The Fate of Josephus’s Antiquitates Judaicae 13.171–173:
Ancient Judean Philosophy in Context

by Ken Penner

 Introduction

The Problem

Josephus is our main source of information about the Jewish “sects” in the Second Temple period. At various points in his writings we find the characteristics of individual sects described, but on three occasions he specifically includes a comparison of the three sects, the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes, and in all three instances, the views of Fate and Free Will are the distinguishing feature.[1] In fact in Antiquitates Judaicae 13.171–173, the views of Fate are the only criterion by which the three “philosophies” are distinguished:

Thus the Pharisees would say that some
things but not all things are the work of Fate,
yet that some things are upon ones’ selves
to take place or not to happen. But the group
of the Essenes declares Fate mistress of all,
and that nothing which is not according to
her decree comes to pass for people.

But Sadducees, deny Fate, esteeming her
to be nothing, nor her to receive the end of
human things, but rather that all things
depend upon us, so that we become
responsible for good things, receiving
misfortunes by our own thoughtlessness.
But about these things, I have made a more
careful exposition in the second book of The
Jewish History.[2]

Opinions as to the historical value of this description have varied dramatically. On one hand, D. Flusser could say Josephus’ description of the Pharisees “need not be disputed, since it offers a complete and interesting outlook,”[3] and at the other extreme, G. F. Moore could claim that Josephus here is totally misleading: “The way readers would have understood Josephus is foreign to all Jewish thinking we know anything about.”[4]

Likewise, interpreters of Josephus have offered widely differing opinions regarding Josephus’ source for this description. The question of whether the report comes directly from Nicolaus of Damascus, some other Jewish source,[5] or from Josephus himself has been as disputed as that of whether Josephus was influenced in his description by Stoicism, Platonism,[6] popular astrology,[7] or Jewish theological debates of the time.

Very few scholars have succeeded in moving beyond the two main preoccupations in Josephus study: source criticism and historical questing. The former tendency dominated Josephan studies from about 1870–1920, and the latter has been dominant since then.[8] These approaches to Josephus’ writings are problematic because they ignore the literary question which methodologically must precede them: What was Josephus trying to say?[9]

Why address the problem now?

Granted, the tendency of Josephan scholarship to avoid the question of Josephus’ intention can be excused during most of the last century. Basic tools such as concordances, necessary for literary analysis, were lacking until recent decades, as were annotated bibliographies.[10] Even the English translation in the Loeb Classical Library was only completed in 1965.[11] But possibly the most comprehensively significant development, building on these previous achievements, is the Brill Josephus Project, a voluminous commentary and translation series of Josephus’ works. Its general editor, Steve Mason, affirmed, “we are now beginning, after two millennia of acquaintance with Josephus, to ask about the shape, coherence, and significance of the Antiquities as a composition.”[12] With Mason’s outline of a coherent structure, audience, and purpose for the Antiquities, along with the bibliographic and concordance tools, we are now in a better position to inquire into the meaning Josephus intended for A.J. 13.171–173 in its context.

The Questions

The literary context of A.J. 13.171–173 has been a conundrum ever since George Foot Moore remarked that “the paragraph has no connection with the preceding (Jonathan’s letter to the Lacedaemonians and the reception of his overtures) nor with the following narrative (the plans and movements of Demetrius’ generals).”[13] But some of its other contexts (in the broader sense: linguistic, philosophical, rhetorical, and historical) are equally unclear. As noted above, the questions of philosophical influences and historical value are still open, though they must be asked in conjunction with the literary questions. And these questions further depend on others regarding Josephus’ vocabulary and purpose. As a result, the following list of questions will guide the present discussion of the contexts of A.J. 13.171–173:

What are the relationships and differences among words Josephus uses for Fate and its associated ideas?

On which influences is Josephus drawing in his presentation of the various views of Fate?

Why does Josephus choose to distinguish the sects here by their views of Fate?

Why place this description here? What purpose does it serve in this context?

What historical conclusions can we derive from Josephus’ description of the sects’ views of Fate?

