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THE JEWISH REVOLT AGAINST ROME:
HISTORY, SOURCES AND PERSPECTIVES



The pursuit of history involves asking questions about the past, which
is obviously no longer directly accessible. New data thus generates new
questions; however, old data may also attract new questions and new
perspectives. Thinking about history is to an important extent determined
by contemporary interests and circumstances. As these interests
and circumstances change, perspectives and the questions asked
change. Setting aside traditions and historical memories, what remains
of the ancient past are the contemporary sources that are available
to us: literary, documentary, numismatic, epigraphic, iconographic
and archaeological. However, these sources are not always simply or
directly available to us. Some have been handed down by tradition,
which is the case for most of the literary texts, while others have been
actively retrieved by modern exploration. What the extant sources
share is that they represent only a small part of all source material
that was once in existence. Nevertheless, the available sources are the
building blocks for scholarly study of the past. The study of each of
these sources entails its own methodological requirements, difficulties
and possibilities.

The challenge for ancient historians is to understand these sources
as distinct and separate but at the same time as part of a shared historical
context. Acknowledging the distinct nature of each kind of source
and an appropriate method and hermeneutics to approach each one,
the integral use of different sources is important because these reveal
different aspects of an ancient society. This does not mean that all
forms of evidence available to us should be related to each other in
order to achieve a single coherent reconstruction. To aim at such a
reconstruction would mean to ignore the fact that we have only fragments
of the whole. Nonetheless, ancient historians should not focus on only
one body of evidence but take all of it into account and assess whether
a particular piece provides an answer to the historical questions asked.

This volume brings together different disciplines, some for the first
time, and combines fields of research that should not be pursued in
isolation from each other should we wish to further our understanding
of the broader historical context of the first Jewish revolt against
Rome. Several issues with regard to the literary, archaeological,
numismatic and epigraphic sources and the historical reconstruction
of this conflict warrant further reflection. True to the pursuit of
history briefly outlined here, this volume presents new data that
generate new questions, as well as new perspectives that shed new
light on already familiar data. The perspectives offered by the various contributors are often interdisciplinary, engaging different sources
and approaches. Whether or not the war of the Jews against the Romans
was the greatest war that had ever occurred to that point, as Josephus
claims (B.J. 1.1), for ancient historians the Jewish revolt against Rome
in the first century c.e. provides the opportunity to study one of the bestdocumented provincial revolts in the early Roman Empire.

Firstly, there is the archaeological evidence. Sites that were destroyed
in the suppression of the revolt have been excavated. The well-known
examples are Jotapata, Gamla, Jerusalem and, of course, Masada. These
excavations dramatically illustrate the preparations, tactics and effects
of Roman sieges. Recently, evidence of subterranean hideouts has also
been unearthed, illustrating some of the preparations that were undertaken
by Jewish villagers.

Secondly, there is unique numismatic evidence. The Jewish rebels
asserted their independence from Rome by issuing their own coinage.
The epigraphy and iconography of these coins express the inauguration
of a new era under a Jewish authority.

Thirdly, there is documentary evidence. A reassessment of some of
the manuscripts from Murabbaʿat suggests these belong to the period of
the revolt. These documents also use dating formulas and phrases similar
to those on the revolt coins. The documentary evidence illustrates
that the independent government guaranteed the legal framework of
everyday transactions and that daily life went on during the revolt.
Finally, there is also the literary evidence. The accounts of the Jewish
aristocrat Flavius Josephus in particular provide a wealth of material
that stands out in comparison with the dearth of evidence available
about other revolts in the empire. For many if not most of the events,
Josephus is our only source of evidence. Recent discussion has again
focused on the advantages and disadvantages, possibilities and limitations
of Josephus as a source for modern historical enquiry into the
revolt. One of the fundamental issues is whether Josephus’ accounts
are proper historical sources for understanding pre-70 c.e. Judaea or
whether they are instead historical sources for understanding the
historical context of Josephus in Flavian Rome. Is it possible to reach
beyond Josephus’ narrative by distinguishing the different sources he
used, to obtain different perspectives on the events he reflects upon
and thus to move closer to “what really happened”? Or is Josephus’
narrative all we have and must we accept that we cannot discover what
really happened, as various historical scenarios may explain why
Josephus wrote what he wrote?

Taking into account all of these sources and being mindful of their
diverse nature we must ask: Which historical questions do they allow
us to answer and which not? It is up to us to think through the relationships
between the different sources, perspectives and historical
reconstructions. For example, in what respect do literary texts, considered
as “categories of thought,” and material remains, considered
as “categories of behaviour,”relate to each other? Are these categories
part of a shared context, remaining distinct yet possibly related elements?
This volume offers fascinating insights into some aspects of
the “prehistory” of the revolt. In this volume Andrea Berlin argues
that during the first century b.c.e. a shift in material culture can be
observed in certain villages in Galilee and Gaulanitis. She suggests that
this shift reflects a new emphatic expression of Jewish ethnic identity
and solidarity. Berlin argues that this was due to the impact of Rome
on the region from the middle of the first century b.c.e. onward. Brian
Schultz argues here that Pompey’s conquest of Jerusalem in 63 b.c.e.
decisively determined the interpretation of the so-called Kittim in
the War Scroll from Qumran. The Romans were perceived as the eschatological enemy, the defeat of which would inaugurate the messianic age.

