Kest: Its History and Significance

How should John be understood within the broader context of Hellenism? This chapter examines some relevant points in John from this perspective. When characterizing aspects of Hellenism, some scholars place emphasis on Greek elements, others on Eastern or Oriental features. Considering this broad Roman context of John, even if John should have an inner Jewish setting, the question of John and Hellenism is quite relevant. The only body of writings upon which John definitively depends is the Old Testament. Thus, John's use of Old Testament and exegetical traditions needs be examined to see whether it reflects any Hellenistic features. Sources from ancient Judaism are of primary interest. A basic observation is that Judaism in Antiquity belonged to Hellenistic world. Instead of looking for direct influence from outside of Judaism, the difficult challenge is to look into the possibility that John has distinctively Jewish and Christian expressions of broader Hellenistic features.Keywords: exegetical traditions; gospel of John; Hellenism; Jewish setting; Judaism; Old Testament

Introduces key technical terms referring to the composition and transmission of oral tradition, and proposes a general theoretical model for studying the various elements of Jewish oral tradition in particular. The most important technical terms are: “oral‐literary tradition” (defined as “verbal products of a culture that have pretensions beyond everyday speech”); “oral‐performative tradition” (defined as “the sum of performative strategies” for transmitting the content of oral‐literary tradition); and “text‐interpretive tradition” (defined as “the body of interpretive understandings that arise from multiple performances of a text”). The theoretical model of oral tradition employed here enables studies of the interrelationships among three dimensions of Jewish oral tradition: the textual substance of the tradition, the social settings for its transmission, and, most importantly, the ideological system by which the texts of oral tradition are represented. For rabbinic Judaism, the concept of Torah in the Mouth and the description of the earliest rabbinic text (the Mishnah) as repeated tradition are the crucial ideological elements under study.

This chapter discusses Elijah ben Solomon's opposition to the eighteenth century eastern European Hasidic movement. Elijah became an ardent opponent of the movement. He even accused the leaders of Hasidic movement of Sabbatian tendencies. It explains that the Hasidic movement was established by the charismatic spiritual leader Israel ben Eliezer, the Baal Shem. This movement minimized the legalistic, elite intellectual and ascetic elements in the Jewish tradition and promoted God's imminence, prayer, spiritual ecstasy, and popular social practices. Elijah opposed the Hasidic principle that humanity could access the Divine only through the medium of the Torah, which he viewed as a dangerous overestimation of the individual's ability to communicate with God.

Migration processes in the globalizing world produce a problem of communication between heterogeneous principles in the cultural and educational sphere. Turning to the past we can see that Western civilization doesn’t face this problem for the first time. Moreover, in a sense such a communication lies at its origins, especially during the rise of Roman Empire. Paideia (or education) in the Hellenistic and Roman times was considered as the basis for more or less broad and sometimes full access to the civil rights of the dominant ethnic group. But as a fee for its receiving often counted the abandonment of someone’s own customs. This challenge could be with varying degrees of success bypassed by the ways of the worldview convergence. An important precedent for subsequent history of education became the formation of Jewish paideia, the stages of which are reconstructed in this article. On the first stage there was mainly passive adoption of new knowledge and skills. On the second stage – implementation of practical need in training of own teachers. On the third an attempt to mediate two parts of Jewish education, including elements of both Jewish tradition and ancient philosophy, with the help of special literature was made. The article shows that the reception of outer forms of Greek culture by Jews didn’t lead to their cultural assimilation, but became the reason for a clearer understanding of the incompatibility of the two pictures of the world, Judaic and Pagan, including the latter’s philosophical interpretations. It directly prepared Christian criticism of the ancient worldview.

