Biblical Pseudepigraphy: Are Falsely Attributed Biblical Texts Deceptive?

The term Pseudepigrapha, borrowed from Greek to indicate falsely-attributed works, is best known as a modern collective name for a substantial portion of Second Temple Period literature.^[1] This is due the fact that a great many Second Temple period works are indeed falsely titled. For example, 1 and 2 Enoch are presented as being ancient, written by the biblical Enoch (Gen 5:21­–24).^[2] Yet the phenomenon of pseudepigraphy is not only post-biblical. Several biblical books and book-sections can also be described as pseudepigraphic. Attempting to clarify the matter scholars often speak of two kinds of pseudepigraphy: scribal and authorial.^[3]

1. Scribal Pseudepigraphy

Scribal pseudepigraphy (sometimes called “secondary pseudepigraphy”) refers to works whose false attribution was assigned not by the authors, but by later scribes or editors. For example, many biblical psalms are attributed to David (and other figures), while sections of Proverbs (see 1:1; 10:1) and the entirety of Song of Songs (1:1) are attributed to Solomon. Yet little or nothing beyond the headings or introductory verses suggest authors are trying to pass off their compositions as coming from these famous historical personages. Thus, these provide straightforward examples of scribal pseudepigraphy. The psalms, poems, and proverbs were likely composed by unknown authors for different occasions—the attributions, the false titles, came later.

Similarly, Isaiah 40–66 (what scholars call Deutero- and Trito-Isaiah) says nothing about being from the prophet Isaiah, nor do these chapters make an attempt to mimic the style or persona of the earlier prophet. Nevertheless, later scribes, by adjoining Isaiah 40–66 to Isaiah 1–39 (whether at once or in stages), have left us with a work from multiple authors and time periods, all now attributed to Isaiah—another instance of scribal, or secondary pseudepigraphy.

Speeches and Testaments

Scribal pseudepigraphy—albeit of a more creative sort—is also a reasonable description for speeches found inside biblical books (e.g., Joshua 23:1–16, 1 Sam 12:1–25, 1 Kings 2:1–10),^[4] several of which are presented as farewell addresses, last wills or testaments. This pertains particularly to the book of Deuteronomy, commonly dated by scholars to the time of King Josiah, c. 620 B.C.E., but much of which comes across as a series of first-person discourses by Moses (Deut 1:6, 9).^[5]

Deuteronomy’s embedded speeches are so extensive that some scholars, therefore, speak of the entire book as an authorial pseudepigraph (see below)—even a pious fraud.^[6] But various mitigating factors—including an anonymous narrative frame and evident extensive use of earlier sources^[7]—also permit us to speak of Deuteronomy as a rather complicated case of scribal, or secondary, pseudepigraphy. Deuteronomy’s readers understand that the embedded speeches are being presented by an anonymous narrator, who stands between the speaker and the reader.^[8]

2. Authorial Pseudepigraphy

The other kind of pseudepigraphy—rarer in the Hebrew Bible—is what we can call authorial pseudepigraphy. This takes place when an author intentionally conveys the impression that the work is not by the actual author, but by the person whom the author pretends to be.

Kohelet

The book of Ecclesiastes presents a subtle case. Traditionally, the book is understood as one of Solomon’s works of wisdom. According to the Aramaic Targum, the book was composed by Solomon in a prophecy-inspired depression:

^{תרגום קהלת א:ב} כַּד חֲזָא שְׁלֹמֹה מַלְכָּא דְּיִשְׂרָאֵל בְּרוּחַ נְבוּאָה יָת מַלְכוּת רְחַבְעָם בְּרֵיהּ דְעָתִיד לְאִתְפַּלְגָא עִם יָרָבְעָם בַּר נְבָט וְיָת יְרוּשְׁלֵם וּבֵית מוּקְדְשָׁא דְאִינוּן עֲתִידִין לְמֶחֱרַב וְיָת בְנֵי עַמָּא בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל דִי אִינוּן עֲתִידִין לְמִגְלֵי אָמַר בְּמֵימְרֵיהּ הֲבֵל הֲבָלַיָא...

^{Targum Kohelet 1:2} When King Solomon envisioned, by the spirit of prophecy that the kingdom of his son Rehoboam would in the future be split with Jeroboam son of Nebat, and that Jerusalem and its temple would in the future be destroyed, and that the people of the house of Israel would in the future be exiled, he said by divine word, “Utter futility!”…

In the book itself, the author speaks in the first person of his wisdom, royalty, and even Davidic descent:

^{קהלת א:א} דִּבְרֵי קֹהֶלֶת בֶּן דָּוִד מֶלֶךְ בִּירוּשָׁלָ͏ִם.