We should not simply conflate these two bodies of evidence; one
being material and revealing behaviour, the other being literary and
revealing thought. The literary texts cannot be used to reconstruct
what Jewish villagers in Galilee and Gaulanitis thought during a
period in which the patterns of material culture changed. However,
when considering the impact of Rome on ancient Palestine and the
different responses it generated, these different sources do provide us
with evidence about how some behaved and what others thought in
light of the Roman presence. As such, they reveal the diverse range of
responses to the presence of Rome in the area. In this regard they are
distinct, yet all represent parts of a shared historical context.



1. The Roman Context

As several authors in this volume emphasize, the Jewish revolt against
Rome should be understood within a broader Roman context. Greg
Woolf and Werner Eck provide a Roman perspective on the occurrence
of provincial revolts and their perception and on the role played
by Roman representatives in Judaea.

In his article, Greg Woolf is concerned to map the difference between
normative explanations of revolt employed today and those used by
the ancients. Modern explanations are frequently schematic and leave
little space for ancient motivations. Ancient accounts by contrast
focus on the morality, motivations and agency of individuals.
Structural analysis, Woolf argues, may account quite well for the
social, geographical and chronological location of dissent, at least at
a very general level. However, such a perspective has more difficulty
explaining apparent anomalies such as the participation of the highly
integrated local elite, Jewish and Gallic aristocrats, former Roman
soldiers and client kings. Moreover, such structural analysis provides
little insight into how participants understood events at the time, as
we have almost no rebel voices.

As to a Roman understanding of provincial revolts, it is impossible
to know how Roman emperors perceived their causes, but we do have
access to what members of the Roman elite thought. However, this
does not involve accepting naive realist accounts of ancient authors.
Taking the example of Tacitus, Woolf makes an important observation
as to what kind of historical information Roman literary sources
may reveal: “Tacitus’ own reconstructions of revolts and their causes
can be taken to reflect the kind of explanation formed by members of
the imperial ruling classes when they considered individual revolts.”
However, this understanding will also have influenced how Roman
elites behaved and acted in the provinces: second-century governors
did not go out to their provinces with scrolls by Tacitus, Livy and Sallust
in their bags, but discussions of revolts by ancient historians must
have reflected and shaped their own actions in the provinces, as well as
the experience of their peers and readers: “Tacitus’ provinces did not
exist in an intertextual bubble, but needed to be constantly related to
the empire known by experience.”

Susan Mattern has drawn attention to the value of the testimony
of literary sources for understanding the reasoning and motivations
behind the type of decisions taken by emperors and the ruling elite.
Woolf’s position reflects a similar understanding of ancient literary
texts that acknowledges the formation of the ideas of the ruling
elites as being determined for the most part by literature and rhetoric,
and that therefore literary texts reflect the concerns and understandings
of these elites and, crucially, may also help us to understand
their actions.

I highlight this approach, since Steve Mason does not take this view
into account in his contribution to this volume when he argues that
even if we had the confidence to declare Josephus’ account of Titus’
war council about the Jerusalem temple a word-perfect transcript,
it would tell us little about Titus’ general views or those of his
commanders. This stretches the argument too far. Mason makes a valid point
that the real-life situation would have been much too complex and
evolving too rapidly for a literary representation to mirror that reality.
Different historical scenarios may explain why Josephus’ account is as
it is. There is no direct relationship between his story and real events,
such that it mirrors real events. However, to acknowledge that we cannot
know what really occurred, in a von Rankean sense as it were,
does not entail that we cannot know about anything other than the
particular context of the narrator. As Mattern and Woolf suggest, it is
precisely this context that may inform us not only about how Roman
elites perceived and imagined certain events but also how they acted
according to that perception. In this case, the “manufacturing of consent”
may be assumed to have conditioned the thoughts and behaviour
of the Roman elites formed by that knowledge.

Woolf’s contribution is important to the study of the Jewish revolt
against Rome as it demonstrates that at least for other parts of the
Roman Empire we are able to enquire after the understanding of
Roman elites with regard to provincial revolts. Actually, insofar as he
is writing for a Roman audience,9 Josephus may provide us with similar
access to Roman elite perspectives. As to the account of Titus’ war
council, I agree that it does not literally mirror reality, but similar to
Mattern’s argument concerning Herodian’s report of Commodus’ war
council, I suggest that Josephus’ report, in a more general sense, may
reveal patterns of thought among Titus and his commanders. Whether
they changed their minds, revealed their real thoughts or were not in
complete control of everything that happened does not a priori render
Josephus’ report meaningless for that historical context. The “historicity”
of such a war council can be understood in different ways. How
Josephus imagined the conversation between Titus and his commanders
might reveal significant elements that indicate Roman concerns and in
turn might suggest Roman actions. However, this would need to be explored further. Werner Eck reflects on Josephus’ position within the Roman context
and what that means for the various perspectives taken in his
accounts; Josephus was not an impartial observer of and writer about
the revolt, not only with regard to the Jewish groups involved but
also with regard to the perspectives he provides on the Roman prefects
and governors. He could not be overly critical of Rome, as the
emperor and his family represented Rome. Therefore, Josephus targeted
his criticism at the Roman representatives in Judaea, and not
at all of them, but the prefects specifically. Surprisingly, Eck notes,
Josephus never criticizes the legates he mentions, except for the senator
Vibius Marsus. However, based on our knowledge of how the
Roman Empire functioned administratively, Eck points out that it was
not the prefects criticized by Josephus who were responsible for what
went on in Judaea until 66 c.e. but rather the legates/governors of the
province of Syria. Furthermore, there was a significant difference in
social status between these two types of functionaries, something readily
understood by Josephus’ Roman audience. The legates of senatorial
status would have been people on whom Josephus would still have
been dependent after 70 c.e. This would explain why he did not aim
his criticism at them.

