aramaic/Hebrew
demonstrate). Scholars must first understand the various kinds of ancient bilingualism,
then look for indications of these, including (written) Greek literacy. Literary and other
evidence, especially factors that might encourage bilingualism, such as the influence of
the administrative cities of Sepphoris and Tiberias and the surrounding Hellenistic cities,
the state of the Galilean economy, and rural-urban dynamics, can then help to fill in the
gaps. On the basis of all of the extant evidence, knowledge of Greek was probably quite
common, with most people picking it up by force of circumstance rather than through
formal instruction.

Keywords
Chancey, early Roman, Galilee, Greek, inscriptions, literacy

1. Introduction
For some the question of Greek literacy and its impact on nascent Christianity
hinges on first-century Galilee as the birthplace of the Jesus movement. Chancey’s

* I am grateful to Leah Di Segni and Werner Eck for their comments on early and late versions
respectively of this article. The responsibility for content and the key argument is, of course,
mine. I would also like to thank the School of Humanities at the University of New England
for supporting this research.

Corresponding author:
Scott D. Charlesworth, University of Divinity, 21 Highbury Grove, Kew VIC 3101, Australia.
Email: SCharlesworth@divinity.edu.au

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Charlesworth 357

work on Galilee is thought to have ruled out a Greek-speaking Jesus or transmis-


sion of the earliest Jesus tradition in Greek. But listing the inscriptional evidence
in order to dismiss it as insignificant, as Chancey does,1 overlooks a number of
important considerations. (1) The unrepresentative nature of the extant evidence
does not allow general conclusions to be drawn about Greek literacy by comparing
the quantity of inscriptions dated to each century. (2) The nature and context of
individual pieces of evidence is important and may reveal much more than a mere
survey of the evidence can show. (3) A minimalist picture of an isolated Jewish
enclave barely touched by Hellenization fails to acknowledge other possibilities
inherent in the wider evidence. (4) The same approach, however inadvertently,
tends toward the drawing of a stark dichotomy that cannot capture the socio-eco-
nomic and cultural diversity of Galilee in the early Roman period (63 bce–136 ce).

2. First-Century Inscriptional Evidence


First-century inscriptions are few, but capable of saying much more than a com-
parison of their number might seem to imply. Table 1 modifies Chancey’s (2007:
94-98) ‘List of non-numismatic Galilean inscriptions’ by changing the numbering
of items in the interests of greater clarity, while retaining his original numbers in
parentheses. Some items from his list have also been assigned a different date.

Table 1. Galilean inscriptional evidence dated I, I/II, and I-II ce.2 3

No. Date Language Provenance Description


1 (4) I bce–ce Greek Gush Halav imported vase fragment (αριστ)
2 (7) 29/30 Greek Tiberias market weight (Antipas)
3 (10) after 44? Greek Nazareth? imperial edict on tomb robbery
4 (8) 71/72 or 82/83 Greek Magdala market weight (Agrippa II)
5 (9) 70/71 or 81/82 Greek Magdala? market weight (Agrippa II)
6 (12) I Greek Magdala floor mosaic (καὶ σύ)
7 (18) I–early II Greek Kefar Baruh ossuary (Ἰούδας Θαδδαίου)
8 (13) I/II Greek Qiryat Ti‘von ossuary (Μαρία| Σαοῦλος)
9 (15) I–II Greek Gush Halav letters above corridor in cave (νθ)
10 (11) pre 67 Semitic Jotopata ostracon (‫)אכ‬2
11 (14) c. 50–150 Latin Sepphoris lintel fragment3

(continued)

1. See, in particular, Chancey 2005: 122-65; 2007: 83-98.


2. See Adan-Bayewitz and Aviam 1997: 152-53 and n. 25, 162.
3. Chancey (2007: 95) refers to comments on this unpublished inscription made by J.F. Strange
in his presentation ‘Josephus on Galilee and Sepphoris’ at the SBL annual meeting held in
Denver, 19 November 2001.

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358 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

Table 1. (Continued)

No. Date Language Provenance Description


12 (16) I bce–II ce Latin Horvat Galil stamped amphora handle4
13 (17) I–II Semitic Khirbet Qana abecedary ostracon (‫)כגד‬5
45

The small number of first-century Galilean inscriptions is unsurprising, since


published inscriptions from the second and third centuries ce are not numerous
either, with most coming from the two main cities, Sepphoris and Tiberias (see
Chancey 2005: 137). In comparative terms, Latin (2) and Semitic (2) inscriptions
are few in number.6 As regards Greek inscriptions, from Gush Halav in upper
Galilee (the Gischala of Josephus) comes a vase fragment (1) dated I bce–I ce
with the letters αριστ (Meyers, Strange, Meyers and Hanson 1979: 33-58, esp.
56). It is an imported ointment vase, which probably carries the name of the
foreign pharmacist and not its local owner, and so has no bearing on the use of
Greek in Galilee.7 Also from Gush Halav are two Greeks letters (νθ) incised twice
above the entrance of a corridor between chambers in a rock-cut cave (9) dated
I–II ce that was probably ‘used for storage’.8 If the dating of the cave is correct,9
and the letters are contemporary with its hewing, they may have numbered the
cave (59) or indicated something else about the cave or complex as a whole.10
First-century Gush Halav was neither economically nor culturally isolated. It
was on a well-travelled road to the Phoenician coast, and John of Gischala had

4. Ariel 2001: 161 no. 34. ‘The one Latin class handle found in the survey (no. 34) could not be
satisfactorily identified either with regard to its language or its date … [It] may correspond to
the late Hellenistic period, i.e., the first century bce, or to the Roman period’ (155).
5. Eshel and Edwards 2004: 49-55. The authors argue that the inscription, which was scratched
on to a cooking pot prior to firing, provides evidence for Aramaic literacy among the artisan
class (to which Jesus belonged) of a small Galilean village.
6. One must be sceptical about the inclusion of a Latin inscription (11) that has not been pub-
lished, and since the second (12) is imported, it has nothing to say about the use of Latin
in Galilee. For a discussion of Latin inscriptions in Judaea/Syria Palaestina, see Eck 2003:
123-44.
7 Meyers, Strange, Meyers and Hanson 1979: 56; Meyers, Meyers and Strange 1990: 126. The
‘name is identical to the name Aristeas incised on a vase from Priene’ (Hershkovitz 1986: 50).
8. Damati and Abu ‘Uqsa 1992: 70-72; Baron 1994: 143, no. 2.
9. The cave was dated on the basis of pottery jug lids that resemble the lids of metal jugs and
amphoras pictured in Pompeian-style frescoes and on a table-top found in the Jerusalem area
(H. Abu ‘Uqsa, pers. comm., 29 April 2014). See Rahmani 1974: 9*-10*, who dates the table-
top to the first century (10*).
10. While the two letters may be a graffito, the absence of other graffiti would seem to rule that
out. The 41 lines ‘incised in three groups’ which are described as ‘graffiti’ by Damati and
Abu ‘Uqsa (1992: 70) are just that, vertical lines which do not contain any characters (H. Abu
‘Uqsa, pers. comm., 1 May 2014).

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Charlesworth 359

ready access to markets at Tyre and Caesarea Philippi, where he sold the oil for
which the area was famous.11 It is quite likely that Greek had some currency
there in the first century.
Lead market weights were also of official (royal or civic) issue (see Qedar
1986/87: 33-35). Number 2 is dated to 29/30 and was found in the vicinity of
Tiberias (Qedar 1986/87: 29-35). It bears the name and title of Antipas, which
are identical to the legend on his coins, and gives the name of the market overseer
(ἀγορανόμος) as Gaius Julius, a Roman name that may be indicative of citizen-
ship. A second lead market weight (4), which bears the name and title of Agrippa
II, comes from nearby Magdala/Taricheae (Qedar 1986/87: 31). It mentions two
overseers (Iaesaios or Iasoaias,12 son of Mathias; and Aianimos or Animos, son
of Monimos). The first two names seem to be Greek, while the last two are
Semitic.13 It is dated to either 71/72 or 82/83 depending on the era (49 or 60).14
Two overseers may have been needed because the city and economy had grown
substantially over the ensuing 40 or 50 years.15 Another lead weight of Agrippa
II (5), which is dated one year earlier, again mentions two overseers (R[...] Rufus
and Iulius [..]bo[..]s), both of whom have Roman names. The latter was prob-
ably a member ‘of a local family which had received citizenship about a century
earlier’ (Kushnir-Stein 2002: 295-96). Its similarity to the slightly later market
weight of Agrippa II suggests that it too came from Magdala. A floor mosaic (6)
from the villa of a wealthy resident, which has the words καὶ σύ alongside a boat,
kantharos, flower and fish, also supports the use of Greek at Magdala.16 This
formula, which appears in inscriptions from around the Mediterranean, is often
associated with protection from cursing or the evil eye, but it can also imply
the return of good wishes for good and evil for evil (see Brenk 1999: 169-74).
According to Josephus, at the time of the revolt the city had a hippodrome and
fortifications, and archaeological excavations have uncovered an aqueduct.17 A
fourth market weight from Sepphoris (14: see Table 2), which is dated to mid II,
also gives the names of two market overseers, ‘Simon, son of Aianos, and Justus,

11. War 2.591-94; cf. Life 74. In terms of culture and trade it was oriented towards Tyre: Meyers
1993: 546-49.
12. Kushnir-Stein (2002: 296) suggests that Qedar’s reading ιαεσαιος (Iaesaios) should be
corrected to ιασοαιος.
13. Ilan 2002: 257, 297; Chancey 2005: 159; cf. Qedar 1986/87: 33.
14. Kushnir-Stein (2002: 296) also corrects Qedar’s reading of the date from 43/με to 23/κε.
15. Qedar 1986/87: 33. Alternatively, they might be explained by the Roman custom of having
two aediles.
16. See Corbo 1978: 232-40 and 71-76 (pll.); cf. Raban 1988: 311-29.
17. Josephus, War 2.573, 599, 609, 635; Life 141-44. The hippodrome in ancient Palestine is
‘sometimes called a stadium or even an amphitheatre in the literary sources’ (Weiss 2010: 630).