In an attempt to address these questions, I will (1) outline the results of word studies on words Josephus uses for the idea of Fate, (2) describe parallels to Josephus’ description of the Judean sects, (3) offer an explanation why Fate was a particularly appropriate criterion to distinguish the sects, (4) suggest a purpose for this paragraph in its present location, and (5) offer some conclusions as to the historical value of this paragraph for understanding the sects of Second Temple Judaism.

Towards a Solution

Linguistic Context: The relationships among Josephus’ words for Fate

In Greek philosophy and myth, the words in the semantic domain covered by the English words Fate, Destiny, Providence, Fortune, and Chance included tu/xh, ei(marme/nh, xrew/n, peprwme/nh, pro/noia, a)nagkh, dai/mwn, moira, and ai)sa.

The confusion regarding the meaning Josephus intended for the word ei(marme/nh here has been amplified by various suggestions that words in this semantic domain (qeo/j, to\ qei=on, to\ xrew/n, to\ peprw/menon, pro/noia, tu/xh) are synonyms.[14] Not all of these words can be interchangeable, and plenty of scholars have in fact made distinctions between these words, with similarly conflicting conclusions.[15]

I will not address the relationships among all these words in this paper. Instead, I will focus on the two words with the most striking similarity to ei(marme/nh in Josephan usage, xrew/n and peprwme/nh, before turning to a discussion of Josephus’ use of ei(marme/nh itself. I will argue that Josephus uses the words xrew/n and peprwme/nh synonymously with ei(marme/nh in most cases to refer to the limit of a life-span, except for in the schools passages such as A.J. 13.171–173.

Xrew/n

The twelve instances of the word xrew/n, most literally translated as necessity, occur in three clusters in Josephus’ works: B.J. 1, B.J. 5-6, and A.J. 7-8. In every instance, it is associated with death. In A.J. 7.383, David realizes he is about to die and is going to to\ xrew/n. In A.J. 8.307 Basanes is overtaken by tou= xrew/n and buried. In A.J. 8.409, 412 and 419, to\ xrew/n make a false prophet appear true in order to hasten Achab’s end: it finds him on the battlefield and overcomes him.  In B. J. 1.233, to\ xrew/n derides Malichus’ hopes, and he is stabbed through. In B. J. 1.275 to\ xrew/n has outstripped Herod’s zeal, since Phasael is dead. In B. J. 5.355 to\ xrew/n involves both innocent and guilty in a common ruin. In B. J. 5.514 many go to their tombs ere to\ xrew/n is upon them. In B. J. 5.572 to\ xrew/n blinds the rebels and is imminent for the city. In B. J. 6.49 one’s end is something everyone must surrender to xrew/n. Finally, B. J. 6.314 sums up Josephus’ usage: it is impossible for men to escape to\ xrew/n, one’s destruction.

Peprwme/nh and Peprwmenon

Like to\ xrew/n, the word pair peprwme/nh and peprwmenon occur in three groups: A.J. 10, A.J. 19, and C. Ap. 1. Also like to\ xrew/n, these two words are associated with death. In A.J. 10.76, Josiah is urged on by peprwme/nhj in order to destroy him. In A.J. 10.246,[16] Baltasarēs blames himself and peprwme/nh for the prophecy of his destruction. In A.J. 19.347 Agrippa is under a sentence of death and accepts th\n peprwme/nhn as God wills it. Only the references in Against Apion (1.247, 266) are slightly different from this pattern, in that they are used as attributive adjectives, not as substantives. Yet even there they limit a time period, though not of a person’s life; the thirteen years of banishment are peprwme/noi.

Ei(marme/nh

Now we turn our attention to the word for Fate used in A.J. 13.171–173. Again, sixteen of the twenty occurrences of ei(marme/nh in Josephus are clustered, in four places: B.J. 1–2 (5 times); B.J. 4 (twice); B.J. 6 (5 times); A.J. 12–13 (4 times). And again, the association with death is clear in most cases.

