THE WISDOM OF JESUS THE SON OF SIRACH.

CHAPTER I.
THE WISE MAN TURNED SCRIBE. SIRACH’S MORAL TEACHING.

The inclusion of Sirach within our range of study, as an appendix and counterpart to the canonical Book of Proverbs, requires no long justification. The so-called ‘Wisdom of Solomon’ is in form and colouring almost as much Greek as Hebrew, and has no place in a survey of the wisdom of Palestine. But the ‘Wisdom’ more modestly ascribed to the son of Sirach is a truly Israelitish production, though as yet none but the masters of our subject have recognised its intrinsic importance. Whence comes this prevalent neglect of a work still known as ‘Ecclesiasticus’ or a ‘church-book’? Doubtless it has fallen in estimation from being combined with books more difficult to appraise fairly and consequently regarded with suspicion. The objection which some Jewish doctors entertained to recommending parts of the Hagiographa has been felt by many moderns with regard to the Apocrypha. The objection is too strong and general not to have some foundation, but it implies an unhistorical habit of mind. Granted that the Apocryphal writings of the Old Testament belong in the main to a period of outer and inner decadence (though the noble Maccabean days may qualify this); yet periods of decadence are often also periods of transition to some new and better thing, which cannot be understood or appreciated without them. Ewald has suggested the title of ‘intermediate writings’ (Zwischenschriften[^[254]]) as a substitute for Apocrypha, to indicate that transitional character which gives these books so high a value for the student of both Testaments.

The book now before us—the largest and most comprehensive in the Wisdom-literature—is one of these ‘intermediate writings,’ but in what sense beyond the most superficial one remains to be seen. It is mentioned here first of all because of the proof which it gives of the great literary force of the canonical Book of Proverbs. But no product of literature could maintain itself as Sirach has done if it were a mere imitation; Sirach, not less than the Wisdom-books of the Old Testament proper, is at least a partial reflection of the life of the times. Its date indeed has been disputed. Suffice it to say here that the author was, beyond reasonable doubt,[^[255]] a contemporary of ‘Simon the high priest, the son of Onias.’ Now there were five high priests who bore the name of Simon or Simeon, two of whom, Simon I. (B.C. 310-290) and Simon II. (B.C. 219-199), have by different critics been thought of. The weight of argument is in favour of the second of the name, who was certainly the more important of the two, and who is referred to in the Talmud under the name of Simeon the Righteous.[^[256]] This is in accordance with the Greek translator’s statement in his preface that he was the grandson of the author, and we may conjecturally fix the composition of the book at about 180 B.C. The translator himself came into Egypt, as he tells us, in the 38th year of king Euergetes [^[257]] (comp. Luke xxii. 25). Now Euergetes II. Physkon, who must be here intended, began to reign jointly with his brother Philometor B.C. 170; his brother died B.C. 145, and he reigned alone for twenty-five years longer (till B.C. 116). Hence the translator’s arrival in Egypt and possibly the translation itself fall within the year 132. The object of his work, we gather from the preface, was to correct the inequalities of moral and religious culture (παιδεία) among the Jews of Egypt, by setting before them a standard and a lesson-book of true religious wisdom.