In April 1993, as part of March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay, and Bi Equal Rights and Liberation, hundreds of couples participated in the Wedding, a symbolic commitment ceremony held in front of Internal Revenue Service building. Part protest and part affirmation of devotion, event was a reminder that marriage rights have become a major issue among lesbians and gay men, who cannot marry legally and can only claim domestic partner rights in a few locations in United States. Yet despite official lack of recognition, same-sex wedding ceremonies have been increasing in frequency over past decade. Ellen Lewin, who has consecrated her own lesbian relationship with a commitment ceremony, decided to explore myriad ways in which lesbians and gay men create meaningful ceremonies for themselves. She offers first comprehensive account of lesbian and gay weddings in modern America. A series of richly detailed profiles-the result of extensive interviews and participation in planning and realization of many of these commitment rituals-is woven together to show how new traditions, and ultimately new families, are emerging within contemporary America. Just as book is a moving portrait of same-sex couples today, it is also a significant political document on a new arena in struggle for lesbian and gay rights. In a larger sense, Lewin's work is about politics surrounding same-sex marriages and ramifications for central dimensions of American culture such as kinship, community, morality, and love. Lewin explores ceremonies themselves, which range from traditional church weddings to Wicca rituals in countryside, with portraits of planning, joys, and anxieties that led up to weddings. She introduces Bob and Mark, a leather fetishist couple who sanctified their love by legally changing their last names and exchanging vows in tuxedos, leather bow ties, and knee-high police boots. In an equally absorbing profile, Lewin describes Khadija, from a working-class black family deeply suspicious of whites (and especially Jews) and Shulamith, raised in a Zionist household. She tells of how two women struggled to reconcile their widely disparate upbringings and how they ultimately combined elements of African and Jewish traditions in their wedding. These, among many other stories, make Recognizing Ourselves a vivid tapestry of lesbian and gay life in post-Stonewall United States.

(ProQuest: ... denotes non-USASCII text omitted.) A large portion of the Apocalypse of Abraham, Jewish work known only in its Slavonic translation, deals with the celestial tour of the eponymous hero of the text. In the work's elaborate account of the tour, which depicts Abraham's initiation into the heavenly mysteries, an important detail often found in other apocalyptic texts is missing. The authors of the Slavonic work seem deliberately to eschew anthropomorphic depictions of the deity that often mark climactic points in other early Jewish apocalyptic accounts. This reluctance to endorse traditions of the divine form appears to be quite unusual, given that other features of the pseudepigraphon exhibit explicit allusions to motifs and themes of the Merkabah tradition. Several distinguished scholars of early Jewish mysticism have previously noted that the Apocalypse of Abraham might represent one of the earliest specimens of Merkabah mysticism, the Jewish tradition in which the divine form ideology arguably receives its most advanced articulation.1 Yet despite many suggestive allusions in their depiction of the heavenly realities, the authors of the Apocalypse of Abraham appear very reluctant to endorse one of the most crucial tenets in the divine chariot lore: the anthropomorphic depiction of the Glory of God. The reluctance seems rather puzzling in view of some close similarities in angelological imagery that the Apocalypse of Abraham shares with the first chapter of the book of Ezekiel, the formative account of the Merkabah tradition, where the ideology of the divine form looms large.2 It has been previously noted that the seer's vision of the divine throne found in the Apocalypse of Abraham relies significantly on Ezekiel's account and stands in direct continuity with Merkabah tradition.3 At the same time, however, scholars observe that the Slavonic pseudepigraphon shows attempts to depart from the overt anthropomorphism of this prophetic book. Christopher Rowland, for example, notes that the shift from anthropomorphism is apparent in the portrayal of the divine throne in ch. 18 of the Apocalypse of Abraham. Notwithstanding the many allusions to Ezekiel 1 in the depiction of the throne room in chs. 18 and 19 of the Apocalypse, Rowland highlights radical paradigm shift in the text's description of the deity, noting a deliberate attempt... to exclude all reference to the human figure mentioned in Ezek 1. For Rowland, this shift entails that there was definite trend within apocalyptic thought away from the direct description of God.4 These observations about anti-anthropomorphic tendencies of the Slavonic apocalypse are intriguing and deserve further investigation. Even cursory look at the text reveals that, despite an extensive appropriation of the visionary motifs and themes, the authors appear to be avoiding anthropomorphic depictions of the deity and some other celestial beings.5 This tendency leads to the creation of new apocalyptic imagery that combines traditional and novel elements. This article will investigate these new conceptual developments in the Apocalypse of Abraham and seek to understand their place in the larger anticorporeal ideology of the Slavonic pseudepigraphon. I. THE BIBLICAL BACKGROUND OF THE SHEM TRADITION The Apocalypse of Abraham is Jewish work probably composed in Palestine in the early centuries of the Common Era.6 The text can be divided into two parts.7 The first part (chs. 1-8) of the work represents haggadic account of Abraham's rejection of the religious practices of his father, Terah. The second, apocalyptic part covers the rest of the work (chs. 9-32) and depicts the patriarch's ascension to heaven, where he is accompanied by his angelus interpres, Yahoel, during his initiation into the heavenly and eschatological mysteries. The first eight chapters of the pseudepigraphon take the form of midrashic elaboration and recount the early years of Abraham, who is depicted as reluctant helper to his idolatrous father, Terah. …

