64

Mystical Texts, Magic, and Divination

The people who wrote and collected the Qumran Dead Sea Scrolls were neither mystics
nor magicians. They were a group of apocalyptically-minded Jews, who were convinced
that they were witnessing the unfolding of the great drama that would soon culminate
in God’s final intervention in history [→68 Eschatologies and Messianisms]. In that
climactic event a group designated as the Sons of Light would finally be vindicated, and
the rest of humanity, who are called the sons of darkness, will be punished. This
eschatological and dualistic mindset [→74 Ethics and Dualism; 9 Qumran and the
Ancient Near East] is the main intellectual agendum behind their peculiar social
structure and behind most of the texts they produced or collected, and it is a mindset
that is not necessarily mystical, nor especially conducive to an interest in and practice
of magic and divination. And yet, like most Jews of the Second Temple Period, the
Dead Sea sectarians believed in the existence of angels, demons and a plethora of other
invisible beings who resided both in heaven and on earth [→67 God(s), Angels and
Demons]. Like many other Jews, they were curious to know more about the world of
angels and God’s heavenly realms, but for them this interest had a peculiar twist, since
they were convinced that they had a certain affinity with God’s angels. And like many
other Jews, they were afraid of malevolent demons, of ‘angels of destruction,’ and of
other evil spirits, and sought to expel them, but from their perspective the war against
these invisible forces was also a part of a wider war, that between the Sons of Light and
their human and demonic opponents. In speaking of (good) angels versus (evil)
demons, we should bear in mind the sectarian group’s own terminology was much
more complex and included numerous types of good and evil angels and spirits, and
several different types of demonic beings. Moreover, because they were convinced that
many hidden secrets were revealed to them, or at least to their Teacher of Righteousness
[→20 Historiography], the Dead Sea sectarians assumed that both in their dealings
with angels and in their dealings with demons and evil spirits they had access to secrets
and to powers that were not readily available to other Jews.
Our knowledge of the sectarians’ interest in angels, demons, celestial secrets and
terrestrial divination comes mostly from the Dead Sea Scrolls. Philo, who describes the
Essenes in some detail (see Vermes and Goodman, 1989, pp. 19–31) speaks of their
communal worship, their exegesis of the ancestral laws, their mode of instruction by
means of symbols, and many other issues, but not about their infatuation with angels,

457
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demons and secret revelations [→12 Scrolls and Hellenistic Jewish Literature: Philo].
Josephus, in his detailed descriptions of the Essenes and in his many references to them
throughout his works (see Vermes and Goodman, 1989, pp. 34–57), has much to say
about their prayer habits, their communal meals, their study of the ancestral writings,
and so on, but relatively little to say about their interest in things relating to mysticism,
magic and divination [→12 Scrolls and Hellenistic Jewish Literature: Josephus]. In one
passage (War 2.136) he notes that the Essenes scrutinize the ancient texts in search of
roots and stones that are useful for healing and for protection. In another passage (War
2.159), he says that because of their interest in the holy books and the words of the
prophets some Essenes have become experts in accurately foretelling the future. This
claim is further amplified by his stories of how in 104 bce Judas the Essene, who always
accurately foretold the future, correctly predicted when and where Aristobolus I would
die (War 1.78–80; Ant. 13.311–313), how in the late 60s bce Manaemus the Essene
correctly foretold to Herod that he would one day be the king of the Jews and in the
30s bce correctly foretold that Herod would rule for many years (Ant. 15.373–378), and
how in 6 ce Simon the Essene predicted King Archelaus’s future by correctly interpreting
the king’s dream (War 2.113; Ant. 17.345–348). But other than these references, Josephus
has little to say about those aspects of the Essenes’ worldview that interest us here, and
we are left with the evidence that may be culled from the Dead Sea Scrolls themselves.
In surveying this evidence, we shall look at three different topics, namely, the
Qumranites’ dealings with mysticism, with magic and with divination. In each of these
cases, we shall note that the search for relevant materials in the Qumran library is in
part determined by how we define what we mean by the terms we use, which are in no
way obvious. And in each case, we shall look for the most important and best preserved
textual evidence, and mostly ignore the speculative reconstructions of badly-preserved
fragments which were offered by some scholars. Finally, although the question of the
relations between the Qumran materials and later Jewish mysticism, magic and
divination will resurface in all three sections, this is a question that deserves a detailed
study of its own, that shall not be attempted here (and cf. Swartz, 2001).