Let us pause a little over these dates. It has been well observed by Mommsen that the foundation of Alexandria was as great an event in the history of the people of Israel as the conquest of Jerusalem. It must indeed have seemed to many Israelites more fraught with danger than with hope. Never before had Paganism presented itself to their nation in so attractive a guise. Would their religion exhibit sufficient power of resistance on a foreign soil? The fears, however, were groundless; at any rate, for a considerable time. The forms of Egyptian-Jewish literature might be foreign, but its themes were wholly national. Even in that highly original synthesis of Jewish, Platonic, and Stoic elements—the Book of Wisdom—the Jewish spirit is manifestly predominant. In Palestine there was also a Hellenic movement, though less vigorous and all-absorbing than in Egypt. Without a spontaneous manifestation of Jewish sympathy, Antiochus Epiphanes would never have made his abortive attempt to Hellenise Judæa. Girt round by a Greek population, the Palestinian Jews, in spite of Ezra’s admirable organisation, could not entirely resist the assaults of Hellenism. It is probable that not merely Greek language, but Greek philosophy, exerted a charm on some of the clearest Jewish intellects. But we are within the bounds of acknowledged fact in asserting that the ardour of Judæan piety, at least in the highest class, greatly cooled in the age subsequent to Ezra’s, and in ascribing this to Greek influences. The high priest Simeon II.,[^[258]] surnamed the Righteous (i.e. the strict observer of the Law), of whom so glowing an account is given by Sirach (chap. i.), is the chief exception to this degeneracy; yet he was powerless to stem the revolutionary current even within his own family. His cousin Joseph was the notorious farmer of the taxes of Palestine, who by his public and private immorality [^[259]] sapped the very foundations of Jewish life, while two of Simeon’s sons, Jason and Menelaus, became the traitorous high priests who promoted the paganising movement under Antiochus. It is well known that many critics refer the Book of Ecclesiastes to the period immediately preceding this great movement. The deep and almost philosophical character of the unknown author’s meditations seems to be in harmony with this date. On the other hand, there is the well-ascertained fact that the Book of Sirach shows no trace of really philosophical thought; it is little more than a new version of the ordinary proverbial morality. It is to this book, the ‘Doppelgänger des kanonischen Spruchbuchs,’ as Schürer calls it, the work, as a Greek writer puts it, of an attendant (ὀπαδός) of Solomon, that these pages are devoted. Nothing is more remarkable (and it ought to make us very deliberate in determining dates upon internal evidence) than the appearance of such a book at such a time.

The name of the author in full is Joshua (Jesus) ben Sira (Sirach),[^[260]] but he may be called Sirach for shortness, this being the form of his family-name in the Greek translation. He tells us himself that he was of Jerusalem; that from his youth up his desire was for wisdom; that he laboured earnestly in searching for her; and that the Lord gave him a tongue for his reward (l. 27; li.) Sirach, in fact, is one of those ‘wise men’ to whom was entrusted so large a part of the religious education of the Jewish people. The remarkable fact that ‘wise men’ exist so long after the time of their prototype Solomon, proves that their activity was an integral part of the Jewish national life. The better class of ‘wise men’ gave an independent support to the nobler class of prophets. With their peremptory style, the prophets would never have succeeded in implanting a really vigorous religion, had not the ‘wise men,’ with their more conciliatory and individualising manner of teaching, supplemented their endeavours. The Babylonian Exile introduced a change into the habits of the ‘wise men,’ who, though some of them used the pen before the overthrow of the state, became thenceforward predominantly, if not entirely, writers on practical moral philosophy. Such was Sirach. He is not indeed a strictly original writer, nor does he lay claim to this. This is how he describes the nature of his work (xxxiii. 16)—

I too, as the last, bestowed zeal,

and as one who gleans after the vintage;

By the blessing of the Lord I was the foremost,

and as a grape-gatherer did I fill the winepress.

Sirach, then, was first of all a collector of proverbs, and he found that most of the current wise sayings had been already gathered. It is not likely that up to xxxvi. 22 he merely combined two older books of proverbs (as Ewald supposed [^[261]]), though it is more than probable that older proverbs do really lie imbedded in his work. But whether old proverbs or new, Sirach has this special characteristic, that he loves to arrange his material by subjects. This was already noticed by the early scribes,[^[262]] and is well brought out by Holtzmann in Bunsen’s Bibelwerk, and I will merely refer to chap. xxii. 1-6, ‘On good and bad children;’ 7-18, ‘The character of the fool;’ 19-26, ‘On friendship;’ 27-xxiii. 6, ‘Prayer and warning against sins of the tongue and lusts of the flesh;’ 7-15, ‘The discipline of the mouth;’ 16-27, ‘On adultery;’ xxix. 1-20, ‘On suretyship;’ 21-28, ‘An independent mode of life.’[^[263]] The plan of grouping his material is not indeed thoroughly carried out, but even the attempt marks a progress in the literary art. This is one of the points in which Sirach differs from his canonical predecessors.

