Imitatio Dei, Imitatio Darii: Authority, Assimilation and Afterlife of the Epilogue of Bīsotūn (DB 4:36–92)

Abstract

The Bīsotūn inscription of Darius I (DB) is a masterpiece of ancient literature containing descriptions of historical events, imperial propaganda, cultic statements, ethical instructions, wisdom insights, blessings and curses, and engagements with posterity. It was disseminated far and wide within the empire and left a lasting impression on the cultures with which it came into contact. However, a specific section of this royal inscription (DB 4:36–92), carefully crafted to address future audiences in the second person, stands out sharply from the rest of the text. This passage has made a striking, profound, and durable impression on future generations—which extended over the longue durée in both time and space. This article focuses on the decisive cultic theme undergirding DB in general and its fourth column in particular namely, the king’s profound sense of imitatio dei in the cosmic battle against “the Lie,” complemented by his appeal to an imitatio Darii by all future audiences of his words. The impact of this call can be traced in later literature: in a DB variant found at Elephantine and, most notably, a hitherto unknown exegetical legend found in Qumran, which seeks to explain this portion of DB through an Achaemenid court tale.

1. Introduction

Merging royal visual representations flanked by tri-lingual cuneiform texts into a format resembling a colossal seal-impression on the side of mount Bīsotūn in the Zagros Mountain range in western Iran—on the ancient imperial highway connecting Babylonia, Susa, and Ecbatana—the Bīsotūn inscription (DB) has rightly been labelled the “empress of the ancient oriental inscriptions” (Schmitt 1991, p. 17).1 Written in Achaemenid-Elamite (AE), Achaemenid-Babylonian (AB), and Old Persian (OP),2 this inscription is as significant for its textual contents pertaining to the literary, linguistic, historical, ideological, and cultic features of Darius I’s times and ideology as for its striking visual imagery. It is the sole Achaemenid imperial source that concerns itself with historical events (Sancisi-Weerdenburg 1999, p. 110) as it offers a genuine res gestae of Darius I (henceforth Darius) intended to both describe and justify this monarch’s actions in highly structured detail—especially his disputed and turbulent accession to the throne, the assassination of the maguš Gaumāta the “usurper” (DB 1:27–71), and the slew of rebellions from across the empire that followed (Schmitt 1991, pp. 20–21). These insurgencies take up the lion’s share of the inscription (DB 1.71–4.32) and cover Darius’ accession year and his first year on the throne. The fifth column—a later addition written in OP alone (for lack of space)—offers an update on the king’s military achievements in his second and third years.

Against the backdrop of a somewhat repetitive chain of military victories in the first three columns (and continued in a similar vein in the fifth), the fourth column stands out in form, style, and substance. It can be divided into two distinct parts. The first (DB 4:1–36) is a catalogue of lies and liars: a formulaic and concise “bullet point” list of the nine “liar-kings” captured by Darius—each one described as I PN nāma EN adurujiya (“1, named PN, an/from EN/GN, he lied”) followed by a succinct quote of each deceptive claim to the throne of his land/people, post-scripted by: hauv GN hamiçiyam akunauš (“he made EN/GN to revolt”). The second part, intended to serve as the inscription’s epilogue (DB 4:36–92), to which I shall henceforth refer as the Darius kerygma (“proclamation”),3 is a treatise on Darius’ ethics, his cultic piety, his relationship with a^huramazdā, and his sense of justice. Here, the king takes a step back from specific events and presents his overarching ideological framework, addressing posterity directly—in the second person (always in the singular). From a wider perspective, this adaptation of the well-known tradition of blessing-and-curse formulae (see e.g., Assmann 1992; Barnea 2022), focalizes on “the Lie” (OP duruj-/drauga- NB parāṣu-4 Elam. tit-/ti-ti-ip)—a concept that characterizes Darius I’s inscriptions alone (DB, DPd, DNb).5 “The Lie” is presented as more than the mere the act of speaking untruths. It is the politico-cultic ontological reason for social corruption and unrest—a force of evil in and of itself, and “a principle, comprehending all hostile and destructive powers” (Utas 1965–1966, p. 132; see also Panaino 1986, esp. 102; Scrignoli 2018). This same concept will later also underlie Darius’ design and messaging of the so-called Apadana at Persepolis (Lincoln 2008, pp. 231–33). But it is especially in his DB kerygma, that Darius presents himself in imitatio dei as being perfectly aligned with a^huramazdā in the cosmic struggle to defeat the corruptive force of this “Lie”—in direct reflection of gāϑic principles.