Mysticism

If there is one thing that is clear from even a cursory reading of the Dead Sea Scrolls, it
is that their authors, collectors and readers were infatuated with the notion of ‘mysteries.’
Most commonly, these were secrets which were revealed to the Qumranites themselves,
but apparently were unknown to all those who did not belong to their exclusive sect
(for a typical passage, see 1QS 8.10–14) [→47 Serekh ha-Yahad]. This image is
corroborated by Josephus’ frequent references to the secrecy shrouding the Essenes’
communal gatherings and special doctrines, which they may divulge to no one who is
not a full member of their community (see, e.g. War 2.129, 138, 141–142). From a
sociological point of view, we can easily see how the shared knowledge of profound
secrets was one of the bonds uniting the sectarians to each other. We can also see why
one major component of the secrets shared by them was the true knowledge about the
world, about God’s plans for the End of Time (as divulged, for example, by the biblical
 Mystical Texts, Magic, and Divination 459

prophets, but misunderstood by most of their readers), and about their own special
role within that secret plan. Looking at the possible history of such a mindset, we may
note the biblical notion of the prophet as having access to God’s secret plans, and
especially the recurrence in Second Temple Period Jewish literature of a discourse of
apocalyptic (literally, the ‘uncovering,’ i.e. of hidden secrets) revelations to Enoch [→28
Authoritative Scriptures: Other Texts], to Noah [→65 Patriarchs and Aramaic
Traditions] and to the pseudepigraphic ‘authors’ of many of the extant Jewish writings
of the Second Temple Period. This discourse was frowned upon by some Jews (see,
most famously, Ben Sira 3. 21–24 [→27 Authoritative Scriptures: Writings and Related;
63 Wisdom]), but celebrated by many others. And in the Qumran community, it surely
reached its climax, when theological ideas and social realia were fused into a peculiar
sectarian mix (see Thomas, 2009) [→67 God(s), Angels and Demons; 59 Rules; 72
Forms of Community; 73 Daily Life].
And yet, an infatuation with secrets, and a developed discourse of esotericism, are
in no way tantamount to mysticism. Thus, the search for mysticism in Qumran has
tended to focus on two distinct issues (Alexander, 2006, chapters 2 and 3, respectively;
Davila, 2010). First, on the Qumranites’ frequent depictions of the heavenly realms and
the angelic liturgy, especially in the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice [→48 Songs of the
Sabbath Sacrifice; 61 Liturgical Texts], and second, on the far less frequent references
to what might be seen as human apotheosis or angelification, especially in the so-called
Self-Glorification Hymn [→60 Poetry and Hymns; 37 Hodayot]. Let us briefly look at
each of these texts, and then ask whether the evidence they provide suffices to speak of
mysticism in Qumran.
The first, and in many ways easier text is the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, found
in nine scrolls from Qumran (4Q400–407, 11Q17), and one from Masada (Mas1k)
[→3 The Manuscript Collections: An Overview]. This text might be of sectarian origin,
but even this is far from certain, since it hardly uses the typical sectarian terminology
of the Yahad (see Newsom, 1985, pp. 1–4, 61– 72). The text is badly preserved, but its
structure is clear. It consists of thirteen hymns, one for each of the Sabbaths of the first
quarter of the 364-day solar calendar that is promoted in a number of texts from
Qumran, but also by non-sectarian texts such as Jubilees [→60 Poetry and Hymns; 62
Calendars; 25 Authoritative Scriptures: Torah and Related]. Each hymn has a fairly
standard opening formula, an appeal to bless God, and descriptions of the angels’
service in the heavenly temple, including detailed accounts of both the physical
structure and the liturgical and cultic activities carried out inside it [→69 Jerusalem
and the Temple]. And yet, while the Songs clearly display a great interest in the celestial
temple, in angels, in the celestial liturgy and in a host of related themes, such an interest
need not imply a mystical mindset, since it is paralleled, even if to a lesser degree, in
some of the apocalyptic and related texts of the Second Temple Period (e.g. 1 En. 14.8–
25). Moreover, while there is no doubt that the Songs display a keen interest in issues
that would be of great interest to the Hekhalot mystics several centuries later, the
question of a direct continuity between the two corpora remains contested (see, for
example, Mizrahi, 2009, and Schäfer, 2010), and is in any case not entirely relevant to
the question at hand. After all, there is a clear trajectory leading from some Second
Temple apocalyptic texts to the Hekhalot literature (see Gruenwald, 1980), but this
460 T&T Clark Companion to the Dead Sea Scrolls