Rather than assessing certain actions taken by the prefects as provocations,
Eck explains these as perfectly in line with normal Roman
customs, and he stresses that the Roman response to unrest caused by
these actions was in general sensitive and balance😛 “Das konnte aus
jüdischer Sicht durchaus provozierend sein, doch ist damit noch nicht
einfachhin in allen Fällen auch das Motiv der Präfekten identifiziert.”
Eck thus also argues for a perspective that understands the behaviour
and actions that Josephus ascribed to Roman representatives in
Judaea within the context of how Romans would have understood and
expected their prefects, procurators and governors to behave in the
provinces.



2. The Revolt’s “Prehistory” and the Motivation
of Jewish Rebels

The notion of a prehistory to the revolt may conjure up the idea of a
longue durée perspective taking into account a multiplicity of longterm,
rather than immediate causes that contributed to the revolt,
including social, economic, demographic and political events.
From such a structural mode of analysis, Jewish responses to
“Romanization” may present themselves as an interesting element that
warrants further study. This does not imply that we should see the
Jewish revolt against Rome in essentialist terms as a monolithic conflict
between Roman and Jewish culture, as if there was something intrinsic
in Jewish and Roman society that made coexistence between the two
impossible. Nor should we assume without further qualification that
responses from the first century b.c.e. to some of the actions of Rome’s
representatives in the area were simply transmitted in unaltered form
for decades and that we can ascribe these to those who revolted against
Rome. Bearing these caveats in mind, some fascinating responses to
the impact of Rome are revealed in the contributions by Andrea Berlin
and Brian Schultz.

As noted above, Andrea Berlin detects a shift in material culture in
Galilee and Gaulanitis that indicates a development from a gradual
to a complete division between Jews and non-Jews as far as aspects
of daily life are concerned (pottery, miqvaʾot and synagogues). In the
early first century b.c.e., differences in shopping and dining habits and
some indicators of ethnic identity can be observed, but they are not yet
wholly divided spheres: “Market routes still connect areas where different
peoples live, and the places where they gather to petition or honor
their deities remain the old, now somewhat out-of-the-way sites.”
However, a few generations later, around 10 c.e., in the early years
of Herod Antipas and Herod Philip, all this had change😛 “Those few
commonalities and connections no longer exist. Galilean Jews . . . now
shop exclusively in their local markets. They stock their pantry shelves
only with saucers, bowls, and kitchen vessels made nearby. They no
longer buy red-slipped dishes from Phoenician suppliers nor do they
light their homes with mold-made lamps.”

Why does this happen? Berlin suggests that a new development gave
rise to this new assertion of Jewish identity: the impact of Rome on the
region, specifically in the form of shrines that honoured Roman deities.
The Jewish response was to close ranks, further developing their
separate and distinct lifestyle. Berlin suggests that cultural differences
hardened into cultural divisions that caused Galilean and Gaulanite
Jews to perceive the world around them as different from their now
sharply delineated milieu. Such a perception may have contributed
several decades later to tensions between Jews and non-Jews leading
up to the revolt, although it is difficult to prove such a causal, longterm
development.

The Dead Sea Scrolls are virtually the only contemporary documents
we possess from pre-revolt Judaea. These manuscripts put us
in an exceptional position to assess the ideas, expectations and selfunderstanding that were conceived, articulated and disseminated
among a specific Jewish group involved in the conflict. In what way
were ideas about an anticipated eschatological war, as in the War Texts
from Qumran, related to Rome’s impact on Judaea and can we determine
whether such ideas had any bearing on the events of 66 c.e.
and afterwards?

Brian Schultz focuses on the War Texts from Qumran, most notably
the War Scroll from Cave 1. He presents his thesis on the composition
history of the War Scroll and on the shifting interpretations
of the Kittim as the eschatological enemy. As noted above, Schultz
argues that the final identification of the Kittim, from the Seleucids
to the Romans, was determined by Pompey’s conquest of Jerusalem
in 63 b.c.e. The belief that the defeat of the Kittim would inaugurate
the messianic age suffered a mortal blow with Pompey’s conquest, as
independence from the Seleucids had not heralded the messianic age.
Schultz suggests that “both the ones spurring on the revolt as well as
the authors of the various War Texts had as a goal Judea’s political and
religious independence from foreign interference. Just this commonality
alone highlights the possibility that eschatological factors may have
motivated at least some who joined in the conflict.”

Although James McLaren argues against using distinctive factors
such as religious ideas or extremist ideologies to explain why Jews
revolted against Rome, his analysis highlights an aspect that is also
noted by Schultz: the claim that the land was to be purged of foreigners
and free of foreign rule.16 One should be careful not to lump this
evidence presented by McLaren and Schultz together based on a presumed
similarity of ideas. Nonetheless, here too Josephus’ framework
must not predetermine the manner in which we understand evidence
from pre-revolt documents such as the Dead Sea Scrolls. Qualifications
such as extremist or sectarian are less valuable to an understanding
of what is at stake in literary texts such as the Qumran manuscripts.

