The Letter of Aristeas gives us a glimpse into that world, a world where messing with holy scripture wasn't just frowned upon, it could have… consequences.
The Letter of Aristeas, if you’re not familiar, is a fascinating document that purports to tell the story of how the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek, creating the Septuagint. It's written from the perspective of Aristeas, an official in the court of Ptolemy II Philadelphus (that's a mouthful, isn't it?), the ruler of Egypt in the 3rd century BCE. But within this narrative, we stumble upon something truly remarkable: a warning about the sheer power – and peril – of handling sacred texts.
Our narrator, Aristeas, recounts a conversation where the sanctity and divine origin of the Law, the Torah, are emphasized. It’s not just a book, see. It's a direct line to the Divine. According to the text, some who dared to tamper with it, who even intended to tamper with it, were "smitten by God." Yikes! It's a pretty strong message: Leave. It. Alone.
But it gets even more specific. Aristeas then shares an anecdote about a historian named Theopompus. Theopompus, it seems, had the audacity to try and incorporate material from "earlier and somewhat unreliable translations of the law" into his historical work. Now, we don't know exactly what these unreliable translations were, but apparently, they weren't up to snuff.
The result? Well, Theopompus was "driven out of his mind for more than thirty days." Seriously. Now, this is where the story gets really interesting. After his bout of madness, Theopompus, understandably, wanted to know what had gone wrong. He prayed to God for answers, and in a dream, the reason was revealed. He had been trying, out of "idle curiosity," to share sacred truths with those who weren't ready for them, with "common men."
The message was clear: some things are sacred, and should be treated with reverence and respect. And, perhaps more importantly, that tampering with sacred knowledge or trying to disseminate it inappropriately can have serious repercussions. Once he desisted from his goal, Theopompus regained his health.
What are we to make of this? Is this just an ancient superstition? A cautionary tale meant to scare people into obedience? Or is there something deeper here? Perhaps it’s a reminder that some knowledge is powerful, that it carries a responsibility. That sharing it requires discernment and wisdom.
The story of Theopompus, as told in the Letter of Aristeas, serves as a potent reminder of the delicate balance between seeking knowledge and respecting the boundaries of the sacred. It challenges us to consider the power of words, the responsibility of interpretation, and the potential consequences of approaching sacred texts with anything less than reverence. It's a reminder that sometimes, the greatest wisdom lies in knowing what not to touch.