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- Herausgeber: IVP Academic
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
Biblical Foundations Award Finalist Holidays today are often established by legislation, and calendars are published on paper and smart phones. But how were holidays chosen and taught in biblical Israel? And what might these holidays have to do with the creation narrative?In this book, Michael LeFebvre considers the calendars of the Pentateuch with their basis in the heavenly lights and the land's agricultural cadences. He argues that dates were added to Old Testament narratives not as journalistic details but to teach sacred rhythms of labor and worship. LeFebvre then applies this insight to the creation week, finding that the days of creation also serve a liturgical purpose and not a scientific one.The Liturgy of Creation restores emphasis on the religious function of the creation week as a guide for Sabbath worship. Scholars, students, and church members alike will appreciate LeFebvre's careful scholarship and pastoral sensibilities.
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The Liturgy of Creation
Understanding Calendars in Old Testament Context
Dedicated to the memory of
David A. Neel
(1957–2014)
Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work. . . . For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day.
Contents
Foreword
C. JOHN COLLINS
WHAT? ANOTHER BOOK ON THE CREATION STORY? Why can’t the scholars just let us read it for ourselves? Haven’t these scholars already said enough? Is there anything more to be said?
If that’s your response, you have my sympathy. Not everyone who has spoken or written an opinion deserves our attention. But with this book, Dr. Michael LeFebvre shows that he is one that we should listen to, that he belongs in this conversation, that his voice is an edifying one.
Dsr. LeFebvre and I have never met face-to-face; we have corresponded by email over the past couple of years and offered one another comments and encouragements. He was in a program with the Center for Pastor Theologians, and I had just given a talk to another group in a similar program with the Center. I was strongly impressed with the quality of the young scholar-pastors that I met, and I have been likewise impressed with the academic depth and pastoral wisdom I have seen in Dr. LeFebvre. It is my pleasure to commend this book to your study.
All serious study of the Genesis creation account should begin with what that account does for the Israelite audience of the whole of Genesis, and of the whole of the Torah. Dr. LeFebvre has done this creatively, with a study of how the Torah uses its calendar references, connecting key events in Israel’s history to dates in the liturgical calendar; in this he finds patterns that he can apply to the creation account—which, as we know, comes to us in the form of a calendar week.
You will find it worth your time to read this book for these first six chapters on the liturgical calendar. If you stop there, you will have gained a great deal of insight into the life-setting of ancient Israel, the function of the festivals and their relation to the agricultural calendar, and the literary style of the Mosaic narration. (Even having studied these topics a bit myself and written on some of them, I found much to learn and to think about.) But, if I might offer some advice, don’t stop there! Go on to read the following chapters, which give a detailed look at the calendar-like style of Genesis 1:1–2:3. (Again, having studied and written about that, I found plenty to think about here.)
Dr. LeFebvre has accomplished something remarkable: he has written something that is academically responsible and creative and is at the same time readable and clear for the intelligent layperson. I might add that his overall case is attractive, enriching the conversation. Like any ambitious contribution, his particular arguments will be sifted, reviewed, appropriated, criticized; some of them might need revision, and some of them (or many of them) might change people’s minds! But that’s how it should be, and hardly detracts from the viability of his basic proposal. He has connected his own views to a version of the framework reading of the creation account; and in so doing, he has improved that reading and overcome some of the difficulties that others have found with it. All of this he has firmly based on textual evidence from the Bible itself.
Dr. LeFebvre argues that associating biblical events with festival dates does not assert the actual chronology of these events. He has also made it clear that this in no way undercuts the reality of these events themselves—and the same is true of the creation story. I earnestly hope all readers will catch both sides of that!
The final chapter does a fine job of putting a practical point on all this: he encourages us to use the creation story according to its proper purpose, especially as we observe the weekly rhythm of work and rest. That account has a limited use in Bible-science debates—whether from the perspective of faith, or that of unbelief; that’s not what it’s there to do. Dr. LeFebvre affirms, as I do, the traditional Protestant doctrine of sola Scriptura; and far from being threatened by the scientific study of the world, and even of human beings, properly understood, this doctrine happily makes a place for these studies. There is plenty more to say on this, of course, but this book has pointed the way to wisdom in handling these matters.
That’s enough from me; now it’s time to read this book. You will discover that you are in the company of a competent and friendly guide, one for whom you can be thankful to God.
Preface
THIS BOOK GREW OUT OF A LONG-STANDING interest in Old Testament law. My initial work in the field focused on the so-called civil or judicial laws.1 But more recently my interest has turned to the Torah’s ritual laws,2 including Israel’s festival calendars as reflected in this volume. The festival calendars of Israel might seem an obscure focus for study, but one Old Testament calendar is of earnest interest among Christians at all levels. From the pew to the pulpit and the professor’s lectern, few topics share the importance ascribed to the creation week calendar in Genesis 1:1–2:3.
The meaning of the creation week continues to be one of the most controversial issues in the church today. But many arguments about the text approach the creation week as a historical narrative or as biblical poetry. As I pursued my study of Israel’s festival calendars, it gradually became clear that the creation week might best be explained in comparison with the Pentateuch’s other calendar narratives. Thus, the volume in your hands began to take shape.
While this is a work of biblical scholarship, my motivation to write emerges from my role as a pastor. My primary calling is to minister in a Brownsburg, Indiana, congregation called Christ Church Reformed Presbyterian. It is my calling in the church that has shaped my concern for the pastoral implications of the creation week calendar. I am thankful for the support of my elders and for the congregation that has provided the community in which I have been able to preach and to study, allowing me to develop many of the insights compiled into this project. I owe a debt of gratitude to my church family. Nevertheless, my arguments in these pages should not be construed as representative of the views of my church or my denomination.3 The views in this book are my own. However, I could never have developed this project without my ecclesial context and the significant assistance I have gained through the work of others.
