The most obvious, and perhaps problematic, sources of information for this investigation are the Hebrew and Avestan texts themselves. Although the Hebrew Bible is much more widely known that the Avestan texts, particularly through its adaptation to Christian and Muslim textual traditions, its usefulness for dating the origins of worship are no more reliable than the Zoroastrian scriptures. It may be argued that the Hebrew texts are potentially even less reliable, in part, because of their widespread acceptance as texts deemed religious. Support for this argument might be found in faith-based perspectives of adherents (scholars and non-academics alike) in the ultimate “Truth-value” of the Hebrew Bible that has lent it a misleading amount of authority as historical witness to the religio-historical narratives contained within. With this noted, the question remains: how old is the evidence provided by the texts? In Ethnicity and Identity in Ancient Israel, Kenton Sparks identifies the Song of Deborah (Judges 5) as one of the oldest texts of the Hebrew Bible.¹ He cites agreement among a number of scholars, at the time of writing, and suggests a 9^thcentury BCE date (a pragmatic estimate that sets aside the various dates assigned to other biblical texts).² This date appears to be one of the more reasonable and conservative dates among the various chronologies proposed in the literature.

In contrast, the Avestan texts, are divided by philologists into two linguistic “eras” of composition: “Old” Avestan, dated by its relationship to Old Indic/archaic Sanskrit, and “Young” Avestan, dated, in part by its relationship to Old Persian. In The Spirit of Zoroastrianism Prods Oktor Skjærvø writes: “there was never a single book (or manuscript) with all of the texts. Rather, the manuscripts contain only individual texts or groups of texts. These manuscripts are from the thirteenth to nineteenth centuries, the history of a few of which can be followed back to about 1000 CE.”³ Although the Avestan texts appear to have been preserved linguistically using written Pahlavi scripts from the Common Era, the potential for distortion involved in “millennia-long transmission of oral compositions” makes some scholars hesitant to invest too much historical authority in these texts. 

For purposes of this discussion, it is important to note that the language of the Old Avestan texts dates them to various centuries within the 2^ndmillennium BCE. The relationship between Old Avestan and its sister language, Old Indic, suggests a potential range within the first half of the millennium. If the differentiation of the two languages from their re-constructed mother, Proto-Indo-Iranian, is taken into consideration, then seems unlikely that Old Avestan could have arisen long before the end of the 3^rdmillennium. In The Horse, the Wheel, and Language, David W. Anthony suggests that by 2500 BCE Proto-Indo-European was a dying (if not dead) language giving rise to one of the last of its children from northeastern dialects: “Pre-Indo-Iranian” developed between 2500 and 2200 BCE.⁴  He links “Common Indo-Iranian” to the Sintashta material culture, dating it to the period 2100-1800 BCE and suggests that “Archaic Old Indic” differentiated between 1800 and 1600 BCE.⁵ Complicating Anthony’s scheme is the evidence for Old Indic speaking “Indo-Aryans” in the names of Vedic deities, kings, and equestrian technology in the Hurrian-speaking Mitanni kingdom in northern Syria. An inscription on a statue of Idrimi of Alalah found at Tell Atchana dates the Mitanni kingdom to roughly 1500 BCE, suggesting that Old Indic must have developed on the earlier side of Anthony’s range.⁶ The presence of Vedic deities in the treaty documents of the Mitanni points to a very important fact: the language and religion of Old Indic speakers must have developed prior to westward movement, from Central Asia, if it could be recognizably similar to that which is found in ancient India. This lends credibility to a potentially early 2^ndmillennium date for the Old Avestan texts that appear to have been composed for the purpose of worshipping Ahura Mazda.

Aside from the Hebrew and Avestan texts, there is epigraphic evidence to draw upon for investigating the origins of the religions center around YHWH and Ahura Mazda. In contrast to the relative dates suggested by the two different textual corpora, the oldest inscriptions mentioning Ahura Mazda are dated later than those mentioning YHWH. In “The Tetragrammaton in Egyptian Sources – Facts and Fiction” Faried Adrom and Matthias Muller write, “In the Nubian temples at Soleb and Amarah-West, a total of three lists with names of foreign places and peoples survived, containing names that have been connected with the Tetragrammaton. The oldest two attestations survived in the temple of Amenhotep III at Soleb, dedicated to the god Amun and celebrating the so-called ‘Sed festival’ (Heb Sed) of the king.”⁷ The inscriptions, ostensibly dated to the 14^thcentury BCE contain a word that, although it appears linguistically cognate with the Tetragrammaton, does not seem to refer to an individual name or bear any discernible religious meaning.⁸

With so little information regarding the potential usage of this word one must look to its placement in the context of the so-called “Shasu-sequence” in order to draw conclusions.⁹ Adrom and Muller write, “From what is known about Egypt, the Levant, and Mesopotamia, the Shasu-names (and thus also Y-h-w) might have been derived from divine, personal, group or tribal, place, scenic, mountain, or homestead names...The toponomastic (not topographical) possibilities of interpretation the sparse Egyptian data allow for, are much too limited for far-reaching conclusions on the history of names, or on the religious and settlement history.”¹⁰ This pragmatic caution is needed for such an enticing set of inscriptions because this evidence cannot serve as concrete proof of the biblical deity in Egypt. Despite this conclusion, the association with the Shasu implies something of the later the YHWH-center religion in the hieroglyphic texts.