In other respects his indebtedness is manifest. Night and day he must have studied his revered models to have attained such insight into the secrets of style. But, so far from affecting originality, he delights in allusions to the older proverbialists. Many parallelisms occur in the sayings on Wisdom (comp. Sir. i. 4, Prov. viii. 22; Sir. i. 14, Prov, i. 4, ix. 10; Sir. iv. 12, 13, Prov. iv. 7, 8; Sir. xxiv. 1, 2, Prov. viii. 1, 2; Sir. xxiv. 3, Prov. ii. 6; Sir. xxiv. 5, Prov. viii. 27). This we might expect; for Wisdom in a large sense is more persistently the object of Sirach than it was at any rate of the earlier writers in Proverbs. But, besides this, points of contact abound in very ordinary sayings. Thus compare, among many others which might be given,

(a) Better a mean man that tills for himself

than he that glorifies himself and has no bread

(Prov. xii. 9, Sept. &c.)

Better he that labours and abounds in all things

than he that glorifies himself and has no bread

(Sir. x. 27, Fritzsche).

(b) A merry heart makes a cheerful face,

but with sorrow of heart is a crushed spirit (Prov. xv. 13).

The heart of a man alters his face,

as well for good cheer as for bad;

A merry face betokens a heart in good case (Sir. xiii. 25, 26a).

and one that is slow to anger allays contention (Prov. xv. 18).

Abstain from strife, and thou shalt diminish thy sins,

for a passionate man will kindle strife (Sir. xxviii. 8).

(d) An intelligent servant rules over the son that causes shame

(Prov. xviii. 2).

Unto the wise servant shall free men do service (Sir. x. 25).

(e) Death and life are in the power of the tongue (Prov. xviii. 21).

Good and evil, life and death;

and the tongue rules over them continually (Sir. xxxvii. 18).

(f) Golden apples in silver salvers;

a word smoothly spoken (Prov. xxv. 11).

Golden pillars upon a silver pediment;

fair feet upon firm soles (Sir. xxvi. 18, Fritzsche).

(g) He who digs a pit shall fall therein,

and he who rolls a stone, upon himself it shall return

(Prov. xxvi. 27).

He who casts a stone on high, casts it on his own head;

He who digs a pit shall fall therein (Sir. xxvii. 25a, 26a).

(h) The crucible for silver, and the furnace for gold,

and a man is tried by his praise (Prov. xxvii. 21).

The furnace proves the potter’s vessels,

the trial of a man is in his discourse (Sir. xxviii. 5).

It will be seen from these examples that, though Sirach adapted and imitated, he did so with much originality. His style has colour, variety, and vivacity, and though Hengstenberg accuses the author of too uniform a mode of treatment, yet a fairer judgment will recognise the skill with which the style is proportioned to the subject; now dithyrambic in his soaring flight, now modestly skimming the ground, the author of the πανάρετος σοφία (for so Sirach, no less than Proverbs, was called [^[264]]) is never feeble and rarely trivial. ‘Its general tone,’ says Stanley, ‘is worthy of that first contact between the two great civilisations of the ancient world.’ ‘Nothing is too high, nor too mean,’ says Schürer, ‘to be drawn within the circle of Sirach’s reflections and admonitions.’ I have elsewhere spoken of his comprehensiveness. This quality he partly owes to his being so steeped in the Scriptures. One result of this is that he is more historical than his predecessors, and connects his wisdom with those narratives of early times, which were either but little known to or valued by the proverb-writers of antiquity. The earlier psalmists and prophets indeed show the same neglect of the traditions of the past: they lived before the editing and gradual completion of any roll of ‘Scriptures.’ Sirach on the other hand (see his preface) had ‘the Law and the Prophets, and the rest of the books,’ the latter collection being a kind of appendix, still open to additions. He was a true ‘scribe,’ and gloried in the name (xxxviii. 24), not in the New Testament sense, but in one not unworthy of a religious philosopher; he gave his mind to the wisdom both of the Scriptures and of ‘all renowned men,’ and travelled through strange countries, trying the good and evil among men. If parts at least of the Book of Job probably contain an autobiographical element, it is still more certain that the chapter (xxxix.) which closes the book before us expresses the ideal of the author’s life. And if he does sometimes take delight in his own attainments, yet why is this to be censured as mere ‘böse Selbstgefälligkeit?[^[265]] A deep consciousness of moral imperfection is not equally to be expected in the Old Testament and in the New, nor should the philosophic writings in the former be appealed to for striking anticipations of fundamental Gospel ideas. Sirach does no doubt in some sense claim inspiration (xxiv. 32-34, l. 28, 29), and place his own work in a line with the prophecies (xxiv. 33), but why should this be set down to arrogant inflation? Lowth, with more charity, quotes similar language of Elihu (Job xxxii. 8, xxxvi. 4) in proof of the speaker’s modesty (Prælect. xxxiv.) It was probably a characteristic of the later ‘wise men’ so to account for their wisdom (see above, p. [43]), and surely in that wide sense recognised by the Anglican Prayerbook he was ‘inspired,’ he was a ‘son of the prophets.’ I am only sorry that he forgot the lesson of Ex. xxxi. 2 when he wrote so disparagingly of trades (xxxviii. 25 &c.), and agree with Dr. Edersheim [^[266]] that the Jewish teachers of the time of Christ and afterwards were more advanced on this point than the son of Sirach.