More interesting is that a text such as the War Scroll also reveals the
same view on the purpose of war: to be free of foreign rule. Whether
this is significant remains to be seen. In terms of the long-term
development of ideas that may have motivated those who revolted,
it is at least suggestive enough to warrant further investigation.
McLaren focuses on two sources of information: Josephus, writing
soon after the revolt, and material remains in the form of revolt coins
and manuscripts from Murabbaʿat with dating formulas, both dating
to the time of the revolt. What do these sources reveal about the
motivation of those who revolted? McLaren’s methodological point
of departure with regard to Josephus is to read Josephus against himself:
“Where Josephus makes accusations about the rebels, especially in
terms of what they proclaimed to be doing, it is highly likely that the
rebels were using that issue as a motive for the war.” He argues that
Josephus’ “extensive use of ‘freedom’ in relation to why the war was
being fought warrants recognition as the primary motive.” Together
with a review of the actions Josephus ascribes to those who revolted
against Rome, McLaren infers an active engagement with the Romans
in Judaea aimed at getting rid of them, as well as the rebels’ aim of a
new state: “This was not a protest that had got out of control; it had
been a choice to undertake a war of liberation.”

As to the documentary evidence from Murabbaʿat, McLaren argues
that the dating formula and the Hebrew language in which some of
the documents were written signals the existence of a new state. He
also argues that the documents are clear evidence that life went on
even once the war had commence😛 “Irrespective of what the owners
of the documents believed, the existence of the new formula is
extremely significant. If part of an official formula it means the people
charged with its operation were concerned to put in place procedures
that clearly declared a new era had commenced. If done because it was
simply common practice then it indicates a widespread acceptance of
the new era.”

As to the numismatic evidence, McLaren emphasizes that the people
who minted the revolt coins must have been supporters of the war.
Moreover, if more people were responsible for different issues of revolt
coins, then the greater the number of Jews in Jerusalem who were
openly committed to the revolt. Unlike Robert Deutsch and Donald
Ariel (see below), McLaren aims to understand this material independent
from the framework of Josephus’ narrative. He, therefore, does
not suggest specific identifications of those responsible for minting
the revolt coins. Nonetheless, in a general sense, the documentary and
numismatic evidence independently corroborates an aspect of Josephus’
account when “read against Josephus.”

Viewing the material evidence together with Josephus, McLaren
notes the coherence regarding the purpose of the war: once again, to
be free of foreign rule. However, there are also important differences.
In Josephus, “[t]here is little sense of an independent state being established
and certainly no mention of its name, ‘Israel,’ let alone reference
to ‘Zion.’ ” As such, the documents from Murabbaʿat and the revolt
coins constitute independent evidence that sheds important light on
the motivation of the Jews who revolted against Rome and the message
that they wished to convey.



3. Flavius Josephus

Of necessity, modern enquiries into the history of the Jewish revolt
are for the most part dependent on Josephus. Of course, there are
other sources that corroborate that the Romans suppressed a revolt in
Judaea sometime in the second half of the first century c.e. Archaeological
excavations have unearthed sites, towns and villages that were
besieged and destroyed, as was the city of Jerusalem. Roman imperial
propaganda such as the Judaea Capta coins and the arch of Titus
display a message of Jewish submission and Roman victory. In addition
to Josephus, other literary sources also make clear that the Jerusalem
temple was destroyed, and also that different Jewish factions
fought each other before they united against the Roman legions which
appeared before the walls of Jerusalem. Tacitus provides a breakdown
of the different forces within the city and the different areas they
controlled (Hist. 5.12.2–4). He, or his source, thus corroborate in a general
sense part of Josephus’ account. However, when it comes to specific
events, causes and developments, and people and their thoughts and
actions, Josephus is our only source.

In this volume the various contributors take different positions with
regard to the use of Josephus as an historical source for pre-revolt and
revolt Judaea, with some contributors being more pronounced than
others in their methodological considerations. Put simply, the parameters
of the discussion revolve around the question of whether Josephus
is a source of evidence at all for the matters that he narrates or
rather a source for the contemporary context in Flavian Rome. Some
contributors to this volume remain suspicious of Josephus, arguing
that Josephus can be read against himself as well as in light of other
non-literary sources (James McLaren), critically as well as in light of
other literary sources (Julia Wilker), or between the lines along with a
comparison of parallel accounts to determine Josephus’ own voice (Jan
Willem van Henten). Others focus on a literary comparison of Josephus’
parallel accounts to consider what sources Josephus had available
and how his views changed between his writing of the War and
the Antiquities (Daniel Schwartz).

In his contribution to this volume, Steve Mason’s general thesis
is “that the different views of history held by those of us who study
Roman Judaea is a sizable but mostly neglected problem.” Mason’s point
is not so much that Josephus does not potentially reflect events
of the revolt and before, but that in the absence of other evidence,
literary or otherwise, there is no opportunity for the historian to
corroborate or falsify the specifics of the events that Josephus narrates. Especially difficult is Josephus being the sole source of evidence for
people’s thoughts and motives, as Mason’s view of history is based on
Robin G. Collingwood’s philosophy of history, which perhaps most
controversially states that thoughts and intentions behind actions in
the past are the core interest of historical inquiry. Mason, therefore,
emphasizes imagining the motives of those who acted in the past in his view of history. However, he also asks how any one source can be taken as a truthful reflection of people’s motives, especially since reallife situations affect people’s motives and actions. In addition, the many people and factors involved makes it difficult to draw a simple causal line from intentions to actions and results, especially for ancient history when we do not have the wealth of evidence of modern history.