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360 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

son of …’.18 Simon, the Greek counterpart of Simeon, was probably Jewish, but
Justus is Latin and he may have been a Gentile.19 It is safe to assume that such
weights were also used at Sepphoris in the first century. All of these market over-
seers, whether Jewish or Gentile, would have come from the Greek-speaking
elite or sub-elite of Tiberias, Magdala and Sepphoris.
There is also the so-called Nazareth Inscription (3), an imperial edict prohibit-
ing tomb robbery that was apparently sent from Nazareth to France in 1878, but
whose provenance is unknown.20 It has attracted a great deal of attention because
it may reflect ‘official Roman reaction to a Jewish interpretation of the resurrec-
tion of Christ’ (Mt. 28.12-15), but certainty is impossible.21 At Beth She‘arim,
the fourth major city in Galilee, only Catacomb 31 is dated to the first century
and it contains no inscriptions.22 But there is a Greek inscription in the early sec-
ond-century Catacomb 21 on the lintel of Hall D which identifies the burial place
as that of Theodosia, also called Sarah, of Tyre (τόπος Θεοδοσίας τῆς| καὶ Σάρας
Τυρίας).23 However, the Greek and Jewish names and Tyrian origin suggest that
the inscription may be a later addition, as do the basalt door of Hall D which
was brought in from elsewhere and the lintel which was originally a threshold
(Schwabe and Lifshitz 1974: 117-18). Still, there is good reason to think that
there were Greek inscriptions on the ossuaries that were placed in the kokhim
of Catacombs 31 and 21 (Hall A) in the late first and early second centuries. All
that remained when archaeologists first entered these catacombs was a broken
clay ossuary lid in Catacomb 31 (Schwabe and Lifshitz 1974: 124-25). But iden-
tifiably Jewish ossuary inscriptions (7 and 8) from nearby Kefar Baruh (Ἰούδας
Θαδδαίου, ‘Judas, son of Thaddaeus’)24 and Qiryat Tiv‘on (Μαίας| Σαοῦλος, ‘of
Maia, daughter of Saul’)25 are dated ‘no later than’ early II and mid I–early II
respectively on the basis of lamps and pottery found in the tombs.26
Hachlili thinks that ossuary secondary burial was practised at Jerusalem and
Jericho in the first 70 years of the first century with sporadic continuance until

18. Meshorer 1996: 201; cf. Meshorer 1986: 16-17. On dating, see Meyers, Meyers and Netzer
1985: 296.
19. Ilan 2002: 13; see also Chancey 2005: 155-61, 230-35.
20. For the ed. pr. see Cumont 1930. See also Robert 1936: 114-15, Boffo 1994: 319-33, and SEG 8.13.
21. The Greek text, which is based on a Latin original, bears the hallmarks of an authentic koiné
milieu: Metzger 1980: 80-84.
22. Avigad 1976: 124-25, 261. Cf. Mazar 1973: 17.
23. Avigad 1976: 118, 261. See Schwabe and Lifshitz 1974: 185 no. 199.
24. Rahmani 1994: 114, no. 145, pl. 21. Interestingly, as Rahmani notes, Θαδδαῖος is spelt the
same way in Mk 3.8 and Mt. 10.3.
25. Rahmani 1994: 172, no. 425 (cf. no. 422); Meyers 1996: 188. See also Vitto 1972: 574-76;
1974: 279, who reads Μαρία| Σαοῦλος, ‘Maria, daughter of Saul’.
26. Rahmani 1994: 114, 172; Vitto 1972: 575.

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Charlesworth 361

c. 135.27 Rahmani adds that that there were two subsequent periods during which
refugees spread the practice, first to the southern Judaean coast, Hebron and
Galilee (70-135), and then to southern Judaea and again into Galilee (late II–mid
III) (Rahmani 1994: 21-25; cf. 53-55). So the practice might have found its way
to the Beth She‘arim region in the last quarter of the first century (or even ear-
lier). But whether 7 and 8 were produced by Galilean or displaced Judaean fami-
lies is impossible to know. In any case, the overwhelming preference for Greek
from the second century onwards can hardly have been an overnight develop-
ment. In the first century, Beth She‘arim was the administrative centre for the
Jezreel Valley estates of Queen Berenice (see Josephus, Life 118-19). Greek was
the language of administration, and some of those dealing with the administra-
tive officials of Berenice on a regular basis would have needed, at the very least,
spoken ability in the language (see §§ 5.3 and 5.4 below).
While Chancey does not consider numismatic evidence, it is not without
something to say. From lower Galilee there are bronze coins issued by Herod
Antipas (c. 1, 20, 29, 30, 33, 39 ce) and Agrippa I (38/39, 41/42, 43/44), a coin of
Agrippa II bearing the name of Tiberias that was probably struck to commemo-
rate Roman suppression of the Jewish revolt, and civic coins with Greek inscrip-
tions issued at Tiberias in 53 and Sepphoris in 68.28 While the use of Greek on
coinage was conventional, the design of coins provides insights into the values
of client kings, the civic elite, and perhaps even the Jewish population at large.
The early coins of Antipas were aniconic and carried only images of grain, dates,
palm branches and trees. But on the obverse of his final series struck in 38/39
the name Antipas was in the nominative instead of genitive, and on the reverse
the word Tiberias was replaced with the name of the emperor Gaius Germanicus
in the dative. The combined inscription, ‘Herod the Tetrarch to Gaius Caesar
Germanicus’, indicates that the coins were struck for and in honour of the emper-
or.29 This represents a significant break with Herod the Great and Archelaus who
avoided both the name and image of the emperor, but it is still at quite some
remove from Philip whose coins had the name and image of the emperor as
well as human images, temple façades, and cultic emblems, perhaps because his
north-eastern tetrarchy was populated mainly by Gentiles (Jensen 2007: 290-92).
According to Jensen (2007: 302), the change could have been part of a politi-
cal attempt by Antipas to compete with Agrippa I for the favour of Gaius (cf.
Josephus, Ant. 18.240-56). It might also demonstrate increasing tolerance on
the part of the Galilean populace for such displays of Graeco-Roman culture (as

27. Hachlili 2005: 519-22. In contrast, Kloner and Zissu (2007: 119-20) argue that the practice began
in the Jerusalem area in the last decades of the first century bce/beginning of the first century ce
and lasted only until 70. Contrast Isaac (2010: 8-10) and Millar (2014: 140-41), who agree with
Hachili that the use of ossuaries dropped dramatically after 70 but continued until the 130s.
28. See Chancey 2005: 180-83; Jensen 2007: 292-302.
29. Jensen 2007: 301, citing Meshorer 1982: 41.

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362 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

his palace at Tiberias shows, Antipas himself was not averse to such display30).
Some 14 years later, civic coins minted at Tiberias also featured the name of the
emperor Claudius Caesar (Chancey 2005: 185-86). Civic coins were primarily
‘internal’, in that they ‘were seen and used only within the cities’. Therefore,
they reflect the images of the cities that civic leaders ‘wished their fellow citizens
to see’ (Schwartz 2001: 139). On the other hand, the coins of Agrippa I convey
no sense that Jewish sensibilities influenced in any way their design. They were
Graeco-Roman mainstream in every way, complete with images of animals,
human beings, temple scenes and cultic emblems.31

3. Comparison with Second- and Third-Century


Inscriptions
After accounting for the patchy nature of evidence, second- and third-century
inscriptions are also resistant to literacy by quantification. Again, Table 2 modi-
fies Chancey’s list by changing the numbering of items while retaining his
original numbers in parentheses. One item not found in his list does not have
a bracketed number (25b). Wherever wrong dates have been given for inscrip-
tions, these have again been corrected.

Table 2. Galilean inscriptional evidence dated II and III ce.32 333435

No. Date Language Provenance Description


14 (19) mid II Greek Sepphoris market weight
15 (40) 197 Greek Horvat Qazyon lintel dedication to emperor32
16 (37) II Greek Nazareth column (probably statue base)
dedication to emperor33
17 (28) II–mid III Greek Tiberias sarcophagus34
18 (20) II–III Greek Sepphoris amphora35

(continued)

30. ‘In building Tiberias, he had both desecrated a cemetery and decorated his royal palace in
violation of the law and ancestral customs of the Judeans’ (Horsley 1996: 53). After his death,
the priestly administration at Jerusalem ordered the palace to be destroyed (Josephus, Ant.
18.33, Life 64-65).
31. Jensen 2007: 292-94; Chancey 2005: 182-83.
32. CIJ 2.972, SEG 8.12, Hachlili and Killebrew 1999.
33. Bagatti 1969: 316-17. The inscription (αισαρι.|νειν..|γωδη...) was interrupted on both sides
when the column was cut and reused as pavement. Bagatti finds references to Caesar and the
second-century Antonine dynasty and suggests that this granite column along with others was
transported by the crusaders from the same Roman site in Caesarea, Sepphoris, Tiberias or
Scythopolis for reuse in building the church.
34. Ovadiah 1972: 229-32.
35. Meyers, Netzer and Meyers 1992: 22. Red lettering on the amphora may be the name of its owner.