^{Eccl 1:1} The words of Kohelet son of David, king in Jerusalem.

^{קהלת א:יב} אֲנִי קֹהֶלֶת הָיִיתִי מֶלֶךְ עַל יִשְׂרָאֵל בִּירוּשָׁלָ͏ִם.

^{Eccl 1:12} I, Kohelet, was king in Jerusalem over Israel.

Yet, the use of the false (and even feminine-sounding) name Kohelet, “convener,” adds a layer of ambiguity: the book is almost, but not quite, written in the name of Solomon. The use of the pseudonym renders the book less pseudepigraphic. The author is winking at us, forcing us to think about Solomon, asking us to wonder whether the author could be Solomon, but without requiring of us to commit to the ruse.

Daniel

The clearest example of authorial pseudepigraphy in the Hebrew Bible is the second half of the book of Daniel (chs. 7–12). Composed in the first person (e.g. “I, Daniel” 7:15, 28), the chapters present themselves as the visions of Daniel, a Persian period sage and prophet, whose narrative takes up the first six chapters of the book. And yet, the use of Greek loanwords, and reference to specific events related to Alexander the Great and his successors, show that the dreams/prophecies found in chapters 7–12 were composed in the second century B.C.E., during the reign of terror of Antiochus IV Epiphanes.^[9]

In this case, the false attribution is not some later, scribal addition that was grafted onto an earlier work, but part and parcel of the authorial practice. Here’s the rub: unlike with Kohelet, we must confront the fact that a biblical author of Daniel 7–12 is lying to us, pretending to be someone he is not.

Pseudepigraphic Success and Failure

On the whole, these deceptions worked. Rabbinic literature takes it for granted that Kohelet was written by Solomon. As for Daniel: Not only the rabbis, but even the greatest Jewish historian of antiquity, Josephus, was completely taken in by the ruse—even though he lived relatively close to the period of the book’s composition.

Understanding Daniel to be speaking of—foretelling—the Antiochene persecution, Josephus viewed Daniel as Israel’s greatest prophet of all time. For Daniel alone was able not only to discern what would happen in the future, but also to indicate precisely when such events would happen:

^{Antiquities 10:266} Now it is fitting to relate certain things about this man (Daniel) which one may greatly wonder at hearing, namely that all things happened to him in a marvelously fortunate way as to one of the greatest prophets… ^10:267 For the books which he wrote and left behind are still read by us even now, and we are convinced by them that Daniel spoke with God, for he was not only wont to prophesy future things, as did the other prophets, but he also fixed the time at which these would come to pass. (LCL trans.)^[10]

And yet, the deception didn’t fool those who didn’t want to be fooled. The ancient philosopher and anti-Christian polemicist, Porphyry of Tyre (c. 234– c. 305 C.E.) was one of the first to view the book of Daniel in the way that modern scholars do. His polemical works were burned in antiquity, and are only known through quotations in early Church writings. For example, the Christian Church Father Jerome (ca. 342/7–420 CE) relates in the prologue to his own commentary on Daniel:^[11]

Porphyry wrote his twelfth book against the prophecy of Daniel, denying that it was composed by the person to whom it is ascribed in its title, but rather by some individual living in Judaea at the time of the Antiochus who was surnamed Epiphanes. He furthermore alleged that “Daniel” did not foretell the future so much as he related the past, and lastly that whatever he spoke of up till the time of Antiochus contained authentic history, whereas anything he may have conjectured beyond that point was false, inasmuch as he would not have foreknown the future.

Jerome argues against Porphyry’s claims, but the point has been established: skeptics can see through the ruse, while the faithful continue to be deceived.

Is Pseudepigraphy Forgery or Inspiration?

It is not uncommon to find modern scholars defending pseudepigraphy as a literary convention.^[12] But to say so simply restates the fundamental problem: how we are to understand and evaluate this convention?

