The Making of Deuteronomy
Menachem the Scribe was hurrying to his meeting with Be'eri, the Chief Priest. His collection of scrolls were bouncing against the back of his lean frame as he ran, fearing the possibility of being even a minute late for his appointment, one that required pulling every favor he had, including the large sum, the he could little afford, to Judith the Prostitute, who used her renown skills to get Be'eri to agree to a short meeting with this little known scribe.
These were the days when the priesthood was also the elite ruling class. They loved their food, which the rest of the populace, many of whom could barely feed their own families, provided for them, holy food that only the priesthood could eat. They also loved music, and the Levites, who were related to the priests and were also provided for, created songs for the delight of their masters.
And they loved stories.
Menachem's grandfather, Jannai, made his fame by writing the "Judah Scroll", which was high in demand by the elites, those who could read and afford the prices of a hand-written text on the finest leather. The sex and violence and humor about Judah being tricked into impregnating his widowed daughter in-law had become a classic.
And Menachem's father, Alexander, made a name for himself by writing the "Balaam Scroll", which was in even greater demand during his day, which including a talking she-ass, an angry angel, and a humorous plot twist. As for the sex, well, it was subtle enough to make it the story that everyone who could read, wanted.
Menachem had very little money, for while the priests paid well for the scrolls, they also extracted taxes, "holy portions" for themselves, and the cycle kept the priesthood wealthy, and the average person...less than wealthy. But then, that's the way that The Lord decreed that it should be.
Or at least, that's what the illiterate believed. Those who wrote the stories for a living knew better.
The scribe approached the guards at the door, said, "Menachem the Scribe to meet with Be'eri, the Holy Priest of the Lord".
The chief guard, a Levite, remembering the schedule grunted something, and nodded his head toward the entrance. Menachem gave his expected thanks, and hurried into the main eating area where Be'eri was reclining on a couch, his well adorned garment covering his corpulent frame, and eating one of the largest and delicious looking portions of meat that Menachem had ever seen.
Menachem's stomach rumbled inaudibly, for he had not eaten yet that day. He did not expect any food to be offered to him, for this was holy food, for the priesthood only.
"Yes, yes, I see you. Tell me what you have, Scribe. Show me your very best. But I am warning you, this had better not be the same old stuff that other scribes have tried to sell me. You see that?" The priest waved his plump hand towards several open cabinet, each one full of scrolls. "I have all of the old stories. And while the old stories were fine for the old times, these days are not the days of your grandfather. Something fresh is needed. Something new. Something..." and his voice trailed off, and as if he had forgotten what he had just been saying, the priest returned to his meal.
Menachem walked forward to the eating table that was a bit low, and surrounded by several couches. The Chief priest normally ate alone, and today was no exception. So Menachem took out each of his newly competed scrolls and put them others on the empty couches. He realized that he needed to be a bit dramatic in order to sell the Chief Priest his stories. And if Be'eri bought his stories, the other priests, wanting to emulate him, for that was the way of the priests, would follow.
He pick up one of the scrolls, carefully, as though it were a newborn infant, and place it before the priest, who was now curious. Menachem slowly opened it for effect. The perfectly formed letters with his special formula of ink that glistened even though it was dry, had the desired effect. The leather he used was cured and scraped and buffed by himself by hand, using only the palest of leather. It was a work of art.
"Yes, granted, it's very pretty. Much prettier than most. I'll give you that. But what about the story?"
The priest waited for an answer. Menachem calmed himself, as best he could, and presented his sales pitch, as he had practiced every day since he received the invitation.
"Gracious one, we all know the old stories, of Moses and his people. And for another audience, at another time, the idea of a leader who was quiet in the face of danger, who fell upon his face when confronted, and who cried and was silent when opposed, is not the type of hero that is relevant for today's more discerning reader, such as yourself."
The priest exhaled, and made a non-committal pass of his hand for Menachem to continue.
"What I have her, what I have brought to you, is an updated version of the old stories."
The priest frowned, but Menachem continued, predicting that response.
"But these are not simply the retelling of the stories, but an improvement of the old tales."
Be'eri looked interested, as Menachem picked up the scroll that was before him, unrolled it, and held it over his head so that the entire text could be seen.
"For example, in this scroll, the worn out story of the spies, where Moses fell on his face and did not try to convince the people to ignore their fears, and where the spies spoke badly about the land, in this version, we have a powerful and dramatic leader who chastises them, with a wonderful monologue, if I may say so myself, and the spies only speak well about the land."
"What about the giants?"
Menachem puts down the scroll and quickly picks up another, holding it open and over his head to show the fine craftsmanship, "Giants? Yes, we have giants. In fact, we have even more giants than the original. People love the part about the giants, and even the Rephaim are gigantic."
Menachem put the scroll away and repeated the process with another.
"And as for songs, and who doesn't love a good song, Moses doesn't simply die quietly, but I have a written special song, dedicated to the life of Moses, a song that I guarantee will excite the reader. Just before he dies, Moses calls out to the heavens, to the land itself, for all of creation to hear the song of his very soul"
Menachem did't bother mentioning that a couple of the other scrolls were not written by him, but were unsold scrolls that his father had written long ago. He didn't bother unfurling them to show the difference in styles. He didn't need to. The priest sat up, and Menachem knew that he had him hooked.
And the 10 minute meeting went on for nearly an hour.
Later...
Menachem arrived home, exhausted. His wife greeted him. His children shouted to him, but continued to play outside.
She asked her husband how it went.
He poured himself a cup of wine that he took from the clay pot on his shelf. He draped his empty sack over the end of his couch and felt the weight of his purse that was tied to his belt and handed it to her.
She cried out, happily, and already started thinking about how this money could be used.
He walked to his front entrance, and looked at his garden.
He raised his cup to the heavens, made a blessing to the Gods.
His wife, standing beside him, asked, "So it went as well as you expected, then?"
Menachem looked at his small stack of leather sheets, drying outside and replied, "I'm going to need a lot more leather!"
Life was good.
Afterward
This fictional account of Menachem the Scribe is based on the hypothesis that it was the scribes who wrote the stories, who enthralled their elite audiences. And while many scribes were simply literate copyists, and others, based on the evidence found in the remnants of the Dead Sea Scrolls, would tweak the stories to appeal to a different audience, making a verse here and there that put David in a very negative light, to counter that view, perhaps for his own personal bias towards that character, or perhaps for a specific client who was a Davidic fan.
The Book of Deuteronomy is not simply a retelling of the earlier stories, but is a massive rewrite, completely changing what was presented in the narratives by others. It is also more monotheistic, in places.
I am suggesting that this fictional account of Menachem, has far more probability and likelihood than the tale that Moses wrote it himself, especially given how the story opens and ends, telling us that the story was written in the land of Israel, centuries after the death of Moses.
There is a Jewish legend that tells us that the first four books of the Torah were dictated by God, letter for letter, but as for Deuteronomy, Moses wrote that himself and God simply approved.
The story of Menachem is more likely.
Cool stuff.
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