In the final paragraph of his kerygma (DB 4:88–92), which itself is a later addition to DB 4 (Bae 2003, pp. 5, 15–16), Darius claims to have disseminated his inscription throughout the empire, closing with the statement: utā patiyafrasiya paišiyā mām pasāva i[mā]m dipim adam frāstāyam vispadā atar dahyāva kāra hamātaxšatā (“it was written down and was read aloud before me. Afterwards I have sent this form of writing everywhere into the countries. The people strove (to use it)”). As asserted by Darius, this work was well-accepted by the populace (DB 4:92). Traces of its popularity and impact can be seen in the few variant copies that were found in various places across the empire such as Babylonia (von Voigtlander 1978, pp. 63–66) and probably Saqqara (Segal 1983, p. 85 [#62]; Wesselius 1984, p. 443). However, the most important witness to DB’s sway in time and space is a copy of its Aramaic version produced about a century after the original inscription was unveiled (Luschey 1968, pp. 80, 92–94)—i.e., around 419 BCE—which was found on the island of Elephantine in upper Egypt. Within the vast tapestry that is the Bīsotūn inscription, this paper examines the Darius kerygma and its unique manner of interweaving “you-effect” narrative (Sorlin 2022, pp. 1–30) and cult—specifically that of a particular gāϑic passage—within a visual and textual vocabulary inherited, assimilated, and processed from Mesopotamian and the more local traditions of the Zagros region. Finally, this paper will show how the Darius kerygma lived on in the Achaemenid longue durée to inspire adaptations and secondary literature that incorporated its most notable features—culminating in an innovative exegetical legend intended to expound the kerygma through a prophetic court-tale—a story that enjoyed further expansion and reworking in Judean circles, which is only now coming to light.

2. Imitatio Dei in DB

The very choice of mount Bīsotūn as its location, imbues the inscription with a deep cultic backdrop. Its name is recorded in Greek as βαγίστανον ὄρος (Diodorus Siculus 2.13.1), which derives from the Old Persian *baga-stana—or “place of the god(s)”—a site that seems to have enjoyed a long tradition of sacredness (Canepa 2013, p. 329). The entire ensemble of texts, with its center-relief, contains various references to Mesopotamian cultic language and imagery as well as to more local references such the Naram-Sin stele, which was crafted in Sippar but was brought as booty to Susa by Shutruk-Nahhunte (r. 1185–1155 BCE) where it was still kept at the time of Darius, and the famous relief of king Anubanini of Lullubi (ca. 2000 BCE) at Sar-i Pul-i Zuhab in the Zagros mountains (Nasrabadi 2004; Tavernier 2021).

2.1. Imitatio Dei: Darius and the Cosmic Lie

The concept of imitatio dei was considered by Mircea Eliade to be “the essence of the Zoroastrian reform” (Eliade 1978, p. 309) and while this statement may be overly simplistic and inaccurate regarding Zoroastrianism as such, it is certainly an apt definition for the manner in which Darius presents himself in his inscriptions as a^huramazdā’s chosen “brother-in-arms”—and he does so based on Zoroastrian (or, to be precise, gāϑic) referents. This is particularly palpable in the text of DB but although it underlies the entirety of the inscription, it springs to the forefront in the Darius kerygma. The language of ascribing military victories to the deity and presenting the king as being personally chosen, beloved, and maintaining a special relationship with the divine is a longstanding staple of Mesopotamian—and, of course, Egyptian (Sabbahy 2021, pp. 22–25; Frandsen 2008)6—royal inscriptions. This association maintained an enduring, albeit inconsistent, form of apotheosis—i.e., of the monarch becoming god (see, e.g., Anagnostou-Laoutides 2017, p. 175). In Mesopotamia, this innovation is first recorded in the reign of Naram-Suen (DNa-ra-am DSuen, “beloved of Sīn,” r. ca. 2255–2218 BCE) who presented his apotheosis as being requested by the people, and who first affixed the DINGIR sign (𒀭) to his name—denoting divinity (Jones 2020, p. 245). It is expressed more fully roughly a century and a half later, in the Ur III period, via king Shulgi of Ur (r. ca. 2094–2046 BCE), who not only attached the DINGIR determinative to his name, but ascribed to himself a divine birth from Ninsun, daughter of the sky-god An, as part of a comprehensive myth-historical narrative justifying his place among the divine (Brisch 2022, pp. 76–77). The question of ancient “divine kingship” is multifaceted and complex (Morrison 2008; Charpin 2013, pp. 75–76)—as well as inconsistent, as shown in a recent quantitative study (Gansell et al. 2025, esp. 269). But by Darius’ time there was a lengthy tradition with a rich symbolic and rhetorical vocabulary around which to craft his message—adopt, assimilate, and innovate. Though deeply ingrained in this intricate pedigree, Darius avoids an outright apotheosis in favor of espousing a gāϑic-inspired alignment and fusion of wills between monarch and deity in the cosmic struggle against “the Lie” (Lincoln 2008, pp. 229–33).7 While in the Sassanian era there was a certain form of promotion of the king to a sacred realm as “untouchable, even invisible in some instances, an earthly possessor of the xwarrah, given with an external brilliant shape/image like that of the gods, and in particular like that of Ohrmazd” (Panaino 2023, p. 292), there is no basis to assume that such was the case in Darius’ day. Rather, in parallel to using vocabulary and imagery that is analogous to previous models from Mesopotamia and Egypt, the king of kings is here presented in an novel dimension. He is not a deity nor a son of a deity. Neither is he a mere instrument of divine justice. He is flesh and blood—yet an exceptional, singular, and exemplary member of humanity. His innovation is expressed in his total alignment, identification, and cooperation with vašnā ahuramazdahā (“the will of ahuramazdā”) in the particular in the overarching mission he has received from the deity namely, to lead the fundamental and all-encompassing cosmic battle against the destructive forces of “the Lie.”