This thesis aims to study the identification of the Matthean Jesus with Wisdom or Sophia, a personified feminine figure. The roots of this identification are traced to the traditions in Judaism as depicted in Proverbs, Job, Sirach, the Wisdom of Solomon, Baruch and 1 Enoch. The early Christians made use of this Wisdom tradition when speculating on the identity and significance of Jesus, and scholars have identified explicit Wisdom Christologies in Paul, Q and John. The thesis has its main focus in the Matthean tradition and demonstrates that Matthew develops a high Christology from his Jewish and Christian sources by portraying Jesus as Wisdom incarnate. This thesis studies Matthew’s Wisdom Christology from the perspective of its Jewish and early Christian contexts. How has Matthew been influenced by these traditions, and how has he developed them? The nature and roles of Wisdom in Judaism differ from text to text. In some she is a distinct pre-existent being, subordinate to and distinct from God, while in others she appears to be an aspect of God and not a distinct entity. In terms of her functions, Wisdom is assigned a variety of roles. She plays a part in the creation of the universe as the assistant of God, mediates between God and humans, plays a salvific role and is identified with the Torah. Wisdom can be described in various ways, including mother, lover and counsellor. In the Judaism of Matthew’s time, Wisdom is only one of many pre-existent beings. Other figures that were thought to pre-exist and await a future revelation include the Messiah and the Son of Man, and these too play an important role in the emergent Christology of the first century. The study of the early Christian texts reveals that the Christians accessed the Jewish Wisdom traditions in different ways. Paul uses the term ‘the Wisdom of God’ for Jesus (1 Cor 1:24; cf. 1:30), but he seems not to use it as a Christological title. The concept of Wisdom as a distinct figure first appears in the Q tradition. In this Sayings Source, Jesus is not identified with Wisdom herself but as her messenger or envoy. The Gospel of John testifies to a further development. John has a clear Wisdom Christology, especially in the Prologue where the pre-existent Jesus is assigned many of Wisdom’s roles. But this author never refers to Jesus as ‘Wisdom’. He prefers the masculine term ‘the Word’. Between the Q and the Johannine traditions comes Matthew, and it is in this Gospel that the early Christian Wisdom Christology is most clearly attested. In distinction to Q, Matthew makes explicit the identification of Jesus with Wisdom herself and, in distinction to John, he has no qualms about using that particular feminine term. For Matthew Jesus is pre-existent Wisdom, subordinate to God and separate from God, who becomes incarnate in the body of a human through a miraculous conception. In portraying Jesus in this way, Matthew adopts many of the attributes and roles of Wisdom in the Jewish tradition, including her role in creation, her close relationship with God, her role as prophet and teacher, her rejection by humans and her identification with the Law. Moreover, in constructing his Wisdom Christology, the evangelist reinterprets and develops some aspects of Wisdom’s traditional roles on the basis of Christian claims about Jesus. Thus in Matthew it is significant that Jesus as Wisdom is a miracle-worker, the definitive interpreter of the Law, dies on the cross to save her people from their sins and will come in the future as the eschatological judge.

Family therapy as a field has increasingly recognized the importance of families' cultural backgrounds in understanding family systems and conducting effective therapy. Although some families' ethnicities fade with assimilation and time, even families who consider themselves marginally Jewish are often deeply influenced by Jewish cultural background. Purely statistical studies of Jewish characteristics are hampered by significant differences in Jewish sample populations (such as Eastern European and Mediterranean Jews) and the inadequacies of current measuring techniques. This article links Jewish cultural traits to specific elements of Jewish history, traditions, and theology; helps familiarize family therapists with the implications of a Jewish cultural background for families entering family therapy; and provides suggestions for treatment interventions.

