The Sceptics of the Old Testament: Job - Koheleth - Agur — Context and Discussion

The Dedication as Intellectual Map

The three conversations described in the dedication trace a geographical and intellectual arc: from the Neva’s “blue expanse” to the moonlit ice, then to the Mönchsberg overlooking Paracelsus’s grave. Each setting corresponds to a stage in Dillon and Paschkoff’s shared inquiry into the philosophical problems of the Old Testament sceptics. The final image—standing “just before setting out in opposite directions”—underscores the book’s theme of divergent paths in thought. For a first reading, this dedication is not mere courtesy; it frames the translation as the fruit of sustained dialogue, inviting the reader into an ongoing conversation rather than a definitive pronouncement.

Philological Claims and Their Evidence

Dillon’s title page announces a translation “for the first time from the primitive Hebrew as restored on the basis of recent philological discoveries.” The preface, though not fully excerpted, likely elaborates on this method. The later excerpts, however, shift abruptly to a discussion of Buddhist missions under King Açoka, including a translation of one of his inscriptions. This digression suggests that Dillon’s philological approach extends beyond Hebrew to comparative religious history. Readers should approach the translation sections with an awareness that Dillon’s textual decisions may be informed by his broader comparative framework, though the excerpts do not reveal how he applies this to Job, Koheleth, or Agur.

The Unexpected Comparative Turn

In the later excerpts, Dillon discusses Açoka’s hospitals for men and animals, Buddhist monasteries in Bactria, and the influence of Buddhism on Zoroastrianism and Manichaeism. This material, seemingly unrelated to the Old Testament, appears in a work ostensibly about biblical sceptics. The connection is not explained in the provided text, but the juxtaposition implies that Dillon sees the sceptical tradition as part of a wider ancient discourse on suffering, ethics, and the divine. For a first-time reader, this comparative section may feel disorienting; it is best understood as an attempt to contextualize the biblical texts within a global history of religious and philosophical questioning.

The Author’s Scholarly Persona

Dillon’s title page lists an impressive array of credentials: Professor of Comparative Philology and Ancient Armenian at Kharkoff, Doctor of Oriental Languages at Louvain, member of several learned societies. This self-presentation establishes authority but also signals the book’s interdisciplinary nature. The dedication’s intimate tone contrasts with the formal academic apparatus, creating a dual voice—personal and scholarly. Readers should note that the excerpts do not include Dillon’s actual translations of Job, Koheleth, or Agur; the editorial note must therefore limit inference about the translation’s style or accuracy. The book’s structure, moving from personal dedication to philological preface to comparative history, suggests a layered argument that rewards patient reading.

Because the excerpts do not include the translated texts themselves, a first reading of this edition should begin by examining how Dillon’s philological claims in the preface align with his actual renderings. The comparative material on Buddhism and Zoroastrianism, though seemingly digressive, may illuminate his interpretive framework. Readers are advised to treat the dedication as a key to the book’s intellectual ambitions, and to approach the translation with an awareness of Dillon’s dual role as personal essayist and academic philologist.

That rainy afternoon, Dillon’s notes on Job’s weary irony felt like a hand placed on my shoulder. Leafing later through his comparative passages, I stumbled upon a neglected shelf and pulled down Wit and Humor of the Bible: A Literary Study — Reading Notes. It was the same laughter, softer and closer, the ache turning suddenly warm.