2.1.1. The Narrative

The most striking characteristic of the text of DB in general, from a cultic perspective, is the absolute centrality of a^huramazdā. Darius repeatedly and dutifully ascribes his status as king, his military prowess, and his administrative successes, to vašnā a^huramazdahā (“the will of Ahuramazdā”). But a^huramazdā is complemented by additional forces. In two places in the Darius kerygma (DB 4:61, 63) a^huramazdā is mentioned utā aniyāha bagāha tayaiy hantiy (“with the other gods who are” or, better, “the other gods who exist”). As noted by Kellens, the syntagm tayaiy hantiy corresponds to the gāϑic expression “in which the gods are denoted by the relative yōi hǝn․tī ‘those who are’” (Kellens 2021, p. 1216). That these “other gods” are lesser Avestan divinities, or yazatas, can be seen more explicitly in the case of a^huramazdā worshipped alongside a named yazata—as famously found expressed by Darius’ son and heir, Xerxes, in his so-called “Daiva” (XPh) inscription.8 Here, the proper worship (yad-) of a^huramazdā is defined as being alongside the yazata ṛta through the repeated statement: adam auramazdām ayadaiy artācā brazmaniya, which I translated in a recent article as “I worshipped Ahuramazdā and the Order^YAZATA characterized by the exaltation^RITE” (Barnea 2025c) indicating that the correct manner, according to Xerxes, in which a^huramazdā is to be worshipped is in tandem with the divinity ṛta. This form of worship of the deity alongside its attendant divine power is rooted in the Avestan sources—reflecting passages such as at̰. vā̊. yazāi. stauuas. mazdā. ahurā. hadā. aṣ̌ā. vahištācā. manaŋhā. xšaϑrācā: “I worship you, praising you, mazda ahura, along with aṣ̌a-, Best Thought, and Dominion” (author’s translation, emphasis added) from Y 50.4a-c where, as I note in my aforementioned treatment of XPh, “as an object of worship alongside A^huramazdā, aṣ̌ā clearly refers to the yazata (personification/deification) of the abstract concept underlying it” (Barnea 2025c). However, cooperation with a^huramazdā is not limited to the yazatas. The pious man and adherent of a^huramazdā can also partake in the divine mission. Indeed, the struggle against the ontological destructive force of “the Lie,” which Darius took as his mission, is rooted in Avestan sources as an essential human-divine collaboration. Such a concept is found in several places in the gāϑās—most significantly for the purposes of this article in the Ahunauuaitī Gāθā (Y 28–34). From among the various hāitis of Ahunauuaitī Gāθā, its center-hāiti (Y 31) seems to have held a particularly central place in Darius’ worldview. Here, only three lines above the place from which Darius seems to have taken his throne-name: dāraiiat̰ vahištǝm (manō) (Y31.7) “(that) the best thought shall possess” (Kellens and Pirart 1988, pp. 40–41; Kellens 2021, p. 1216),9 we find a plea to vanquish the cosmic “Lie” that corresponds to Darius’ life’s mission: yadā. aṣ̌əm. zəuuīm. aŋhən. mazdā̊scā. ahurā̊ŋhō. aṣ̌icā. ārmaitī. vahištā. iṣ̌asā. manaŋhā. maibiiō. xṣ̌aϑrəm. aojōṇghuuat̰. yehiiā. vərədā. vanaēmā. drujəm (Y31.4) “If Asha is to be invoked and Mazda and the other Ahuras and Ashi and Armaiti, do seek for me, O Vohu Manah, the mighty Dominion, by the increase of which we might vanquish the Lie.” (emphasis added). Precisely as in the Darius’ kerygma, the defeat of “the Lie” is a combined effort of the deit(y/ies) and the devout man.