The term “Shasu,” seems to have been used in Egyptian texts as early as the middle of the 3^rdmillennium to refer, generically, to the apparently mobile societies encountered by the Egyptians.¹¹In Egypt, Canaan, and Israel in Ancient Times Donald Redford writes, 

The verb…meant basically to move on foot, and it is often used of journeys or of the daily motion of the sun, which is all innocent enough. But very early it took on a nuance of speed and furtiveness: messengers speed on foot to far-off places, and malcontents flee punishment. A participial form was applied from at least as early as the 5^thdynasty to those ‘wanderers’ the Egyptians habitually came into contact with in the north, and rapidly became a term with societal implications. The resultant…‘Shasu,’ came to be used of wandering groups whom we would call bedu, with significant distinction that unlike their modern counterparts they lacked the camel.¹²

Redford’s explanation makes it easy to understand how scholars of the Hebrew texts might begin to “connect the dots” between biblical narratives of Abraham (and his descendants) encountering hostility while “sojourning in Egypt” and terminology used by Egyptians for just such peoples. In Ancient Israel: What Do We Know and How Do We Know It? Lester Grabbe calls the identification of the Shasu with the Israelites “more ingenious than convincing” explaining that it is possible that some group of Shasu might have joined what emerged as “Israel” eventually, but there is not solid evidence to link the groups.¹³ Following Grabbe, no case can be made to argue that there is evidence that the Shasu can be equated with the societies out of which the biblical Israel arose. However, in consideration of the work of this dissertation, it is possible to note that a link with the Hebrew Bible is not necessary to understanding the significance of YHWH-like words in the Shasu-sequence inscriptions at Soleb and Amarah-West. It is not unreasonable to point out the textual connection between something akin to the Tetragrammaton and the term Shasu suggests an association of mobile society with the name. This is no smoking gun, for without the Hebrew texts to point the way scholars might never have thought to be interested in these inscribed words.¹⁴ However, the mere association between a word, allegedly cognate with YHWH, and the generic (and derogatory) term for non-Egyptian mobile societies points to a potential context for the development of the worship of YHWH.

The oldest attestation of the name YHWH that appears to have been intended in reference to the deity appears on the “Mesha Stele.” Grabbe writes, “Apart from the biblical text, the name Yhwh is clearly attested first in the Moabite stone or Mesha Stele from the ninth century BCE: Mesha took Nebo from Israel and dedicated the ‘vessels of Yhwh’…to his god Chemosh.”¹⁵ This stele, found in Dhiban, Jordan in the late 19^thcentury offers a more reliable attestation and date than the Egyptian sources. Although the destruction and later reconstruction of the text from transcriptions made during excavation lends the authority of this source an air of potential interference, consider its usefulness for dating the origin of YHWH-worship.

In The Israelites in History and Tradition Niels Peter Lemche writes, “As a result of this investigation it seems that the Judean state as a comprehensive political construction, perhaps a territorial state in contrast to the system of city-states which was the normal kind of political arrangement in Palestine in antiquity, hardly survived for more than a few generations. The short period would not have allowed Judah to develop ethnic peculiarities not already present before the formation of the state.”¹⁶ Consider the amount of time between the attestation on the Mesha Stele and the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem and “Exile” (attested in non-biblical sources): roughly 300 years. It is not prudent to assume too strong a link between the name on the Mesha Stele and the focus of worship in the Babylonian community that would develop early Judaism. But it is worth considering the point, mentioned above, of survival in the face of adversity. The inscription on the Mesha Stele, written from a Moabite perspective, rife with praise for Chemosh, is clearly not a love-letter to YHWH and paints a fairly dismal picture of “Israel” and its fate. Note the fact that this attestation speaks to hostility between the Moabites, who cared about a deity named Chemosh, and a political body called “Israel” that was religiously associated with the name YHWH. If this is a piece of political propaganda, at the very least the selling power of this narrative, to its intended audience, must be acknowledged. As an additional note, consider that Grabbe writes, “In all the inscriptions and linguistic data from the surrounding region, there is nothing to indicate that Yhwh was worshipped generally over the entire region.”¹⁷