trajectory does not imply that both corpora belong in the same literary genre, or reflect
similar ritual activities, or go back to similar social circles. Thus, the interest in the
celestial temple and its worship, which is of great importance in the Songs and of some
importance in the Hekhalot literature, certainly does not suffice to use the obvious
mystical nature of the latter texts as a peg on which to hang the former.
A second issue that remains in doubt with regards to the Songs of the Sabbath
Sacrifice concerns the function of these hymns. They are assigned to specific sabbaths,
and presumably were supposed to be recited each on its specified sabbath, but they
are also titled la-maskil, i.e. ‘of ’ or ‘for’ the sectarian leader known as the Maskil,
or ‘instructor.’ This might imply his postulated authorship of the hymns, but is more
likely to imply that they were to be recited by him. They may, of course, have been
intended for communal recitation, as is assumed by some scholars, but this is nowhere
stated in the Songs themselves, and other Qumran hymns with the same title (including
Songs of the Maskil [4Q510–511], to be discussed below) certainly were not intended
to serve as communal liturgy [→61 Liturgical Texts].
Regardless of how exactly the Songs functioned within the Qumran community,
the large number of manuscripts of this work found at Qumran clearly demonstrate
their importance for that community. Moreover, the great interest in the angelic liturgy
should certainly be read in conjunction with the statements found in explicitly
sectarian scrolls about the Sons of Light’s communion with the angels, with whom they
join in the same yahad (e.g. 1QHa 11.22–24; 19.13–17 [→37 Hodayot]; 1QS 11.7–8
[→47 Serekh ha-Yahad]; 1QS b 4.24–26 [→45 Rule of Blessings]). Thus, we may
certainly speak of a unio liturgica between men and angels in the Qumran community,
but such a religious conceit should in no way be equated with a mystical experience.
After all, a few centuries later the rabbis would insist that whenever ten persons, or
even five, or three, or two or even one person sits and studies Torah, the Shekhinah is
right there with them/him (m. Avot 3.6). Thus, if the Qumranites were merely praying
with angels, the rabbis were studying Torah with the Divine Presence itself! The rabbis
would also insist that the study of Torah is a blissful experience, which they even
compare to the joy of sex (e.g. in b. Eruv. 54b). And yet, it would be extremely rash to
speak of the rabbis as mystics, or of their study of Torah as a mystical activity. In the
same manner, the Qumranites’ unio liturgica is worthy of our scholarly attention, but
should not be equated with mysticism.
If the contents of the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice are clear enough, the same
cannot be said of the Self-Glorification Hymn found at Qumran in four copies, which
represent two different recensions (4Q491c, 4Q471b, 4Q427 7 i–9 and 1QH a 26.6–16).
Here, we have the first-person account of someone who seems to be a human figure,
but who also boasts that he is reckoned among the angels, dwells in their holy council,
and is immune to the temptations to which human beings fall prey. The speaker seems
to contrast his exalted status with his being despised before, and with the great
sufferings he had to bear, apparently before being vindicated among the angels.
Unfortunately, the hymn is too broken to allow for a full reconstruction of the identity
of the first-person speaker who is supposed to be making these boasts, and this has
enabled some scholars to turn it into the testimony of a Qumran mystic, who relates
the results of his ascent to heaven (Alexander, 2006, pp. 85–90). This, however, is a very
 Mystical Texts, Magic, and Divination 461