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Charlesworth 363

Table 2. (continued)

No. Date Language Provenance Description


19 (27) II–III Greek Tiberias sarcophagus36
20 (48) II–III Greek Horvat Tzalmon sarcophagus37
21 (31) II–III Greek Tiberias epitaph for centurion by his
wife38
22 (32) II–III Greek Tiberias honorific by slaves for
owner39
23 (33) II–III Greek Tiberias dedicated statue40
24 (34) II/III Greek Tiberias burial inscription on basalt
lintel41
25a (36) II–IV Greek 80%, Beth She‘arim c. 280 inscriptions
Hebrew 16%,
Aramaic or
Palmyrene 4%
25b II–IV1-2? 151 Greek, 13 Capernaum c. 175 grafitti42
Palaeo-Estrangelo,
9 Aramaic, 2 Latin
(continued)

36. Damati 1998: 152-53, no. 2.


37. Applebaum, Isaac and Landau 1981/82: 99 (λοχ|ιγοῦ κ|οῖτος). Because there is no patronymic,
the ed. pr. suggests that the inscription may have marked the sarcophagus of a Roman cohort
commander (λοχηγός) killed in 67 during the battle for Selame (Horvat Tzalmon). But many
epitaphs have only the name of the deceased and no patronymic and burial in sarcophagi is
mostly dated to II–III. The inscription probably marked the ‘resting place of Λοχεγός’ (written
with an itacism).
38. IGR 3.1204 (= Cagnat 1906: no. 1204); Di Segni 1998: 134-35, no. 22. Cf. Schwartz 2001:
150-51; Schwabe 1949: no. 17, Hebrew; Di Segni 1988: no. 10, Hebrew. Aurelius Marcellinus,
the deceased, was a centurion of the Tenth Legion Fretensis.
39. Di Segni 1998: 127-28, no. 14. Cf. Schwartz 2001: 151; Schwabe 1949: no. 10, Hebrew; Di
Segni 1988: no. 8, Hebrew. Schwabe and Di Segni date the inscription to III. It was made by
the domestically raised slaves (θρεπτοί: s.v. LSJ Rev. Suppl.) of Siricius as a mark of gratitude
to their deceased master. On θρεπτοί, see Ricl 2009: 93-114.
40. Di Segni 1998: 143-44, no. 32. Cf. Schwabe 1949: no. 16, Hebrew; Di Segni 1988: no. 19,
Hebrew. The small statue of a woman or goddess was dedicated as a gift by ‘Ismenos, son
of Ioenos of Tiberias, to the statio’ or trade office of the city of Tiberias in Rome (’Ισμηνὸς
’Ιωήνου υἱὸς τιβεριεὺς τῇ στατιῶνι). Schwabe suggests that the unparalleled names are mis-
transcriptions of Ismaelos and Ioannes (Ishmael and John), but also notes that Ioenos might
represent the Latin Iovinus (cited in Schwartz 2001: 153 n. 85).
41. Damati 1999: 227-28 (English summary); for the Greek text, see pp. 91-92 (Hebrew).
42. Testa (1972: 81-92) dates the graffiti to II–IV1-2. In contrast, Loffreda (1993: 50-67) redates
them, without comment, to III1–V1. Based on her re-examination of the stratigraphy and the
Aramaic papyri (most of which she reads as Greek), Taylor (1989–1990: 7-28; 1993: 268-94)
dates the construction of the house-church to IV (and, presumably, the inscriptions to IV or
later), rules out any local (Jewish-Christian) use of the site prior to that, and attributes all of
the Greek inscriptions to non-Jewish pilgrims. In contrast, Strange and Shanks (1982: 26-37)

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364 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

Table 2. (continued)

No. Date Language Provenance Description


26 (47) III1-2 Greek Gush Halav name on ring43
27 (21) early III Greek Sepphoris floor mosaic Dionysos
building44
28 (22) early III Greek Sepphoris floor mosaic Dionysos
building45
29 (38) III? Greek Nazareth? tombstone46
30 (35a) II Latin/Greek Legio-Diocaesarea milestone47
31 (43) mid II Latin Gabara burial of a Roman soldier48
32 (30) II3-4 Latin Tiberias burial of a Roman soldier49
33 (29) II/III Latin Tiberias burial of a Roman soldier50
34 (41) II–early III Latin Horvat Hazon roof tile with legion stamp51
35 (42) II–III Latin Kefar Hananya roof tiles with legion stamp52
36 (39) II–III Hebrew Capernaum ostracon53

(continued)

accept the excavators’ chronological reconstruction of the history of Room 1 in insula 1


(I3-4–late IV, Christian meeting place; late IV–V3-4, house-church retaining the original walls;
late V3-4–, octagonal Byzantine church). See also Runneson 2007: 231-57, who proposes that
there was a shift from predominantly Jewish-Christian usage to predominantly non-Jewish-
Christian use of the room somewhere between the first and the fifth centuries (247) and then
a forcible takeover by Byzantine Christians in the second half of the fifth century which
involved the destruction of the original walls of Room 1.
43. The Latin name Domitilla was written as Δομέτιλα (sic) in Greek (Meyers, Strange, Meyers
and Hanson 1979: 56). The authors note that there were three generations of Roman matrons
called Flavia Domitilla in the first century. The third of these (the ‘granddaughter’) married
Flavius Clemens (consul in 95) and was banished to Pontia after her conversion to Christianity
(HE 1.650.17-18). An earlier date is possible, since the ring was found in pre-synagogue debris
beneath the floor of the synagogue which was constructed about 250 (Meyers et al. 1979: 36,
55-56; Meyers, Meyers and Strange 1990: 125), but might also be ruled out on the same grounds.
44. The floor mosaic in the main hall of the ‘Dionysos’ building has brief Greek inscriptions
labelling 12 of the better preserved of 15 central panels. See Talgam and Weiss 2004: 47-73;
Meyers, Netzer and Meyers 1987: 223-31; Meyers, Netzer and Meyers 1992: 42-51; Meyers,
Meyers, Netzer and Weiss 1996: 111-15.
45. The main hall of the ‘Dionysos’ building is flanked by eastern, northern and western wings.
The floor mosaic in the northern wing has a Greek inscription ὑγ(ί)εια, ‘Health’: Meyers,
Netzer and Meyers 1987: 225. See also Talgam and Weiss 2004: 19-20.
46. Bagatti 1969: 248.
47. A Greek distance inscription follows the Latin text: see Isaac with Roll 1998a: 184, who cite
a date of 130 assigned by M. Hecker and B. Lifshitz.
48. Avi-Yonah 1945/46: 87, no. 4.
49. Avi-Yonah 1945/46: 91, no. 7.
50. Avi-Yonah 1945/46: 88-89, no. 5.
51. Bahat 1974: 160-69.
52. Adan-Bayewitz 1987: 178-79.
53. Corbo 1975: 107-11, pl. 49B (93).

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Charlesworth 365

Table 2. (continued)

No. Date Language Provenance Description


37 (35b) II–early IV Latin Legio-Diocaesarea six milestones54
and Ptolemais-
Diocaesarea
Post 300 or uncertain
38 (44) III–IV Greek Horvat Ashaf gravestone55
39 (25) III–IV Greek Sepphoris imported mortarium rim56
40 (24) before mid IV Greek Sepphoris mosaic in basilica57
41 (23) IV Greek Sepphoris mosaics in house of
Orpheus58
42 (45) IV Greek Meiron amphora storage jar59
43 (46) IV Hebrew Meiron amphora storage jar60
44 (26) Roman period? Aramaic Sepphoris tombstone61
Pagan
45 (50) 50–150 Greek Qeren Naftali dedication to Athena62
46 (52) II Greek Kedesh vow to Baalshamin63
47 (54) II Greek Kedesh donors of statue and
pedestal64

(continued)
54. For milestones from the Legio-Diocaesarea road, see Avi-Yonah 1945/46: 96-97, nos. 13-16a
(plus 30 in this table). For milestones from the Ptolemais-Diocaesarea road, see Avi-Yonah
1945/46: 96, no. 12; Isaac with Roll 1998b: 198-210 and Isaac with Roll 1998c: 208-10.
55. Damati 1998: 153-54, no. 3; cf. SEG 48.1877. The inscription, [θάρσι] Μαρόνη οὐδ(ε)ὶς
ἀθάνατος, appears to contain a unique variant of the female name Μαρώνη (nominative and
vocative).
56. Lifshitz 1970: 76-83, no. 14; cf. Rahmani 1980: 103-105.
57. The mosaic, which features a cityscape and a Greek inscription (‘Good Luck’), must have
been made at some point prior to the destruction of the building in mid IV: Strange 1996:
117-21, esp. 119.
58. When the house was renovated in mid IV, ‘all its rooms were paved with new mosaics …
which were laid directly over their precursors’ (Weiss 1999: 16-18; see also Weiss 2003:
94-101, Hebrew).
59. Meyers, Strange and Meyers 1981: 66, 69. The inscription, ‘in a rather practiced hand’, reads
ιουλιαμου which could mean ‘my Julia’ or ‘belonging to Julian’ (assuming μ/ν confusion). For
certain dating to IV of this inscription and the next, see pp. 51, 55, 61-62.
60. Meyers, Strange and Meyers 1981: 66. The authors think that the Hebrew letters ‫אש‬, which were
inscribed into the wet jar by the potter, meant ‘fire’ (’esh) and labelled a jar containing ‘parched
or scorched seeds or beans’. They also suggest that the ‘awkward formation [of the letters] is not
impossible for a person semi-literate in Hebrew’. On the reason for charring the foods and leav-
ing them in storage, see the comments by M. Goodman on pp. 71-72 of the same book.
61. Weiss (1996: 185) is unable to provide a specific date.
62. Aviam 2004a: 60, 67, 86. On the text, see Masterman 1908: 155-57; Abel 1908: 574-78;
Hölscher 1909: 149-50; Gabalda 1909: 492.
63. McCown 1921/22: 113-14; Fischer, Ovadiah and Roll 1986: 61, no. 2.
64. Fischer, Ovadiah and Roll 1986: 63-64, no. 4.