Therefore, the methodological point of departure cannot be dependent
on any one source. Rather, Mason argues that a defensible historical
method begins by asking historical questions, thinking through
different scenarios and assessing the different sources on their own
merits, and then determines whether they can or cannot help answer
our questions. If they cannot, it does not render a source unreliable or
implausible, qualifications that according to Mason are meaningless in
terms of historical method. Mason therefore takes an agnostic point of
view when it comes to much of the history of the revolt: “[A] wide
range of possible underlying events might have happened that would
still allow us to understand how Josephus produced his story.” Mason
illustrates his approach by considering two important episodes in the
revolt: the campaign of Cestius Gallus in 66 c.e. and the role of Titus
in the destruction of the Jerusalem temple. In both cases Mason is
clear about his aim: to understand the motives of Cestius Gallus and
Titus. In this respect Josephus as a source is not considered unreliable
but rather unhelpful, for which, however, he is not to be faulte😛
“[H]istorical method cannot change because we have the extraordinarily
elaborate accounts of Josephus for first-century Judaea. We are
in the same logical predicament as those who study the Josephusless
provinces.”

Other scholars take a different approach, not so explicitly concerned
with their views on the aim of history, but more with their approach to
Josephus. This reveals a fundamental difference in their point of view;
focusing primarily on one literary source, Josephus, the contention is
that historical information can be drawn from it primarily by means
of literary analysis—historical information, that is, which predates
Josephus’ Flavian context. The three following contributions focus on
Josephus’ portrayal of various figures: the Herodians, Herod the Great
and Archelaus (van Henten); Agrippa II and Berenice (Wilker); and
the Roman procurator Lucceius Albinus (Schwartz). How How and what
kind of historical information is taken from Josephus?

Jan Willem van Henten suggests that a literary analysis of three
themes helps to articulate Josephus’ own voice in his interpretation of
the events in the War and the Antiquities: (1) conflicts (stasis) within
the royal family under Herod and Archelaus, (2) the references to rebellion
during both reigns, and (3) Josephus’ characterization of both rulers.
Such an analysis may help determine the plausibility of Josephus’
presentation of rebellion under Herod and Archelaus. Comparing the
accounts in the War and the Antiquities, van Henten argues that Josephus
is tendentious in his presentation of certain events, especially
with regard to Herod. As Josephus’ depiction of Archelaus in both
works is basically the same and consistent, van Henten suggests that
Josephus’ criticism of him seems much more justified than in the case
of Herod. With Herod things are different. Van Henten argues that
there is not much evidence for large-scale rebellion or internal family
strife under Herod, or of Herod being a tyrant. Rather, “Josephus may
have re-crafted Herod’s picture in a few passages in the War, but much
more extensively in the Antiquities, to adjust it better to his basic
message about the prehistory of the war against Rome. If this conclusion
is justified, it may mean that he has projected the negative image of
Archelaus and the bandit leaders Menahem and Simon bar Giora as
tyrants retroactively onto Herod.”

Julia Wilker argues that Agrippa II more or less deliberately decided
to join the Roman side in this conflict and fought alongside the imperial
troops until the end of the war. She reads Josephus critically and
in light of other literary sources and suggests that in the War his portrayal
of King Agrippa’s participation in the Jewish war, in terms of
his actions and responsibilities, differs significantly from what we can
reconstruct as being his real role during the conflict and the succeeding
campaign: a pious Jew sympathetic towards his fellow countrymen,
although his loyalty to Rome was never in doubt, who acted as
a mediator, attempting to persuade the rebels to surrender. Wilker
argues that this portrayal of Agrippa II in Josephus’ War was not so
much determined by Josephus being dependent on Agrippa in Rome
after the revolt, but rather that it was influenced by Josephus’
selfportrayal regarding the time after his surrender at Jotapata.
Josephus’ portrayal of Agrippa II and his actions drive home the
point that “[t]he Herodians as depicted in the War could therefore
neither be blamed nor criticized for what happened in the province.”
Wilker suggests that from a Roman perspective this would make
Agrippa suitable to be included in the reorganization of the province.
She argues that Josephus had Herodian interest and self-perception in
mind while writing his work. From this she concludes that Agrippa II
aimed to gain power and influence in post-revolt Judaea, but this
effort obviously failed. Josephus’ portrayal of Agrippa II and Berenice
in the Antiquities is rather different and much more critical than in
the War.

In his contribution to this volume, Daniel Schwartz sets out to compare
Josephus’ parallel accounts of Albinus, considering what sources
Josephus had available and how his views changed between his writing
of the War and the Antiquities. Schwartz argues that Josephus is
quite consistent in his positive approach to Albinus in the Antiquities
(20.197–215), using him as a foil for Jewish villains: they are the ones
responsible for the revolt that is about to break out. However, there
is one negative passage about Albinus in the section concerned—A.J.
20.215. Schwartz suggests two possible explanations: that Albinus’
actions should actually be understood from a positive perspective, as
he was doing what a responsible procurator should do, or that Albinus
accepted bribes to release prisoners. Schwartz notes that this latter
perspective, out of tune (“remarkably self-contradictory in tone”) with
the narrative in the Antiquities, is also found in the parallel narrative
in B.J. 2.272–276.

The negative perspective on Albinus in the War, argues Schwartz,
fits Josephus’ message very well. The situation was similar to a rollercoaster
out of control. At the same time, there is a contradiction in
Josephus’ views on the matter. In the War he suggests that had Rome
sent better procurators and Jewish leaders kept their own hotheads in
check the ensuing revolt would not have been inevitable. About twenty
years later, in the Antiquities, Josephus’ message has change😛 “t was
no longer important for him to urge the Romans to send better governors.”
More importantly, in the Antiquities Josephus lays full blame
on Jewish actors, notably members of the elite. What had happened
between the account in the War and that in the Antiquities was that
Josephus brought his explanation in line with Jewish historiography
and theodicy: What had beset the Jews was due to their own sins.
As to Josephus’ manner of writing, Schwartz notes that the negative
perspective on Albinus was unintentionally retained in the Antiquities
as a rhetorical mouthpiece, in this case betraying both the influence of
the parallel account in the War and a common source.
Actually, Schwartz’s approach seems here in accord with Mason’s
methodological requirement that Josephus’ accounts are first studied
on their own merits. The historical information drawn from a comparative-
literary analysis pertains to Josephus’ context between his writing
of the War and the Antiquities, not to the revolt or its prehistory as
such. The contributions by van Henten and Wilker likewise demonstrate
similar shifts in Josephus’ perspective on figures and affairs in
pre-revolt and revolt Judaea, but in addition they make claims concerning
those historical contexts and not only that of Josephus in Flavian Rome.