2.1.2. Pictographic Representations

Just as important as the textual messaging of DB, are the powerful and carefully crafted visual representations it offers its viewers—intended to reflect its textual emphases. Visual messaging was central to the main Achaemenid monuments such as those found at Persepolis and Naqš-e-Rustam. Their role was to show the king as embodying cultic piety and having a special and singular relationship with the deity and indeed, the cosmos (Root 2013, pp. 28–29). More specifically, the pictographic elements in Bīsotūn (Figure 1) are crafted so that they visually represent a specific paragraph of the inscription namely, the Darius kerygma, as described by Root (2013, p. 33): “The figure of Ahuramazda, hovering over the file of bound prisoners, effectively parallels the DB IV summary text in which Ahuramazda is said to place the vanquished rebel lie-followers into Darius’ hand to do with as he (Darius) pleases (or sees fit)”.

The visual representations of both a^huramazdā and Darius in DB share many features with Mesopotamian parallels—such as a tall headdress with bull horns for the divinity (topped by a star of Shamash), who also, following a longstanding tradition (at least from the Code Stele of Hammurabi) extends his hand, holding a ring, towards the monarch (Root 2013, pp. 35, 37) as a gesture of divine approval. Darius himself is presented with a unique crown (Figure 2) with a relief of “eight-pointed stars of Shamash” (Root 2013, p. 37), thus assimilating him “to Mesopotamian Shamash and also to the cosmos, with some special allusive properties that may reflect multiple legacies” (Root 2013, p. 41).

Based on any comparable model known to us from the ancient world, the figure that hovers above Darius must be understood as his patron deity—a^huramazdā—and the visual language assimilates the king and the deity in a combat stance, representing the former as an extension of the latter and as his ultimate agent—and indeed, ultimate creation—on earth. The special and intimate connection between king and deity is expressed in DB 4:35–36 though the once-attested term dastay-ā kar- introducing the Darius kerygma: pasāvadiš auramazadā manā dastayā akunau̯š; yaϑā mām kāma avaϑādiš akunavam. (emphasis added). “Afterwards Ahuramazdā made (i.e., put) them into my hand; as was my desire, so I did unto them.” Such a special connection has rightly been seen as possessing a special creative force where the deity creates the king to achieve his goals (Maricq 1958, p. 315, note 3; Panaino 2022, p. 222). Chosen thus by the deity, Darius is visually represented as towering over the defeated liar-kings—trampling the manifestation of “the Lie” par excellence—the maguš Gaumata—at the same time as he receives the decisive symbol of authority from the hand of his deity.

3. The Darius Kerygma as the Epicenter of DB

This brief analysis of textual and pictorial cultic features of DB shows that the Darius kerygma served as the focal point of the entire composition. It is this passage that is visually represented at the center of the inscription which is undoubtedly its most prominent feature. In word and image, the king of kings is presented as the highest authority on earth—as the defensor fidei, the defeater of the cosmic “Lie,” and the restorer of order par excellence (primarily in a cosmic sense if not in actuality). Shifting away from the axis of immediate history, the Darius kerygma rises above time to address future kings and future readers personally. It calls upon them to join the cosmic battle against “the Lie” and thus to emulate Darius in his alliance with a^huramazdā. Darius’ imitatio dei consists in his refection of the Wise Lord’s will and in joining him in battle to restore divine O/order. At the same time, he calls on future audiences to an imitatio Darii—to do as he does, to think as he thinks, and to continue the perpetuation his message in subsequent generations. This divine power bestowed upon the king was overwhelming and comprehensive and it did not go unnoticed by Greek sources, who claimed regarding the monarch that Πέρσαις δὲ νόμον αὐτὸν ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ δικαιωτὴν αἰσχρῶν καὶ καλῶν ἀποδεδειγμένον “regarding himself as appointed by Heaven to be a law unto the Persians and an arbitrator of good and evil” (Plutarch, Art. 23.3).