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366 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

Table 2. (continued)

No. Date Language Provenance Description


48 (56) II–III? Greek Kedesh pagan inscription65
49 (55) III? Greek Kedesh altar dedication to
Baalshamin66
50 (53) III Greek Kedesh dedication of altar of Tyche67
51 (57) III Greek Kedesh gravestone68
52 (51) III Greek Qeren Naftali dedication to Heliopolitan
Zeus69
53 (49) Roman period Latin Horvat Hesheq dedication to Heliopolitan
Zeus70

If we count Beth She‘arim (25a) and Capernaum (25b) as special cases and
leave aside pagan inscriptions, inscriptions in languages other than Greek, and
a number of inscriptions of post-300 or uncertain date, it is remarkable that
sixteen second- and third-century Greek inscriptions hardly constitute a dra-
matic increase on eight first-century Greek inscriptions. I say eight because 1
is imported and first-century because 2-9 can be so described since only 9 may
be later than early II. In fact, the number of second- and third-century Greek
inscriptions is double the number of first-century inscriptions and represents a
proportionate increase from the first (8) to the second and third centuries (16). If
we bring in the bilingual 30 and 38 (if it comes from III and not IV), the picture
is still not altered in any significant way (the imported 39 must be excluded). It is
noteworthy that 21, 22, perhaps 23, 30 and the Latin inscriptions are Roman (in
the case of 16, certainty either way is impossible). The coming of the Romans
obviously had an impact, but it appears that, even in the second and third centu-
ries, Galileans did not acquire much of an epigraphic habit (there is also no real
change in the spread of inscriptions – most come from Sepphoris and Tiberias).71

65. An unpublished inscription found by R. Getsov is mentioned by Aviam (2004a: 17).


66. Fischer, Ovadiah and Roll 1986: 60-61, no. 1.
67. Fischer, Ovadiah, Roll, Eck and Merkelbach 1982: 155-158; Fischer, Ovadiah and Roll 1986:
61-63, no. 3.
68. McCown 1921/22: 114-15; SEG 8.3. McCown reports that the gravestone was reused as part
of the door jamb of a hut in the village. The second half of the text which includes the name of
the deceased is uncertain. It is included here because all of the other inscriptions from Kedesh
are pagan. For comments on the dating, see Chancey 2007: 98 n. 104.
69. Aviam 2004a: 60, 67, 86. For the text, see Masterman 1908: 155-57; Abel 1908: 574-78; Eck
2010: 175-85.
70. Aviam 2004a: 229.
71. On the ‘epigraphic habit’, see MacMullen 1982: 233-46; Woolf 1996: 22-39; 2000: 886-89;
Hezser 2001: 357-63.

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Charlesworth 367

This is shown by the lack of donor inscriptions when, as Chancey (2007: 90)
observes, there were ‘the sorts of buildings in which one might expect to find
such inscriptions’. The same can be said of honorific and euergetistic inscriptions
(Chancey 2007: 90-92). Certainly, a greater number of second- and third-century
inscriptions might have been expected, particularly as Greek was making greater
inroads. The very small number of Aramaic/Hebrew inscriptions across all three
centuries is even more remarkable. If Aramaic was so dominant, where are the
inscriptions? Thus, the patchy (e.g., Beth She‘arim) and unrepresentative nature
of the surviving evidence calls into question any approach that quantifies inscrip-
tions in order to draw conclusions about Greek literacy. But if, for the sake of
argument, we allow that approach for a moment, the following conclusion is
inescapable: if Greek had significantly penetrated everyday life by the end of
the second century, then it must have already been doing so in the first century,
purely on the basis of the comparative number of inscriptions.
The general paucity of inscriptions, and this applies to Palestine in general,
can be explained in two ways: (1) much more has been lost than archaeologists
have recovered; and (2) the Jews rejected the norms of Graeco-Roman euer-
getism in favour of other expressions of gratitude for benefaction. Schwartz
argues, based on his reading of Josephus, that the Jewish people did not ‘recip-
rocate their benefactors with statues and temples and honorary decrees, but
with memorialisation apparently in mainly oral form’. As for the wealthy,
‘monumental tombs and public funeral feasts may have been among the initia-
tives legitimately [used] to secure their own memorialisation’ (Schwartz 2009:
88). Both explanations are no doubt relevant, but if we accept (2) as part of
the reason for the scarcity of inscriptional evidence, then (1) must have greater
applicability to the even scarcer papyrological evidence. It would not have
been subject to the kind of objections that euergetism apparently attracted and
might have made up for the lack of inscriptional evidence had it survived in
quantity.72 It should be emphasized that the lack of accommodation implied in
a qualified rejection of euergetism need not imply antipathy towards Greek.
The same can be said of the absence of pig bones and the presence of ossuaries,
stone vessels and miqva’ot.73 Mention of these things often seems to be linked
to an unspoken assumption of cultural and linguistic isolation. As Moreland
(2007: 138) observes, ‘for some scholars stating that “E[arly] R[oman] Galilee
was Jewish” is a declaration that is loaded with implicit meaning; the statement
appears to require no further clarification’. But, as Lev-Tov points out, pig
bones are found in small amounts throughout the entire Near East. Therefore,

72. For discussion of the surviving papyri, see Charlesworth 2014.


73. According to Reed (2000: 43-55; cf. 125-28), Galilean sites exhibit a ‘basic homogeneity’
which parallels Judaean sites in respect of these four archaeological indicators of Jewish
identity.

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368 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

‘mapping the geography of Palestinian ethnic groups by using pig percentages


would create a huge Jewish world beyond the Galilee, covering vast nearly
pig-free lands from Egypt to Persia to Asia Minor and beyond’. Moreover, he
notes, in Galilee only Sepphoris has a large and well-studied bone assemblage
(3.8% are pig bones). At other sites faunal remains were not saved (Lev-Tov
2003: 431-32). Galilee may have been slow to acquire the epigraphic habit,
but there would be little point in cutting and erecting the Nazareth imperial
inscription – assuming that it is from somewhere in Galilee – unless it could be
read by some people who could then inform others.74

4. Methodological Considerations
A methodologically sound approach requires scholars to first understand (ancient)
bilingualism and then, on that basis, search for indications of Greek literacy. If
they are to arrive at tenable conclusions about Greek literacy (i.e., the ability
to write Greek), students of early Roman Galilee must also understand that the
surviving evidence is unrepresentative.

4.1. Understanding Bilingualism


Linguistic theory can help modern scholars to visualize the various kinds of bilin-
gualism that existed in the ancient world. Secondary bilingualism involves the
addition of a second language via formal instruction. In contrast, primary bilin-
guals are those who have ‘picked up two languages by force of circumstances’
without receiving systematic instruction in either language (Baetens Beardsmore
1986: 8). This could happen with respect to both understanding/speaking and
reading/writing. By learning the alphabet and the sounds of individual letters,
some individuals might have acquired reading/writing ability aurally by sound-
ing out words.75 That is, rudimentary reading/writing (Greek literacy) might fol-
low on from understanding/speaking without formal schooling. This is a notable
omission in many discussions of literacy, which assume that formal education
was essential to the acquisition of even very basic literacy.
Functional bilingualism is another useful concept. At the minimalist end of a
spectrum of ability, a person is functionally bilingual if s/he is able ‘to accom-
plish a restricted set of activities in a second language’, perhaps by using a
small number of grammatical rules and a limited lexis. At the maximalist end
of the spectrum, a person is able to conduct a wide range of activities in a dual

74. Public notices were ‘not just an empty gesture; there was really an expectation that some
people would read them’ (McGing 2001: 35).
75. For a helpful description of how this could have occurred, see Macdonald 2005: 49-118. For
more on alternative routes to literacy apart from formal schooling, see Horsfall 1991: 59-76.

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Charlesworth 369

linguistic environment. Although s/he ‘may not possess sufficient command of


nuanced expression in the second language to operate in the same way that a
monoglot would, they nevertheless succeed in understanding almost everything
they read and hear, and speak and write sufficiently coherently for their interloc-
utors to appreciate their message’ (Baetens Beardsmore 1986: 15-16). In these
terms, the number of secondary and maximally functional bilinguals in first- and
second-century Galilee would have been small. But the number of primary and
minimally functional bilinguals was probably much higher.
A range of bilingual abilities is also implied in the distinction between recep-
tive (or passive) and productive (or active) bilingualism. Receptive bilinguals
can understand a second language, in either spoken or written form, but cannot
speak or write it, while productive bilinguals can both understand and speak and/
or write a second language.76 Using these terms, a range of bilingual abilities in
two languages (L1, L2) and four language skills can be charted (see Table 3).77
A type 1 productive bilingual can ‘manipulate the four basic language skills in
two languages’, while a type 5 productive bilingual ‘would be illiterate but could
understand and speak two languages’; and there are a range of other productive
possibilities in between.78

Table 3. Patterns of individual bilingualism.

Language Skills Productive Bilingualism

Type 1 Type 2 Type 3 Type 4 Type 5


Listening comprehension L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2
Reading comprehension L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L1
Oral production L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2
Written production L1 L2 L1 L1

Language Skills Receptive Bilingualism

Type 1 Type 2 Type 3 Type 4 Type 5


Listening comprehension L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2 L1 L2
Reading comprehension L1 L2 L1 L1 L2 L1
Oral production L1 L1 L1 L1 L1
Written production L1 L1

76. Baetens Beardsmore 1986: 16, 18; Edwards 2006: 10. ‘Receptive bilingualism is relatively
easy to acquire … and is a less time-consuming learning task in that it does not involve
the laborious acquisition of language patterns that must be at ready command for fruitful
conversation or written communication with a speaker of another language’ (Baetens
Beardsmore 1986: 16).
77. Adapted from Baetens Beardsmore 1986: 20.
78. Baetens Beardsmore 1986: 19. The patterns in Table 3 do not exhaust the range of possibilities.