So, if the earliest and most reliable non-biblical attestation of the name of this deity appears in the language of destruction and defeat, what does that day about the stability of this religious identity? The answer to this question, as it pertains to a pre-Exilic religion, may be found in the post-Exilic history of what is known today as Judaism: survival despite hostility and violent opposition. The idea that something of the original religion of YHWH has survived, despite many logical (from an outside perspective) reasons to “disappear into the crowd” hints at two insights pertinent to this investigations: 1) something must have developed strongly and early enough to withstand encounters with numerically (and politically) dominant religious societies; 2) the significance of this religion to the identities of adherents in the society from which it arises must have developed so integrally so as to be obvious to outsiders and sustainable in diaspora. Recalling Lemche’s comments, it seems possible to conclude that the developmental history of YHWH-centered religion, prior to the association with Jerusalem and the polity of Judah, must extend long enough backward into history, prior to the production of the Mesha Stele, such that a discernable and stable religious identity could establish itself. Does this insight lend credibility to inscriptions at Soleb and Amarah-West? No, but it is possible the worship of YHWH developed between the dates of Soleb, Amarah-West, and the Mesha Stele. 

Although the earliest epigraphic attestation of the worship of Ahura Mazda is far later than the philological dating of the Old Avestan texts, it is far more reliable and easily dated than these Egyptian and Moabite sources. A number of inscriptions dated to the reign of Darius I very clearly articulate the significance of Ahura Mazda to the Achaemenid king.¹⁸ The earliest text written in Old Persian, Darius I’s inscription at Behistun (6^thcentury BCE), is overflowing with the name of Ahura Mazda: he attributes his success, ascension to the throne, and motivations as a ruler to the deity.¹⁹ These inscriptions point to the development of Mazda-worship from the early 2^ndto late 1^stmillennium BCE: it spread from the Eurasian steppe to the Iranian plateau. The clarity of the religious language in Darius I’s inscriptions reveals no small amount of useful information: 1) the singularity of the name of Ahura Mazda, in light of the absence of other divine names, identifies this deity as particularly special; 2) the presence of this inscription in the western Iranian Plateau speaks to the geographic mobility of the religion; 3) the use of the worship of Ahura Mazda (or lack thereof) as casus bellifor military action against the Scythians/Saka, implies the continued presence of this religion (or variations) in Central Asia and surrounding steppe lands; 4) the emphasis on the relationship between Darius I and Ahura Mazda points to the geopolitical significance of this religion in the Achaemenid empire, both in its influence on the most powerful individuals and its apparent political clout (that mention of Ahura Mazda should be deemed so politically beneficial as to warrant inclusion in such inscriptions).

Experimentally, were this discussion to personify, as a human individual, the figure of Ahura Mazda given in the Old Avestan texts, it would not be an exaggeration to say that this person had really “come up in the world” by the time of Darius I. It is also very important to recognize that he would have had plenty of time to do so: over 1000 years by conservative dating. The development of Mazda-worship from the early-mid 2^ndto the middle of the 1^stmillennium offers insights into context (and way) in which this religion originated. The first connection suggested by the list of insights, drawn above from Darius I’s inscriptions at Behistun, pertains most obviously to the title of this chapter: the mention of Ahura Mazda and the exclusion of other deities from the text.²⁰ This is not meant to argue for the development of numeric isolation that might support an evaluation of Darius I’s religion as “monotheism.” Rather, it highlights the strength and continuity of Mazda-worship, specifically, throughout the history of religious development from Old Avestan-speaking societies to modern Zoroastrianism. In the interest of space, the case made above regarding the implications of the survival of YHWH-centered religion, is noted here (rather than reiterated) applicable to the survival of Mazda-worship.

It is also important to note the apparent spread of Mazda-worship implied at Behistun: first, that there are enough politically significant Mazda-worshippers in the Achaemenid empire to make mention of this religious identity valuable to Darius I; and second, that the worship of Ahura Mazda either does or “should” continue in the lands associated with the Scythians/Saka. If the Behistun inscriptions, like the Mesha Stele, can be considered a piece of political propaganda, then they reveal an interesting assumption on the part of the author/authority: this narrative has selling power. 

It is interesting to note that Darius I, like the Neo-Assyrian king Sargon II, appears to be a usurper who invested much effort in rehabilitating his image and rationalizing his rise to power.²¹ The strategy of appealing to religious authority for political means was well established by the time of Darius I: the founding ruler of the Achaemenid Persian empire, Cyrus II, seems to have used religious tolerance and his role as king in religious functions to great effect. It seems quite logical that Darius I should emulate the actions (or sentiments) of his predecessors as a form of “appeal to authority” in both political and religious terms. The differences in divine name-dropping between the Cyrus Cylinder and Darius I’s Behistun inscription reveals a change in the political landscape of the Achaemenid empire. Whether this shift was the result of conversion to Mazda-worship by the populace, or by an elite few, is revealed in the fact that the trilingual (Old Persian, Elamite, and Babylonian) Behistun inscription was written down. There does not appear to be concrete evidence of its having been disseminated orally to what might be assumed to have been a predominantly illiterate public. Whether this was the case may be irrelevant to the reality that the message would have resonated, in some way, to an audience of readers able to view the inscription (or transcriptions). 