It is true enough that there are sayings in this book which offend the Christian sentiment, and which serve to show how great was the spiritual distress which the Gospel alone could relieve. For instance,

(a) He who honours his father shall make atonement for sins (iii. 3).

Water will quench a flaming fire,

and alms make atonement for sin (iii. 30).

Brethren and help are against time of trouble;

but alms deliver more than both (xl. 24).

Here is one of those ‘false beacon lights’ of which Prof. Bissell speaks (Apocrypha, p. 282). But in arrest of judgment remember that long discipline in the duties spoken of has produced some of the finest qualities in the Jewish character.

(b) Happy the man who has not offended in his speech,

and is not pricked with grief for sins (xiv. 1).

that thou mayest rejoice in his prosperity;

abide stedfast unto him in the time of his affliction,

that thou mayest be heir with him in his heritage (xxii. 23).

(d) Nine things I in my heart pronounce happy, ...

and he that lives to see the fall of enemies

(xxiv. 7; comp. also xii. 10-12, xxx. 6).

(e) Who will praise the Most High in Hades,

instead of those who live and give praise? (xvii. 27.)

For man cannot do everything,

because the son of man is not immortal (xvii. 30).

With the latter saying, contrast Wisd. of Sol. ii. 23, ‘For God created man for immortality.’

(f) (Give me) any plague but the plague of the heart,

and any wickedness but the wickedness of a woman &c.

(xxv. 13-26).

This opening verse might perhaps be otherwise rendered,

Any wound but a wound in the heart,

and any evil but evil in a wife.

The misfortune of having a bad wife is often touched upon in the Talmud. Ewald’s sentence is however just, that Sirach’s ‘estimate of women, and sharp summary counsel concerning divorce (see ver. 26), place [him] far below the height of the Hebrew Bible.’[^[267]]

I admit the imperfection of these moral statements; but can they not several of them be paralleled from the Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes? And can we not find as many more anticipations of the moral teaching of the Synoptic Gospels and St. James (e.g. iv. 10, vii. 11, 14, xi. 18, 19, xv. 14, xvii. 15, xxiii. 4, 11, 18)? Do not let us undervalue any foregleams of the coming dawn.

CHAPTER II.
SIRACH’S TEACHING (continued). HIS PLACE IN THE MOVEMENT OF THOUGHT.

Passing now from Sirach’s moral statements to those which are concerned with doctrine, an honest critic must admit that the author is here even less progressive. The Messianic hope, in the strict sense of the word, has faded away.[^[268]] In xlv. 25 (comp. xlviii. 15) the ‘covenant with David’ is described as being ‘that the inheritance of the king should be only from father to son;’ similarly in xlvii. 22 the ‘root of David’ denotes Rehoboam and his descendants. But this want of a definite Messianic hope is characteristic of the age; it is no special defect of Sirach. But what shall we say of another charge brought against our author, viz. that he has unbiblical conceptions of the Divine nature? One of these (xi. 16; see A.V.) may be dismissed at once, the passage having insufficient critical authority. Another—

We may speak much and not attain;

indeed to sum up, He is all (xliii. 27)—

has been misapprehended. The Bereshith Rabba says (c. 68), ‘Why is the Holy One also called Mākōm (place)? Because He is the place of the world; His world is not His place.’ This is all that Sirach means, and Philo, too, who uses similar words, accused by Keerl of heresy, and adds, ἅτε εἶς καὶ τὸ πᾶν αὐτὸς ὤν.