I am grateful for the encouragements I received as a young seminarian, relative to these topics, from a few short but important conversations with the late James Montgomery Boice. I am also thankful for patient email interaction during my postgraduate years with Ken Van Dellen and Mark Roberts with the Affiliation of Christian Geologists. I have also benefited from the counsel of several scientists and churchmen who kindly reviewed early drafts of this book and have offered their constructive feedback, including Scott McCullough, Kenneth Turner, John Walton, C. John Collins, Tremper Longman III, Richard Holdeman, Gregory Enas, Andrew Knapp, Michael Murray, Matthew Mason, Nathan Shaver, and my colleagues in the St. John Fellowship of the Center for Pastor Theologians.4
My most faithful supporter in every aspect of my ministry, including my writing, has been my wife, Heather. She has been an encourager as well as an important partner in study. I am thankful for her insight and thoughtfulness as we discussed the issues and concepts represented in these pages—wrestling through their implications for our growing faith as individuals, as parents, and as members of the church. I am deeply thankful for a wife who is a true spiritual and intellectual partner as well as a beloved friend and companion. Our five children—Rachel, Andrew, James, David, and Laura—are a great joy to us, and I am grateful for their encouragement in my work and for their age-appropriate help with everything from conversation about book-related issues to companionship on library runs. My oldest daughter, Rachel, deserves particular mention as a valued discussion partner in this project.
“Geeking out” together with Rachel around books and conferences was both fun and important. Her perspective as a (then) high schooler was invaluable. She even distilled her own summary of the “calendar narrative” approach to the creation week into her Senior Worldviews presentation at Covenant Christian High School in Indianapolis. Watching her give her presentation, and listening to the comprehension of her classmates in the question-and-answer part of the presentation, was an important proving point for this book’s thesis: whether it would translate for that most discerning of audiences, high school teenagers! Thank you, Rachel, for your teamwork!
I also want to acknowledge the John Templeton Foundation for a grant provided in conjunction with the Center for Pastor Theologians. That investment helped to facilitate the final compilation of this research into a single volume. The numerous footnotes throughout this book testify to many others for whom I am further indebted. It is one of the great privileges of the present day that we have such ready access to knowledge. I pray I will be a faithful participant in the stewardship of these privileges.
There is one man I want to acknowledge particularly—a very special friend to whose memory I want to dedicate this volume. I am especially grateful for the fellowship, encouragement, and wisdom of David A. Neel (1957–2014). Dave was a chemist, a member of my congregation, a deacon in the church, and an avid and insightful student of all things faith and science. Dave spent many hours with me over the years discussing faith and science issues, and he was always generous with his wise insights and with articles and other resources that he shared with me. It was our intention—Dave and me—to write a book together some day on faith and science issues. But in 2013 Dave was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. On March 7, 2014, the Lord took Dave to his eternal sabbath rest. It was too soon. The ways of God are faithful but sometimes painful.
In frequent conversations with Dave during those final months together, I reminded him of our unfulfilled desire to cowrite a book on faith and science issues. By that time, my study in Old Testament calendars was beginning to crystallize around the conclusions captured in this volume. I told Dave what I was contemplating and that I would dedicate the resulting volume to his friendship when I finished it. The Lord took Dave just a short time later. This volume is my fulfillment of that commitment, and it is dedicated to his friendship.
While there are many to whom I owe gratitude, the ways in which I have drawn on others’ support and input is my own responsibility. No one I have mentioned should be presumed to agree with the particular arguments I have advanced in this book. But I am deeply thankful for the joy of studying God’s Word in fellowship with such a cloud of witnesses. I pray that the Lord will be pleased to add his blessing to this offering of my gratitude for his creation and re-creation so beautifully applied to our faith in the biblical calendars and the hope of the sabbath.
May King Jesus, the Creator of the World and the Redeemer of his church, be glorified!
Abbreviations
AB
Anchor Bible
ABD
Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by David Noel Freedman. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday, 1992
ABRL
Anchor Bible Reference Library
ANF
Ante-Nicene Fathers
AOAT
Alter Orient und Altes Testament
AUSS
Andrews University Seminary Studies
BA
Biblical Archaeologist
BBET
Beiträge zur biblischen Exegese und Theologie
BDB
Brown, Francis, S. R. Driver, and Charles A. Briggs. A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament
BET
Bringing Everyone Together
BETL
Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium
BibInt
Biblical Interpretation Series
BR
Biblical Research
BZAW
Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
CTJ
Canadian Journal of Theology
HAT
Handbuch zum Alten Testament
HSM
Harvard Semitic Monographs
HTR
Harvard Theological Review
HUCA
Hebrew Union College Annual
ICC
International Critical Commentary
IJFM
International Journal of Frontier Missiology
JBL
Journal of Biblical Literature
JBQ
Jewish Bible Quarterly
JBS
Jerusalem Biblical Studies
JETS
Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society
JNES
Journal of Near Eastern Studies
JQR
Jewish Quarterly Review
JSOT
Journal for the Study of the Old Testament
JSOTSup
Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series
JSS
Journal of Semitic Studies
KTB
Knowing the Bible
LHBOTS
The Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies
NAC
New American Commentary
NICNT
New International Commentary on the New Testament
NICOT
New International Commentary on the Old Testament
NIDOTTE
New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. Edited by Willem A. VanGemeren. 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997
OEAE
The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt. Edited by Donald Redford. 3 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001
OEBL
Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Law. Edited by Brent Strawn. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015
Or
Orientalia (NS)
OTL
Old Testament Library
PEQ
Palestine Exploration Quarterly
PNTC
Pelican New Testament Commentaries
RA
Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale
RBS
Resources for Biblical Study
RPTJ
Reformed Presbyterian Theological Journal
RSO
Rivista degli studi orientali
RTB
Reasons to Believe
SBLWAW
Society of Biblical Literature Writings from the Ancient World
SJOT
Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament
SWBAS
The Social World of Biblical Antiquity Series
TOTC
Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries
TWOT
Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament Edited by R. Laird Harris, Gleason L. Archer Jr., and Bruce K. Waltke. 2 vols. Chicago: Moody Press, 1980
TynBul
Tyndale Bulletin
VE
Vox Evangelica
VT
Vetus Testamentum
VTSup
Supplements to Vetus Testamentum
WBC
Word Biblical Commentary
WTJ
Westminster Theological Journal
WZKM
Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes
ZAW
Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
ZECNT
Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament
Introduction
Dates, Stories, and Calendars
THE SUN HAD JUST CRESTED THE HORIZON as a band of officials and attendants led their prisoner to the palace. They had pronounced his judgment the night before, but only the Roman governor could approve an execution. As the colors of dawn painted the eastern sky, Jesus was taken to the court of Pontius Pilate.