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370 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

4.2. Identifying Individual Greek Literacy


Some of the texts in Tables 1 and 2 are indicative of secondary and maximally
functional bilingualism. The lead market weights with Semitic names provide
good evidence of elite or sub-elite Jews who were type 1 productive bilinguals in
Magdala (4) and Sepphoris (14). The same is probably true of the wealthy owner
of the Magdala villa with the καὶ σύ floor mosaic (6), and no doubt such people
also lived in Tiberias. But these texts imply rather than prove individual Greek
literacy. The two letters in the Gush Halav cave (9) are a more specific indica-
tion, even though they lack verifiable meaning. Of greater value are the ossuary
inscriptions from Kefar Baruh and Qiryat Tiv‘on. The second (8) is inscribed in
a very irregular script, perhaps implying that the writer was not far beyond so-
called ‘signature literacy’.79 Words, apparently, could be written only with great
difficulty, perhaps implying type 2 or type 3 productive bilingualism. In contrast,
the ossuary inscription from Kefar Baruh (7) is inscribed in a legible, quite even
script (Rahmani 1994: 114, no. 145, pl. 21) and would seem to be the product
of a type 1 productive bilingual. But it would be a mistake to press distinctions
too far based solely on script. According to Rahmani, very few inscriptions were
professionally executed by the mason who decorated the ossuary. Most are infor-
mal, ‘carelessly executed, clumsily spaced’, often with ‘spelling mistakes’, even
in the case of ‘renowned families, including those of high priestly rank’. They
appear to have been inscribed with a sharp tool or nail ‘in front of or inside the
tomb itself at the time of burial … perhaps by relatives of the deceased’.80 All of
this would suggest that even 8 might have been inscribed by a type 1 productive
bilingual.
Rahmani’s production-by-family suggestion is supported by the fact that only
about 26% (233 of 897) of the ossuaries in his Catalogue are inscribed (Rahmani
1994: 11). This is a statistic that must have some kind of relevance for rates of
(written) literacy, at least in the Jerusalem and Jericho areas from which most of
the inscribed ossuaries come. Comparative language use on the inscribed ossu-
aries is as follows: Jewish script (143, 62%);81 Greek (73, 31%); bilingual, i.e.,
Jewish script and Greek (14 or 15, 6-7%). Thus, ‘Jewish script was preferred,
though with a heavy admixture of Greek’ (Rahmani 1994: 13). These percent-
ages are confirmed by Millar’s count of first-century inscriptions from Jerusalem,

79. Rahmani 1994: 172, no. 425. There is no plate; the inscription is reproduced by hand. Cf.
the hesitant, awkward examples of the ‘name literacy’ of the (otherwise) illiterate in Thomas
2009: 18-24.
80. Rahmani 1994: 11-12. As Hezser (2001: 367; see also 372) observes, inscriptions may have
been ‘executed in this careless, informal way because they were meant for family members
only and not for public display’.
81. The term ‘Jewish script’ describes the square script used by Jews to write both (Jewish)
Aramaic and Hebrew: Cotton, Cockle and Millar 1995: 226 n. 14.

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Charlesworth 371

the vast majority from ossuaries and a few from the walls of tombs, in volume
1 of the Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaeae/Palaestinae: of about 600 inscriptions,
Millar counts 338 (56%) in Jewish script, 190 (31%) in Greek, and 46 (7.6%)
that are bilingual.82 But again these figures cannot be used to quantify relative
rates of literacy in the two languages. As Rahmani observes, the proportion of
inscriptions in one language or the other can vary from tomb to tomb without
any discernible reason.83
The same kind of methodology for identifying individual Greek literacy needs
to be brought to bear on the later inscriptions. Space precludes that work, so one
example will have to suffice. As regards the majority of the simple Greek funer-
ary inscriptions from Beth She‘arim, Schwabe and Lifshitz come to the follow-
ing conclusion.

The view that only the upper stratum of the Jewish settlement at Beth She‘arim was
influenced by Greek language and culture has no adequate foundation. The language
of the inscriptions and the phonetic and grammatical vulgarisms refute this supposition
… The inscriptions give no evidence of a systematic learning of the language and its
grammar. It does seem as though the authors of the inscriptions learned their Greek
from their pagan neighbours and knew how to speak it, but only seldom did they have
a broader educational background … [T]he fact that so many Greek inscriptions have
come to light at Beth She‘arim proves that wide circles of the Jewish population were
in some way influenced by the Greek language.84

In other words, many of the authors of inscriptions from Beth She‘arim were
productive bilinguals who had picked up Greek by force of circumstances (pri-
mary bilinguals), probably because of association with Greek speakers or because
they needed to speak it in order to maintain an income or the necessities of life.85
Likewise, most first-century Jews who learnt to speak Greek would have done so
because of circumstances and not through formal instruction. As for the literate,
some must have learnt to read and write Greek through systematic instruction,

82. Millar 2014: 145-46. In other words, ‘the best part of 400 contain at least some Hebrew/
Aramaic, and the best part of some 250 contain at least some Greek’ (146). For CIIP 1.1, see
Cotton, Segni, Eck, Isaac, Kushnir-Stein, Misgav, Price, Roll and Yardeni 2010. For CIIP 1.2,
see Cotton, Segni, Eck, Isaac, Kushnir-Stein, Misgav, Price and Yardeni 2012.
83. Rahmani 1994: 11. In addition, some plain ossuaries were discarded by excavators or excluded
from Rahmani 1994. These would raise the number of uninscribed ossuaries.
84. Schwabe and Lifshitz 1974: 220. See also Lifshitz 1965: 520-38, esp. 522-23.
85. In contrast, receptive bilinguals do not progress to oral or written production of Greek because
circumstances do not require it. Receptive bilingualism could develop, in the ancient context,
when a person was in contact with Greek but did not have to speak it in order to maintain an
adequate income or the necessities of life.

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372 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

whether at school or at home.86 But it is also probable that many individuals


acquired reading comprehension and basic Greek literacy by aural means in the
manner described above. Human infants have natural capacity and are ‘emi-
nently capable of acquiring two languages simultaneously’.87
However, a couple of qualifications may be in order. First, some Jews who
learnt to speak and read Greek via phonetic means may have stopped at reading
comprehension, meaning they did not take the next step and learn, by the same
means, to write Greek. That would seem to be the more likely scenario in a liter-
ate society because, in contrast to an oral society, people in Galilee could turn
to a scribe when a document needed to be written.88 However, as Bagnall (2011:
142) points out, there was still plenty of room for ‘private, informal, sponta-
neous, and ephemeral communications, writing for which one did not need to
spend the time and money to go to a professional scribe’. So it would be wrong to
conclude that reading comprehension acquired by phonetic means only seldom
progressed to writing ability acquired by the same means. Second, the number
of infants in rural Galilee who were well placed to learn Greek by aural means
– that is, in constant interaction with Greek speakers – may not have been high.
It is more likely, perhaps, that some rural children and adults became productive
bilinguals via less consistent contact. As Hezser observes,

[the] level of Greek-speaking proficiency achieved by the individual person whose


mother tongue was Aramaic will have depended on the frequency and density of
contacts with native [and, it should be added, second-language] Greek-speakers. The
frequency and density of such contacts depended on the place where the person lived
and on the composition of his social network, including the extended family, friends,
neighbours, and business contacts (Hezser 2001: 242-43).

86. See Sevenster 1968: 47-50; Hezser 2001: 90-94. Some children (mainly boys) were taught to
read and write at home or through an extended kinship connection. Sevenster (1968: 60-61)
locates the desire for acquisition of Greek in the upper strata of society, which were in turn
emulated by the middle strata. Cf. Hezser 2001: 94, 231-32.
87. Genesee 2003: 223. They are ‘as well prepared for dual language learning as for single
language learning’ (209).
88. Macdonald (2005: 49) defines an oral or non-literate society as ‘one in which literacy is not
essential to any of its activities, and memory and oral communication perform the functions
which reading and writing have within a literate society’. In contrast, a ‘literate society’ is ‘one
in which reading and writing have become essential to its functioning, either throughout the
society (as in the modern West) or in certain vital aspects, such as the bureaucracy, economic
and commercial activities, or religious life’. Thus, a predominantly oral society in which
the majority of people are illiterate can be designated ‘literate’ because its administrative,
commercial, and/or religious functions depend on literacy. This definition has the advantage
of recognizing that literate individuals were always close at hand.

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Charlesworth 373

4.3. Critical Analysis of the Evidence


In a recent book, Everyday Writing in the Graeco-Roman East, Bagnall argues that

[W]e can never trust patterns of [papyrological] documentation without subjecting


them to various forms of criticism. It is not only arguments from silence that are
suspect, but arguments from scarcity or abundance. The documentary record is
irreparably lumpy [sc. patchy and, therefore, unrepresentative], mainly because of
patterns of deposition, preservation, discovery, and editorial choice … Sometimes
we can correct for these distortions, but often we can only observe them and avoid
drawing unwarranted conclusions from them. (2011: 141)

He proposes that before we move to generalize ‘from changes in documentation


to changes in society, we need to apply a series of analytic procedures to the
documentation, asking how far we may attribute the pattern to any of a number
of possible contributors’: (1) the ‘nature of the sites from which papyri have been
found in a particular period’, (2) the ‘types of find spots’ within those sites and
the ‘specific nature of the finds, especially archival masses’, and/or (3) changes
in external circumstances (‘government, law, and custom’) that may have con-
tributed to preservation or not (Bagnall 2011: 73-74)?
Similar questions, ones that spring from the same demonstrable need, should
be asked of the inscriptional evidence. Only then can scholars hope to circum-
vent the unrepresentative remains in order to arrive at tenable conclusions about
Greek literacy in early Roman Galilee. As demonstrated above, the most impor-
tant task is to identify and contextualize those inscriptions that provide evidence
of individual Greek literacy. On that front, imperial edicts and dedications to
emperors have little to say, even though they may speak to the general context
of language use. Official market weights, which every city with a Hellenistic
constitution inscribed in Greek, have slightly more to say, and certain types of
funerary inscriptions still more.

5. Other Considerations
In addition, other factors, that might tend to encourage not only Greek literacy,
but productive bilingualism in general, also need to be considered.