Chapter Four (“Mobile Pastoralism”) examines the archaeological and historical data concerning the social contexts within which these religions appear to have developed. A history of mobile pastoralism among Avestan speaking societies appears to be reasonably established in the literature and may have had some influence on the spread of Mazda-worship onto the Iranian plateau. It is worth considering the idea that, at the very least, the building blocks that would have lent the religion success in a mobile context could be considered reasonably fit for other contexts in which mobility is needed. The relationship between this process of development and selective environmental pressures reveals the influence of agriculturally marginal landscapes on these religions deemed monotheistic. The implied presence of Mazda-worship in Scythian/Saka controlled regions, as well as in the Achaemenid empire, points to the fitness of some aspects of the religion behind the composition of the Old Avestan texts and the importance of the environmental context underlying their development.

This discussion, of the earliest epigraphic attestations of the divine names YHWH and Ahura Mazda, has mentioned both the Achaemenid empire and the Babylonian Exile, without remarking on the moment of historical overlap that occurred as the Persians moved into Mesopotamia and the Near East. Scholarship on the Hebrew Bible is full of references to the “Persian Period” but often only in chronological terms, without reference to the Persian people or their religions. This is also very clearly a moment in which the histories of the religions respectively centered around Ahura Mazda and YHWH are not yet parallel: Mazda-worship is climbing to imperial heights while the worship of YHWH is struggling to survive. 

In Zoroastrianism: An Introduction Jenny Rose writes, “The defeat of Babylon was a crucial event in the religious history of several peoples, whose texts incorporate Cyrus into the redemptive activity of their own divinities.”²² One of the texts Rose points to is the Hebrew Bible, which narrates the religious importance of Cyrus to the history of Israel across various books. The commentary on 2 Chronicles offered in The Jewish Study Bible highlights the full extent of this narrative: “The present passage [36:22-23], like Ezra ch 1, makes additional claims. It proclaims that YHVH, God of heaven—an appellation found primarily in Persian period documents and sources—has given to Cyrus sovereignty over the world and he (Cyrus) order both the rebuilding of the Temple and the right of all (exiled) Jews to return to Jerusalem.”²³ The integration of salvation narratives, focused on Cyrus II, into the religious societies over which the Achaemenids ruled seems to have served a political (and some would argue religious) goal of establishing order in the empire. Rose writes, 

Around 519 BCE, Darius commanded the Persian satrap of Egypt, Aryandes, to assemble experts to codify the pharaonic laws, resulting 16 years later in an Egyptian code of law inscribed in both Aramaic and Demotic on papyrus rolls. In keeping with this policy of preserving a law based on local cultural and religious distinctions, Artaxerxes is said to have called upon Ezra, ‘a priest and expert in Torah’, to regulate Jews living in Judah and the Trans-Euphrates province ‘according to the law of your God’ (Ezra7.12-14, 25-6). It was under Persian rule, then, that Ezra promulgated the Torah and established it as the ‘law’ of the Jewish people within the empire, which was then considered as part of Persian royal law.²⁴

Rose’s explanation points to the importance of understanding the history of Zoroastrianism, particularly the development of Avestan religion in the “Persian Period,” in the study of ancient Near and Middle Eastern religions. In “Religion and Politics in Pre-Islamic Iran” Albert de Jong explains the significance of Achaemenid political power to the development of Mazda-worship in the empire.²⁵ He writes, 

It is unimaginable that all of this would have occurred spontaneously: Some of the developments clearly point to Persia as the locus of its origins (the judgment of the soul), whereas others (the calendar) can be shown to have spread all over the empire. Taken together, they build a very strong case for the fact that we should not interpret the Achaemenid evidence on the basis of what we “know” of Zoroastrianism, but that we should recognize the fact that the Zoroastrianism we know (best), was given shape – purposely, in an act of imperial unification – by the Achaemenids. This will also give us instruments to judge developments in later periods. It is to these that we must turn now.²⁶

From de Jong’s comments, an important conclusion regarding the development of both YHWH- and Mazda-worship during the “Persian Period” can be drawn: each religion was “given shape – purposely” by the Achaemenid policies and their respective communities of worship. This adaptability is a feature of these religions, recalling the discussion of survival mentioned throughout this chapter, that one might expect to find in religions developed in societies described by Frachetti’s “Non-Uniform Complexity Theory.”