The doctrines of the Satan and the Resurrection, which Sirach probably regarded somewhat as we regard the ‘developments’ of the Papal Church, he appears studiously to ignore [^[269]]—more especially the latter—and he thereby puts himself into direct opposition to the newer popular orthodoxy. For though not the invention (as M. Renan regards it) of the Maccabean period, there can be no doubt that the doctrine of the Resurrection became then for the first time an article of the popular creed. Instead of the ‘awakening to everlasting life’ (Dan. xii. 2), it is the peaceful but hopeless life of the spirits in Sheól to which he resignedly looks forward.

Weep for the dead, for he hath lost the light,

and weep for the fool, for he wanteth understanding:

make little weeping for the dead, for he is at rest,

but the life of the fool is worse than death.[^[270]]

This, however orthodox (as former generations had counted orthodoxy), was rank Sadduceanism, and hence (for how otherwise to interpret the glosses of the Greek and Syriac versions of xlviii. 11b [^[271]] it is difficult to see) very early readers of Sirach, especially perhaps well-meaning but unscrupulous Christian readers, effected an entrance for their cherished beliefs by violence.

Another point on which Sirach is equally—shall we say orthodox, or reactionary?—is the connection between piety and temporal prosperity. He really seems to be no more troubled by doubts on this ancient doctrine than the author of the beautiful, but in this respect naïvely simple, introduction to the Book of Proverbs. This perhaps was strange under Sirach’s circumstances. How striking and even painful is the contrast between Josephus’ vivid and truthful comparison of Judæa at this period to ‘a ship in a storm, tossed by the waves on both sides,’[^[272]] and that proverb of Sirach, worthy, considering the times, of the ‘miserable comforters’ of Job—

The gift of the Lord remains with the godly,

and his favour brings prosperity for ever.[^[273]]

In short, Sirach represents the reconciliation between the practical ethics of the inspired ‘wise men’ of old and the all-embracing demands of the Law. Himself only in a comparatively low sense inspired—for we should not hastily reject his claim to a ‘tongue’ from above—he did nothing, on the ethical side, but repeat the old truths in their old forms, though one gladly admits that he shows a genuine and unassumed interest in the varieties of human character. But on the religious side he is really in a certain sense original, in so far as he combines the traditional ‘wisdom’ with a heartfelt regard for the established forms of religion, such as the older ‘wise men’ scarcely possessed. On the latter point he would sympathise with the author of Ps. cxix. Unlike the older proverb-writers, he recommends the punctual observance of rites and ceremonies. These however are to be penetrated by a moral spirit; hence he says,

Do not [seek to] corrupt [the Lord] with gifts, for he receives them not;

and trust not to unrighteous sacrifices.

He who serves acceptably shall be received,

and his prayer shall reach unto the clouds (xxxv. 12, 16).

By Greek philosophy Sirach, as far as we can see, was wholly uninfluenced.

And yet Sirach cannot have been entirely unacquainted with Greek culture, in the more general sense of the word. One striking proof of this is his attitude towards medical science,[^[274]] which is exactly the opposite of the Chronicler’s (2 Chr. xvi. 12). It seems as if the older generation were offended by human interference with the course of nature, appealing perhaps to Ex. xv. 26; a curious Talmudic tradition ascribes a similar view to Hezekiah and his wise men. Sirach, however, appealing to the passage preceding that referred to above (see Ex. xv. 23-25), seeks to reconcile the opposing parties (xxxviii. 1-15). No doubt he had learned this at Alexandria: he tells us himself that he had travelled and learned many things (xxxiv. 9-11), and from xxxix. 4 we may even infer that he had appeared at court, where probably his life was endangered by calumnious accusations (li. 6). There, perhaps, he acquired his taste for the Greek style of banquet, with its airy talk and accompaniment of music, a taste which seems to have inspired a piquant piece of advice to the kill-joys of his time, who insisted on talking business out of season (xxxii. 3-5)—

Speak, O elder, with accurate knowledge, for it beseemeth thee,

but be not a hindrance to music.[^[275]]

When playing is going on, do not pour out talk;

and show not thyself inopportunely wise.