One may assume that the ability to speak Greek was, on the one hand, an indispensable
prerequisite for Jews who wanted to obtain public offices at the municipal level,
offices which would bring them in contact with non-Jewish Greek-speaking officials.
A knowledge of spoken Greek would have been equally indispensable for those who
engaged in trade relationships with Greek-speakers, whether Gentiles or Diaspora
Jews. As the language of the upper levels of the administrative and political hierarchy
and of international commerce, the Greek language will have been a status symbol
[and] a professional necessity. (Hezser 2001: 231)

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374 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

5.1. Urban Overlay and Hellenization


As a result of Martin Hengel’s work, there is general agreement that Galilee
‘fully exhibited key aspects’ of Graeco-Roman culture (Chancey 2005: 2). But
archaeologists, in particular, have differed with him over the extent of Jewish
accommodation of Hellenism. Strange proposes that the Romans imposed an
‘urban overlay’ on the Jewish cultural base.89 Implicit references to this overlay
are present in some of the earliest gospel tradition. They require us ‘to recog-
nize the complexities of a setting that uses urban as well as rural metaphors’
(Strange 1992b: 47). Meyers takes a similar line in arguing that Hellenization
was not thrust upon local cultures in order to eradicate them. Instead, the Romans
allowed ‘indigenous cultures … to express themselves authentically. Therefore,
the appearance of some forms of Greco-Roman culture need not signify compro-
mise, accommodation, or traumatic change’ (Meyers 1997: 64). In a somewhat
similar vein, Collins draws a line between culture and cult – the Jews accepted
elements of Hellenistic culture as long as they did not impinge on matters of
worship and cult.90 These views affirm that Graeco-Roman and Jewish cultures
could co-exist and that, generally speaking, religious accommodation was not
required.
But to what extent did Hellenization affect other areas of Jewish daily life?
Defined as the common Graeco-Roman culture of the eastern Mediterranean,
Hellenization involved various levels of assimilation, acculturation and accom-
modation. Barclay (1996: 92-98) defines assimilation as the degree of social inte-
gration with non-Jews (in social interaction and social practices), acculturation
as the extent of familiarity with Greek paideia (education, language and ideol-
ogy) and accommodation as the reaction to acculturation (whether by embrac-
ing or opposing Greek culture). The benefit of these terms is that they allow for
flexible Jewish responses to Hellenism as it was taken over and modified by
the Romans.91 Rural Galileans, as depicted by Josephus, may have refused to
accommodate Herodian values, but this need not preclude a variety of assimi-
lated responses to Graeco-Roman culture.92

5.2. Sepphoris,Tiberias and Urban–Rural Relations


Galilee was ringed by the Hellenistic cities of Acco-Ptolemais, Tyre and Sidon in
the west and north-west, Banias-Caesarea Philippi, Susita-Hippos and Gadara in

89. Strange 1992b: 31-33. Cf. Reed 2000: 79-82, 94-95; Chancey 2001: 127-45; 1992: 84-91.
90. Collins 2001: 38-61. See also Bowersock 1990.
91. For example, in terms of the construction undertaken by Herod the Great, gymnasia, stoas and
agoras were of Hellenistic origin, while theaters and bathhouses were Roman: Chancey 2005:
175.
92. Freyne 1997: 54-55; Freyne 2000: 160-82, esp. 173-74.

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Charlesworth 375

the north-east, east, and south-east, and by Beth Shean-Scythopolis and Gaba in
the south.93 Herod the Great turned the minor port Straton’s Tower into Caesarea
Maritima, the principal port for Judaea (Stern 1974: 257). He also settled his
foreign veterans at Gaba on the northeast side of Mt Carmel,94 and refounded
Samaria, which had been destroyed by John Hyrcanus, as Sebaste between 27
and 12 bce. ‘A massive building program, including an official temple dedi-
cated to Roma and Augustus with cult personnel and a city constitution in Greek
style, secured Sebaste’s enduring pagan character’ (Zangenberg 2006: 405, 428).
Distributed throughout Palestine as these cities were, and notwithstanding the
century-long Hasmonaean rule, communication between Jews and Gentiles liv-
ing in the Hellenistic cities must often have depended on the ability to speak
Greek.95 The same can probably be said of communication between urban
Gentiles and Jews from the villages and rural areas of Galilee.
After its construction between 22 and 10 bce, Caesarea became the commercial
hub for the region of Samaria, just as Tyre and Ptolemais had a similar function
in upper and lower Galilee respectively.96 In the period before Constantine, Latin
inscriptions are more plentiful than Greek.97 This is because Caesarea became a
Roman colony early in the reign of Vespasian (69–79) and remained so through-
out the second and third centuries. Many of the Latin inscriptions are public
and derive from ‘the imperial establishment and the local elite with its Latinate

93. Hengel 1989: 14-15; see also Schürer 1979: 85-198. On the Phoenician cities, see Millar
1983: 55-71. ‘In the Roman period, so far as inscriptions reveal, the cities of Phoenicia appear
as entirely Greek’ (63). On the Greek cities of the Decapolis, see Rey-Coquais 1992: 116-21.
Cities in other areas include Neapolis near Sichem, Bethsaida-Julius in Batanaea, and Heshbon
and Julius in Peraea, some of which were inhabited by the Herods (Mussies 1974: 1058).
94. Hengel 1989: 33; Millard 2000: 104.
95. Cf. Sevenster 1968: 98-99; Hengel 1989: 14-15. As Mussies (1974: 1058-59) notes, we
‘cannot simply assume that all foreigners in the Hellenistic towns spoke Greek’.
96. Zangenberg 2006: 401-402. Josephus says in a matter-of-fact way that Ptolemais was a
maritime city of Galilee situated on the edge of the great plain (War 2.188)
97. Lehmann and Holum (2000: 23) provide figures of 61 Latin and 23 Greek inscriptions. All
known texts, except for a number of milestones (Lehmann and Holum 2000: nos. 99-108),
have now been published in Ameling, Cotton, Eck, Isaac, Kushnir-Stein, Misgav, Price and
Yardeni 2011. For pre-Constantinian and possibly pre-Constantinian Greek inscriptions,
see—I bce–I ce: 1425, 1732, 1787; I: 1265, 1382-85, 1414, 1725-29, 1733, 1734(?); I–II:
1474, 1568; I–III: 1134-35, 1372, 1531, 1859 (for date, see Lehmann and Holum 2000: no.
378); II: 1266, 1361-62, 1719, 1722(?), 1735(?), [plus nos. 99-101 in Lehmann and Holum
(2000)]; II–III: 1132, 1136, 1195, 1288 (cf. Lehmann and Holum 2000: no. 5), 1446, 1454,
1515, 1612, 1711, 1737-38, 1871, 2046 (for date, see Lehmann and Holum 2000: no. 76); III:
1289, 1399, 1457, 1740; see also—II bce–III ce: 1749; I–IV: 1789; II–IV: 1130-31, 1481,
1681, 1739; III–IV: 1701, 1712. Cf.—II–VI: 1702, 1879; III–V: 1703; III–VI: 1456, 1461,
1479, 1483-84, 1486, 1497, 1499, 1513, 1524-25, 1543, 1548, 1550, 1554-55, 1741; III–VII:
1494, 1504, 1517.

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376 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

municipal institutions’.98 On the basis of a relatively small number of inscrip-


tions made by individuals,99 Eck argues that the use of Latin as a ‘normal means
of communication’ extended beyond Caesarea’s ‘ruling classes’.100 However, as
far as the comparatively smaller number of pre-Constantinian Greek inscrip-
tions is concerned, it can be inferred that the surviving evidence is not repre-
sentative. This is because, as Eck (2009: 36) observes, ‘the number of Latin and
Greek inscriptions in the first three centuries must have been more or less the
same’. Here is an excellent example of the unrepresentative nature of the epi-
graphic evidence. According to Josephus, by 67 Caesarea was ‘one of the largest
cities of Judaea, populated mainly by Greeks’,101 but with a substantial Jewish
minority.102 The very few inscriptions written entirely in Aramaic and Hebrew
imply that their language was Greek (cf. Lehmann and Holum 2000: 26). Even in
the second and third centuries when the use of Latin increased, Greek probably
remained the lingua franca. Thirty first-century ossuaries from the comparable
city of Scythopolis, which Josephus says had 13,000 Jews, have only Greek and
no Aramaic or Hebrew inscriptions, indicating that Jews there spoke Greek.103
Since no Latin inscription from Caesarea can be dated ‘with full assurance’ after
early IV, almost all of the late antique inscriptions are Greek.104
The two main Galilean cities, the centrally located Sepphoris, which Herod
Antipas rebuilt after 4 bce, and Tiberias, which he founded by the Sea of Galilee
in 18 ce, were not on a par with Caesarea and Scythopolis in terms of population,
urbanization, quantity and quality of civic building, and degree of Hellenization
(Reed 2000: 62-138). First-century Sepphoris and Tiberias (8,000-12,000 inhab-
itants) were about half the size of Caesarea and Scythopolis (20,000-40,000
inhabitants). Sepphoris also lacked many of the features typical of Roman cities:
temple, stadium, gymnasium, hippodrome, odeon, nymphaeum, iconography and
euergistic inscriptions (Meyers 1997: 135-36). But signs of Romanization are not
entirely wanting. The city was built after the Roman fashion using a Hippodamian

98. Lehmann and Holum 2000: 23. Cf. ‘no Latin inscription can be dated with full assurance to
the time after the early 4 c. AD’ (apart from no. 1138): Ameling et al. 2011: 27.
99. These private inscriptions are the only ones that ‘might be taken as unambiguously reflecting
Latinity and “Romanization” among the citizens of Caesarea’: Isaac 2009: 59.
100. Eck 2009: 38. ‘[E]ven outside the ruling classes Latin seems to have been taken for granted
as demonstrated in the modest graves of women and liberti’.
101. Καισάρειαν, μεγίστην τῆς τε ’Ιουδαίας πόλιν καὶ τὸ πλέον ὐφ’ Ἑλλήων οἰκουμένην (War
3.409-10).
102. See War 2.236, 268, 288, 332; Ant. 18.55-59; 29.365; War 2.457. Rabbinic sources reveal that
synagogue services at Caesarea were conducted in Greek (y. Sot. 7.1.21b): see van der Horst
2002: 19 n. 47.
103. Fuks 1982: 409-10. See War 2.468; cf. Life 26.
104. Ameling et al. 2011: 27. Lehmann and Holum (2000: 243 n. 162) had 122 Latin and 539
Greek texts on file, but published a corpus of only 80 Latin and 331 Greek texts. No totals for
Caesarea are provided in Ameling et al. 2011.