The Gospel of Mark is particularly detailed about the timing of the events on that momentous day. Mark reports that Jesus had eaten the Passover meal with his disciples the night before (Mk 14:12; cf. Mt 26:17; Lk 22:7) and that he was arrested during an overnight prayer vigil in Gethsemane. “As soon as it was morning,” the religious leaders “bound Jesus and led him away . . . to Pilate” (Mk 15:1; cf. Mt 27:1; Lk 22:66-23:1; Jn 18:28).
According to Mark, that trial did not take long. By “the third hour” of the day, “they crucified him” (Mk 15:25). The third hour after sunrise would be about nine o’clock in the morning by modern reckoning.1 Once on the cross, Jesus was left to suffer for most of the remaining daylight hours. But halfway through that torment, around “the sixth hour” after sunrise (meaning about noon), “there was darkness over the whole land” (Mk 15:33; cf. Mt 27:45; Lk 23:44), which continued “until the ninth hour” (roughly three o’clock; Mk 15:33). During that period, when daylight ought to be at its peak, the sky had lost its light. Then, “at the ninth hour” after sunrise, Jesus “uttered a loud cry and breathed his last” (Mk 15:34-37; cf. Mt 27:46).
The evening sun was sinking over the western horizon, painting the sky once more, this time in the colors of dusk, as the body of Jesus was removed from the cross. “When evening had come”—that is, when the sun was setting—“[they] laid him in a tomb that had been cut out of the rock” (Mk 15:42-47; cf. Mt 27:57).
Mark’s record provides more chronological detail than the other Synoptics,2 but the timing preserved by Matthew and Luke matches that of Mark. All three Synoptics identify the Last Supper as a Passover meal on Passover night, and all three date the crucifixion to the morning after the Passover meal. John, however, tells the same events with a different chronology that adds significant insight into the meaning of Christ’s death—and that introduces something fascinating about calendars in the Bible.
First of all, John says that Jesus held his Last Supper with the disciples on the day “before the Feast of Passover” (Jn 13:1), not on Passover night as indicated by the Synoptics. John repeats this point—that the Passover is still ahead—when he describes Jesus’ trial. According to John, the religious rulers led Jesus to Pilate, but “they themselves did not enter the governor’s headquarters, so that they would not be defiled, but could eat the Passover” (Jn 18:28). Thus, John’s Gospel presents the crucifixion as taking place before the Passover meal, while the Synoptics report that the crucifixion occurred on the day after the Passover meal. A second chronological detail reported differently in John is the time of day Jesus was nailed to the cross. Unlike the morning crucifixion reported by Mark (“the third hour,” Mk 15:25), John places Jesus on the cross at noon (“the sixth hour,” Jn 19:14).
Under the conventions of modern historical narrative, these differences in date and time seem “contradictory,” as though someone got their facts wrong. Many attempts have been made to “reconcile” the chronology of the Synoptics and that of John.3 However, the best explanation is found not by resolving or smoothing over these differences but by listening to them. These crucifixion accounts were not so poorly compiled as to overlook such obvious timing differences. These divergent timelines give a harmonious witness that Jesus is our Passover Lamb, but they do so by differently aligning the crucifixion events with their shadows in the Jewish Passover rituals.
Notably, the Synoptics, which describe the Last Supper as a Passover meal, also describe that meal as the setting for the Eucharist (Mt 26:26-29; Mk 14:22-25; Lk 22:15-20). John has many other things to say about Jesus’ final meal with his disciples, but he does not include the Eucharist in his description. The Synoptics align Jesus’ Last Supper with the Passover meal because it is this meal and its message of peace with God through sacrifice that provides the basis for the New Testament Communion table. In the Eucharist, Christians celebrate our peace with God through the final Passover Lamb (1 Cor 5:7-8). The crucifixion timeline in the Synoptic Gospels shows us that Jesus is the Passover Lamb by aligning the Communion table with the Passover meal.
John also shows us that Jesus is our Passover Lamb, but he does so by a different alignment of events. In John’s narrative, the Last Supper takes place on the night “before the Feast of Passover” (Jn 13:1), and he says nothing about the institution of the Eucharist at that dinner. Instead, John dates the crucifixion to the afternoon before the Passover meal, at the time when the people were bringing their lambs for slaughter. “Now it was the day of Preparation of the Passover,” John writes, “It was about the sixth hour. . . . So [Pilate] delivered him over to them to be crucified” (Jn 19:14-16). The “day of Preparation of the Passover” refers to the daylight hours when preparations were being made for the Passover meal that night.4 John shows that Jesus is our Passover Lamb by aligning his crucifixion with the time when lambs were being gathered for the festival slaughter. Thus, all four Gospel authors relate the timing of the crucifixion to Passover, but they do so using different chronological scenarios.
These details teach us about the nature of Christ’s crucifixion. They also open a window into a different world of calendars than our own. The Gospel writers introduce Passover into their narratives almost like one of the characters of the story, whose point of coming and going can be interpreted differently depending on the narrated perspective taken on the event.5 A modern historian would not have that latitude, because we view calendars (and time) differently in the present day. A contemporary historian would treat a festival date like Passover as a fixed, immovable part of the story’s framework.
For comparison, a historian of American independence would be expected to identify Tuesday, July 2, 1776, as the date Congress declared independence from Great Britain. Even though Americans celebrate Independence Day on the Fourth of July each year, an accurate historian would report that independence was enacted two days prior. (July 4th was not the date of American independence but the date when that previously adopted Declaration of Independence was finally signed and published.) But a historian operating by ancient conventions might ascribe the independence event to its celebration date (July 4) without violating the integrity of his report by doing so. The Gospel crucifixion narratives illustrate this ancient way of using dates in historical narratives. John ascribes the crucifixion of Jesus to Passover afternoon, while the Synoptics date the same event to the day after Passover.