4. Josephus on the Fourth Philosophy, the Sicarii
and Masada

The following three contributions are also largely concerned with Josephus,
but from different disciplinary perspectives. Pieter van der Horst
takes a philological approach to Josephus’ characterization of the
fourth philosophy as a philosophia epeisaktos. Uriel Rappaport, understanding
the fourth philosophy and the Sicarii to have been the same movement, takes a historical approach and reviews the movement’s history and several of its features on the basis of Josephus’ accounts. Jodi Magness takes an archaeological approach to the Roman siege of Masada, arguing that the material evidence supports Josephus’ account of the siege.

Pieter van der Horst argues that Josephus used the characterization
philosophia epeisaktos for the fourth philosophy in A.J. 18.9 to emphasize
that, unlike the three other philosophies (Pharisees, Sadducees,
Essenes), this one had characteristics that were intrinsically un-Jewish
and alien to the Jewish tradition. Using this phrase, Josephus refers to
the movement’s innovation and reform in ancestral traditions: freedom
from foreign domination. Van der Horst argues that the innovative
element was not paying taxes to the Romans, whereas in previous centuries
Jews had done so to the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Persians
and the Greeks: “The zeal for independence that the adherents of the
fourth philosophy conceived as a duty to God was seen by Josephus
and others as rebellion against God.” However, in light of Schultz’s discussion of the War Scroll and McLaren’s discussion of Josephus,
the Murabbaʿat documents and the revolt coins, one wonders whether
Josephus’ perspective was more informed by hindsight and his own
context than by knowledge of the historical circumstances. The zeal for
independence may have been more widespread and not only confined
to one particular group.

In his contribution to this volume, Uriel Rappaport understands
the fourth philosophy to be the same as that later referred to as the
Sicarii (“fourth philosophy” was the name given by Josephus, “Sicarii”
that given either by the Romans or Josephus). When reviewing the
group’s history, being of exceptionally long duration (approximately
63 b.c.e.–117 c.e., or perhaps even to 135 c.e.), Rappaport makes his
view on Josephus’ relationship to this group and how it influenced
his portrayal of the Sicarii very clear. First, Josephus would have been
antagonistic to the Sicarii, but not in the same personal way he was
in relation to John of Gischala. Second, when Rappaport mentions
the Sicarii’s capacity for enduring torture, he admits this may simply
be a stereotype, but he adds that on the other hand that would
not imply that it was not true: “t may point to one of the personal
deficiencies and an inferiority complex of Josephus concerning personal
courage.”

In an additional note appended to his contribution, Rappaport
responds to van der Horst’s suggestion that the zeal for liberty of the
fourth philosophy, which resulted in opposition to paying taxes, was
un-Jewish. Rappaport understands this characterization by Josephus
as a criticism of the Maccabees, who exemplified several of the features
also exhibited by the fourth philosophy.

In her contribution to this volume, Jodi Magness re-evaluates Josephus’
narrative about Masada in light of the archaeological evidence,
focusing on his account of the Roman siege and concluding that the
material evidence supports Josephus’ account of the siege. Magness
looks at the logistics of the siege and evidence for the siege itself. She
argues that Josephus’ description is consistent with the remains at
Masada, where eight camps (A-H) and a circumvallation wall with
watchtowers still encircle the base of the mountain. Also, Josephus
accurately describes the location of Flavius Silva’s camp (F). As to
the pottery remains, what the Roman soldiers ate and how provisions
were supplied, Josephus makes no reference to these matters. Here,
archaeology provides important new insights into the different aspects
of the Roman siege of Masada. Magness argues that the predominance of
locally produced bag-shaped storage jars in Camp F can be understood
in light of the supply logistics. Fresh water had to be brought to
Masada from Ein Aneva but mostly from places farther away such as
Ein Gedi, Jericho and Ein Boqeq. Unlike pottery from the legionary
kiln works in Jerusalem, which are characteristic Roman types apparently
manufactured by military potters, the bag-shaped storage jars
and local cooking pots from Camp F at Masada are Judaean types.
Magness suggests that these were manufactured by Jewish potters at
Ein Gedi, Jericho and perhaps Ein Boqeq and transported by boat
to Masada.

Discussing the evidence for the siege itself, Magness considers the
existence of an iron arrowhead workshop, catapults and ballistae, and
the siege ramp. According to Magness, Josephus’ report that Eleazar
and the Sicarii found raw metals that had been stockpiled by Herod
is supported indirectly by archaeological evidence. She argues that the
material evidence in loci 442 and 456 suggests that these rooms served
as workshops (fabricae) for the forging of iron arrowheads during the
time of the revolt. In light of the absence of iron projectile points at
Masada, Magness, together with Guy Stiebel, had previously proposed
that catapults were not employed during the siege, which contradicts
Josephus’ account. In this contribution, however, Magness argues that
the archaeological evidence can be reconciled with Josephus’ narrative.
Following Gwyn Davies, Magness believes they must have been
used but the Romans afterwards collected and recycled them. Finally,
Magness rejects the claim by Benny Arubas and Haim Goldfus that the
siege of Masada was not seen through to the end and that the siege
ramp was not operational.