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Charlesworth 377

grid arrangement with a decumanus running east-west and cardo running north-
south. In the first century it had an impressive basilica (probably used for court,
council and commercial activities), a functional theatre, an aqueduct that brought
water from springs near the village of Mashad to a huge subterranean cistern east
of the city, a water installation or works, and possibly a bathhouse.105 Paving and
colonnading of the cardo and expansion of the theatre (second tier of seating) and
basilica (second story, porches and internal rows of columns) probably took place
in the early second century as the city began to demonstrate its growing afflu-
ence and civic pride.106 A first-century house on the western acropolis shows an
awareness of Roman architectural styles in the use of fresco and mosaic, but the
accoutrements of the moderately affluent were kept inside and not displayed. A
contemporaneous house across the street, however, was built around a peristyle
courtyard, showing that some Jewish families were adopting the Roman tendency
to display wealth in architecturally pretentious ways.107
When it comes to the socio-economic impact of urbanization on rural areas,
a number of factors come into play. On the one hand, the so-called political-
economy model of Finley (1977) speaks in some degree to the Galilean situa-
tion. Reed (2000: 96) argues that the rapid growth of the new cities transformed
Galilee ‘from a traditional to commercialized agrarian economy’. The need for
tax income and agricultural produce increased the economic strain on Galilean
peasants and altered rural-urban dynamics (Reed 2000: 83-89). Peasant families
now had ‘to support a growing administrative apparatus, a manufacturing sector,
and construction crews’. Because taxes had to be paid in currency, rural peasants
sold their land but often stayed on as tenants or indentured servants. As estates
grew and tenancy increased, ‘a substantial number’ also moved to the cities to
work as tenant farmers or day labourers.108 Inter alia, increases in population and
monetization, specifically the coins struck by Antipas, are adduced as evidence
for these changes.109
This position should be qualified by several points to the contrary. First, the
quantity of coins minted did not significantly increase the number of (Hasmonaean,

105. Weiss and Netzer 1996: 29-37; Reed 2000: 117-20; Chancey 2002: 76-77. On the water supply,
see Tsuk 1996: 45-49.
106. McCullough 2013: 50-57. McCullough (2013: 52) and Strange (1992a: 342) date the first
stage of the theatre to the reign of Antipas. For an end of I or later dating, see Meyers, Netzer
and Meyers 1992: 33 and Meyers and Chancey 2012: 269. Cf. Aviam 2013: 18 on possible
parallels to a two-stage building process (beginning in the first century) in Tiberias and
Scythopolis.
107. Reed 2000: 130; cf. 125-28. ‘The local elites were reluctant to adopt foreign beliefs and were
intent on maintaining their religious convictions, though they sought out the socio-economic
benefits that accompanied Roman urbanization’ (124).
108. Reed 2000: 86-87. Cf. Horsley 1996: 76-85.
109. Freyne 2000: 108; Arnal 2000: 138.

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378 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

Herodian and Tyrian) coins already in circulation. In other words, it appears that
the existing level of monetization was able to cope with the demands of urbani-
zation which, therefore, should not be exaggerated (Jensen 2007: 277-313).
Second, while the presence of Tyrian coins throughout Galilee and the assump-
tion in the gospels that even the poor used money on a daily basis are indicative
of a monetized economy (Freyne 2000: 106-108), studies on Ptolemaic Egypt
have shown that rural people continued to use exchange and payment in kind and
services alongside money. Even as the drachma figured in increasing numbers
of second-century transactions, wheat ‘remained a “money of accounts,” and tax
payments could be reckoned in terms of equivalences to fixed amounts of wheat,
a system attested throughout Egypt under the Ptolemies’.110 Similarly, payment
of taxes in kind seems to have been acceptable in Israel during the early Roman
period (Safrai 1994: 427) and Galilee was probably no exception. Third, the
economic shift caused by urbanization could be beneficial (see Douglas Edwards
1988: 169-82; David Edwards 1992: 53-73). There is good evidence that the new
dynamic did not prevent rural dwellers from participating in the local, regional
(up to a distance of c. 25 km) and inter-regional market economies.111
There was a well-developed trade network by which ‘goods and services
were transported from village to village, to town, to cities, and vice-versa’.112
The village of Kefar Hananya (KH), situated on the border between upper and
lower Galilee, supplied ‘most of the kitchen pottery of the Galilee, and a signifi-
cant minority of the cooking vessels of the Golan’ from mid I bce–early V ce
(Adan-Bayewitz 1997: 277). Adan-Bayewitz identified KH ware at Tel Anafa
in the Golan, at Acco-Ptolemais on the coast, at Meiron, Capernaum, Tiberias,
Sepphoris and Beth She‘arim in Galilee, and at Gamla and Susita-Hippos on
the east of the Sea of Galilee.113 Its presence at Tel Anafa negates the argu-
ment that elite preference was behind the use of KH ware at Sepphoris, as do
the large amounts of both KH and imported fineware at the Jewish village of
Meiron (Douglas Edwards 2007: 363-66).114 Recent archaeological finds have

110. Samuel 1984: 202. See also Rathbone 1989: 159-76; von Reden 2010: 79-150.
111. For a good summary of scholarship, see Pastor 2010: 297-307. See also Safrai 1994: 415-35;
Choi 2010. On external/international trade, see Applebaum 1976: 669-80.
112. ‘We can deduce by archaeological methods that an extensive, first century C.E. trade network
existed that connected the villages, towns, and cities of Lower Galilee, Upper Galilee, the rift,
and the Golan’ (Strange 1997: 41).
113. Adan-Bayewitz and Perlman 1990: 155-58 provides a brief summary of Adan-Bayewitz
1993.
114. Small ointment vases and fineware found throughout Galilee confirm that there were import
networks. The vases are dated III bce–I ce: see Hershkovitz 1986: 50. On the fineware (Eastern
Terra Sigillata A) and the reason for its comparatively low incidence (purity concerns), see
Mattila 2013: 90-104. On the production and movement of goods in Palestine, see Applebaum
1976: 680-90; cf. Choi 2010.

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Charlesworth 379

also brought to light a possible rival for Kefar Hananya in Jotopata, 10 km


north of Sepphoris, which produced ‘virtually identical’ cooking ware.115 This
could mean that Adan-Bayewitz’s distribution model may need to be modified
to take into account a regional competitor. Another kind of pottery (storage jars
and serving bowls) found in large numbers at Sepphoris was probably made at
nearby Kefar Shikhin.116 It seems that Sepphoris was an ‘important market cen-
tre’ for the pottery of both Kefar Hananya and Kefar Shikhin, and that many of
the Shikhin storage-jars ‘were filled with products and sold in the markets of that
city’.117 These studies suggest that despite some redistribution of land and the
increased tax burden, Sepphoris was not ‘a typical “consumer” city parasitically
related to its hinterland’.118
A less auspicious town might also be mentioned. Although it shows no signs
of Romanization, Capernaum was something of a crossroads in terms of inter-
regional trade between Sepphoris and Tiberias and Bethsaida (rebuilt as Julia
in 30 ce), the Decapolis and Caesarea-Philippi (Reed 2000: 144-48). The town
had dovecotes, stone vessel workshops, a fishing industry (cf. Mk 1.20), and
basalt vessel workshops that apparently exported grinding stones to Cyprus in
the early Roman period.119 Likewise, first-century Yodefat had weaving (sheep
were raised for wool and milk rather than meat), pottery and olive oil industries.120
Mass production of olive oil also took place in the wealthy quarter of Gamla
(Aviam 2004a: 51-60). Rabbinic sources mention the manufacture of basalt mill-
stones and mortars (probably in eastern Galilee), shoe-making at Amki in west-
ern Galilee, rope and basket making at Arbela west of the Sea of Galilee, and fish
salting at Magdala, whose Greek name Taricheae means ‘salting’ (Applebaum
1976: 682-83). At least seven towns and villages were also involved in the
wine industry (Sepphoris, Tiberias, Kefar Sogane, Sallamin, Acchabaron, Beth
She‘arim and Gennesaret).121 Along with the industries, comparative evidence
from Egypt also suggests that goods moved freely between town and country122

115. Edwards (2007: 365) notes that ‘this raises questions for the carefully constructed distribution
model proposed by Adan-Bayewitz for KH ware’.
116. Adan-Bayewitz and Perlman 1990: 168-70. KH ware and Shikhin pottery comprise 25% and
45% respectively of pottery finds at Sepphoris (160).
117. Adan-Bayewitz and Perlman 1990: 170. On the distribution of knife-pared oil lamps from
Jerusalem to towns in Galilee, see Adan-Bayewitz, Azaro, Wieder and Giauque 2008: 37-85.
118. Freyne 2000: 174. Cf. Edwards 1988: 174.
119. Edwards 2007: 366-67. See Mattila’s (2013: 74-138) cogent criticisms of the description of
Capernaum in Crossan and Reed 2001.
120. Aviam 2013: 26-27. Most of the pottery produced at first-century Yodefat was identical to KH
ware, suggesting that the same kinds of cooking vessels were produced elsewhere (27-28).
121. Strange (1997: 41-42) citing Josephus, War 3.3.3, 3.10.8; m. Men. 8.6; y. Meg. 72D; Eccl. R.
3.3; m. Kil. 4.4 (Salmin); b. ‘Abod. Zar. 30A (Acchabaron).
122. Choi (2010) surveys papyrological literature on the rural-urban movement of goods in Egypt
and argues that the situation in Galilee would have been similar.

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380 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

and that too much importance should not be placed on the post-70 Roman roads
as the major reason for economic development.123
It is clear that some of the rural inhabitants of first-century Galilee lived at
a level significantly above that of subsistence peasants and enjoyed beneficial
economic relationships with their urban neighbours.124 However, as Schwartz
observes, there was still ‘a substantial class of prosperous, though not neces-
sarily hugely wealthy, city-based landowners in lower Galilee’. Tiberias and
Sepphoris, which were constitutionally Graeco-Roman, ‘were required by law
to have city councils containing several hundred citizens who owned property
worth at least 100 sesterces’. This raises ‘a serious objection to the growing ten-
dency to dismiss the importance of urban-rural tensions’ (Schwartz 2006: 43).
Wealthy landowners had at their disposal significant numbers of rural depend-
ents who must have been affected in varying degree by the economic disparity
between city and country.125 But the precise effects of urbanization continue to
be debated.126 This is not the place to enter into that debate, except to note with
Freyne (1997: 54) that there is always ‘more than one “local” voice’. It was not
just a matter of co-existence. There was also rural resistance to the economic and
cultural impact of Graeco-Roman urbanization.