speculative reconstruction, and seems far less likely than the suggestion that the
speaker is either the Teacher of Righteousness [→20 Historiography], or the
Eschatological High Priest whose arrival the Qumranites were fervently expecting
(and see Eshel, 1999) [→68 Eschatologies and Messianisms]. In such a case, the figure’s
elevation to the angelic council has nothing to do with his hypothetical mystical
experiences, and much to do with his role in the expected eschatological scenario. But
even here, no certainty is possible, and other interpretations of the hymn’s ‘I’ are being
offered all the time (e.g. Miller, 2009). One such interpretation, that it is the
personification of Wisdom who is speaking here (Kister, forthcoming), could re-open
the whole question of whether this text is even relevant for the study of mysticism at
Qumran, and strengthen the possibility that it is not.
What, then, should be our verdict with regard to the evidence of mysticism among
the Dead Sea Scrolls? The answer, I believe, depends first and foremost on how we
define ‘mysticism.’ If, for example, we begin from William James’ famous characterization
of the mystical experience as ineffable, but at the same time noetic (i.e. it makes the
mystic feel he ‘knows’ something he had not known before), transient and passive
(James, 1902, pp. 380–1), we would soon be forced to claim that there is no real evidence
of mystical experiences at Qumran. I am, of course, fully aware of the many critiques
of James’ analysis of the mystical experience, and of the availability of many other
definitions of Jewish mysticism (see, for example, Schäfer, 2009, pp. 1–26, 353–5 and
Vârtejanu-Joubert, 2009, esp. pp. 26–7). But regardless of which definition we adopt,
either we will not find much mysticism at Qumran, or we will find it in almost every
corpus of ancient Jewish texts.
The Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice become virtually irrelevant here, since they
describe heavenly realms, but are not said to be the product of mystical experiences,
and the claim that their recitation could have led to mystical experiences flies in the
face of their very rigid calendrical settings. Are we to imagine the Qumran community’s
billboard carrying advertisements such as ‘Next Saturday, 7am and 5pm, communal
prayers with the Maskil; be sure to come, mystical experiences guaranteed, angelification
possible!’? In this respect, the Self-Glorification Hymn could be more relevant, if it
indeed conveys the words of a member of the sect who has undergone a process of
angelification. This, however, is not the most plausible reading of the Hymn, and even
if we choose to accept it, there is no indication in the text itself that the process was the
result of some ineffable, transient experience, which overpowered the narrator and at
the end of which he realized that he now had a whole new status.
From a Jamesian perspective, there is no evidence for mysticism at Qumran. But
even if we adopt the model of mysticism offered by Philip Alexander, which lays stress
on the centrality of experience, the desire for communion, or even union, with the divine,
and the importance of the via mystica (see Alexander, 2006), we would be forced to
admit that the interpretation of the Scrolls from Qumran as fitting that model is based
on a very circular line of reasoning. This is evident both in the search for an experience,
which is not really there in the texts from Qumran, and in the search for a via mystica,
which necessitates a slanted reading of the Qumranites’ admittedly peculiar way of life.
This via was not geared towards the generation of mystical experiences, but was intended
to assure the playing out of the sectarians’ predestined role at the End of Time, whose
462 T&T Clark Companion to the Dead Sea Scrolls

unfolding they were seeing all around them. It is, of course, quite possible that the
Qumranites’ physical isolation [→2 Archaeology of Qumran], frugal eating habits [→73
Daily Life], fear of impurity [→70 Purity and Holiness] and evil spirits, and peculiar
liturgical cycles [→61 Liturgical Texts] all served as a breeding ground for individual
mystical experiences. And yet, both the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Second Temple Period
descriptions of the Essenes are completely silent on this score. Given the large quantity
of texts clearly produced by the Qumran sectarians to which we now have access, the
absence of any clearly mystical texts is yet another argument against thinking of the
Yahad as a mystical society, given to bouts of ecstatic ascent on a weekly basis.