In B.J. 1.662 Herod anticipates th\n ei(marme/nh by attempting suicide. It is ei(marme/nh that decreed Ananus and his guards should perish in B.J. 4.297. In B.J. 6.85, Julianus, being mortal, can not escape ei(marme/nh and dies despite his bravery. In B.J. 6.108 Josephus offers advice to save those condemned by God, in spite of ei(marme/nh. In B.J. 6.267 the temple, like living beings, can not escape ei(marme/nh and is destroyed. In B.J. 6.428 the whole nation has been shut up in the city by ei(marme/nh and everyone is either killed or captured. In A.J. 16.397 ei(marme/nh is blamed for the deaths of Herod’s sons. In A.J. 19.347 a dying Agrippa says ei(marme/nh refutes those who had called him immortal. In C. Ap. 2.245 Zeus is at the mercy of ei(marme/nh and so cannot rescue his offspring from death.

Even when ei(marme/nh is not an absolute substantive, that is, even when it is modified by or is modifying another word, it can be associated with death or destruction. In A.J. 12.279, on his deathbed, Matthathias tells his sons, “I am about to go th\n ei(marme/nhn porei/an.” In B.J. 6.250 h( ei(marme/nh h(me/ra has arrived for the destruction of the temple. In B. J. 1.628 Herod weeps over th\n a)/dikon ei(marme/nhn, that dai/mwn tij is bent on destroying him. Only in B.J. 4.622 does there seem to be a special case in which a modified ei(marme/nh does not appear to be associated with death or destruction; there Vespasian suspects that it was not without divine providence that things went well for him, but that dikai/a tij ei(marme/nh brought him success. I will return to this exceptional text later in the paper.

Aside from this example regarding Vespasian, the sole exceptions to the absolute use of ei(marme/nh being associated with death are the three passages describing the differences between the Judean filosofi/ai. In A.J. 18.13 the Pharisees believe pra/ssesqai\ ei(marme/nh| ta\pa/nta. In B.J. 2.163, they similarly believe ei(marme/nh| te kai\ qew|= prosa/ptousi pa/nta, and bohqei=n ei)j e(/katon kai\ th\n ei(marme/nhn. By contrast, in B.J. 2.164 Sadducees th\n ei(marme/nh panta/pasin a)nairou=sin. Likewise, in our passage, A.J. 13.171–173, Pharisees say tina\ kai\ ou) pa/nta th=j ei(marme/nhj e)/rgon ei}nai, the Essenes’ group declares pa/ntwn th\n ei(marme/nhn kuri/an, and Sadducees deny the existence of ei(marme/nh.

I will argue that in these three passages describing the three Judean philosophies, Josephus uses the word ei(marme/nh quite differently than in the rest of his writings. He does not use it here as one’s fated hour of death or life-span. Nor is he intending it here primarily as some executive aspect of God or as a synonym for providence (although this might be a significant secondary association). Rather, I will argue that Josephus uses the word ei(marme/nh here specifically for its philosophical associations.

Where is Josephus getting his ideas of Fate from?

Before we examine the reasons for Josephus’ inclusion of anything here, it is useful to discuss the question of sources because it is possible that the distinctive language comes from another author.

George Foot Moore pointed out that there is no Hebrew word equivalent to ei(marme/nh and no such conception in Judaism without a personal God.[17] While several Hebrew words do occupy the semantic domain of lot, portion, and inheritance, it is true that these are never used as absolute subjects. For example, although the Hebrew Bible and Dead Sea Scrolls do use the word lrwg to speak of one’s lot (Pr 1:14), God casting a lot (1QH^a XI), being in a lot (1QH^a XI),[18] this use of lrwg is not equivalent to Josephus’ use of ei(marme/nh.[19] For Josephus, ei(marme/nh is an active agent in its own right, with control over events; it is not simply a description of one’s situation as lrwg is. More significantly, passive forms of the verb Crx are used in Job 14:5 (to say “his days are determined”) and in Daniel 11:36 (to indicate the extent of the arrogant king’s prosperity). Both instances are in accord with Josephus’ normal usage of ei(marme/nh in its association with death or the end of some other predetermined period, but not with his use of ei(marme/nh in the schools passages. The same is true for Aramaic. The word best corresponding to this active ei(marme/nh is rzg. In the Qumran Aramaic Tobit scrolls, rzg is used in a portion of Tobit 6:13 not included in Greek translations to say “a lawful right has decided that you take her.”[20] Of course, he could only take her because her previous husbands had died. Again, this use of rzg corresponds to Josephus’ usual usage, but not to his usage in the schools passages.