5.3. Administration
The ethnicity and religious ethos of Galilee was Jewish and its urban building
program was relatively muted. Nevertheless, Antipas ‘cultivated the Roman-
Hellenistic urban political-culture of a client-ruler who had been raised and
educated in Rome’. The palace at Tiberias, which he decorated with images of
animals, symbolized ‘the cultural transition and conflict inherent in the projects
of Herodian client-kingship’ (Horsley 1996: 35). Antipas made first Sepphoris
(from c. 4 bce–18 ce) and then Tiberias his capital (until 39) and the location
of his court and administration (Horsley 1996: 56). According to the Gospel
of Mark, on the night that John the Baptist was beheaded Antipas hosted a
dinner for ‘his courtiers and the military officers and leading men of Galilee’
(τοῖς μεγιστᾶσιν αὐτοῦ καὶ τοῖς χιλιάρχοις καὶ τοῖς πρώτοις τῆς Γαλιλαίας, 6.21).

123. So McCullough 2013: 68-70. The traveller from Sepphoris had ‘access potentially to about 40
villages one short day’s journey away’ (Strange 1997: 42).
124. Cf. Moreland 2007: 133-59. I have modified his argument about Hellenistic cities and towns
to the west and northwest to include interaction with Sepphoris and Tiberias.
125. Although neither article discusses Galilee, see Goodman 1982: 417-27 and Kloppenborg
2008: 31-66. For a defence of the term ‘peasant’, see Oakman 2013: 139-64. For discussion
of issues in the study of the Galilean and Palestinian economies, see Fiensy 2013: 165-86 and
Harland 2002: 511-27.
126. See Moxnes 2001: 64-77, esp. 71-73, for discussion of the various scholarly answers to these
questions.

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Charlesworth 381

Such elites would have comprised the upper echelons of court and administra-
tion in both capitals (Horsley 1996: 35). The situation changed substantially just
before the war, when Agrippa II kept his administration at Tiberias but transferred
the royal bank and archives to the pro-Roman Sepphoris (Josephus, Life 38).
If dissemination of Hellenistic influences from Sepphoris and Tiberias did
not adversely affect Jewish religious affiliation, the cities were still administra-
tive centres with a wealthy landowning aristocracy and a large retainer class.127
That Greek was the ‘standard language of public life and legal documentation’
(Bagnall 2011: 104) is supported by rabbinic literature, which assumes that con-
tact with the Roman administration would require knowledge of Greek.128 While
Aramaic might also have been used, communication between the economic elite,
administrative officials, and retainers probably depended to a significant extent
on Greek. Retainers may also have aspired to the status and opportunities that
knowledge of Greek might afford (Sevenster 1968: 60-61). So Greek could also
have been the medium of communication between retainers and some of those
retained or serviced, including some first-century rural dwellers.
It should be noted, however, that after Judaea became a province in 6 ce there
does not appear to have been a shift to the general use of Greek in legal docu-
ments as there was in Arabia after 106.129 While there is first-century evidence
from Masada for the documentary use of Greek (to which some undated and
unprovenanced Greek papyri can probably be added), Aramaic has a monopoly
on first-century legal documents in Palestine.130 There are two possible expla-
nations for this. First, there were Jewish courts with the power to enforce deci-
sions at least until the First Revolt (how much power these retained after 70 is
unknown).131 Second, Aramaic (and Hebrew) was preferred in Judaea during

127. Freyne 2000: 191, 193; Overman 1988: 166-67.


128. Hezser 2010: 475. That ‘the Mishnah transmits a war-time ruling that one should not
teach one’s children Greek (M. Sot. 9:14) suggests that even in times of conflict with the
Romans some Jewish (rabbinic) parents continued to aspire to a Greek education … The
Tosefta parallel therefore limits the Mishnah’s restriction: “They permitted the household
of R. Gamliel to teach their children Greek, because they were close to the government”
(T. Sot. 15:8). According to a variant tradition in the Talmud Yerushalmi, this permission
was allegedly given to the family of the patriarch R. Yehudah ha-Nasi “because they were
connected with the government” (y. Shab. 6:1, 7d)’.
129. See the discussion of the archives of Babatha and Salome Komaïse in Charlesworth 2014.
130. See Cotton et al. 1995: 226-33. For the undated and unprovenanced papyri, see pp. 232-33.
For detailed discussion of the first-century ostraca and papyri from Masada, see Charlesworth
2014.
131. Cotton 1999: 230. Until the First Revolt the Sanhedrin ‘must have enjoyed a large measure
of judicial independence in both civil and ceremonial law. There is much evidence for that in
Josephus, Philo, and the New Testament’.

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382 Journal for the Study of the New Testament 38(3)

the revolts.132 Nevertheless, Cotton argues that documents had to be written in


Greek, if they were to be ‘valid in a court of law which had power to enforce
them when necessary, such as that of the governor of the province, or another
Roman official, or the court of a polis’.133 Legal documents from the non-desert
parts of Judaea, Samaria and Galilee have not survived. If they had, some/many
might have been found to have been written in Greek.

5.4. Literary Evidence


Tiberias was the home of Justus who wrote in Greek a history of the revolt
that was refuted by Josephus in his Life (336). According to Josephus, Tiberias
had a council of 600 men (War 2.639-41; Life 165-69, 296) which assem-
bled in the very large synagogue.134 On one occasion Josephus claims to have
used subterfuge to capture ten principal and fifty eminent councillors, most
of whom would very probably have known Greek (War 2.639; cf. Life 296).
Indeed, council assemblies might have been conducted in Greek. Josephus
also tell us that John of Gischala (Gush Halav) made a large profit by selling
oil at inflated prices to Jews living in Caesarea Philippi (Life 13). That piece
of information and the inscriptions from Gush Halav demonstrate that even
upper Galilee was not linguistically isolated. Matthew Levi (see Mk 2.13-14;
Mt. 9.9; Lk. 5.27-28), a regional tax farmer from Capernaum, would have
had dealings with the administration of Antipas, which means that there was
at least one type 1 productive bilingual among the Twelve. Excavations at
et-Tell, the best candidate for Bethsaida on the northern shore of the Sea of
Galilee, have revealed a first-century Jewish city that seems to have been more
oriented towards the west and south than the Phoenician coast (Savage 2007:
193-206). But, like Capernaum, it was on the trade route from Sepphoris and
Tiberias to the Decapolis and Caesarea Philippi. According to the Gospel of
John, three of the Twelve – Philip, Andrew and Peter – were from Bethsaida.
It was through Philip that certain Greeks tried to make contact with Jesus
(Jn 12.20-22; cf. 1.44), apparently because Philip was a productive bilingual.
Peter’s encounter with the centurion Cornelius might also have been con-
ducted in Greek (Acts 10.25-33). Philip, Andrew and Peter are Greek names
(Porter 1994: 136), and of the other disciples Bartholomew and Thaddeus also

132. On Aramaic as the prior language of legal contracts in Arabia and Judaea, see Cotton 2003:
5-10.
133. Cotton 1999: 230. Cf. Cotton and Eck 2005: 23-44.
134. Life 277-80. Larger crowds assembled in the stadium: see Life 92-93, 331; War 2.618; 3.539.

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Charlesworth 383

had Greek or Greek-derived names.135 As for Jesus himself, he grew up close


to one of the busiest trade routes in Galilee (Jerusalem to Sepphoris),136 and
it is possible that as a carpenter he spent some time working in Sepphoris.137
As noted at the outset, the gospels contain images from both urban and rural
settings.

6. Conclusion
That the inscriptional evidence is spread proportionately across the first three cen-
turies and comes, in the main, from Sepphoris and Tiberias, proves that little can
be made of numbers alone. It also suggests that the vast majority of inscriptions
did not survive. There is confirmation for this in the handful of Aramaic/Hebrew
inscriptions (leaving aside 25a and 25b) and in the relatively small number of
Greek inscriptions from Caesarea before it became a Roman colony. Therefore,
the evidence for the individual use of Greek in other parts of first-century Galilee
– Gush Halav in upper Galilee, Magdala on the Sea of Galilee, and the area near
Beth She‘arim in the west – is probably not representative either. First-century
Galilee was not an isolated Aramaic enclave. The archaeological and literary
evidence show that both upper and lower Galilee should be seen ‘as very much
in constant touch with the gentile, Greek-speaking cities that surrounded them’
(Meyers 1995: 22). This probably involved ‘daily connections’ with Jerusalem
as well as with the Gentiles around the Roman territory (Aviam 2004b: 23). The
urbanization of Sepphoris and Tiberias had some negative outcomes, but it also
opened up economic opportunities for rural people. Such opportunities would
sometimes/often have depended on the use of Greek, on a bilingualism which,
in most cases, would have been primary and, at the very least, minimally func-
tional. Greek was the language of administration and the elite, and retainers may
have emulated their superiors in this regard. For all these reasons, it is likely that
some of the Twelve were type 1, 2 or 3 productive bilinguals, that Jesus himself
could also have known Greek, and that some of the earliest Jesus tradition might
have been transmitted in Greek.138

135. Hengel 1989: 16-17. Cf. Ilan 2002: 283-84, Θαδδαῖος; 2002: 303-304, Πέτρος, Πτολεμαῖος.
It should be noted, however, that only 14.5% of known Palestinian names are Greek in the
period 330 bce–200 ce: see Ilan 2002: 55 (Table 3), cf. 10-13; and Chancey 2005: 155-61,
230-35.
136. Meyers 1979: 698. Chancey (2002: 55-66) allows that contact between Jew and Gentile was
inevitable, although he takes a characteristically minimalist view as regards most Galileans.
137. Case 1926: 14-22. Cf. Sanders (1996: 75-79), who rejects any such possibility.
138. It remains to be seen whether the publication of the CIIP volume on Galilee, which will not
appear before 2017 (W. Eck, pers. comm. 10 November 2014), will bring to light a significant
number of new Greek and/or Aramaic/Hebrew inscriptions and thereby necessitate another
re-evaluation of the evidence.

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