Reviewed by: The Way Back by Gavriel Savit Fiona Hartley-Kroeger Savit, Gavriel The Way Back. Knopf, 2020 [368p] Trade ed. ISBN 9781984894625 $18.99 E-book ed. ISBN 9781984894649 $10.99 Reviewed from digital galleys R* Gr. 7-10 In the shtetl of Tupik, somewhere in nineteenth-century Eastern Europe, encounters with the Angel of Death intertwine the lives of two children: the angry, sharp-eyed, fatherless boy Yehuda Leib and Bluma the baker's daughter. Their journeys take them through the Far Country, a land ruled and inhabited by demons, and into the stronghold of Death itself. As they bargain with demons and learn to navigate through the Far Country, where "the direction matters less than you think," each must, in their own way, come to terms with the face Death wears for them or risk ceasing to live. Savit (Anna and the Swallow Man, BCCB 2/16) builds the action with a storyteller's assured cadences, creating a story rich in elements of Jewish folk tradition and flashes of both humor and the grotesque. Yehuda Leib's and Bluma's inner and outer lives are rendered with great warmth, making them sympathetic yet unsentimental, heroic yet human. The story emphasizes several familiar ideas central to children's literature: that change is the province of the living; that death is part of life; that we go through both alone and not alone. The novel will appeal enormously to fans of Gaiman's The Graveyard Book (BCCB 10/08), and while it's appropriate for middle school readers, its folkloric tone and themes give it considerable crossover appeal for high schoolers as well. [End Page 49] Copyright © 2020 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

Isa 52:13–53:12 has long served Jews and Christians as a source for the resolution of questions resulting from seemingly inexplicable human suffering and death. The fact that such suffering affected the primary links between God and humankind, the people Israel for the Jew and Jesus of Nazareth for the Christian, proved to be an especially perplexing problem that could have undermined fundamental religious beliefs. From the patristic age Isaiah 53 was interpreted so as to provide a rationale for Jesus' suffering on the cross. Medieval and modern Jewish exegetes saw in this prophecy an explanation for the tragedies which the Jews experienced in the exile. Interestingly, in adapting the so-called Suffering Servant passage for their own purposes, Jewish interpreters, of both the medieval and the modern periods, incorporated certain Christian concepts into their exegesis. This study will trace the transference of elements of a Christian exegetical tradition regarding Isaiah 53 into medieval and modern Jewish biblical interpretation.

In the vast psychoanalytic literature on the Biblical story of the binding of Isaac (the ‘Akedah’ in Hebrew), one traditional element gets very little mention. What is the connection between the Akedah and Isaac’s later blindness, both physical and spiritual? For Isaac goes blind, and the destiny of the Jewish people depends on this blindness. It is because of this blindness that he cannot tell the difference between his two sons, Esau and Jacob, and so is deceived when it comes to giving them a blessing. Jacob, the smooth-skinned son, is lured by his mother to dress up in his brother’s clothes, rough animal skins, and pass himself off as Esau in order to claim the firstborn’s blessing from his father. The ruse works, and Esau is left howling in rage, demanding a blessing of his own and plotting Jacob’s death. Jacob has to flee, and he runs away — into the arms of his future wives. The Children of Israel derive from this trick, this manipulation of a blind man, this easily fooled supposed-sage.

This Article examines intersection of law, religion, and culture in evolution of polygamy in Jewish tradition. It traces development of Jewish thought on polygamy over time by assembling and analyzing relevant discussions, arguments, decisions, and biblical interpretations from time of Hebrew Bible passages, when plural marriage was an accepted part of Jewish society, to early Middle Ages when practice was formally and conclusively rejected. In doing so, Article attempts to untangle various influences--both practical and doctrinal, internal and external--on evolution of marriage law in Jewish communities. These findings highlight mutable nature of marriage norms within a religious community, adaptability of religious doctrine to practical needs of community, and potentially progressive force of religious morality in advancing women's rights. INTRODUCTION: POLYGAMY AND RELIGION IN PUBLIC DISCOURSE Judaism's relationship with polygamy has always been fraught with tension and perhaps can best be summed up by fact that word for co-wife in Hebrew is tzarah, literally trouble. As many know, practice of polygamy was once considered part and parcel of Jewish culture, at least in theory, but nowadays that is no longer case. The story of Jewish polygamy has no clear-cut ending; there was no one defining moment or document that shifted Jewish societies in Western Europe away from polygamy and into monogamy. But over time, these norms did shift for reasons we examine in this Article. For past several years, issue of marriage and of marital forms in particular has been a prominent feature on both national (1) and international stage. (2) Efforts to lift prohibitions on same-sex marriage in this country and abroad have inspired people on all sides of political spectrum to speak about virtues of monogamy's core institution and to express views on who should be included within it. (3) While public discourse over marriage in United States and around world has focused primarily on gay marriage, issue of legalizing plural marriage has been gaining considerable attention in recent years. (4) In United States, TV shows such as TLC's Sister Wives, HBO's Big Love and Showtime's Polyamory: Married and Dating have brought concept of plural marriage into nation's collective living room. Polyamory, practice of having more than one intimate relationship at a time with knowledge and consent of everyone involved, has even been called the next civil rights movement. (5) The discussion of polygamy presents valuable angles for reconsidering contemporary marriage debate. First, plural marriage raises novel questions beyond those presented by gay marriage because it turns not on idea of who can be in a marriage, but rather on very institution of marriage itself as consisting of a two-and-only-two part unit. Second, plural marriage, unlike gay marriage, represents an alternative bundling of marital principles that may be described as traditional within a broad range of cultures and religious communities. (6) In this context, an examination of what a religious tradition has had to say about marriage over time can inform our understanding of what religion is capable of saying about topic today. This Article will focus on history of polygamy in Jewish tradition and will examine why, after millennia of experimentation, a religion walked away from a practice it had once legitimized. We will follow this history through various streams of Jewish law and tradition, and watch as debate slowly shifts from a question of legality to morality, from could to should. We will focus on three historical realities over time that make sense of this evolution: First, all of Jewish law is, at its core, an act of holding multiple values in a dialectic tension. …