(Direct) Literary Sources

If Josephus’ description of ei(marme/nh is unlike any idea expressed in the traditional Jewish languages, Hebrew and Aramaic, how can we explain it here? Hölscher claimed that the idea of ei(marme/nh in Josephus’ writing came from a Jewish source,[21] and as we saw above, Nicolaus of Damascus has at times been credited with the view included here. But Josephus’ source for the material before and after A.J. 13.171–173 is clear. Since A.J. 12.240, he has been closely following the account in 1 Maccabees. After paraphrasing 1 Macc 11:74–12:23 (=A.J. 13.163–170), he introduces his description of the three Judean schools with a simple “now at this time.” He then immediately resumes his paraphrase of 1 Maccabees with 12:24 (=A.J. 13.174).[22]

But attributing this passage to a source would in no way help explain its inclusion here; it would merely add something to be explained. Not only must we explain why the original author wrote about sects and fate, but we still have to explain why Josephus decided to insert that description particularly here. He was certainly not compelled by the narrative in 1 Maccabees to make any mention of fate or sects. The only reason I can see why he would be compelled to place the contents of A.J. 13.171–173 here exactly would be if he were conflating 1 Maccabees with another source covering the same events but including mention of the sects, and there is no indication that he was doing so.

More plausible is Maier’s theory that the idea of ei(marme/nh came not from a foreign source such as Nicolaus nor from a Jewish source, but from Josephus himself.[23] If Josephus wrote this section, the question arises: What were the influences on Josephus that inclined him to portray the philosophical schools in this way?

Philosophical Influences (Parallels)

Steve Mason proposes that “Josephus’s deliberate characterization of the Jewish groups as ai(re/seij and filosofi/ai, concerned with issues such as ethics and immortality,” suggests “a priori a philosophical sense for the term” ai(re/seij.[24] It is this proposal of the Jewish groups as Hellenistic philosophical schools which I will now explore.

If Josephus was influenced by specific philosophical texts in his description of the Judean philosophical schools, we can only know this by identifying verbal parallels that are both striking and unique. If Josephus was influenced by Hellenistic ideas, as Stählin claimed,[25]  which were they? Which philosophies does his presentation resemble?

Shlomo Pines in 1973 tried to show that the view of the Pharisees and Sadducees on free will in B.J. 2.162–165 and A.J. 13.172 was an adaptation of a Greek philosophical text resembling that used by Apuleius (I xii 205–206),[26] but the parallels between the two texts are neither striking nor unique. Pines would have us believe that Josephus took a description of Plato’s view of Fate and ascribed parts of it to Pharisees, other parts to Sadducees, and none to the Essenes. Plato did address fate and free will but of course his conclusions are obscured by the dialogue genre; in Republic 10.617e a place for free will is preserved while the laws of fate are laid down: u(mei=j dai/mona ai(rh/sesqe. prw=toj d' o( laxw\n prw=toj ai(rei/sqw bi/on …  ai)ti/a e(lome/nou: qeo\j a)nai/tioj “you shall choose your own fate (daimon). Let him to whom falls the first lot select a life … the blame is his who chooses; God is blameless.”[27] Plato holds free will and fate in tension.

Even more striking is the parallel to Cicero’s de Fato 39:

Here, the three “schools of thought” correspond to the Pythagoreans, the Epicureans, and the Stoics, respectively. Likewise, Josephus elsewhere connected the Essenes with the Pythagoreans in A.J. 15.371 and the Pharisees with the Stoics in Vita 12. The reader would have naturally associated the Sadducees, deniers of fate, with the Epicureans.[30] Similarly, Tacitus described the dominant philosophical schools with a three-fold division over the issue of Fate:

Cicero and Tacitus expressed the centrist Stoic viewpoint sympathetically.[32] Likewise in Josephus’ writings we find many expressions favourable to Stoicism. Josephus put Stoic terminology in the mouths of Abraham (A.J. 1.156), Solomon (A.J. 8.108), and King Jeroboam (A.J. 8.227). In fact, the vocabulary of  A.J. 13.171–173 closely matches that of the founder of Stoicism, Zeno, according to Ephiphanius: ta\j de\ ai)ti/aj tw=n pra/gma/twn ph=| me\n e)f’ h(mi=n, ph=| de\ ou)k e)f' h(mi=n.[33]

In all this we can conclude with Moore that ei(marme/nh here was intended in its technical, philosophical sense, although, as Attridge pointed out, Josephus does not employ the themes which generally accompany philosophical discussions of fate: teleology, regularity, harmony. [34] This absence of philosophical themes led Martin to propose that Josephus used the term in its popular astrological sense, but in doing so Martin made ei(marme/nh something oppressive, hardly Josephus’ intention here.[35]

Why did he Choose Fate to distinguish the sects?

The technical philosophical vocabulary and Cicero’s delineation of the three perspectives on Fate are telling. The reason why Josephus focussed on their attitude toward ei(marme/nh was that he was writing for a Hellenistic audience, who contrasted the Stoics, Epicureans, and the Pythagoreans on this issue. He described the Jewish sects in language they could understand.[36] Josephus used ei(marme/nh for its associations with philosophical debates current among his audience, making the sects relevant and interesting for his audience, while at the same time fulfilling his objective of implying ancient Judean attachment to philosophy.

Why is A.J. 13.171-3 here?

Now, with a clearer understanding of Josephus’ purpose, we can return to the question of the placement of A.J. 13.171–173 in this particular literary context. In the hey-day of source criticism in Josephus studies, the placement of any passage could be “explained” by positing that it was placed there by the author of the source Josephus happened to be using at that point in the narrative. As noted above, Hölscher considered this passage to be from an intermediate Jewish source.[37] Rivkin likewise said Josephus felt constrained by his source to keep the passage here.[38] D. Schwartz presented a similar explanation, the source being Nicolaus of Damascus. But Steve Mason has convincingly argued that the typical vocabulary used in this passage shows it is characteristically Josephan and not ineptly taken from a source.[39]

H. Rasp noticed that this introduction of the sects prepares the reader for the later mention of the Pharisees in A.J. 13.288, w(j kai\ e)n toi=j e)pa/nw dedhlw/kamen. This preparatory function explains its inclusion, but not its placement.

The problem is as George Foot Moore stated it: this paragraph has no connection to its context. It follows Jonathan’s letter, and is followed by the account of Demetrius’ generals; the only connection with its context is the introductory chronological note.[40] Thus, while Josephus took the information from a source, he placed it here because he wished to convey that the three sects were in existence at the time of Jonathan.[41]

Luther Martin challenged Moore’s conclusion, arguing that Josephus placed this discussion of ei(marme/nh here to contrast it with pro/noia. Martin claimed that Josephus presented the Jews as the people who are freed by the providence of God from an oppressive and deterministic ei(marme/nh understood in the popular astrological sense. He suggested that the connection with the preceding context was the direction of Jonathan’s affairs by the pro/noia qeou= (A.J. 13.163). In Martin’s view, A.J. 13.171–173 further locates the Jews in the international world of Romans and Greeks, and shows their philosophical uniqueness. A.J. 13.174 then returns to an account of the actions of Demetrius’ generals.[42]

Steve Mason has effectively discredited Martin’s thesis, showing it to be “an extreme example of the tendency to interpret Josephus’s words by every possible stratagem except Josephan usage.”[43] The logical consequence of Martin’s conclusion is that Sadducees are Josephus’s heroes and Essenes his villains, a patent falsehood, judging by all other remarks Josephus makes about them. But most significantly, as Mason says, “in A.J. 13.171–173 Josephus is not trying to present the Jewish groups as unique–but rather as philosophical schools in Hellenistic fashion, with differing views peri\ tw=n a)nqrwpi/nwn pragma/twn.”[44]

While Mason was able to plausibly explain the passage’s purpose, he found it difficult to explain its placement. However, Mason’s recently proposed outline of the structure of Antiquitates Judaicae[45] does illuminate the part this passage plays in the larger scheme. Mason noticed a concentric pattern for the twenty-volume work, divided into two parts, one for each temple. Our passage falls in the first section of what he calls “Part II: Second Temple (A.J. 11–20)”, in “A. Reestablishment of the aristocracy through the glorious Hasmonean house; its decline (11–13).” It is at this glorious time of restoration, just before the subsection Mason labeled “Zenith of the Hasmonean dynasty with John Hyrcanus” in Volume 13, that the three Judean philosophical schools are introduced.