The late skeptical historian of ancient Judaism, Morton Smith (1915–1991), scornfully derided pseudepigraphy as a form of forgery.^[13] One of his mentors, the great scholar of mysticism Gershom Scholem (1897–1982), who was concerned above all with the Zohar, took a kinder, gentler approach.^[14]

The Zohar as Inspiration

Traditionally attributed to Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, but composed largely in medieval Spain by Moses de León (c. 1240 – 1305), the Zohar is, arguably, the most successful and most influential pseudepigraphic work in the Jewish religious tradition. For Scholem, although it was certainly pseudepigraphic, it was no forgery:

[Kabbalistic] pseudepigraphy was, in my opinion, based on two impulses, psychological and historic. The psychological stimulus emanates from modesty and the feeling that a Kabbalist who had been vouchsafed the gift of inspiration should shun ostentation. The historic impulse, on the other hand, was bound up with the desire to influence the writer's contemporaries. Hence the search for historic continuity and the sanctification of authority, and the tendency to lend to Kabbalistic literature the lustre of some great name from Biblical or Talmudic times. The Zohar, or the “Book of Splendor,” is the most famous, but by no means the sole example, of such pseudepigraphy.^[15]

Scholem presents several arguments in defense of pseudepigraphy. These apply to biblical pseudepigraphy as well as kabbalistic texts:

1. Humility—The negation of the individual author is motivated not by spite or deception, but by the sincere belief that the literary product in question is neither individual nor his own.
2. Negation of originality—The equally sincere belief that the literary product is inspired by and in continuity with prior tradition.
3. The desire to persuade—accomplished by attributing the new work to a figure of the past.

The third point is as explanatory as the first two but less exculpatory: this is precisely the ruse that Porphyry in the past and Smith in the present objected to. Even if this is the motive, is not the (false) attribution to a figure of the past an act of deception that constitutes literary forgery?

A Feeling of Continuity

Some scholars attempt to answer this objection by combining psychological and historical explanations. The British theologian David S. Russell (1916–2010) wrote that the authors of pseudepigraphic works such as Daniel:

were conscious of standing near the end of a long line of distinctive apocalyptic tradition stretching far back into the past and having its origin and inspiration in such illustrious men as Enoch, Moses, Ezra and Daniel. So conscious were they of their place within this tradition, and so indebted were they for what they themselves had received from the past, that they could rightly regard themselves not as original writers at all, but simply as inheritors and interpreters of what, under divine inspiration, they had already received.^[16]

Some authors have taken this even one step further, identifying evidence within such books that testifies to disorienting, visual religious experiences. For example, Hebrew University’s Michael E. Stone, one of the leading authorities on apocalyptic literature, tentatively suggested^[17] that seers like the author of Daniel not only believed that they were inspired by authentic Danielic traditions but even, perhaps, took on or otherwise became the person Daniel, at least temporarily, and experienced himself as Daniel:

^{דניאל י:ז} וְרָאִיתִי אֲנִי דָנִיֵּאל לְבַדִּי אֶת הַמַּרְאָה וְהָאֲנָשִׁים אֲשֶׁר הָיוּ עִמִּי לֹא רָאוּ אֶת הַמַּרְאָה אֲבָל חֲרָדָה גְדֹלָה נָפְלָה עֲלֵיהֶם וַיִּבְרְחוּ בְּהֵחָבֵא. ^י:ח וַאֲנִי נִשְׁאַרְתִּי לְבַדִּי וָאֶרְאֶה אֶת הַמַּרְאָה הַגְּדֹלָה הַזֹּאת וְלֹא נִשְׁאַר בִּי כֹּח וְהוֹדִי נֶהְפַּךְ עָלַי לְמַשְׁחִית וְלֹא עָצַרְתִּי כֹּחַ.

^{Daniel 10:7} I, Daniel, alone saw the vision; the people who were with me did not see the vision, though a great trembling fell upon them, and they fled and hid themselves. ^10:8 So I was left alone to see this great vision. My strength left me, and my complexion grew deathly pale, and I retained no strength.

As intriguing as this sounds, conjuring altered states of consciousness doesn’t end the moral debate. Even if we can readily imagine a person having a transformative religious experience, it’s more difficult to conceive how that experience would persist into the act of writing, without deceptive intent.

Deceptive Intent

In a thorough review of the question, Armin Baum of the Giessen School of Theology concludes:

By attributing the writing of their books to ancient seers, the apocalyptists wanted to deceive their audience—not necessarily about the revelatory content of their books but very specifically about the books’ historical origin.^[18]

I think Baum is right. Even if Scholem, Russell, and Stone all correctly identify frames of humility, inspiration and even hallucination that mitigate the falsehoods involved, at the end of the day pseudepigraphy, as a literary convention, functions deceptively. The audience is led to believe that the works were composed by someone who did not write them.