Granting an author latitude in how he or she represents chronology grates on our modern notions of a trustworthy report. In fact, an entire genre in biblical studies called Gospel harmonies attempts to resolve such chronological (and other) differences between the Gospels.6 A “Gospel harmony” may help assuage one’s discomfort with those differences that, if found in a modern work of history, would be problematic. But those “harmonies” come at a cost. It is often necessary to strain the narratives or to add extra assumptions into them in order to bring them into greater “agreement.” “O that most excellent Harmony,” Gotthold Ephraim Lessing wrote, “which can only reconcile two contradictory reports, both stemming from the evangelists, by inventing a third report, not a syllable of which is to be found in any individual evangelist!”7
Harmonization efforts have generally been regarded as unpersuasive. We should not base the trustworthiness of the Gospels on our ability to harmonize, for example, their different chronologies for the crucifixion. It is better to face the differences and consider why the authors used their descriptive latitude to record events as they did.8 The journalistic way we expect timestamps to function today is not a reliable standard by which to assess timestamps in the Bible. Furthermore, imposing anachronistic expectations about calendars could hinder our full appreciation of a biblical author’s reason for drawing out particular date alignments.
In this book, I want to look at a series of dated events from throughout the Pentateuch before focusing on the seven dated creation events in Genesis 1:1–2:3. How to understand the days in the Genesis creation week is vigorously debated. Some scholars insist that the creation week is poetry and ought to be read according to the expectations of this genre.9 Others insist that it is a historical narrative and ought to be read as a straightforward report of “what happened.”10 Still others insist it is an ancient Near Eastern myth and that it ought to be read through the lens of other ancient Near Eastern creation myths.11 But surprisingly, very little if any attention has been given to the potential of reading the creation week as a calendar. Yet its role as a calendar is what the fourth commandment teaches us to draw from it: “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy . . . For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day” (Ex 20:8-11).
I want to propose in this book that the Genesis 1:1–2:3 creation week is most fruitfully read as a “calendar narrative.” It is a special kind of historical narrative in which historical events are given the dates of a festival observance (sabbath observance in the case of the creation week), without regard for the timing of the original occurrence. To establish this argument, it will be important to examine how the Pentateuch as a whole uses dates in other calendar narratives. I will seek to demonstrate the presence of a Torah-wide use of dates in narratives for their liturgical guidance in this special type of use we might call a “calendar narrative.”
The first three chapters (part one) will lay groundwork regarding the calendar of Old Testament Israel: how it was organized, why it had the arrangement it did, and why the festivals were timed at their particular points in the year. Building on that groundwork, part two (chapters four through six) will look at the narratives in the Pentateuch associated with the various festivals of Israel’s calendar. That is where the “engine” of my argument will be unpacked as we come to grips with the way the Pentateuch presents its calendar narratives with assigned dates that guide Israel’s festival observances rather than retaining the timing of those events’ original occurrence.
In part three (chapters seven through eleven), I will apply the lessons of this study to the creation week narrative in Genesis 1:1–2:3. In this part of the book I argue that the creation week narrative is, transparently, not a chronological account of the original creation event. Instead, it is a structured retelling of the creation around the pattern of a Model Farmer tending his fields and livestock each day of the week until the sabbath. This form was to serve as a practical guide for the lay Israelite in his or her weekly labors and sabbath worship, and it does not even attempt to answer the curiosities of modern science regarding the processes or timing of the original creation event. My conclusions regarding the creation week generally fall into line with a “framework view” of the text, but with rigorous attention to the legal drafting techniques that exegetically demonstrate that conclusion. In the final chapter of this book (chapter twelve), I will draw some implications from this study, particularly regarding the relationship of faith and science.
My desire is to promote the creation week as a rich and practical guide for the weekly labors and worship of God’s people, and I hope to urge Christians to “pull back” from its frequent misuse in scientific, anti-scientific, and pseudo-scientific polemics. I want to show in this book that the creation week was designed as a guide for faithful work and sabbath worship, and that we rob the text of its intended force when we instead deploy it in disputes about physics, cosmology, and natural history. This, I believe, is how the fourth commandment teaches us to uphold the creation week calendar.
By the way (returning to the crucifixion narrative), even though Jesus died on the afternoon before or after the Passover meal, he rose again on the third day! And the Gospels are careful to give us a date for the resurrection just as they were in relating the crucifixion to Passover. Their testimony concerning the date of his resurrection is unanimous: “On the first day of the week, at early dawn, . . . they found the stone rolled away from the tomb” (Lk 24:1-2; cf. Mt 28:1; Mk 16:2; Jn 20:1).
The Gospel writers used the Passover date to align Christ’s sacrifice with the fulfillment of the old covenant festival of Passover. They similarly used a “first day” date to align Christ’s resurrection with the inauguration of weekly first-day worship in the new covenant church. Each of the Gospel writers identify the resurrection day as a day when Jesus called his disciples to gather to him (Mt 28:7; Mk 16:7; Lk 24:33-34; Jn 20:17), and two of the Gospels provide extended descriptions of original “first day” worship services similar to those in which later Christians would share (Lk 24:13-53; Jn 20:19-23). These “first day” references further illustrate the usefulness of dates in biblical narratives to align divine events with the calendar days on which his people remembered and participated in those events through worship.
Part I
Israel’s Calendars
WHEN YOUR FRIEND PROMISES to “check the calendar,” she will likely consult an app on her smartphone or a printed calendar on her desk. But to “check the calendar” in ancient Israel would require looking to the skies. Israel’s calendar was not on paper or scrolls. Like other ancient nations, Israel observed the calendar revealed in the movements of the sun, moon, and stars (Gen 1:14).
The ancient Hebrews also had different reasons for consulting the cosmic calendar than we have for checking calendars today. Nowadays we use calendars to coordinate plans between people—to “get on the same page” with friends, coworkers, and other organizations regarding work schedules, meetings, birthdays, and so forth. In the ancient world, the cosmic calendar was “read” to coordinate one’s activities with the nation’s deity.1 The movements of the sun, moon, and stars were regarded as signs from the divine realm, provided for humans to follow to ensure heaven’s blessings on their plantings and harvests. Therefore, to “check the calendar” was a religious duty2—and the fruitfulness of society depended on it.