4. The Darius Kerygma in the Longue Durée

The Darius kerygma attracted vivid attention over the centuries and produced various forms of elaborations and literary reworkings. There are two significant adaptations that show noteworthy developments of this particular passage—zooming in specifically on DB 4:55–70. This particular passage seems to have made a profound impression on the minds of the populace of the Achaemenid empire. In all likelihood, it is Darius’ incredibly effective narrative shift to the “you effect” that contributed to its popularity. This manner of address in the Darius kerygma may seem simple but is, in fact, highly sophisticated and complex. A full treatment of the “you effect” in DB is outside the scope of this article but it suffices to note that it is multilayered and compound given that the first and the final “you” specifically addresses the king(s) who comes after Darius (DB 4:36, 64)—a “you” that functions in the sense of “I,” since it essentially describes Darius’ own actions—which is both alienating and engaging to the general audience at the same time given that they are now placed in the position of witnesses. However, another layer is added when every single reader/hearer of the text is also directly addressed via tuva ka/kā (DB 4:41)—i.e., anyone who will read the inscription henceforth. This roughly corresponds to what Herman called a “doubly deictic you” (Herman 1994, pp. 378–411), i.e., the “interference pattern produced by two or more frames—none of which can be called primary.” The use of this double deixis is a highly effective narrative technique that “entails the contextual anchoring of the reader at a physical, perspectival, emotional, and evaluative location very close to the focalizer’s or narrator’s, thus favoring perspectival alignment and identification” (Martínez 2015, p. 156). In the case of the Darius kerygma, this narrative design proved to be exceedingly effective. We find special and varied treatments of this passage centuries after it was carved into stone. One notable variant was copied at Elephantine toward the end of the fifth century BCE—about a century after the inscription’s inauguration (Luschey 1968, pp. 80, 92–94). Another—an exegetical legend seeking to explicate the Darius kerygma through the use of a court tale—was copied in Judea, at Qumran, around the turn of the first millennium (late first century BCE or early first century CE) and included a Judean-specific elaboration of this tale.

4.1. TADAE C2.1: The Aramaic Bīsotūn Version from Elephantine

A fragmented Aramaic version of DB was discovered by Sachau at Elephantine (Sachau 1911, pp. 185–205) among the documents left behind by the Yahwistic colony that resided on this island at the Nile’s first cataract from the mid sixth century (Barnea 2023) to the turn of the fourth century BCE. Sachau found a rather close correspondence between this Aramaic version and the already well-known Babylonian version of DB (Sachau 1911, p. 185). Following additional attempts at reassembling and restoring the fragments (most notably by Cowley 1923, pp. 248–71), a much improved version was finally proposed by Porten in collaboration with Greenfield (Greenfield and Porten 1982, p. 1; See also Porten and Yardeni 1993, pp. 60–71 [TADAE C2.1]). Their efforts were facilitated by von Voigtlander’s new and improved edition of the Babylonian version (von Voigtlander 1978) and it was also found that this Aramaic version was closer to the DB fragments found in Babylonian (Weissbach 1903, pp. 24–26, pl. 9 [BE 3627]; Koldewey and Wetzel 1932, pp. 23–24, pl. 2 [Bab. 41446]) than to the one inscribed upon the side of the mount Bīsotūn (Greenfield and Porten 1982, pp. 15–16). Due to the fact that the last column of the inscription copy found at Elephantine is immediately followed by several columns of accounts—with dates—the text of Aramaic DB was convincingly shown to have been copied around 419 BCE or before the sixth year of the reign of Darius II (Greenfield and Porten 1982, pp. 2–3). With the improved version, important deviations from the known versions of DB were also noted—both omissions and additions/adaptations. The final section of the inscription was shorter and included material that derived from the final paragraph of the second tomb inscription of Darius at Naqš-e Rustam (DNb § 9)—as first analyzed by Sims-Williams (1981); (See also Greenfield and Porten 1982, p. 3; Tavernier 2001, pp. 167–72). Within this passage from DNb, the inclusion of two OP loanwords shows that it was not based on its Babylonian version but on the OP (Tavernier 2001, p. 167). Moreover—as a resonance of the interplay of the doubly deictic “you effect” mentioned above—the addressee in the Aramaic version seems to be Darius’s immediate successor, whereas in DNb “the impersonal ‘subject’ is taken to indicate ‘Darius’s people in general’” (Sims-Williams 1981, p. 2).