Cemeteries, as one of the most symbolic and enduring elements of the cultural landscape, reflect the relationships between society, the cultural environment, and value systems. A comparative analysis of cemeteries from different regions of Europe was carried out, taking into account: burial sites and their surroundings; architectural forms, including traditional graves, mausoleums, chapels, and elements of sepulchral sculpture; cultural, religious, and customary conditions determining the use of funeral spaces. Particular attention was paid to the different perceptions of cemeteries in Christian, Muslim, and Jewish religious traditions and in secular practices. The aim of the publication is to identify common features and differences in cemetery planning, emphasizing their importance as cultural, social, landscape, and axiological spaces.

Reviewed by: From Jerusalem to Athens by Nurit Yaari Shiraz Biggie FROM JERUSALEM TO ATHENS. By Nurit Yaari. Oxford University Press. 2018. 480 pp. Hardcover and ebook, $140.00. Discussions of Israeli theatre, and Jewish theatre in general, often begin with the Talmudic prohibition against the theatre sparked by the encounter and rejection of Hellenism. Nurit Yaari’s book, From Jerusalem to Athens, is no exception, but builds from the idea that the Jewish rabbinical tradition (Jerusalem) and the classical tradition (Athens) are critical and often intertwined influences on Israel’s modern theatre. Yaari argues the contemporary encounter with classical Greek theatre has influenced Israeli artists to address questions of identity and “engage in an intellectual, artistic, and political dialogue with both Jewish culture (the particular) and classical Greek drama (the universal)” (p. 7). From the very beginning, Yaari establishes the role of Greek theatre as a “universal” to be reckoned with through a specific production. In her introduction, she situates the origins of Hebrew theatre with efforts dating back to the Italian Renaissance and Enlightenment periods that combined classical Greek drama elements with the Hebrew language. After establishing this precedent, the book focuses on productions staged either just before or within the modern State of Israel. Yaari’s work is expansive, looking at three types of productions: first, those directly following and using the Greek texts in translation; second, those created by theatrical artists across other traditions that are in dialogue with Greek drama (Anouilh, etc.); and, finally and critically, those native Israeli-written dramas inspired by Greek texts. The book is most exciting and illuminating in discussing the latter, offering significant new insights and approaches to the works in question. The book’s chapter organization is based on particular points of inquiry, such as chapters that explore a theatrical company, a specific Greek or Israeli playwright, conflict, or directorial approaches. Her book traces and frames the theatre of Israel in relation to “Athens” and how this interchange allowed for rich experimentation for Israeli theatre makers. Underlying her book is the broad question of theatre history—why this particular play here and now? Thus, many of the individual chapters are directly related to wars and conflicts in which Israel has played a part and seek to make arguments beyond not only the theatre itself, but on a changing Israeli society. Her book’s strength and weakness lie in this comprehensive mapping of “Athens” onto the “Jerusalem” of Israeli theatre. Yaari looks at 70 years of Israeli theatre (1945–2015), covering 22 Greek plays and touching on approximately 86 productions. Periodically, this [End Page 604] expansiveness obscures an overall through-line to the manuscript in favor of specific chapter arguments. The book occasionally places different productions in conjunction with contemporary Israeli events; the author does not always provide enough context on these events for the reader who is less familiar with Israeli society. As a contribution to the study of Israeli theatre, using the argument that the encounter between “Athens” and “Jerusalem” has been fruitful, the book offers a new way of viewing Israeli drama and its significant figures and adds to the growing English-language scholarship that aims to take Israeli theatre beyond its diasporic origins. One of Yaari’s methodological strengths, which allows her to intertwine a production’s reception with its cultural context, focuses on staging rather than only the play texts. She includes not only the play’s translation but a comprehensive discussion of all the elements of theatrical language, using production photos, designs, interviews, and reviews to piece together a picture of the theatrical event. She also draws on her own vast experience with and reception of many of the productions included. This multifaceted approach helps establish for the readera strong impression oftheactualproductions that are importantto her overall analysis. This approach also helps clarify the line between critical and audience response that marks not only the individual productions, but also the theatre culture of Israel more generally. The first two chapters approach two of Israel’s most well-known theatres, Habima (Israel’s National Theatre) and the Cameri (Tel Aviv’s municipal theatre), looking at their first attempts at classical drama in the mid-1940s...