5. The Jewish Revolt Coins

Considering the sources available for historical enquiry into the Jewish
revolt, the coins minted by the rebels are first-hand evidence as to the
commitment of those supporting the revolt. This volume contains two
contributions from a numismatic perspective that shed important new
light on various features of the revolt coins.
In his contribution to this volume, Robert Deutsch considers the
iconography, the minting authority and the metallurgy of the revolt
coins. Discussing the cultic iconography of the silver revolt coins, he
identifies the staff with three pomegranate buds as that of the high priest. Following Yaʿakov Meshorer, Deutsch identifies the chalice as
one of the two golden chalices depicted with other cultic vessels from
the temple on the arch of Titus.

The iconography provides important clues as to the minting authority.
The only straightforward symbol seems to be the staff, signifying
high-priestly authority. This may symbolize the minting authority:
either the priesthood or the temple institution. The consistent iconography,
epigraphy and denominations and the metallurgic similarity of
the silver coins throughout the five years demonstrate that the same
minting authority produced them. Deutsch agrees with others that
the source of the silver was the temple treasury and that the priesthood
was the minting authority. On the basis of a single “year one”
prutah, Deutsch also considers that the bronze prutot were minted by
the same minting authority. However, he agrees that the “year four”
bronze coins exhibit such significant changes (in epigraphy, the terms
of the inscriptions and new denominations) that these must point to
a different minting authority. Here, like Ariel, Deutsch relies on Josephus’
account of the different factions in Jerusalem to suggest that the
“year four” coins were issued by Simon bar Giora, as first suggested
by Baruch Kanael and supported by others. Deutsch also points to
another minting authority that was briefly active during the revolt,
that of Gamla, which produced a limited number of bronze copies of
the Jerusalem silver coins.

The final part of Deutsch’s paper is devoted to the results of a
metallurgic analysis of the silver coins, a neglected element
thus far. The high content of 98 percent silver, without
any significant deviation during the five years of the revolt,
may indicate that internal and external pressures did not affect
the high standards of the minting and the quality of the coins,
despite the decrease in the number of coins minted in the last
two years of the revolt.

Donald Ariel begins his contribution with a consideration of six
numismatic categories: iconography, the terms used in the inscriptions,
dating conventions, epigraphy, denominations and technology. From
this survey he concludes that the revolt coins (silver coins dated year
one to five, “year two” and “year three” bronze coins called prutot and
the “year four” bronze coins in three larger denominations) exhibit a
significant degree of heterogeneity in their numismatic features: “This
hints that the three groups were minted in different places and/or by
different people.”

Considering who minted the revolt coins and where, Ariel distinguishes
between the silver and the bronze coins. As to the place of the
minting of the silver coins, Ariel suggests that the most logical place
was within the temple precinct: the monumental stoa at its southern
edge, where economic and judicial functions were concentrated. As
to who was responsible, Ariel is more circumspect than Deutsch in
identifying the priesthood as the ultimate minting authority, arguing
that the minting authority may have been the priesthood, but that it
operated under or at least in coordination with those rebels who were
in command of the temple at the time: “Probably the same priests were
responsible for the minting even though the ‘minting authority’ had
changed three times. This is the reason for the stability of the silver
issues of the first Jewish revolt. The changing rebel leaderships did
not intervene.”

With regard to the bronze revolt coins, Ariel argues against Rappaport’s
thesis that both “year two” and “year three” prutot and the
“year four” bronzes were minted by Simon bar Giora. The prutot, for example,
date to a time when, according to Josephus, Simon bar Giora
was not in control of the city. Rappaport’s solution, that Simon minted
these coins outside the city of Jerusalem, is forced. Travelling mints
were mostly used for precious metal issues and, based on Deutsch’s
research, the distribution of the “year two” and “year three” coins does
not support their having been struck outside Jerusalem. Rather than
agreeing that Simon bar Giora was responsible for all bronze issues,
Ariel argues that the changes in iconography and denomination on the
coins from year three to year four suggest different minting authorities
for the two groups. Ariel suggests that the minting of Jerusalem’s
coins during the first revolt took place in separate locations and that
the bronze coins were struck in the area of today’s citadel in Jerusalem.

With regard to the exact identification of minting authorities for
the three revolt coin types, Ariel and Deutsch agree on “year four”
bronze coins having been issued by Simon bar Giora. They disagree
on the prutot, which Deutsch understands to have been minted by the
same minting authority as the silver coins, namely the temple priesthood,
whereas Ariel distinguishes two minting authorities, the silver
coins having been minted at the stoa in the temple precincts under
the authority of the priesthood (but with the ultimate authority of one
of the rebel factions during the five years) and the bronze coins having
been minted at another location—the citadel. Ariel ascribes these
bronze prutot to John of Gischala and the Zealots.

Deutsch and Ariel rely on Josephus’ accounts of who was in control
at various times and over which parts of the city of Jerusalem for
the exact identification of the minting authorities (cf. also, in more
general terms, Tacitus, Hist. 5.12.2–4). Whether or not one agrees
with the specific identifications, the numismatic analyses by Deutsch
and Ariel add important data to McLaren’s suggestions, as they differentiate
between different minting authorities and different locations.
This demonstrates, independently from Josephus, broadly based
support for the revolt against Rome. How broad the public support
was for this revolt cannot be exactly determined, but it is clear that
important members of the Jerusalem elite were involved. Nonetheless,
the Murabbaʿat documents may, as McLaren suggests, signify a more
widespread acceptance among the public of the new era inaugurated
by the revolt. In terms of method then, the numismatic perspectives of
McLaren, Deutsch and Ariel demonstrate what kind of historical
data can be inferred from the Jewish revolt coins, independently of
Josephus’ accounts.