Deception in the Bible

Once we have granted that authorial biblical pseudepigraphy involves conscious subterfuge, we do well to contextualize pseudepigraphy within the well-known broader frame of deception, which abounds in the Bible.^[19]

In fear, Abraham lies (or half-lies) about his wife and ostensible half-sister Sarah (Gen. 12:10-20; 20:1-18); Isaac follows suit regarding Rebecca, without any half-sister excuse (26:6-11). Distrustful of Esau, Jacob and his mother Rebecca deceive Isaac into blessing Jacob (27:1-45). Covering an even greater crime, Jacob’s sons deceive him into thinking Joseph has been mauled by an animal instead of sold into slavery (37:29–35). On the positive side, the Egyptian midwives act heroically, then lie to Pharaoh about their refusal to follow his order to kill the Hebrew newborn boys (Exod 1:19).

Even God gets into the deception business, by instructing Moses to lie to Pharaoh:^[20]

^{שמות ג:יח} וְשָׁמְעוּ לְקֹלֶךָ וּבָאתָ אַתָּה וְזִקְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶל מֶלֶךְ מִצְרַיִם וַאֲמַרְתֶּם אֵלָיו יְ־הוָה אֱלֹהֵי הָעִבְרִיִּים נִקְרָה עָלֵינוּ וְעַתָּה נֵלֲכָה נָּא דֶּרֶךְ שְׁלֹשֶׁת יָמִים בַּמִּדְבָּר וְנִזְבְּחָה לַי־הוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ.

^{Exodus 3:18} You shall go with the elders of Israel to the king of Egypt and you shall say to him, “YHWH, the God of the Hebrews, manifested Himself to us. Now therefore, let us go a distance of three days into the wilderness to sacrifice to YHWH our God.”

Moses and Aaron do just that:

^{שמות ה:ג} וַיֹּאמְרוּ אֱלֹהֵי הָעִבְרִים נִקְרָא עָלֵינוּ נֵלֲכָה נָּא דֶּרֶךְ שְׁלֹשֶׁת יָמִים בַּמִּדְבָּר וְנִזְבְּחָה לַי־הוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ פֶּן יִפְגָּעֵנוּ בַּדֶּבֶר אוֹ בֶחָרֶב.

^{Exodus 5:3} The God of the Hebrews has manifested Himself to us. Let us go, we pray, a distance of three days into the wilderness to sacrifice to YHWH our God, lest He strike us with pestilence or sword.

Not only is deception sometimes excusable in the Hebrew Bible—whether out of fear or concern for some greater good—sometimes it is precisely what God wants Israelites to do.^[21]

Joseph’s Brothers’ Pseudepigraphic Lie to Save Themselves

After their father’s death, Joseph’s brothers are afraid that he is planning vengeance:

^{בראשית נ:טו} וַיִּרְאוּ אֲחֵי יוֹסֵף כִּי מֵת אֲבִיהֶם וַיֹּאמְרוּ לוּ יִשְׂטְמֵנוּ יוֹסֵף וְהָשֵׁב יָשִׁיב לָנוּ אֵת כָּל הָרָעָה אֲשֶׁר גָּמַלְנוּ אֹתוֹ.

^{Gen 50:15} When Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrong that we did him!”

As a consequence, the brothers present him with their father’s alleged dying request that he not harm them:

^נ:טז וַיְצַוּוּ אֶל יוֹסֵף לֵאמֹר אָבִיךָ צִוָּה לִפְנֵי מוֹתוֹ לֵאמֹר. ^נ:יז כֹּה תֹאמְרוּ לְיוֹסֵף אָנָּא שָׂא נָא פֶּשַׁע אַחֶיךָ וְחַטָּאתָם כִּי רָעָה גְמָלוּךָ וְעַתָּה שָׂא נָא לְפֶשַׁע עַבְדֵי אֱלֹהֵי אָבִיךָ וַיֵּבְךְּ יוֹסֵף בְּדַבְּרָם אֵלָיו.

^50:16 So they sent this message to Joseph, “Before his death your father left this instruction: ^50:17 So shall you say to Joseph, ‘Forgive, I urge you, the offense and guilt of your brothers who treated you so harshly.’ Therefore, please forgive the offense of the servants of the God of your father.” And Joseph was in tears as they spoke to him.

Joseph responds by telling his brothers that as God intended their action for good, he will not hold it against them. It is possible to read this account as truthful, and that we are supposed to assume that Jacob had, in fact, committed to them an instruction not shared directly with Joseph. Yet, given that Genesis records extensive interactions between Joseph and his ailing father (48:1–22), as well as Jacob’s farewell address to all his sons (49:1–33), the brothers’ account seems unlikely, even counter-intuitive.