Ancient peoples developed worship festivals to mark the various seasonal harvests. Those festivals typically had religious stories attached to them. Festival stories provided an “interpretation” of the festivals and the deity whose blessings were critical to the land’s fruitfulness. All nations looked to the same sun, moon, and stars as their “clock,” but different nations developed different understandings of the divine order revealed by that heavenly clock. But one theme is found repeatedly in calendrical observances throughout the ancient world.
In the ancient Near East, the seasons cycle between periods of death and dryness, on the one hand, and rainfall bringing new life, on the other. This “death and new life” principle is woven into calendrical festivals throughout the ancient world. Farmers across cultures recognized the life-giving character of the Creator instilled in the seasonal cycles, and through their disparate national festivals they sought to participate in that divine gift of life to produce a fruitful crop and thriving societies. Ancient peoples adopted festival observances that timed their rituals of humility and their festivals of praise with the various cadences of “dying” and “new life” that governed the seasons revealed from heaven’s calendar.
Israel’s Calendar Among the Nations
Many societies of the ancient world recognized this life-giving principle inscribed into nature.3 The ancient Canaanite kingdom of Ugarit, for example, adopted a mythical narrative for its seasonal festivals known to scholars as the Baal Epic.
In the Baal Epic, these Canaanite worshipers reviewed the myth of the Canaanite storm god Baal, who desired to build a palace for himself. Baal’s enemy was Mot, the god of death. Mot initially defeated Baal and confined him to the underworld. During the storm god’s confinement, the land went without rain and thus shared in Baal’s death. But then Baal defeated Mot and escaped. He restored rain to the land and finally built his desired palace, the temple where he was to be worshiped.4 The Baal Epic provided a narrative framework for the seasonal changes and harvests of Baal worshipers. “In reality,” Theodor Herzl Gaster explains, “[the Baal Epic] is a nature myth and its theme is the alternation of the seasons.”5
A similar pattern can be found in other ancient calendars.6 The Sumerian festivals were set within a story of the dying and rising of the god Dumuzi.7 Ur’s calendar identified the changing seasons with a mythical contest between Utu, the sun deity, and Nanna, the moon deity.8 In Babylonia, yet another instance of this pattern is found, ritually guiding the Mesopotamian peoples through their seasonal changes.9 Egyptian festivals annually rehearsed the mythical death of Osiris, slain by Set and then restored to life as Horus. The rites of the Osiris myth were observed in cadence with the flooding of the Nile River, which brought fertility back to the Egyptian farmland each summer. “The Egyptian myth-makers . . . relied on observation of the natural world. The continuance of life through procreation provided a natural symbol for the order of the universe, and . . . [reveals] that beyond the natural world there is a divine mind. In this divine mind the Egyptians saw the ultimate reason for the ongoing cycle of the natural world.”10
In the New Testament, the apostle Paul referred to such Gentile myths as “seek[ing] God” (see Acts 17:27; cf. Acts 14:17). According to Paul, the world itself reveals the “invisible attributes” of God, “namely, his eternal power and divine nature” (Rom 1:20). Even the religious festivals of Gentile nations showed that “the work of the law is written on their hearts” (Rom 2:15). All nations recognized the life-giving character and power of the Creator, and through their festival calendars they sought after him.
Israel also had an annual series of festivals coordinated with the harvests of the land as well as a narrative that provided a theological interpretation of the “death to life” pattern manifest in the seasons. However, Israel did not resort to myth for its redemption narrative. A myth is a story that explains present, this-worldly realities through a description of primeval, other-worldly causes such as battles between the gods. Israel had a historical experience of the Creator’s redemptive goodness. They had experienced the life-renewing redemption of God in their deliverance from slavery and his carrying them into a “land of milk and honey.” The people could hope in God’s goodness toward their labors in the land because he had shown such mercy and grace to bring them out of Egypt and into the land in the first place. The events of the exodus were therefore attached to Israel’s festival calendar, providing a historical (rather than mythical) redemption narrative for the nation’s worship and labor through their seasonal harvests.
The Hebrew festival calendar, therefore, was like those of other nations in that it was shaped around the seasonal cadences governed by the heavenly lights, but it was unlike those of other nations in that its framing narrative was historical rather than using the form of a myth.11 Later in this book (chapter four), we will look more closely at Israel’s festival narratives in the Pentateuch. In the remainder of this chapter and in the next, I want to provide a more detailed exploration of the natural (that is, nature-based) shape of Israel’s cosmic calendar.
The “Clock” Behind Israel’s Calendar
In Genesis 1:14-15, God appointed the heavenly lights to serve as Israel’s calendar. “And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the span of the heavens to separate between the day [yôm] and the night [laylâ], and let them be for signs [ʾōtōt], and for festivals [môʿădîm] and for days [yāmîm] and years [šānîm]. And let them be for lights in the span of the heavens for the light upon the earth.’ And it was so” (a.t.).
This passage is structured around three “let there be”/“let them be” statements.12 In the first, the lights are appointed “to separate between the day [yôm] and the night [laylâ].” The first purpose assigned to the heavenly lights is to provide each individual day with its cadence. The second “let them be” statement introduces a broader, calendar-keeping role of the heavenly lights. “Let them be for signs [ʾōtōt], and for festivals [môʿădîm] and for days [yāmîm] and years [šānîm].” The Hebrew construction of the phrase foregrounds the term signs (ʾōtōt),13 which includes regular cosmic events like equinoxes and solstices that govern the changes in earth’s seasons, as well as irregular cosmic events like eclipses and comets. Some nations used the sighting of irregular signs in the heavens for fortunetelling, a practice the Hebrews were exhorted to repudiate (Deut 18:9-14; Jer 10:2). Certain irregular signs have occasionally been used by God to mark special works of heaven in the world, like the rainbow (called a “sign” in Gen 9:12) and the star of Bethlehem (Mt 2:2).14 But the primary signs indicated by this usage are the regular movements of the sun, moon, and stars that indicate the changing seasons. These signs were appointed, Genesis 1:14 states, for marking “festivals [môʿădîm]” and for marking “days [yāmîm] and years [šānîm].”