Because the concentric pattern has its turning point between volumes 10 and 11, the mirror-image of Volume 13 would logically be Volume 8. Significantly, Volume 8 is devoted to Solomon, a great philosopher during another glorious time. Seen in this structural pattern, the placement of the emergence of the Judean philosophical schools in Volume 13 mirrors that of Solomon’s glory and wisdom in Volume 8. This placement strengthens Josephus’ implication that the Jewish sects were philosophical and ancient: they date at least back to the time of the Hasmoneans, and are counterparts of the great ancient philosopher Solomon.

That Josephus intends to stress the antiquity of Judean philosophy by placing them in Volume 13 seems clear enough, but if Josephus was trying to say that Jewish philosophies dated back to Jonathan’s time, he had many opportunities to do so earlier (for example, between  A.J. 13.153 and 154 or 157 and 158, or in 163) or later (between 180 and 181, or 193 and 194). Although the reason for the exact placement here is not entirely clear, I may venture a guess.

I have dismissed the likelihood of a literary source on the basis of Josephan characteristics, and noted the chronological and preparatory function of the passage, but even so, the connection to the immediate literary context remains largely obscure. Clearly Josephus wished to depict the antiquity of the Jewish sects as philosophical schools. But the earlier the reference, the better for his purposes, so we must look for an explanation as to why did he not refer to them earlier. Even if he was constrained by a chronological reality (that the sects only emerged during Jonathan’s reign and not earlier), he should have introduced the sects most effectively at a point immediately after A.J. 13.153. My guess, admittedly unfalsifiable, is that something in the paragraph immediately preceding A.J. 13.171–173 reminded him to make mention of the sects sometime soon. He then did so at the earliest opportunity, even though he was in the middle of a narrative source. This explains the brevity of the excursus. In order to return to the storyline as soon as possible, he introduced only enough about the sects to make a chronological reference, to name and number them, to place them on a relative philosophical spectrum, and to imply their similarity to Greek philosophical schools. All this he achieved in a mere four sentences, after which he referred to his earlier work those interested in more details.

But what could that trigger in the previous paragraph be? Martin was right to look to the immediately preceding paragraph to find some connection with the excursus. He noticed the reference to pro/noia there, and the relationship of this word to ei(marme/nh, though he misconstrued the relationship. I suggest that the connection between pro/noia and ei(marme/nh, seen in Vespasian’s realization regarding ei(marme/nh in B.J. 4.622 offers a relevant parallel. In this earlier work of Josephus, he wrote that when “fortune was everywhere furthering his wishes and circumstances had for the most part conspired in his favour,” Vespasian began to suspect that it was not without pro/noia that he seized the government, but by some just ei(marme/nh. Likewise, in A.J. 13.163, “when he saw that by God’s providence all his affairs were going to his liking,” Jonathan sent a letter to the Romans. As Josephus was composing this paragraph, the similarity of realizations – that prosperity is attributed to pro/noia – may well have reminded Josephus of what he had said earlier about Vespasian and ei(marme/nh, and he recognized this might provide a convenient introduction to the philosophies of Judaism. In order to make the philosophies seem as ancient as possible, he immediately inserted this paragraph after the one he was working on. He kept the excursion brief because he had only two points to convey: Judaism was philosophical, and its philosophical schools were old.

What Historical Value can we get from this  passage?

