Romans and Jews 425in Greek and compiled over a period of centuries by Jewish and Christian would-be seers,
give unerring expression to the hostility. The Fifth Sibylline Oracle, for instance, pieced
together in the late first or early second centuryCE, delivers a dire forecast against Rome,
describing “the Latin city” as evil, wicked, and unclean in all matters, a nest of vipers,
with a murderous heart and a spirit of impiety (5 Sib. Or. 167–171). The Eighth Sibyl,
written some time after the reign of Hadrian, utters comparably grim forebodings about
the future fate of Rome, labeling the land of Italy as a barbarousethnos, denouncing the
empire that will no longer enslave the peoples of the world, but will instead be exposed
as a reproach for all (8 Sib. Or. 95, 126–130).
These roughly contemporary texts enunciate mutually antagonistic and rancorous
depictions. They suggest a bitter divide, a scornful Roman contempt of a subordinate
nation reduced more than once to a state of subjection, and a fierce Jewish portrayal of
the brutal conqueror whose future fate is sealed and whose demise will be cataclysmic.
Does ethnicity play a part in any of this? Do the comments draw on racial or ethnic
stereotypes? Do they allude to the checklist of characteristics that moderns have conjured
up as defining ethnic identity, that is, shared history, shared culture, common ancestry,
common territory, and a sense of solidarity, all of which add up to a collective self-image
(cf. Smith 1986: 22–30)?
Condemnation of Rome by the Jewish authors of the Sibylline Oracles stands in the
tradition of such criticism. It can be traced back to a text referring to the earliest con-
tacts between Rome and Judea and to a period of cordial relations between the peo-
ples. The First Book of Maccabees, written probably in the later second centuryBCE,
records a treaty of friendship and alliance that linked the two and delivered an osten-
sible encomium on Roman imperial authority. The author delivers a positive verdict
upon Rome’s military successes, the string of conquests in Gaul and Spain, and the
defeats of Macedonian and Seleucid monarchs (each time in self-defense). He further
heaps praise upon the Roman senate for its adherence to commitments, its sound inter-
nal government, and its dedication to stability and order (I Macc. 8.1–16). All that
to the good. Yet, the paean of praise does not conceal the discomfort of the weaker
partner with the awesome power of the stronger. The very same passage, in recording
Rome’s victory in Greece in 146BCE, reports large-scale massacres, the placement of
women and children in captivity, the plunder of property, and reduction of the popu-
lace to servitude. The author, in fact, uses the phrase “to enslave” twice in this passage
with regard to kingdoms and islands who foolishly challenged Roman power (I Macc.
8.10–11). The language is direct and unequivocal. The very name of Rome, says the
author, strikes fear into those who hear it (I Macc. 8.12–13). That terminology is echoed
in the third Sibyl, parts of which are approximately contemporary with I Maccabees. The
Sibyl denounces the rule of the Roman Republic over many lands, its oppressiveness
and destructiveness, and its injection of fear into its enemies (3 Sib. Or. 175–182). All
of this foreshadows the harsh judgments of the later Sibyls who followed the destruc-
tion of the Temple. Roman power was formidable and fearsome, a terror to its foes and
overbearing to its subordinates. None of it, however, is traced to innate character or
ethnic traits.
The so-called Psalms of Solomon serve also as an appropriate precursor. They provide
an unusual window on a Roman suppression of Jews that long predated the Great Revolt
of 66–70CE. Pompey the Great had been the first Roman to invade Judea, to breach