Magic

Regardless of how we define ‘magic,’ we will find very few ‘magical’ texts at Qumran (for
a fuller discussion of Jewish magic in the Second Temple Period, including the Dead
Sea Scrolls, see Bohak, 2008, pp. 70–142). Whether we look for medicinal magic (which,
as we saw, is mentioned by Josephus as an issue in which the Essenes were greatly
interested), for erotic magic, for aggressive magic, for magic intended to assure rainfall,
to increase agricultural productivity, or to find lost treasures, we will find almost no
such interests in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Moreover, when we look for the most basic unit
of the Jewish magical tradition of later periods, namely, the magical recipe, we will find
none in the Dead Sea Scrolls (with a single possible exception, to be mentioned below).
And yet, there was one type of magical activity in which the Qumranites did display
their great interest, namely the warding off of demons and evil spirits. This is something
which was of great interest to many Jews in the Second Temple Period, but which
received a special twist within the Qumranites’ peculiar worldview (see Nitzan, 1994,
pp. 227–72; Alexander, 1997; García Martínez, 2002; Eshel, 2003). To see how this is
reflected in their library, we will look at three relevant texts.
The first of these exorcistic manuals is 11QApocryphal Psalms (11Q11), a set of
several exorcistic hymns, at least some of which are pseudepigraphically attributed to
King David (see Bohak, 2013), and the last of which is a revised version of the biblical
Psalm 91. In these hymns, which display none of the sectarian terminology typical of the
Qumranites’ own compositions, we find long series of taunts and threats hurled against
the demons, often in the second person singular. One of these taunts, ‘Who are you, born
from the seed of man and from the seed of the holy ones; your face is the face of
nothingness (?) and your horns are horns of a dream (?),’ re-emerges in a somewhat
different version in several incantation bowls of late-antique Babylonia, and in a
remarkably close version in a magical recipe book of the eleventh century from the Cairo
Genizah (Bohak, 2012). This textual continuity lends further support to the assumption
of a non-sectarian origin of this text, and demonstrates the wide circulation of such texts
among Jewish exorcists from the Second Temple Period to the Middle Ages.
A second exorcistic manual, found in two copies (Songs of the Maskil [4Q510–
511]), is far more sectarian in terminology and outlook. Its hymns are recited by the
Maskil, and contain much praise of God, the aim of which is, among other things, to
frighten and drive away all evil spirits, and especially those that seek to mislead the
 Mystical Texts, Magic, and Divination 463

sect’s members into error. Here, in other words, the fight against demons is not just that
of the ordinary Jew of the time, afraid of malevolent spirits who might harm his body,
his family or his possessions, but that of the Sons of Light, ranged against their human
and demonic opponents and doing whatever they can in order to ward them off.
The third exorcistic text from Qumran (4QE xorcism [4Q560]) differs from the
other two in that it is written in Aramaic, and not in Hebrew [→17 Languages: Hebrew,
Aramaic, Greek]. It clearly refers to several different types of demons, and to the harm
they cause to different parts of the human body, and seems to have been intended to
serve as an exorcism against toothache. Given its poor state of preservation, it is
impossible to say whether this was a single exorcistic spell, a collection of such spells,
or a full-blown magical recipe book, as was suggested by Joseph Naveh (1998). If this
last interpretation is correct, it would be the earliest evidence we have of Jewish magical
recipe books, pre-dating all the other evidence by almost half a millennium. If it is not,
4Q560 would join 11Q11 as another set of non-sectarian exorcistic hymns and spells
found among the Dead Sea Scrolls, and proving the Qumranites’ great interest in this
specific genre.
Looking at all three examples, we may note that exorcism is a practice that most
modern scholars would normally classify as ‘magic.’ However, it must be stressed that
from the Qumranites’ own perspective exorcism clearly was not seen as a magical
activity, since the practice of magic was forbidden by the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Exod.
22.17 and Deut. 18.10–11), and this prohibition was repeated in some of the texts used
by the sectarians themselves (11QTa 60.16–21 [→51 Temple Scroll]; Lange, 1997,
pp. 408–22; Brooke, 2003). What label the Qumranites would have given to their
practice of exorcism we cannot really say, but if we choose to speak of this as a ‘magical’
activity, we must always recall that it is our modern conceptions of ‘magic’ that make
us classify it as such (Lyons and Reimer, 1998).

