This ancient text, purporting to be a letter from Aristeas, an official in Ptolemy's court, describes the remarkable story of how the Septuagint – the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible – came to be.
So, picture this scene: King Ptolemy has just received the delegation of Jewish scholars from Jerusalem, sent to translate the Torah. They've brought with them the sacred scrolls, the very words of God. The envoys, along with everyone else present, erupt in a unified cry: "God save the King!"
And Ptolemy? He just loses it.
The Letter of Aristeas tells us, "He burst into tears of joy." Not just a polite sniffle, mind you, but a full-on emotional release. Why? The text explains: "For his exaltation of soul and the sense of the overwhelming honour which had been paid him compelled him to weep over his good fortune." He was so moved by the presence of these sacred texts, so humbled by the honor bestowed upon him, that he couldn't contain his emotions.
Think about the weight of that moment. Ptolemy, a powerful ruler of Egypt, is brought to his knees, not by military might or political maneuvering, but by the sheer spiritual power of the Torah. It speaks volumes about the respect, perhaps even awe, that the Hellenistic world held for Jewish wisdom.
What does he do next? He commands the scrolls to be carefully returned to their places of honor. Then, turning to the scholars, Ptolemy says, "It was right, men of God, that I should first of all pay my reverence to the books for the sake of which I summoned you here and then, when I had done that, to extend the right-hand of friendship to you. It was for this reason that I did this first."
His priority wasn't to greet the men, to discuss politics, or to show off his power. First and foremost, he had to acknowledge the sacredness of the Torah itself. It’s a powerful reminder that some things transcend worldly concerns.
This passage from the Letter of Aristeas isn't just a historical anecdote. It's a glimpse into a moment of profound respect, a recognition of the enduring power of sacred texts. It’s a reminder that even kings can be moved to tears by something greater than themselves. And perhaps, it encourages us to consider what brings us to that same place of awe and reverence in our own lives. What "books" deserve our ultimate respect, before all else?