A seal-ring of carbuncle set in gold,

[such is] a concert at a banquet of wine.

In a similar mood he writes (xiv. 14)—

Defraud not thyself of a joyous day,

and let not a share of a lawful pleasure escape thee.

But his tone is commonly more serious. Though no ascetic, he cautions his readers against the unrestrained manners which had invaded Judæa, especially against consorting with the singing and dancing girls (μετὰ ψαλλούσης, ix. 4, includes both; Vulg. cum saltatrice), and draws a picture of the daughters of Israel (xlii. 9, 10) which forms a melancholy contrast with the Old Testament ideal. His prayer to be guarded from the infection of lust (xxiii. 4, 5) finds its commentary in the story already mentioned of Joseph the tax-farmer. He notes with observant eye the strife of classes. What bitter sighs must have prompted a saying like this (xiii. 2, 3)—

A burden that is too heavy for thee take not up,

and have no fellowship with one that is stronger and richer than thyself:

For what fellowship hath the kettle with the earthen pot?

this will smite, and that will be broken.

The rich man doth wrong, and he snorteth with anger,

the poor man is wronged, and he entreateth withal.

And again (xiii. 18)—

What peace hath the hyæna with the dog?

and what peace hath the rich man with the poor?

He is painfully conscious of the deserved humiliation of his country, and the only reason which he can urge why God should interpose is the assured prophetic word (xxxvi. 15, 16 = 20, 21). Elsewhere he ascribes all the evil of his time to the neglect of the Law (xli. 8), which, by a strong hyperbole, he almost identifies with personified Divine Wisdom (xxiv. 23; see above on Prov. viii.) Not however without a noble introduction leading up to and justifying this identification. In the true māshāl-style he describes how Wisdom wandered through the world seeking a resting-place,—

Then the Creator of all gave me a commandment,

and he that made me caused my tent to rest,

and said, Let thy dwelling be in Jacob,

and thine inheritance in Israel (xxiv. 8).

And after a series of wondrous images, all glorifying the Wisdom enthroned in Jerusalem, he declares—

All this [is made good in] the book of the covenant of the Most High God,

the Law which Moses commanded us

as a heritage unto the congregations of Jacob (xxiv. 23).

This remarkable chapter deserves to be studied by itself; it is most carefully composed in 72 στίχοι. Lowth and Wessely [^[276]] have with unequal success retranslated it into Hebrew. I have already spoken (on Proverbs) of its interest for the student of doctrine; it has indeed been thought to show clear traces of Alexandrinism, but this is improbable and unproved.

It remains to notice the author’s interest in nature and history. The hymn of praise for the works of creation (xlii. 15-xliii. 32) is only poor if compared with parts of the Book of Job. But perhaps more interesting is the panegyric of ‘famous men’ (xliv.-l.), from Enoch the patriarch to Simeon the Righteous, whose imposing appearance and beneficent rule are described with the enthusiasm of a contemporary.[^[277]] It is worth the student’s while to examine the contents of this roll of honour. A few corrections of the text may be noticed as a preliminary. At xlviii. 11b, the Greek has ‘for we shall surely live (again).’ But the Latin has, ‘nam nos vitâ vivimus tantum, post mortem autem non erit tale nomen nostrum.’ There is good reason in this instance, as we shall see presently, to prefer the reading of the Latin to that of the Greek. At l. 1, after ‘son of Onias,’ it is well to remove the abruptness of the transition by inserting from the Syriac, ‘was the greatest of his brethren and the crown of his people.’ At l. 26 (27), for ‘Samaria’ we should probably read ‘Seir’ (else how will there be three nations?), and for ‘foolish,’ ‘Amoritish’ (with the Ethiopic version and Ewald, comp. Ezek. xvi. 3). Turning to the names of the heroes commemorated, it is startling to find no mention made of Ezra, the second founder of Jewish religion. Aaron, on the other hand, is celebrated in no fewer than seventeen verses. This cannot be a mere accident, for the veneration of the later Jews for Ezra was hardly less than that which they entertained for Moses. Notice, however, that Moses himself is only praised in five verses. It seems as if Aaron better than Moses symbolised those ritual observances in which Sirach perhaps took a special delight. The name of Ezra, too, may have had its symbolic meaning to the author. He may have had deficient sympathy with those elaborators of minute legal precepts, who took Ezra as their pattern. Not that he disbelieved in the continuity of inspiration—for in some sense he claims it for himself (e.g. xxiv. 33), but that he did not fully recognise the workings of the spirit in the ‘fence about the Law.’ Other names which he passes over in silence are Daniel and Mordecai. Does this mean that he was unacquainted with the Books of Daniel and Esther? Whatever be the date of these books, so much as this is at least a probable inference.