The term môʿădîm (“festivals”) is commonly translated “seasons” in English Bibles.15 However, as Walter Vogels asserts, “the word moʿed in the Torah never means the seasons of the year such as winter, spring, summer and fall . . . The word means ‘fixed times’ for festivals.”16 Leviticus 23:1-44 provides a typical list of such “appointed festivals [môʿădîm] of the LORD” (Lev 23:2, a.t.), listing the weekly sabbath, and the annual festivals of Passover, the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the Feast of Firstfruits, the Feast of Weeks, the Feast of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Feast of Booths. The role of the heavenly signs to indicate festivals is paired with their role to govern the overarching calendar indicated by the merism “and for days [yāmîm] and years [šānîm].” A merism is a phrase that describes a spectrum of items by naming the two ends of the spectrum. In this case, days and years indicate the full scope of the calendar: particularly days, months, and years.17 Indeed, it is the tracking of days, months, and years that enables the scheduling of the aforementioned festivals. The days (and months) and years are the divisions of time directly regulated by the heavenly lights, while the festivals are indirectly governed by the heavenly lights, being based on the days, months, and years. Thus, the heavenly lights in their movements were, quite literally, the clock and calendar of Israel. “The calendrical purpose of the luminaries,” says Guillaume, “can hardly be more clearly stated.”18
The final “let them be” statement in this verse introduces a third role appointed for the lights—namely, to provide “the light upon the earth.” Modern societies regulate working hours by artificial lighting, but our ancestors were dependent on the luminaries in the heavens. Those “let there be”/“let them be” statements indicate the three purposes assigned to the heavenly lights: (1) to separate day and night, (2) to give the signs that regulate festivals through the tracking of days (and months) and years, and (3) to provide light on the earth.
Our primary interest in this book is on the first purpose and especially the second purpose as the calendar of Israel. In the remainder of the present chapter, I want to look more closely at how the “days [and months] and years” were signified by the heavenly lights. Then in the next chapter, we will look at three special groupings of days and months and years: the week (of seven days), the seven festival months, the sabbath year (after seven years), and the jubilee (after seven sevens of years). After that, we will explore how Israel’s seven annual festivals were observed in keeping with the heavenly calendar.
The Day
The Hebrew day began at sunrise and ended at sunset. The nighttime that followed sunset was technically marginal time rather than a part of any day. Technically, the day was only the hours between sunrise and sunset.19 When activities occurred at night, the nighttime was generally considered part of the preceding day. Or when one woke early while yet dark, those nighttime events would be considered part of the coming day. The dark hours were not technically part of either day but constituted a marginal period between the days. Nevertheless, since the new day did not begin until sunrise the next morning, a “full” day ran from sunrise to sunrise.
This way of reckoning the day differs with modern Jewish practice. At some point, intertestamental Judaism came to regard the day as running from sunset to sunset.20 This later approach to reckoning the day may have derived in part from a misreading of Leviticus 23:32, which instructs the people to honor the Day of Atonement (the tenth day of the seventh month) by fasting from the evening of the ninth day until the evening of the tenth day. Because this holy day fast was observed from evening to evening, the custom arose to observe all days from evening to evening.21 But even that text states that the fast began on the evening of the ninth day, being the day before the Day of Atonement (the tenth day).22
Sometimes, the “evening and morning” phrase in Genesis 1:1–2:3 is cited as evidence for the later view that the day began with sunset.23 However, that phrase does not describe the full day as constituting evening and morning. The “evening and morning” (or “evening unto morning”) is the boundary that marks the end of a day prior to the beginning of the next with the morning sunrise. In the creation week, the Creator worked during the daylight hours followed by the evening and morning. Altogether, the daytime and the evening until morning composed the days of Genesis 1:1–2:3.24 The original pattern in Old Testament Israel was to regard the day as beginning with sunrise (cf. Gen 1:5; 8:22; 19:33-34; Ex 16:23-25; 24:18; 34:28; Lev 7:15; 22:30; Num 9:11; 33:3; Deut 9:9, 11, 18, 25; 10:10; Josh 5:10; Judg 19:4-9; 1 Sam 19:11; 28:18-19; 1 Kgs 19:8).25
The Month
The basis for the month is indicated by its name. Even in English, the word month derives from the Old English word for “moon” (mōna). In Hebrew, there is no word that strictly means “month.” Biblical Hebrew speaks of the coming and going of each successive “moon” (ḥōdeš, sometimes yārēaḥ). Thus, when Moses was hidden by his mother for three months, the text literally says, “She hid him for three moons [šәlōšâ yәrāḥîm]” (Ex 2:2, a.t.).
A new month/moon began when the first sliver of the new moon was sighted. Typically the priesthood made these observations and reported the first sighting to the king, who authorized its proclamation with trumpets (Num 10:10).26 The next morning—being the “first day” of the new moon—marked a new moon feast day (Num 28:11-15; 1 Sam 20:5, 18). The month continued as the moon progressed through its phases (its “lunation”). For the skilled observer, the particular days of the month might even be reckoned by observing the moon’s changing size. The practice of approximating the day of the month by lunar shape is attested in Assyrian texts,27 and other traditional cultures even have a unique name for each day’s phase in lunation.28 Similarly, prior to modern clocks, many cultures approximated the hour of the day by observing the location of the sun on its daily path through the sky.
One consequence of tying the month to lunar observation was that one never knew whether the current month would be twenty-nine or thirty days long. “The interval which constitutes the lunar month (also termed a ‘lunation’) varies in length from 29.26 to 29.80 days, and consequently is experienced as a period never less than 29 days nor more than 30 days.”29 In the modern West, our months are no longer tied to the moon and have fixed lengths. But in ancient lands like Israel, the length of the month could be twenty-nine or thirty days depending on when the first sliver of the new moon appeared.30
The Year
The final, cosmically signaled division within Israel’s calendar is the year, which, like the day, is determined by the sun. Like many ancient societies, Israel regarded the month of the vernal equinox and the onset of spring as the beginning of the year. The vernal (or spring) equinox is when the sun crosses the equator so that the days begin to grow longer than the nights, and the sun’s daily path through the sky trends northward (southward for the Southern Hemisphere). Agriculturally, the vernal equinox marked the end of the winter (the rainy season) and the beginning of spring. In Hebrew it was called the “head of the year” (mērēšît haššānâ; Deut 11:12) or the “returning of the year” (tešūbat haššānâ; 2 Sam 11:1). That month hosted the Passover Festival, the Feast of Firstfruits, and the weeklong Festival of Unleavened Bread (Lev 23:4-14).