The Aramaic DB as found among the Yahwists at Elephantine “formed part of the literature of the Jewish Diaspora in Egypt of the Persian and Hellenistic times” (Kratz 2022, p. 303) and demonstrated loyalty to the Achaemenid king (Bledsoe 2015, p. 252). As loyal citizens of the Achaemenid empire, it is inconceivable that they would dare create their own variant of DB and we should not assume that this version necessarily originated under Darius II either. It is, indeed, impossible to offer a solid date for the insertion of this alternative form of DNb §9 into the alternate text of DB. This could conceivably have been a variant version of DB that circulated already during the reign of Darius I—in which case, text from this variant may have ultimately been adopted for use in Darius tomb inscription (DNb) upon his death. Such an early date for this variant might be corroborated by the fact that DNb §9 is ”virtually an independent inscription, differing in manner and subject-matter from the preceding text and separated from it, in all three versions, by an uninscribed space” (Sims-Williams 1981, p. 1; See also Gershevitch 1979, p. 130). Or, it could have circulated soon following his death—combining popular elements from DNb into an updated version of DB. Alternatively, it could have been authored under Darius II (Tavernier 1999) as an homage to his namesake.10 It is not unlikely that such a version, in Aramaic, was distributed as a “commemorative edition,” a “best of,“ or a “verba Darii” following the death of Darius I or under Darius II. Whatever the dating and logic behind this reworked passage, the inclusion of this particular passage from DNb within the Darius kerygma make it evident that this specific proclamation received significant editorial attention in the years following its original composition.

4.2. 4Q550: An Exegetical Legend Based on DB 4:36–69

By far the most striking and sophisticated adaptation of the Darius kerygma is preserved in a leather scroll—a gewil (Haran 1982, pp. 364–67)—which was found in cave 4 in Qumran and labeled as 4Q550. Fragments of this Aramaic scroll were previously published with various interpretations (most notably by Milik 1992; Puech 2009, pp. 1–46) but have I recently completed a full material and textual restoration of this document—a critical edition of which will soon be published (Barnea 2025a). Qumran is the site of a settlement most associated with the so-called “Dead Sea Scrolls” where, in eleven caves, documents were discovered containing mostly biblical, apocryphal and sectarian texts. The small number of Iranian connections found in these documents were studied by Shaked (1995) who focused mostly on 4Q550 but found a couple of probable Iranian words in other documents.11 4Q550 is certainly the most Iranian document from Qumran and, according to my paleographic analysis, was copied around the end of the first century BCE or the beginning of the first century CE.12 The new reconstruction shows that this scroll contains an exegetical legend explaining the Darius kerygma through the use of the Achaemenid court tale genre (Wills 1990, pp. 1–38; Holm 2013, pp. 377–414). Moreover, this court tale includes a number of references to the narrative of DB such as employing seven conspirators against the king (as a negative reflection of the same motif in DB). Moreover the leader of the conspiracy is said to have used kšpʾ (“sorcery”)—ostensibly against the king (4Q550 7:2)—as a reflection of his being a maguš. There are also certain grammatical features that reflect an OP-influenced mode of expression. For example, in 6:1, the use of hw (הו) as a far-deictic emphatic resumptive pronoun, which is exceedingly rare in Aramaic, but is typical of OP, which uses the cognate hauv. This construction is found e.g., in DB 1:36: pa[sāva] I martiya maguš āha Gaumāta nāma hauv udapatatā hacā Paiši[yā]uvādāyā “Afterwards there was one man, a maguš, Gaumata by name; he rose up from Paishiyauvada” (emphasis added). Additionally, all the names in the narrative are Iranian (bgwšy, bgsrw) and the hero’s father, ptryzʾ, is said to be a confidant of the king—through the use of the syntagm ʾwšy mlkʾ (“the king’s ear”) using an Iranian word for “ear,” uš- (Air. Wb. s.v.).

4.2.1. 4Q550: Synopsis

Following the a “the discovery of the book” scene by Xerxes, where the scrolls of his father Darius are found, one of these scrolls—sealed with seven seals—is opened and read. It contains a paraphrase of the Darius kerygma warning future kings and all “servants of the empire”—i.e., all citizens of the empire—to distance themselves from the man of lies and violence (“every brute and liar”). As Xerxes is this selfsame king that comes after Darius, it is evident that this message is personally addressed to him as the first of all future kings of Persia (The address is in the plural in 4Q550, see below). The next two columns contain two prophetic visions—one each—who are specifically designated as such in 4Q550 6:3 (די ח^זה ב[חזיוניאש]תרתין “for he saw in the two visi[ons]”). These visions are essentially one almost identical vision, twice repeated—another popular literary topos found across the ancient Near East, e.g., in Herodotus (1.107–8, see Pelling 1996, pp. 73–75) and, famously, in the biblical Joseph novella where Joseph’s dreams, the dreams of the cupbearer and the baker, and those of the Pharaoh are repeated twice (Gen 37:5–11, 40:8–22, 41:1–32, respectively). Such twice-repeated dreams were considered trustworthy communications from the deity in antiquity and here they describe—in a vivid sequence—a conspiracy against the king, led by an evil-doer/liar by the name of bgwšy and his six companions. The prophet who received these visions is an impeccably loyal scribe of the court by the name of bgsrw—son of his equally blameless father by the name of ptryzʾ. Bgsrw dutifully informs king Xerxes of the conspiracy and in col. 5, the king confronts the chief conspirator, bgwšy, at which point the narrative voice reports: “the terror of the house of the scr[ibe] fell upon him” (4Q550 5:4) leading to his and his companions’ swift and utter demise. The rest of col. 5 and col. 6 contain the aftermath of the averted plot—including a doxology of king Darius and a description of his royal decree (ʾsr) endowing the loyal scribe-prophet with the highest honors. The final and seventh column, as I will further explain below, contains a later Judean adaptation of this court tale reusing and repurposing material from the previous columns. Thus, in 4Q550, the Darius kerygma serves as the foundational authoritative text around which the court tale exegetical legend unfolds and which it was intended to elucidate.