The panegyric seems to have originally closed with the ancient liturgical formula in verses 22-24. But the writer could not resist the temptation of giving a side-blow to the hated Samaritans (those ‘half-Jews,’ as Josephus the historian calls them), called forth perhaps by the dispute respecting the rival temples held at Alexandria before Ptolemy Philometor.[^[278]] The last chapter of all (chap. li.) contains the aged author’s final leave-taking. It is a prayer of touching sincerity and much biographical interest. The immediateness of the religious sentiment is certainly greater in this late ‘gatherer’ than in many of the earlier proverb-writers.

Enough has been said of the contents of the book to give a general idea of its moral and religious position. Let us now consider its outward form. The work, as we have seen, was originally written in Hebrew. This indeed was to have been expected. For although the influence of the Seleucidæ had greatly strengthened the hold of Aramaic on the Jewish population of Palestine, Hebrew was still, and for a long time afterwards remained, the language of scholars and littérateurs. The author of the ‘Wisdom of Sirach’ was both. He was thoroughly penetrated with the spirit and style of the Scriptures, especially of those of the Khokma, and he would have thought it as much a descent to lavish his great powers on Aramaic as Dante did at first to write in Italian. Is this Hebrew original still extant? Alas! no; Hebrew literature, so scantily represented for this period, has to mourn this great loss. A page of fragments, gathered from the Talmud and the Midrāshīm,[^[279]] is all that we can, with some occasional hesitation, plausibly regard as genuine. There is indeed a small work, called the Alphabet of Ben Sira, consisting of two series of proverbs, one in Aramaic, and one in Hebrew. But no significance can be attached to this. The genuineness of many of the Hebrew proverbs is guaranteed by their occurrence in the Talmud, but the form in which the alphabetist quotes them is often evidently less authentic than that in the Talmud. The original work must have been lost since the time of Jerome, if we may trust his assurance [^[280]] that he had found it in Hebrew, and that it bore the name ‘Parables’ (m’shālīm). Of the ancient versions, the Syriac and the Old Latin are (after the Greek) the most important; the former is from the Hebrew, the latter from a very early form of the Greek text. Neither of them is always in accordance with the Greek as we have it, but such differences are often of use in restoring the original text. All the versions appear to contain alterations of the text, dictated by a too anxious orthodoxy, and in these the one may be a check upon the other. Bickell indeed goes further than this, and states that an accurate text of Sirach can only be had by combining the data of the Greek and the Syriac. Lowth, in his 24th Lecture, strongly urges the retranslation of Sirach into Hebrew. Such an undertaking would be premature, if Bickell’s judgment be correct that the book consists of seven-syllabled verses or στίχοι, grouped in distichs,[^[281]] except in the alphabetic poem on wisdom (li. 13-20). The latter, consisting of 22 στίχοι, he has translated into German from his own corrected text, dividing it into four-lined strophes, as also the preceding, ‘alphabetising’ poem, consisting of 22 distichs (li. 1-12), in the Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie, 1882, pp. 326-332.