It is better to read this story with suspicion, understanding that the brothers’ testimony here is false: Jacob said no such thing. According to Genesis Rabbah, the 2^nd century sage, R. Simeon ben Gamaliel, already suspected the brothers of lying:

^{בראשית רבה ק:טז} תָּנֵי רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן גַּמְלִיאֵל אוֹמֵר גָּדוֹל הַשָּׁלוֹם שֶׁאַף הַשְּׁבָטִים דִּבְּרוּ דְבָרִים בְּדוּיִם בִּשְׁבִיל לְהַטִּיל שָׁלוֹם בֵּין יוֹסֵף לַשְּׁבָטִים, הֲדָא הוּא דִכְתִיב: וַיְצַוּוּ אֶל יוֹסֵף לֵאמֹר וגו', וְהֵיכָן צִוָּה לֹא מָצִינוּ שֶׁצִּוָּה.

^{Genesis Rabbah 100.16} It is taught: R. Simeon ben Gamaliel said: So great is peace that even the tribes spoke made-up words in order to establish peace between the tribes and Joseph, as it is written, “So they sent this message (Va-ye-tzavu…) to Joseph, ‘Before his death your father left this instruction (tzivah)’.” And where did he instruct? We cannot find that he so instructed.^[22]

The relevance of the Genesis passage and its traditional interpretation are clear enough: Claiming that some prior figure said something that they might say or even would have said does not constitute unforgiveable false testimony. Rather, this too falls under the realm of what the Hebrew Bible (and even the later Jewish tradition) would consider to be justifiable—even forgivable—deception.

The Life of Adolfo Kaminsky: A Pseudo-Autobiography

The contemporary French writer, Sarah Kaminsky (b. 1979), wrote Adolfo Kaminsky A Forger’s Life,^[23] which presents to its readers as the first-person memoir of the author’s father, Adolfo Kaminsky. As a talented young document-forger—skilled at producing high-quality false passports—Adolfo Kaminsky became involved in the French resistance in Paris during World War II, saving many from certain death by means of his deceptive arts. Her father, however, wrote no memoir; rather he told his story to his daughter, who found it difficult to tell his story any other way:

Why is the book written in the first person, as if my father were relating his own story, while I wrote it myself? In fact, I started the manuscript in the third person and in the past tense. But, after having developed several chapters, I got stuck in the narrative, incapable of continuing. It wasn’t the well-known ‘writer’s block,’ since I knew exactly what I wanted to write. I was paralyzed.

For months on end, with no idea why, the very thought of sitting down at my computer made me feel ill. I decided to take a break and devote myself to other activities. The weeks passed, and I still couldn’t find a solution to my problem; I was starting to have serious doubts about my ability to complete the project. That is, until the day I realized that talking about my father in the past tense was as good as writing his obituary in advance.

So while he was there in front of me, very much alive, replying to my questions, I had the feeling I was pushing him into his grave. I had a revelation: I had to let him speak! I deleted all my work and started from the beginning again, using the first person, giving him a voice.^[24]

Admittedly, Sarah Kaminsky’s experience does not provide a precise, or even close, analogue to the ancient authors who falsely presented as prophets of the distant past, given the great cultural and religious gaps between them. But this passage helps us appreciate pseudepigraphy not as a literary convention but as an inspirational authorial device. The non-deceitful preface—part of the work itself—reveals and explains the contrivance and contrasts with our ancient literature that hides its pseudepigraphic origin.

One intriguing aspect of this pseudo-memoir is the unacknowledged irony of adopting a false persona to tell the life of a forger. We must also appreciate the fact that this forger, by virtue of his forgeries, became a life-saving hero. Nevertheless, his forged passports are not rendered authentic after the fact by their life-saving accomplishment; they were still fakes. Adolfo Kaminsky’s story helps us realize that forgery too has its place; there is a time for truth, and a time for lies.

Lying Isn’t Always Bad

All of us—or, at least, most of us—say untrue things (or avoid saying true things) in a variety of contexts. In our everyday lives we lie to protect our privacy (“I am fine, thank you”) or to mollify our children or partners (“don’t worry, honey”). The so-called “medicinal lie”—mixing medicine into tastier food, or spinning the prognosis positively to allow for some hope—is another example of reasonable context for an untruth. The realm of warfare brings others: from camouflage to spycraft to strategic misinformation, it’s understood that one would lie to one’s enemies. Indeed, there are various realms of life where many, quite often, choose falsehood over truth—more than we consciously realize.^[25]

So yes, there are lies in the Bible. And the response to this isn’t to toss the book away, but to begin the hard work of grappling with the moral questions regarding deceit, especially: what kinds of lies are permitted and under what circumstances? How can we distinguish more clearly between justified deceit and true honesty? These questions are raised not only by the biblical characters who lie, but also by those biblical writers who hid their own identities by writing in the guise of others.