It all starts with a letter, aptly named the Letter of Aristeas. Imagine being a fly on the wall as this letter is dictated. It’s addressed to Philocrates, and the writer, Aristeas, is an official in the court of Ptolemy II Philadelphus, the ruler of Egypt way back in the 3rd century BCE.
Ptolemy was a serious collector. Not of stamps, but of knowledge! He wanted everything in his library in Alexandria. Every scroll, every teaching, from every culture. And he realized something was missing: Jewish law.
So, Aristeas writes, he’s determined to have "your law… translated from the Hebrew tongue which is in use amongst you into the Greek language." He envisions these books, the sacred texts of Judaism, taking their place alongside all the other "royal books" in Ptolemy's grand library. for a second – the sheer audacity and ambition!
But how to make it happen?
Aristeas lays out his plan. He asks Philocrates to select "six elders from each of your tribes." That's seventy-two men in total. These wouldn't be just any elders; they needed to be "men of noble life and skilled in your law and able to interpret it." Experts, basically. Imagine the pressure!
Why so many? Aristeas explains it’s so that "in questions of dispute we may be able to discover the verdict in which the majority agree." He's anticipating disagreements, different interpretations. He wants to ensure accuracy, a consensus. This translation, he knows, is "of the highest possible importance."
And Aristeas isn't shy about his motivations. He hopes to "win great renown by the accomplishment of this work." Personal glory mixed with a genuine desire to preserve and share knowledge – a very human combination, wouldn't you say?
So, there you have it: the beginning of a quest to translate the Torah into Greek, driven by a king's ambition, a scholar's dedication, and the wisdom of seventy-two elders. The stakes were high, the task immense, and the results…well, we’ll get to that. What do you think? Could you imagine undertaking a project of that scale?