We must reserve our opinion on Bickell’s theory till the appearance of a complete edition from his pen. Meantime three passages (xxiv. 27, xxv. 15, xlvi. 18) may be referred to as giving striking proof of the Hebrew original of the work. In xxiv. 27 the translator seems to have found in his Hebrew copy כאר, i.e. properly כַּיְאׂר ‘as the Nile’ (the weak letter י being elided in pronunciation as in כאר, Am. viii. 8), but as he supposed כָּאוׂר ‘as the light.’ In xxv. 15, he found ראשׁ, which in the context can only mean ‘poison,’ but which he inappropriately rendered ‘head.’ In xlvi. 18, the Hebrew had צרים, i.e. צָרִים ‘enemies,’ but, according to the translator, צֹרִים ‘Tyrians.’ Compare also in this connection the allusions to the meanings of Hebrew words in vi. 22 (‘wisdom’) and xliii. 8 (‘the month’). There are still questions to be decided which can only be adverted to briefly here. Did the translator make use of the Septuagint, and more particularly of the portion containing the prophets? He certainly refers to a translation of the Scriptures in his preface, but Frankel thinks that a Targum may be meant, and even doubts the genuineness of the passage; he explains the points of contact with the Septuagint which are sometimes so interesting [^[282]] in the Greek version of Sirach by Ueberarbeitung, i.e. the ‘working over’ of the version by later hands.[^[283]] This seems to me a forced view. It is more probable that a Greek version is meant, or perhaps we may say Greek versions; no special honour is given to any one translation. Next, as to the position accorded to the Wisdom of Sirach. It is often cited in the Talmud with formulæ which belong elsewhere to the Scriptures, and was therefore certainly regarded by many as worthy to be canonical (see [Appendix]). In strict theory, this was wrong. According to the Tosephta Yadayim, c. 2, the book of Ben Sira, though much esteemed, stood on the border between the canonical and extraneous or non-canonical books. Such books might be read cursorily, but were not to be studied too much.[^[284]] Sirach neither claimed the authorship of a hero of antiquity, nor was it, according to the rising Pharisaic school, orthodox; thus perhaps we may best account for the fact that a work, regarded in itself in no way inferior to the Book of Proverbs, was left outside the sacred canon.

No certain allusions to our book are traceable in the New Testament; the nearest approach to a quotation is James i. 19; comp. Ecclus. v. 13. Clement of Alexandria is the first Christian writer who quotes directly from Sirach. From its large use in the services of the Church the book received the name Ecclesiasticus, to distinguish it perhaps from the canonical book which was also often called ‘Wisdom.’ In later times, it half attracted, but—owing to the corrupt state of the text—half repelled, the great Hellenist Camerarius, the friend of Melancthon, who published a separate edition of Sirach (the first) at Basle in 1551. It appears from his preface that it was highly valued by the reformers from an educational point of view. Bullinger proposes it as a less dangerous text book of moral philosophy than the works of Plato and Aristotle, and Luther admits it to be a good household book, admired however too much by the world, which ‘sleepily passes by the great majestic word of Christ concerning the victory over death, sin, and hell.’

No impartial critic will place the Wisdom of Jesus the son of Sirach on the same literary eminence with the so-called Wisdom of Solomon. It is only from its greater fidelity to the Old Testament standard, or at least to a portion of this standard, that it can claim a qualified superiority. A few noble passages of continuous rhetoric it no doubt contains, especially the noble Hymn of Praise on the works of creation (xxxix. 16-xliii. 33); and a few small but exquisite gems especially the sayings on friendship (counterbalanced, I admit by those on the treatment of one’s enemies, xii. 10-12, xxv. 7, xxx. 6), e.g.—

Forsake not an old friend,

for the new is not comparable to him.

A new friend is as new wine,

when it is old, thou wilt drink it with pleasure (ix. 10),

with which we may bracket the noble passage on the treatment of a friend’s trespass (xix. 13-17). One of the fine religious passages has been quoted already (xliii. 27; comp. Job xxvi. 14); we may couple this [^[285]] with it—

As a drop from the sea, and a grain of sand,

so are a few years in the day of eternity (xviii. 9).

Still the chief value of the book is, historically, to fill out the picture of a little known period, and doctrinally, to show the inadequacy of the old forms of religious belief, and the moral distress from which the Christ was a deliverer.