4.2.2. 4Q550 2:4–7 (Incl. Aramaic Text and Translation)

Although the first column (seven lines of text) of this exegetical legend is missing, what can be gleaned from the second column (Figure 3 with translation in Figure 4) presents the reader with the classic ancient Near Eastern literary topos of the Auffindungsbericht or “the discovery of the book” by Achaemenid king Xerxes. This common theme—famously also found in the biblical story of Judean king Josiah’s discovery of an authoritative book (2 kgs 23:8–20)—is used in ancient Near Eastern texts to introduce a momentous event (Na’aman 2011, pp. 49–53). In this case, the discovered book is a seven-sealed scroll—a new literary topos for the time, which will have significant impact in later literary output, especially in the so-called “apocalyptic” literature, e.g., in the book of Revelation and in magical texts (Barnea 2024). This scroll does not contain the entire Bīsotūn text. Rather, it is a scroll whose contents are a new variant (or paraphrase) of the Darius kerygma—specifically the introduction of the “you effect” from lines DB 4:36, 64. As we have seen in the case of the Elephantine DB copy, the variants of kerygma have historically played with the second-person address by which it is introduced—whether it is singular (as in the original) or plural, and the specific addressee of its message: the specific king coming after Darius, all future kings, the people in general, etc. Here, the kerygma is certainly addressed to future kings in the plural. Although its fragmentary nature may suggest an impersonal third-person to these future kings—a direct second-person address is much more likely given that the initial address (to the kings) is followed by one directed at the servants of the dominion (a semantic cognate of xšaθra-, OP xšaça-) in an unmistakable second-person plural.

The relevant lines (4Q550 2:6–7), begin with the Persian loanword פתגם(א) (OP *patigāma)—a word that is well documented in Achaemenid documents such as the archives from Elephantine and Saqqara (TADAE A6 8:3, A6 10:9, B8 8:2, B8 8:5, D1 28:5, D1 32:15)—with its sense being an “official word/decree.” This term is also known from Biblical Aramaic (Daniel 3:16, 4:14; Ezra 4:17, 5:7, 5:11, 6:11). Furthermore, it is said to be a פ֯ת֯ג֯[מא די דרי]י֯וש (“the word/command of Darius”). Above this same line (l. 6) there is an interlinear correction די ב֯]כול א[רעא (“of the whole earth”), which corresponds to one of Darius’ official titles (e.g., adam Dārayavauš … xšāyaθiya haruvahạyāya būmiyā, “I am Darius … king of the whole earth,” DSb 7–9). The scroll was opened and read and its contents are given at the beginning of line 7 with [למלכיא די ת]מלכון בתרי (“to the kings, (you) who will reign after me”)—most probably in the “you effect” second-person plural address, as explained above—followed by a paraphrase of the bracketing lines of the Darius kerygma (DB 4:36, 64) concerning evil men.

In the context of DB, lines 4:36, 64, which are paraphrased in 4Q550, open and close the Darius kerygma and serve as an inclusio repeating the admonition to shun all liars and evil-doers. The intervening text of the original inscription (DB 4:37–63) addresses not only future kings, but all future readers of the inscription. It tells them, regarding everything that Darius formerly inscribed, that mātya draugam maniyāhay (“do not hold it to be lies”). Moreover, Darius calls the highest witness possible—a^huramazdā—to vouch for the veracity of his statements and describes himself as the antidote to “the Lie” and as a just king who, analogously to a^huramazdā, repays people according to their actions. The populace is called to fully trust Darius’ account, with his self-designated “unprecedented” successes and favors presented as cosmic proof of his uprightness with a^huramazdā and the deity’s seal of approval. The readers are encouraged by implication to emulate Darius. If anyone seeks the blessings of a^huramazdā they should follow in the king of kings’ footsteps. Just as he was naiy arika âham naiy draujana âham naiy zûrakara âham naiy adam naimaiy taumâ upariy arštâm upariyâyam naiy škaurim naiy tunuvatam zûra akunavam martiya hya hamataxšâta manâ vithiyâ avam ubartam abaram hya viyanâthaya avam ufrastam aparsam “not wicked, nor was I a liar, nor was I a despot, neither I nor any of my family. I have ruled according to righteousness. Neither to the weak nor to the powerful did I do wrong. Whosoever helped my house, him I favored; he who was hostile, him I destroyed”—so should they. Moreover, just as he promulgated the text of DB throughout the empire, so too should anyone reading it continue—under the threat of a curse (!)—to spread these words (DB 4:54–55). It is this form of justice and fairness—repaying everyone according to their deeds—that underlies Xerxes’ handling of the conspiracy in the remaining columns of 4Q550.