Divination

As we saw above, Josephus has little to say about the Essenes’ interest in things that we
might classify as ‘mysticism’ or as ‘magic,’ but much more to say about their expertise in
divination, and especially in accurately foretelling the future. Some of that expertise
clearly was due to an accurate interpretation of the biblical prophecies, a practice that
is well documented in the Scrolls (and especially in the pesharim [→44 Pesharim]),
but falls outside the scope of what we would classify as ‘divination.’ But sifting through
the Dead Sea Scrolls, we find several fragments that point to an interest in technical
literature of divination, which is entirely unrelated to the biblical texts. One clear
example is offered by 4QZ odiology and Brontology (4Q318), which contains two
separate but related texts (Greenfield and Sokoloff, 1995; Jacobus, 2010). The first is a
selendromion, i.e. an attempt to chart the passing of the moon through the twelve signs
of the zodiac, by listing in which sign it is found on each day of the year [→62
Calendars]. The second is a brontologion, that is, a listing of what is foretold by a
thunder that occurs (when the moon is?) in each of the zodiacal signs. Very little of the
second text is preserved, but it is clear that both texts are not sectarian in origin, and
464 T&T Clark Companion to the Dead Sea Scrolls

are likely of a non-Jewish origin, ultimately going back to the Babylonian scientific
tradition (see Pingree’s appendix in Greenfield and Sokoloff, 1995) [→9 Qumran and
the Ancient Near East]. In fact, this is one of the first examples of the entry of ‘secular’
Aramaic scientific texts into the Jewish world, a phenomenon that will recur in the
Cairo Genizah (see Greenfield and Sokoloff, 1989; Bohak and Geller, 2013; Bohak,
2016), and one of the earliest pieces of evidence for the Jewish interest in astrology
(Leicht, 2006).
A second divinatory text from Qumran is 4QP hysiognomy (4Q561), an Aramaic
text which lists the physiognomic features of different people, perhaps with an attempt
to tell their spiritual qualities from their bodily signs, although the preserved fragments
do not allow for any certainty on this issue (Popović, 2007, pp. 54–67). More instructive
is a physiognomic/astrological text, 4QZ odiacal Physiognomy (4Q186), which is
written in Hebrew in a variously encrypted script [→71 The Scribes of the Scrolls], and
lists the physiognomic features of different persons and their spirit in the house of light
and in the house of darkness. This has been interpreted by some scholars as a sign of
the text’s sectarian origins and purpose, namely, to test from a newcomer’s appearance
whether he really belongs with the Sons of Light or not (Alexander, 1996), but by others
as astrological technical terms, that have nothing to do with the sectarian terminology
(Popović, 2007, pp. 132–71). No consensus seems to have been reached on this point,
but the least we can say is that the Qumran library displays its owners’ interest in non-
sectarian, and originally non-Jewish, technical-scientific literature, some of which they
may have adapted to their own sectarian needs, but some of which was of interest to
other Second Temple Jews as well (Ben-Dov, 2010).

Conclusion

Looking at all three spheres of activity together, we may note that the Qumran
sectarians clearly practiced some forms of divination, and perhaps even adapted some
divinatory techniques to their specific sectarian needs. They also practiced exorcisms,
which we may classify as a ‘magical’ activity but they certainly did not. Finally, and most
controversially, the question of whether we may speak of ‘mysticism’ in Qumran is a
hotly debated issue, and – barring some new textual finds that will change the
evidentiary basis at our disposal – is one that is likely to remain debated in the
foreseeable future.

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T&T Clark Companion to the
Dead Sea Scrolls

Edited by
George J. Brooke and Charlotte Hempel

With the Assistance of

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