The days continued to be longer than the nights through the spring and summer, until the autumnal equinox in the seventh month. The opposite equinox was when the days grew shorter than the nights, and the dry season gave way to the next rainy season. The autumnal equinox was called the “turning of the year” (tәqûpat haššānâ; Ex 34:22, a.t.) or the “going out of the year” (ṣēʾt haššānâ; Ex 23:16, a.t.). During that month, Israel celebrated the Feast of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the seven-day Feast of Booths (Lev 23:23-43). The agriculturally intense dry season, when all the crops were periodically harvested, occurred during the previous half of the year between the spring and fall equinoxes. All but one of Israel’s seven festivals occurred in the first or seventh months, being the months of the two equinoxes. The only Hebrew festival celebrated between the equinoctial months was the Feast of Weeks in the third month.31 The months after the autumn equinox until the next spring composed Israel’s rainy season.
The rainy season was a time for planting the next year’s crops. About four inches of rain fell in Canaan during “the early rains” (around the eighth month of the year). This softened the ground so farmers could get their seed into the earth. Heavier rains (typically four to six inches a month) fell throughout the rainy season, helping the crops to grow. Tapering off in the springtime, a final burst came as “the later rains,” (generally around the twelfth month of the year; see Deut 11:14; Jer 5:24), which ensured a good crop.32
In concept, the solar year is straightforward. However, the solar year comprises lunar months, and twelve lunations do not exactly coincide with the solar year. Twelve cycles of the moon cover 354.37 days, while a solar year covers 365.25 days. Thus, the solar year has approximately eleven more days than required for the completion of twelve moons. Some sort of intercalation, like adding a thirteenth month every few years, would have been necessary to keep lunar months synchronized with the seasons of the solar year.33
The Bible preserves no instructions for how intercalation was done in Israel,34 but we have records of the intercalation methods of other period societies. Mark Cohen writes, “Intercalated months [in Mesopotamia] were named with the same name as the preceding month, the scribe appending the number ‘2’ after the month name or adding the word ‘extra’ (DIRI) to distinguish it from the previous month.”35 Such an “extra” month was probably added on an ad hoc basis whenever the seasons began to fall out of sync with the proper months.36 It was not until 500 BC that the Persians developed the mathematical basis to predict seasonal slippage, leading to the creation of a regular system of intercalation. Over the course of nineteen years, the Persians systematically added an extra twelfth month at the end of years 1, 4, 7, 9, 12, 15, and an extra sixth month in the middle of year 18.37 Israel must have observed some form of intercalation to keep its months in cadence with the solar seasons, but we cannot be certain how this was done.38
Excursus: New Year’s Day in Israel and Canaan
Israel started the year in the spring, but this was a remarkable break from the pattern of the indigenous Canaanites, who regarded the autumnal equinox and the rainy season as the beginning of the year.39
For the indigenous Canaanites, it was the season of planting that marked the beginning of the year’s labors. One can recognize the sensibility of this perspective. In fact, some Hebrew farmers may have adopted the custom of the Canaanites, viewing the autumn planting season (rather than the spring harvests) as the starting point of the year. A tenth-century BC Hebrew calendar text found in Gezer (the “Gezer Calendar”) describes the staged labor of a Hebrew farming family with an autumn start:40
Two months of ingathering (olives)
[ca. September/October]
Two months of sowing (cereals)
[ca. November/December]
Two months of late sowing (legumes and vegetables)
[ca. January/February]
A month of hoeing weeds (for hay)
[ca. March]
A month of harvesting barley
[ca. April]
A month of harvesting (wheat) and measuring (grain)
[ca. May]
Two months of grape harvesting
[ca. June/July]
A month of ingathering summer fruit
[ca. August]
This archaeological find may reflect the persistent influence of Canaanite thinking about the shape of the year in Israel. From a laboring standpoint, it makes sense to consider the autumnal equinox (rather than the spring equinox) and the season of planting (rather than the first harvests) as the beginning of the year. Nevertheless, Israel was taught to observe the month of the first spring harvests as the beginning of their year: “This month shall be for you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year for you” (Ex 12:2). The double emphasis on the phrase “for you” indicates the importance of this command as a deliberate break from what other nations around Israel observed.
Richard Hess suggests the following reason for this break with other Canaanite practices: “Israel’s focus on the period of harvesting [as the beginning of the year] . . . suggest[s] that Israel recognized the harvest as given by God and emphasized divine ownership of it.”41 In other words, to start the year with bounty rather than with labor was a demonstration of the grace of Israel’s God giving them a land already flowing with milk and honey (Lev 23:10; cf. Deut 6:11; Josh 24:13). For Israel, seed did not bring harvest; harvest provided seed. The appointment of the year to begin with the spring equinox may have been a deliberate, theologically significant break from the practice of the Canaanites.
Despite this Old Testament pattern, contemporary Judaism celebrates New Year’s Day (Rosh Hashanah) in the seventh month. Judaism has come to speak of two overlapping calendars, each with a different New Year’s day. Judaism now observes a ritual year starting with the biblical New Year’s Day in the first month (in springtime) as well as an overlapping civil year that begins with the Feast of Trumpets in the seventh month (in the autumn). The Feast of Trumpets on the first day of the seventh month has been renamed Rosh Hashanah (“Beginning of the Year”). However, this is not a biblical title for that festival, nor is the announcement of a new year its original function.42 Nevertheless, the evidence of the Gezer Calendar as well as the recasting of the Feast of Trumpets as Rosh Hashanah by later Judaism both underscore the oddity of a calendar that begins with the harvesting season rather than planting season. But for Israel, it was not the season of planting that was to mark the start of the year. Rather, Israel was taught to begin each year as recipients of God’s blessing.43 From spring equinox to spring equinox (rather than autumn equinox to autumn equinox), Israel began its solar year with bounty.