A History of the Jews or Judaism?On Seth Schwartz's Imperialism and Jewish Society, 200 B.C.E. to 640 C.E. Michael L. Satlow (bio) No account of Jewish history in antiquity, Seth Schwartz argues with verve in Imperialism and Jewish Society (Princeton, 2001), can afford to ignore the effects of the shifting types of imperial domination over the Jews. This imperial domination—whether Greek, Roman, or Christian—had a decisive impact on not only Jewish society but indeed on Judaism itself. Judaism in antiquity (and by implication its modern descendents), Schwartz argues, owes as much, or even more, to colonialist powers as it does to the tradition of the Bible. Schwartz has provided us with an excellent, rich, and highly textured account of ancient Jewish society. This book, in fact, is so crammed with insights and novel arguments that it would be disingenuous to suggest that even an extended review can do it justice. Hence, my goal here is to assess only the primary argumentative line, paying particular attention to the two themes mentioned above: (1) the changing effects of imperial domination upon the Jews throughout antiquity; and (2) the relationship between this story and that of "Judaism." Schwartz develops his thesis through a nuanced story that traces the effects of imperial domination on both the Jews (primarily of Palestine, between 200 B.C.E. and 640 C.E.) and their religion. The book is organized as three "time-lapse photographs" (p. 3), with the parts focusing respectively on the late Second Temple period (200 B.C.E.–70 C.E., with some attention to 500 B.C.E.–200 B.C.E.); from the Bar Kokhba Revolt to the Christianization of the Roman Empire (135 C.E.–350 C.E.); and under the Christian emperors (350 C.E.–640 C.E.). Each time period presents a different model of imperial domination, although, it turns out, the Jewish responses to these models remain similar. Part I argues that the Persian and then Hellenistic overlords of Palestine legally and financially backed the Temple and Torah. The nearly [End Page 151] universal Jewish response to this imperial support was the assimilation of these institutions into a unifying ideological core that Schwartz calls "Judaism." This core has an almost sloganlike simplicity: "the one God, the one Torah, and the one Temple" (p. 49). The Jerusalem Temple was the physical center of power (both symbolic and real) for the Jews of Palestine, but "it would not be an exaggeration to say that the Torah was the constitution of the Jews of Palestine" (p. 56). In Schwartz's salutary formulation, Torah is not just a scroll or the text of the Pentateuch, but has a more capacious meaning: "the 'Torah' was a series of negotiations between an authoritative but opaque text and various sets of traditional but not fully authorized practices" (p. 68, original emphasis). Schwartz uses this formulation to explore the gap between Torah as ideology and the often complex and unpredictable ideas and behaviors that Jews understood it as authorizing. Schwartz gives us a hint of what Judaism might have looked like without the imperial backing of Temple and Torah. Instead of a "complex, loosely centralized but still basically unitary Jewish society" (p. 291), Jewish society would have been fractured, and Torah (really its covenantal notions, which Schwartz seems to regard as identical to it) would at times have given way to the myth of the apocalyptic literature. The extant "apocalyptic" literature, Schwartz argues, frequently combines the two logically separate strands of covenant and myth; "the myth was a more or less fully naturalized part of the ideology of Judaism" (p. 81). Perhaps without the imperial backing of Torah there would have been no need to combine these two systems; each would have followed a different trajectory. In the wake of the two destructions, Part II argues, imperial backing gave way to a more characteristically Roman combination of legal imperialism and political laissez-faire. There was a common culture of the Greco-Roman city throughout the Roman Empire and Jews were free to participate in this culture or not, although power could only be obtained and exercised through the city...