If Josephus’ is mainly concerned here with depicting the antiquity of Jewish philosophy, the possibility exists that he is not concerned with portraying their main disagreement accurately. He may be exaggerating or bending the facts or being selective about what he states, in order to achieve his desired effect. Before we can use Josephus’ statements for historical reconstruction, we need to examine his statements for any evidence to confirm or disprove the possibility that Josephus bent the truth. We need to compare what Josephus says with what we learn from other sources. If something he says fits his agenda but is called into question by other sources, it should be viewed with suspicion.

At the outset, the likelihood that the main disagreement was over ei(marme/nh is not corroborated by any other ancient document. The New Testament, the rabbinic writings, and even Josephus’ narratives indicate that the main disagreements between Pharisees and Sadducees were over issues other than fate and free will.

As Wächter[46] and Flusser[47] note, the likelihood that the Sadducees eliminated God from interest in human affairs is likewise small, if they believed the Torah, with its accounts of God’s instigation of the flood, of Abraham’s call, and of the Exodus from Egypt. Ben Sira 16:17–23, in its denigration of the view attributed to the Sadducees by Josephus, does not imply this view was held by a significant and powerful group.[48]

Likewise, the likelihood that the Essenes attributed everything to fate and none to free will is small. If the Dead Sea Scrolls are from Essenes, we have evidence that they held determinism (well-known from 1QS 3:15–16, 1QH^a XII, 39 [= Sukenik 4:38], 1QH^a VII, 25–35 [= Sukenik 15:12–22] and CD) and free will in tension. In 1QH^a VIII, 28 (= Sukenik 16:10) the poet exercises choice in purifying his hands (ypk rbhl ytrxb yn)w).[49] If the Dead Sea Scrolls are not Essene, this is the only surviving indication in Josephus, Philo, Pliny, or anywhere else that the Essenes were complete fatalists.[50]

Josephus polarizes the three philosophical schools to a greater degree than we would expect from our other sources, and this polarizing tendency is what we would expect from someone interested in depicting the Judean philosophical schools polarized over the same issue as the Greek philosophical schools. This is not to say that Josephus imposed a totally foreign debate onto the Judean sects; it could well be true that Essenes were more deterministic than Sadducees, and that Pharisees held a moderate position. Other sources, including Josephus, confirm a tendency for Sadducees to be skeptical and Essenes to be radical. So although there may well be such a kernel of historical truth in Josephus’ description, Josephus was more than likely exaggerating the differences or oversimplifying them in order to make his point.

Conclusion

We cannot rely on Josephus’ account of the differences between the three Judean sects in A.J. 13.171–173 for historical information about what their main disagreements were, or for their views of fate because Josephus is likely exaggerating and shaping the truth for his purposes.

We have reason to believe he is exaggerating because the Essenes depicted in the rest of Josephus’ writings are not characterised by total determinism; they do exercise choice. Nowhere else besides in Josephus are Essenes described as total determinists. Furthermore, if Essenes produced the Dead Sea Scrolls, they acknowledged an element of choice in joining the group. Likewise, the Sadducees could hardly have totally eliminated God’s role in human affairs if they believed the Torah, with its constant accounts of God’s intervention.

In A.J. 13.171–173 Josephus does not use the key word ei(marme/nh in his usual way. Instead of associating it with death, as he usually does, here and in the other schools passages he uses the term in its technical, philosophical sense. He calls the three groups ai(re/seij, his term for schools of philosophy, and has them differ on a philosophical point, the same point by which Cicero distinguishes three Greek philosophical schools.

Josephus’ primary purpose is evidently not to describe the main point on which the three disagreed with historical accuracy, but to indicate the antiquity of Judean philosophy. Josephus does not connect A.J. 13.171–173 to its literary context in any way other than chronologically. The chronological reference is significant because Josephus often uses appeals to the antiquity of customs or institutions as a way of legitimizing them.

I do not doubt that Josephus would have been capable accurately describing the main disagreements among the Judean groups, if that had been his intention. But because his rhetorical point was not dependent on historical accuracy, we ought not to privilege Josephus’ description of their differences here in reconstructing the nature of Jewish sectarianism. Instead, we can use this passage to get to know Josephus’ concerns, above all his desire to present Judean culture as a venerable and philosophical society, using categories readily understood by an audience of Roman elites.