6. Jewish and Christian Perspectives from Epigraphy and the New Testament

The final two contributions to this volume offer perspectives from
sources that are not used very often by historians of the first revolt.
Jonathan Price presents Jewish epigraphic evidence from Jerusalem
to enquire into aspects of Jewish life before and immediately after
the revolt. George van Kooten presents a case for the dating of three
Christian texts contemporary to the revolt and considers how these
texts perceive the revolt in the broader Roman context, especially
focusing on the figure of Nero.

Jonathan Price focuses primarily on one particular source: inscriptions
by Jews from first-century c.e. Jerusalem. Most of these texts
come from funerary contexts; however, some of the non-funerary
Jewish inscriptions have caused the most controversy. These are the
inscribed texts of various kinds, found near the walls of the Temple
Mount, many of which were thrown there during the systematic
destruction by the Romans in 70 c.e. Price points out that most of
them are intelligible only by reference to literary sources. However, the
Greek donation text and the Theodotos inscription add information
(about the financing of the temple through smaller contributions by
private citizens) and invalidate historical conclusions based on literary
sources alone (the first-century date of a synagogue in Jerusalem
for foreign Jews visiting the city). The donation and the Theodotos
inscriptions supplement the evidence, both literary and epigraphic, for
large numbers of visitors and established communities of foreign Jews
in Jerusalem before the destruction.

Jewish funerary inscriptions and practices in Jerusalem reveal the
impact of the Roman destruction on the Jewish population, with secondary
burial coming to an abrupt, almost complete halt. Price admits
that “in no instance can the unfinished state of a cave or ossuary, or
the presence of unburied bones, be definitely attributed to the war,
but surely the signs of haste and incompletion in so many of the caves
are the product of both the high mortality rate and the disruption in
routine caused by the Roman siege.” Nonetheless, in a few instances,
families were able to lay out their dead in caves after 70 c.e. and
return to put the bones in ossuaries. Price doubts whether these
families lived in Jerusalem: “The presence of the Tenth Legion in the
ruins of the city would have been a deterrent to Jews returning to
live there.”

Finally, Price points to recent archaeological, rather than epigraphic
evidence that sheds important new light on the Jewish population of
Jerusalem between the two revolts. Salvage excavations in Shuʿafat,
about 4 km north of the Old City of Jerusalem revealed the remains of
a settlement that was founded after 70 c.e. and abandoned and partly
destroyed, at the latest, in the first or second year of the Bar Kokhba
revolt. The excavators interpreted the site as a prosperous Jewish
settlement just 4 km north of Jerusalem, established in the last year
or two of the revolt or immediately afterwards, which must have had
the approval of the Roman authorities. Price refers to Josephus’ account
of Titus treating Jewish prisoners of higher social standing with special
consideration and argues that this settlement fits the description of
Givʿat Shaul, mentioned by Josephus.

In his contribution to this volume George van Kooten argues that
Christian sources such as 2 Thessalonians, Revelation and Mark are
contemporary to the events of the year of the four emperors and that
these Christian texts perceive the Jewish revolt within the larger context
of Roman politics at the time. More specifically, these Christian
sources exhibit a fear of Nero’s imminent return from the east. This
fear was due to the events regarding the great fire in Rome in 64 c.e.,
when Nero blamed the Christians, leading to their persecution. Van
Kooten argues that Jews were not similarly fearful of Nero because
they did not experience anything like this under his rule. Nonetheless,
he adduces Jewish sources such as book 4 of the Sybilline Oracles and
Josephus, as well as Roman sources such as Tacitus and the Templum
Pacis in Rome, to argue that these also perceive of the Jewish revolt in
its contemporary setting of Rome’s civil war and Nero’s death. Thus,
the New Testament texts that van Kooten adduces demonstrate the
earliest Christian reflections, contemporary to Josephus, upon the Jewish
revolt against Rome.



7. Concluding Remarks

What unites the contributions in this volume is obviously not one
view of the revolt’s history. In fact, the contributions reveal different
views even concerning what history is. Nevertheless, while there are
differences with regard to historical approaches and explanations, various
contributions also exhibit consensus on various issues. The focus
of this collection is on historiographical and methodological reflections
on our sources, their nature and the sort of historical questions
they allow us to answer. All of these issues are fraught with conceptual
and methodological difficulties and are not self-evident. Some contributors
reflect more consciously on the historical method, while others
illustrate their historical method through a concrete engagement with
the different sources. Some contributors put historical questions at the
forefront, while others provide a closer analysis of their sources, from
which they infer historical knowledge. What then unites the articles in
this collection is the sustained effort made to study the Jewish revolt,
using various perspectives and approaches that may inform as well as
challenge one another. In this regard, this volume aims to open up and
stimulate new avenues of interdisciplinary study of the revolt against
Rome in first-century c.e. Judaea. It might not be the greatest war
ever fought, but it certainly warrants sustained investigation, if only
because of its afterlife.



Youtube video link about Jewish Revolt Against Rome
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTxDcif-XT4&feature=youtu.be&t=17

THE JEWISH REVOLT AGAINST ROME:
HISTORY, SOURCES AND PERSPECTIVES

by Mladen Popović

Jewish Revolt against Rome

The Jewish Revolt Researchment by Mladen Popović in academia.edu