Seven animal hide scrolls with Hebrew and Aramaic writing were sold in Jerusalem in 1947. Additional smaller fragments of similar scrolls were sold from 1948 to 1950. Within a few years of their appearance, these “Jerusalem Scrolls” as they were then known, became “the Dead Sea Scrolls from Qumran Cave 1.” While this change of names may seem trivial, it glosses over some difficult questions about the provenance of these materials. What we now call “Cave 1Q” or “Qumran Cave 1” was excavated in 1949, but scholarship reveals considerable confusion concerning which purchased scrolls can be materially connected to fragments that were excavated by archaeologists under controlled conditions in Cave 1. Furthermore, Cave 1 is often treated as if it was a sealed context rather than the highly contaminated site that it actually was at the time of its excavation by archaeologists. For these reasons, it is not completely clear whether all the scrolls usually assigned to Cave 1 actually originated at this site. This article is an attempt to sort through the evidence to determine exactly which scrolls and fragments attributed to Cave 1 were purchased, when and from whom such pieces were purchased, and what can actually be known with confidence about the connection of these “Jerusalem Scrolls” with the site we now call Qumran Cave 1.

Many gods lived in the Roman Empire. All ancient peoples, including Jews and, eventually, Christians, knew this to be the case. Exploring the ways that members of these groups thought about and dealt with other gods while remaining loyal to their own god, this essay focuses particularly on the writings and activities of three late Second Temple Jews who highly identified as Jews: Philo of Alexandria, Herod the Great, and the apostle Paul. Their loyalty to Israel’s god notwithstanding, they also acknowledged the presence, the agency, and the power of foreign deities. Reliance on “monotheism” as a term of historical description inhibits our appreciation of the many different social relationships, human and divine, that all ancient Jews had to navigate. Worse, “monotheism” fundamentally misdescribes the religious sensibility of antiquity.

Chapters 10–15 in Tosefta Soṭah contain the longest, most elaborated aggadic unit in the Tosefta. It comprises various units that seem to be connected only loosely: the biblical righteous figures who brought abundance to the world (chs. 10–12); various revelations and appearances of the holy spirit and divine echo (ch. 13); and the effects of the destruction and the calamities of the present (chs. 14–15). In this article I argue that it forms in fact a coherent unit. It combines apocalyptic, priestly, and wisdom themes in a manner that is unprecedented in rabbinic literature, but is similar to several Second Temple texts. It tells a tale of perpetual decline from the biblical golden age to the rabbis’ own age of destruction, together with its eschatological remedy. It combines priestly and apocalyptic themes to form an alternative to the standard rabbinic meta-narrative of the transfer from prophecy to Torah. The first section of the article discusses chapters 10–13 and reconstructs their meticulous similarity with, and influence by, Ben Sira; the second section compares the complete composite unit (chs. 10–15) to the parallel Mishnah; and the third section examines the apocalyptic themes found in our text. I end with the need to reevaluate the relationship between rabbinic literature and apocalypticism.

In this article, I examine how the apocryphal Acts of John depicts wealthy Christian converts as part of the “Christianization” of Ephesus. I note how the Acts of John uses its portrayal of leading citizens not only to critique, but to preserve and adapt prevailing expectations surrounding Greco-Roman cultic patronage. My analysis comprises two parts. In the first part, I discuss the ways in which the Acts of John undermines prevalent Greco-Roman practices of benefaction. I note that the Acts of John criticizes monetary offerings as part of cultic “exchanges,” and thus indirectly condemns the patronage of religious institutions by wealthy benefactors. Relatedly, the Acts of John’s portrait scene, most often analyzed for its witness to early Christian aniconism, challenges Greco-Roman patronage norms by questioning the propriety of dedicatory portraits. In the second part, I track the ways in which the Acts of John preserves and adapts prevailing modes of ancient benefaction. Specifically, the Acts of John positions domestic hospitality as the primary means by which wealthy converts ought to support the Christian mission. Taken together, my two-part examination establishes that the Acts of John both challenges and redirects prevailing practices of Greco-Roman patronage as part of a broader articulation of proper Christian piety.

Maimonides opened almost all of his books with the verse “in the name of the Lord, the God of the world” (Gen 21:33). This verse describes the nature of Abraham’s calling, which Maimonides interprets, both in the Mishneh Torah and in the Guide of the Perplexed, as an effort to persuade others to abandon their idolatrous perceptions and affirm the uniqueness of God. There is, however, a difference between the way Maimonides describes Abraham and his calling in the Mishneh Torah and their portrayal in the Guide of the Perplexed. In the former, Abraham is presented as a philosopher; in the latter, as a biblical prophet. In the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides’s description of Abraham revolves around a verse that describes the “God of the world”; in the Guide of the Perplexed, Maimonides adds verses in which Abraham mentions “heaven.” In this article, I shall examine these differences and suggest that they represent developments and shifts in Maimonides’s own philosophical position.

Rabbi Jacob Emden (1697–1779) was an important rabbi and scholar in the area of Hamburg. One of his works, Mitpaḥat Sefarim (“Book Cloth,” Altona, 1768), is a critique of the Zohar (“Book of Splendor”), a canonical Jewish mystical text attributed to the ancient scholar Rabbi Shimon bar Yoḥai (ca. 2nd cent. CE). In Mitpaḥat Sefarim, Emden casts doubt upon the Zohar’s provenance, authorship, and age. This critique has led some to identify Emden with the early beginnings of the Haskalah, the Jewish Enlightenment, as an opponent of mysticism. However, Emden took mystical sources very seriously, both in the spiritual realm, and, as this article shows, even in his writings on religious law. This article examines the perceived contradiction in Emden’s thinking, and proposes a view of Emden as an early modern printer and critic with a unique perspective, rather than a confused precursor of modern ideas.