Anathea E. Portier-Young’s Apocalypse against Empire (originally release in 2011) comprises, to quote John Collins from the book’s foreword, “an important contribution to the study of Judea under Seleucid rule and to the social context of apocalyptic literature” (xiii). Winner of the 2013 Manfred Lautenschlaeger Award for Theological Promise, and now rereleased in a more affordable paperback edition, Portier-Young’s study continues to receive enthusiastic and widespread support. In this review I provide an overview of her work, followed by some brief reflections on what I perceive to be two of the book’s major contributions.
Method: “Theorizing Resistance” (pp. 3–45)
In the book’s opening chapter, Portier-Young lays out her methodological approach. Primarily through dialogue with modern anthropologists, as well as with some continental philosophers such as Bourdieu and Foucault, she develops “a conceptual framework for the terms resistance, hegemony, and domination” (p. 27). She then sharpens her approach further via a critique James C. Scott’s theoretical work and, in particular, his notion of “hidden transcripts” (pp. 31–37). According to Portier-Young, Scott’s model fails because it severs belief from praxis: “. . . the covert, anonymous, and ambiguous speech forms that convey these alternative visions of reality reveal that these forms do not seek to challenge or transform the current world order at all. They are to remain in the realm of fantasy, leaving the ‘real’ world untouched” (p. 36). Portier-Young asserts, to the contrary, that apocalyptic literature makes no such disconnect; rather, “The thesis of apocalyptic literature is that hidden realities ineluctably shape the visible, and therefore must be revealed: revelation of hidden things provides the necessary basis for action” (p. 37, my emphasis).
Historical Account: “Seleucid Domination in Judea” (pp. 49–216)
In part two of the book (chs. 2–6), Portier-Young provides a robust historical account of Judea under Hellenistic rule, with special attention to the period of Seleucid domination. Her account offers a fresh reading of the sources that challenges some of the older interpretations. For example, she employs Homi Bhabha’s conception of “cultural hybridity” (p. 75) to demonstrate that it is a mistake to conceive of the category “Hellenistic” as an opposing force to all that is “Jewish.” What we see, instead, is something far more complex: when “Jewish” (or “Judean”) literature resists “Hellenism,” it often does so by trading upon concepts and models derived from “Hellenistic” culture; moreover, it was never the goal of Antiochus IV, as tradent of “Hellenism,” to eradicate “Judaism” as such; rather, his anti-Jewish policies and re-conquest of Judea were part of a large strategy to solidify and, indeed, “re-create,” his empire (pp. 115–39). Thus, the horrors of “Seleucid state terror” (massacres, home invasions, plundering of the temple, etc.) are to be seen as the out-workings of Antiochus’ wider imperial program: by deconstructing the very symbols that comprised Judean identity, he aimed to re-present the world according to his liking. It is against this backdrop that the apocalypticists construct their “theologies of resistance.”
Analysis of Apocalyptic Sources: “Apocalyptic Theologies of Resistance” (pp. 217–381)
In part three (chs. 7–10), Portier-Young treats the strategies of resistance at work in the apocalyptic material in Daniel (Dan 7–12), the Apocalypse of Weeks (1 En. 93:1–10+ 91:11–17), and the Book of Dreams (1 En. 83–90). In each instance she examines how the seer’s vision and interpretation informs communal praxis. For the primary audience of the Daniel—the maśkîlîm—Daniel’s visions and interpretations unlocks a pattern of reading scripture via an apocalyptic framework (pp. 265–72). That is, by situating a deuteronmistic-covenantal framework within a historical-apocalyptic framework, the maśkîlîm circumscribed empire’s all-encompassing claims within God’s providential ordering of the world. Additionally, by articulating a communal identity vis-à-vis Isaiah’s Servant (Isa 52:13–53:12), the maśkîlîm found the scriptural resources to pursue a public strategy of non-violent resistance to Antiochus’s regime (pp. 272–76): “. . . suffering and death in the face of persecution were . . . part of the efficacious teaching of the maśkîlîm . . . They would die because their witness was public, and their refusal plainly known . . . Their suffering and death thus testified to their confession and choice, giving an example to many that was also proof of faith” (p. 276, my emphasis). For the primary audiences of the Enochic apocalypses, however, a different strategy of resistance is pursued. In the Apocalypse of Weeks all of human history is divided into ten weeks, where the community’s faithful witnesses in the seventh week anticipates the eighth week, when “a sword will be given to all the righteous” (1 En. 91:12) to execute capital punishment against the wicked at the eschaton (pp. 337–40). In the Book of Dreams, on the other hand, God’s people are summoned to take arms in anticipation of the eschaton. One of God’s “sheep” (Judas Maccabeus) sprouts a great horn (1 En. 90:9) and receives a sword from God’s heavenly scribe (90:19) to lead the faithful into battle (pp. 368–79). Thus, in the case of each of the texts, the seer’s vision provides the impetus for a different strategy of resistance. Indeed, even the apocalypses that prescribe a militant role for the righteous differ with regards to when and how they are to perform this role.
By way of conclusion, I highlight two points that I perceive to be among some of the more significant contributions of Portier-Young’s study. First, this book makes an important advance on the socio-political role of apocalyptic literature. Throughout her study Portier-Young consistently and persuasive demonstrates that apocalyptic visions and interpretations are what fund the different forms of resistance to imperial claims. As a corollary, this makes a strong implicit case that the seer’s visions of the “real” or the “mythic realistic” level of the apocalypse are absolutely essential for political action (hence the appropriate subtitle of the book, “Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism”). Second, this book makes an important methodological contribution to the ongoing conversation about how various communities respond to imperial hegemony and, in addition, offers some suggestions as to how ancient apocalyptic “theologies of resistance” may inform modern political theology.
Bottom Line: This book represents an important contribution to our understanding of (1) Judean history during the Seleucid and Hasmonean period, (2) the functions of apocalyptic literature within that period, and (3) the ways in which scripture can provide counter-liturgies to the claims of empires. I would highly recommend this book to all who are interested in this area—seasoned scholars and neophytes alike.
Review by Max Botner
University of St Andrews
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