The Evolution of Writing Practices in Ancient Israel

The Evolution of Writing Practices in Ancient Israel

Yigal Bin-Nun

Currently, the epigraphic data from the region provide a reliable overview of literacy and the dissemination of narrative texts across different periods, as well as their diffusion among various social strata. Until the early 8th century BCE, no inscriptions of a developed literary or administrative nature emerged in Israel and Judah, with the exception of very brief inscriptions found at Sarabit el-Khadim in Sinai, Izbet Sartah (Even haEzer), Khirbet Qeiyafa, Tel es-Safi (Gath), Beit Shemesh, Gezer, and Tel Zayit. This limited epigraphic activity challenges the notion of a widespread production of sophisticated texts as early as the 10th century BCE.

It was in the 8th century BCE that the first administrative inscriptions appeared, attesting to the existence of a bureaucratic system—particularly in Israel under the reign of Jeroboam II (ca. 788–748 BCE) and later in Judah during the reigns of Hezekiah (ca. 715–687 BCE) and Josiah (ca. 640–609 BCE). In Jerusalem, a true written culture only emerged by the mid-7th century, with the circulation of the earliest biblical manuscripts, such as Deuteronomy. Prior to this, the societies of the region lacked the material, intellectual, and institutional means to compose narratives as extensive and sophisticated as those found in the books of Samuel and Kings.

Approximately three centuries after the presumed reigns of Saul, David, and Solomon, a significant shift in writing practices began in the second third of the 7th century. Inscriptions discovered at the fortress of Hashavyahu and of Hoshayahu near Lachish attest to the broader diffusion of writing beyond royal administrative circles, reaching wider social strata. This development sheds light on the beginnings of complex literary works, particularly those of the earliest writing prophets—such as Amos, Hosea, Micah, and Isaiah ben-Amots—who lived among communities capable of reading their texts transcribed on parchment.

Although the mythical literature of Ugarit in northern Syria dates back to the 14th century BCE, it contains no elaborate historiographical texts or detailed accounts of court life in the kingdoms. Judah only became a relatively structured kingdom starting with the reign of Ahaz, thanks to the economic globalization policies initiated by Tiglath-Pileser III (745–727 BCE), the Assyrian king. The cultural context of the 10th century was thus far removed from this more developed setting, making it unlikely that the impressive narratives of the books of Samuel and Kings could have been composed at that time.

Even assuming that scribes in the courts of David and Solomon possessed sufficiently advanced knowledge to produce such texts, a fundamental question remains: How could this expertise have disappeared under their successors? Why did later kings lack scribes capable of recording crucial events during the reigns of Jeroboam and Rehoboam at the end of the 10th century? Why were these events transmitted only as prophetic legends, orally, and only written down much later? The absence of detailed accounts of the campaign of Shoshenq, king of Egypt, following Solomon’s reign—while David’s wars against the Philistines are extensively documented—further raises questions.

During the Battle of Qarqar (853 BCE) on the Orontes in Syria, a coalition of twelve kingdoms led by Adad-Idri of Damascus and Irhuleni of Hamath confronted Shalmaneser III, the Assyrian emperor. Among the participants was King Ahab of Israel, commanding a contingent estimated at 10,000 soldiers and 2,000 chariots. How can we explain the absence of any mention of this famous battle in the book of Kings? An event of such significance for Israel’s history is known to us solely through external sources.

What dramatic events in the 9th century could account for a regression in the use and dissemination of writing compared to the previous century? Even the reigns of Hezekiah and Josiah in the 8th and 7th centuries—kings highly revered by the compilers of the book of Kings—are not described with the same level of detail as those of David and Solomon in the 10th century. Moreover, the symbolic duration of their reigns, set at “forty years,” suggests that the authors did not know their exact lengths, unlike the book of Kings’ later practice of systematically specifying reign durations from Jeroboam and Rehoboam onward. Similarly, the reigns of Saul, David, and Solomon lack the conventional formula directing readers to a reference source: “Now the rest of the acts of [king’s name], are they not written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel/Judah?”

A Historiography Subsequent to the Described Era

The biblical account of the events of the 10th century may perplex the modern scholar and raise doubts. From where did the biblical authors derive such precise knowledge of such remote times? How could they have known the thoughts and reflections of kings? The answer is evident: the narratives concerning the first kings of the Davidic line were not written during their lifetimes but were composed more than a century later. In such a context, only selective elements of the dramatic events of this period could have persisted in collective memory. This does not, however, imply that later scribes refrained from incorporating certain ancient traditions to lend their accounts an appearance of reliability and authenticity. For instance, they took care to integrate—with some adaptations—heroic tales transmitted orally, such as the combat between Goliath the Philistine and Elhanan ben Yaari of Bethlehem, a story later attributed to the young David (2 Samuel 21:19).

Nevertheless, it is crucial not to interpret these narratives as mere literary entertainment or as art for art’s sake. These authors had a political objective, solidified following Assyria’s conquest of the Kingdom of Israel. Their aim was to provide the inhabitants of Judah, beginning with Manasseh’s reign, with a glorified reinterpretation of their kingdom’s history, particularly centered on the prestige of the former Israelite kingdom. According to this ideological construct, great kings were said to have ruled in Jerusalem in a distant past, over a unified territory encompassing both Israel and Judah—portrayed as a single, powerful, and prestigious kingdom. This strategy sought to symbolically restore the former glory of the Israelite kingdom, now integrated into Judah. It is within this context that the notion of a “United Monarchy” emerged—a literary construct that captivated the collective imagination across generations, even though the biblical scribes themselves never gave it a formal name.

To compose narratives of such precision concerning the grand epic of Saul, David, and Solomon, the authors must have possessed an intimate knowledge of royal court operations, its mechanisms, and routines. In my view, the reign that served as the model for these texts was that of Manasseh (697–643 BCE). According to my assessment, this court, of Israelite origin, constituted the aristocracy of Jerusalem, and its scribes predated their reformist rivals from the clan of Shafan ben Azaliahu, scribe to King Josiah. It is hardly surprising that, among the twenty or so chapters devoted to David the Judahite in the books of Samuel and Kings, only six evaluate him favorably compared to Saul the Israelite (2 Samuel 5:1–5). In other passages, a sharp, subtle, and thinly veiled critique is directed at David. It is difficult to imagine that a scribe serving a king of his own dynasty would have dared to express such criticism of its founder. Consequently, the unfavorable accounts of David were likely written by Israelite scribes, whereas critiques of Saul would have originated from Judahite scribes.

These observations suggest that the narratives concerning Saul, David, and Solomon were written long after the era to which they are attributed. They reflect the political and ideological concerns of authors from the 7th century BCE, or even later. These are less contemporary chronicles than foundational narratives intended to legitimize Judahite royal power by projecting unity and grandeur onto a prestigious past. This strategy served to unify collective memories, reintegrate the populations of the North into a shared history, and reinforce Jerusalem’s centrality as both a political and religious capital.