The thinkers of old Israel, whether Psalmists, historians or teachers of Wisdom, were supremely serene and confident men. Their world was established, and could not be moved (1 Sam. 2.8; Ps. 93.1); God's favour and victory were with his people (Deut. 33.26f); his covenant was benign and Israel's king reigned in Zion (Ps. 72.17f; 133); and everyone but the fool knew his proper place and was content, and life's rewards seemed fair and consistent (1 Kings 4.25; Prov. 10.14–15; 12.9; 13.14–16; 14.1, 30 etc.). Evil and tragedy were present, but they were not allowed to pose any ultimate problem, since they were known to be firmly under God's control and part and parcel of the divine economy (Gen. 45.5; 2 Sam. 17.14; Ps. 30.6 (Engl. 5); 73.16–17). Under the double impact of Assyrian imperial advance and of internal social disintegration in the eighth and seventh centuries, this optimistic Weltanschauung was rudely shattered. The prophetic movement, hitherto nonconformist and not highly regarded by those who mattered, came into its own, sounding ever more loudly sour and pessimistic notes that had rarely been heard in Israel before (Amos 5.18f; Mic. 6.1–2; Isa. 5.18f; Zeph. 2.15; Jer. 6.16f; 8.8f etc.). It deeply affected the historians who were responsible for the Deuteronomistic writings,2 but of more direct concern to us, it had a pervasive influence on the Wisdom tradition as well.3 This can be traced in an increasing emphasis upon the need for humble submission to God's will in the face of life's enigmas.