The Letter of Aristeas, an ancient text that purports to describe the translation of the Hebrew Bible into the Greek Septuagint, touches on just that question. And it does so in a rather surprising context: royal decree.
The story goes that the king, deeply impressed by the arguments presented to him – likely concerning justice, freedom, and perhaps even divine will – issued a powerful order. This wasn't just some minor administrative change; it was a fundamental shift in policy, directly impacting the lives of countless individuals.
What was this order? Essentially, a large-scale redemption. The king decreed that the wages of the soldiers would be increased to cover the cost of redeeming slaves. The amount? Twenty drachmae (a unit of ancient Greek currency) for each enslaved person. This payment would go directly to the owners. A public order was issued, accompanied by detailed registers of all the captives. Imagine the scene: scribes meticulously documenting names, origins, circumstances... lives reduced to entries in a ledger, yet about to be given back their freedom.
The text emphasizes the king's enthusiasm for this endeavor. Why? Because, as the Letter of Aristeas suggests, it was "God who had brought our purpose to fulfilment in its entirety." It wasn't just a political move; it was seen as divinely inspired, a way to right a historical wrong. The king felt compelled not only to redeem those who had arrived in Egypt with his father's army, but anyone who had been enslaved before or subsequently brought into the kingdom. A sweeping act of liberation.
But here's where things get interesting. The sheer scale of this operation became apparent when advisors pointed out that the total ransom money would exceed four hundred talents. A talent was a significant unit of weight and, in this context, a massive sum of money. To put it mildly, we are talking about a huge financial undertaking. Four hundred talents! Imagine the logistical challenges, the bureaucratic hurdles, the sheer administrative effort required to execute such a massive redemption.
Did this staggering cost deter the king? The text doesn't say. But it leaves us pondering the true cost of freedom, the financial implications of justice, and the lengths to which a ruler – purportedly inspired by divine will – might go to right the wrongs of the past. It makes you wonder: what price would you put on freedom? And what are we willing to pay for justice today?