Conclusion
Today, holidays are regulated by law and official time is kept by atomic clocks. In America, Congress passes legislation setting the dates for federal holidays, and the United States Naval Observatory maintains two master clock facilities where high performance atomic clocks provide the official time. While effective and precise for regulating the nation today, these are artificial methods of keeping time. The modern experience of time is remarkably independent from nature. Our day begins in the middle of the night, our month begins with no regard for the moon, and our year begins in the middle of winter (in the Northern Hemisphere; in the middle of summer in the Southern Hemisphere).44 Calendars today have only limited connection to the world’s natural seasons.
In ancient Israel, the nation’s calendar and clock were literally “in the skies.” The three main divisions of the calendar—day, month, and year—were directly governed by the sun and the moon. The Hebrew calendar also included “complete” groupings of these divisions: particularly groups of seven days (the week), the seven festival months, and sevens of years (the sabbath and jubilee years). Seven was emblematic of completion, not only in Hebrew but throughout the ancient Near East,45 so the grouping of seven days, seven months, and seven years indicated a full or complete period of days, months, or years. We will look more closely at these groupings of time divisions in the next chapter.
Genesis 1:14 ascribes the running of these heavenly chronographs to the hand of God. He put them into the skies and appointed them as signs for the days and festivals of Israel. To follow the celestial calendar was to live on earth in keeping with the cadence of heaven. For ancient Israel, the calendar was in the skies.
IT IS HARD TO MISS THE SIGNIFICANCE of the number seven in the Bible. Sometimes seven is used as a mundane number, but often it is used to indicate an ideal or complete complement of whatever is being counted.
Ruth was praised as better than “seven sons” for Naomi (Ruth 4:15). The ideal council of the wise comprises “seven men who can answer with discernment” (Prov 26:16, a.t.). Joshua led his army around Jericho over seven days, circling the city seven times on the seventh day, led by seven priests with seven trumpets (Josh 6:1-7). Jacob bowed seven times before his brother Esau to demonstrate his humility (Gen 33:3). The menorah in the temple had seven branches with seven lamps on it (Ex 25:31-37). And so on. Gary Cohen writes, “Scripture does use sheba’ [seven] often as a mystic sign-word, and the fair-minded lexicographer can hardly fail to note this.”1
The primary significance of the number seven is completeness. In Israel and throughout the ancient Near East, seven came to represent fullness or perfection. It is not certain how this meaning developed,2 but its use in this manner is evident in texts and artifacts from throughout the ancient world. Israel applied the number seven extensively, including in its calendar. There were seven festivals in the Hebrew year, all of which fell during the first seven months of the year. The two longest festivals were each seven days in length. Furthermore, the smallest and largest divisions of the calendar were given special groupings of seven: seven days (the day being the smallest division of the calendar) made a week, culminating in the sabbath, and seven years (the year being the largest division of the calendar) culminated in a sabbath year—and seven sabbath years in a jubilee. As we get acquainted with the calendars of Israel, I want to examine these groupings of seven in the present chapter.
The Week
The origin of the seven-day week is debated,3 but most scholars believe that the week is a grouping of days based on symbolism of the number seven. The most extensive biblical description of the week is the creation account in Genesis 1:1–2:3. The passage recounts the Creator’s work reaching completion, celebrated with rest on the seventh day. This concept of completion within seven days is further expressed in the Decalogue: “Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work” (Ex 20:9-10). The exhortation to “do all [kol] your work” during the week further draws out the notion of a week as a complete period of days.
Some scholars believe that the week also has its own direct dependence on the heavenly lights, arguing that the week originated in the cadence marked by the phases of the moon.4 Dividing the twenty-nine/thirty-day month into the moon’s four quarters would approximate the resulting seven-day weeks. “From very early times,” Nahum Sarna explains, “a seven-day period as the basic unit of time calculation was current among West Semitic peoples. In the Mesopotamian lunar calendar the seventh, fourteenth, twenty-first and twenty-eighth day of certain months, corresponding to the four phases of the moon were [observed].”5 In fact, some scholars believe that the “significance [of the number seven] may derive from the four phases of the moon being regarded as seven-day periods.”6 In other words, the seven-day phases of the moon may be where the notion of completeness first became attached to this number. Furthermore, some suggest that the Hebrew word sabbath (šabbāt, “to cease or rest”) may be related to the Akkadian šabattu (“sit”), which was used for the four points during the month when the moon “sat,”7 or the Ugaritic šuptu (“a station of the moon”).8 These etymological connections are speculative, but the widespread importance of the moon’s four phases in ancient calendars is surprisingly absent in Israel if the week is not attached to them.
We know that Israel observed a lunar month that varied between twenty-nine and thirty days . The ideal month in Israel was regarded as having thirty days (e.g., Num 20:29; Deut 34:8; Esther 4:11; Dan 6:7, 12),9 although sometimes an actual month would have twenty-nine. It is conceivable that Israel also observed a lunar week. Most of the time this would be seven days long, and the ideal week would be regarded as having seven days (comparable to the ideal month having thirty days). But at least once a month, an eight-day week would be required. We know that Israel’s solar year required periodic intercalation to stay aligned with the lunar months; perhaps the week, similarly, had a typical length of seven days but required occasional intercalation as well. Any society that follows the heavenly lights as its calendar will be accustomed to slight variations and the need for intercalations.
The early Ethiopian calendar had an eight-day week (called a ʾsāmên) that was intercalated to retain its compatibility with the lunar month. “Along similar lines,” Eviatar Zerubavel adds, “many of the ancient Chinese hsünsand Greek decades, which were normally ten days long, had to be only nine days long.”10 The ancient Roman calendar celebrated “Kalends . . . the day after the evening on which the crescent had been first sighted. The Nones would have been the day when the moon was at the first quarter . . . The Ides would be the day of the full moon.”11 It is possible that the Old Testament week enjoyed similar flexibility, being normally seven days but occasionally stretched to eight according to the moon’s phases.12