4.2.3. 4Q550 6:1 (Incl. Aramaic Text and Translation)

Another important feature for the purposes of this article is found in col. 6. It begins amidst a doxology to the “most high” (Ꜥlyʾ) who is said to be “feared and served” by the hearers of the doxology—and as ruling “all the earth” (Figure 5 with translation in Figure 6) This corresponds to how Darius is presented, for example in DSb (Susa): adam Dārayavauš xšāyaθiya vazạrka xšāyaθiya xšāyaθiyānām xšāyaθiya dahạyūnām xšāyaθiya haruvahạyāya būmiyā Vištāspahạyā puça Haxāmanišiya “I am Darius, the great king, king of kings, king of lands, king of the whole earth, son of Vištāspa, an Achaemenid” (emphasis added). The use of Ꜥlyʾ within the syntagm אלהא עליא (“most high god”) is known from biblical and related literature but we know of no Achaemenid king who is referred to with the Aramaic title מלכא עליא (“most high king”). However, outside the Bible, neither is the “most high god” found in Aramaic and there is nothing about the superlative Ꜥlyʾ that limits it to the divine realm. Moreover, given that this entire scroll is focused from beginning to end on the dignity and absolute power of the king, it is preferable, for methodological reasons, to adopt the interpretation that fits the overall tenor of the composition best—i.e., that this adulation refers to the king rather than to a deity.

4.2.4. 4Q550 7

The seventh and final column of 4Q550 is dedicated to the praise of a certain Jewish/Judean nobleman, who is presented as a יהודי מן רברבני מלכא “Jew/Judean from the nobles of the king” (4Q550 7:3). From the context, this Jew is probably ptryzʾ. In my opinion, this final column is a later addition to the composition. It is almost entirely based on elements taken from previous columns and reworked in order to summarize the highlights of the court tale while giving it an epilogue with a Jewish angle. The entire text of this court-table prior to this column almost certainly originates in Achaemenid circles—from the fourth or, as I believe is more likely, the fifth century BCE (possibly under Darius II who seems to have been especially proactive in preserving the fame of his namesake). The author of the text was intimately familiar with the text of the Bīsotūn inscription—a level of familiarity that can hardly be expected from a first century BCE/CE scribe in Judea. The Judean-specific treatment—building upon this tale which is itself rooted in the Darius kerygma—is its last documented development. However, the very fact that this text was found stored in Judea, in Qumran, among texts that are mostly biblical, biblical-related, or sectarian testifies to its wide-ranging popularity up to the very end of the first millennium BCE, at least. It serves as a testament to the long and varied impact of the Darius kerygma.

5. Conclusions

Darius was able to combine and assimilate longstanding Mesopotamian visual and narrative features with an innovative cultic messaging derived from the gāϑic worldview. Specifically, the sophisticated use of “you effect” to focus its audience on the cosmic disruptor—“the Lie”—against which Darius and a^huramazdā join forces in battle in a special case of imitatio dei proved to be extremely effective. Darius’ imitatio dei is thus extended to the general population—all who read/hear his words—who are now, by extension, called to imitatio Darii. The Darius kerygma stands out not only in situ relative to the surrounding text and image but also temporally in its masterful use of the “you effect,” which resonated with audiences centuries after its composition. The various derivative literary works—be it the insertion of a passage from DNb or a full-fledged court tale intended to serve as an exegetical commentary on the kerygma—attest to its ongoing impact. The exegetical legend—i.e., the explanation of an external authoritative text through the use of a legend—in 4Q550 is, in fact, the earliest known occurrence of this genre. This genre will flourish and develop in later periods and will be encountered in the form of Midrash Aggadah in Judaism (Kadari 2022) and various Christian (e.g., Kavvadas 2024, p. 294) and Islamic exegetical traditions (Riddell 1997).