This is a very distinguished work of scholarship, which ranges broadly over the Hebrew Bible, its ancient Near Eastern context, and (more briefly) its reception in classical Judaism and Christianity. The particular focus is on the changing concept of the embodiment of God in the Hebrew Bible. Sommer investigates the modalities of divine bodies in ancient Near Eastern religions, traces continuities with these concepts in the earlier sources of the Pentateuch, and then describes the rejection and transformations of these concepts in subsequent biblical texts, primarily the Priestly source, the Deuteronomistic history, and some of the classical prophets. In an interesting and suggestive concluding chapter, he surveys the return of earlier features of divine embodiment in post-biblical Judaism (Shekinah, Sefirot) and Christianity (Incarnation and Trinity) and draws out possible theological implications for modern Jews and Christians. In an erudite appendix, he clarifies the evidence and arguments for a distinction between monotheism and polytheism in the Hebrew Bible.

Sommer summarizes his main argument as follows:

Because the later biblical view has imposed its conceptual framework(s) on the whole, it takes some careful work to disengage the earlier view and to consider how and why the earlier conceptions changed.

In all of these aspects of the problem, Sommer is largely successful. He not only controls the primary data—including texts (in Akkadian, Ugaritic, Greek, and Hebrew) and archaeological material—but also has a sophisticated understanding of scholarly theory in the history of religion. It is a pleasure to read a book that appreciates philological and theoretical nuance and does not skimp with either in constructing a plausible description of ancient religious phenomena. The brief survey of the postbiblical life of these phenomena is another treat, which is worth a much fuller investigation, but which Sommer wisely restricts to one chapter since the relevant topics are nearly infinite.

In the midst of my praise—this book is one of the most accomplished contributions to our understanding of biblical religion in recent years—I wish to raise two caveats. One concerns Sommer's analysis of the concept of divine fluidity in ancient Near Eastern and early biblical sources, which I think deserves some further distinctions and data. The other is a methodological qualm concerning the absence of sociological factors in his analyses, which affects his arguments about the conceptual changes in monotheism wrought by later biblical authors such as P and D.

On divine fluidity, Sommer rightly maintains that “for ancient Near Eastern religions, gods could have multiple bodies and fluid selves.” This feature, he observes, is also found in J, E, and other biblical sources. The kinds of multiple embodiment in the ancient Near East include (a) “fragmentation,” such that a god can have multiple embodiments at different places, as in “Ishtar of Arbela,” “Ishtar of Nineveh,” and “Ishtar of Carchemish;” (b) “overlap” of identity between gods, such that a high god such as Marduk can assume aspects of the identity of other gods (e.g., Anu, Enlil, and Ea); and (c) “incarnation,” such that a god can be embodied in a ritually prepared statue or symbol. Hence, there are multiple ways in a god can be embodied simultaneously.

Similarly, in biblical and epigraphic Hebrew, Yahweh can be represented as having fluid embodiment. For “fragmentation,” we know of “Yahweh of Samaria,” “Yahweh of Teman,” “Yahweh in Hebron,” “the God of Bethel,” and, of course, Yahweh in Zion. For “overlap” there is a fluidity of identity between Yahweh and his angels, such that the angel can be represented as a manifestation of Yahweh. Finally, standing stones and sacred trees could be represented as manifestations of Yahweh (perhaps—the distinction between symbol and embodiment is not clearly marked for these data).

I suggest that this concept of fluid embodiment can be made more precise by distinguishing between the gods' cultic and cosmic bodies. (This follows some suggestive ideas of the Egyptologist Jan Assmann.) Cultic fluidity pertains to the coexistence of local cults or cult sites and entails a fluidity of earthly manifestation. Like the Virgin Mary (e.g., Our Lady of Lourdes, Guadalupe, Fatima), ancient gods had multiple local cults, which gives them a spatial fluidity. The same local multiplicity pertains to cult statues and symbols of the gods. Mircea Eliade's concept of sacred space helps to explain why one god can be present in many locales, which all share the quality of a “cosmic center” that transcends the normal limitations of space and time. The multiple localization of the divine body is a quality of the fluidity of sacred space as much as a quality of the body as such.

Many ancient gods also had cosmic bodies, a topic that Sommer surprisingly fails to explore. Gods often simultaneously had anthropomorphic bodies and heavenly bodies—Ishtar was the morning star (Venus), Shamash the sun, Yarikh the moon, and so on (we still refer to the closest five planets by their Latin god-names). In the Bible, Yahweh's heavenly host were simultaneously members of God's heavenly court (and heavenly militia) and were the stars in the sky (see, e.g., Judges 5:20, 1 Kings 22:19, and Job 38:7). This is probably the most widespread category of fluid divine embodiment in the ancient Near East and the Bible. The distinction between cultic and cosmic embodiment adds precision and nuance to Sommer's categories.

My methodological qualm is the lack of attention to sociological matters. The book proceeds as if the history of religion were untouched by the messy issues of political claims, social conflict, and institutional interests. But as soon as we encounter the Priestly and Deuteronomistic authors, these issues have major implications. In the rejection of multiple bodies and manifestations of Yahweh in favor of one localizable body, we encounter the politics of centralization. The D authors, who are best identified, following Moshe Weinfeld, with sages and scribes in the royal court, have the king as their patron. The centralization of cult in Jerusalem is not just a matter of theology, but is a major expansion of royal power. The P authors, who are usually identified as the Aaronid priests of the Jerusalem Temple, are clearly asserting their authority over all cultic matters by centralizing the cult—and God's body—in the priestly tabernacle. These political interests and allegiances are important motivations for the P and D authors, and shape the subject matter and emphases of their narratives and laws.

When Sommer claims that these authors rejected the fluidity model for purely theological reasons—because the fluidity model “could easily lead to polytheism” (137)—this important area of explanation is missing. For P, one God in one place also implies one priesthood. This construal of monotheism asserts the power and privileges of the Aaronid priests (note that the final covenant in P is the “covenant of eternal priesthood”). For D, the presence of God's name in “the place that I will choose” implies the centralization of power in Jerusalem, to the detriment of rural cults and authorities. Sommer wisely avoids certain historicist arguments, such as the shopworn appeal to the trauma of the Babylonian exile as the motivation for a purer form of monotheism. But I suggest that his arguments would be enriched by attention to the interplay between power and knowledge (Foucault's phrase) in the claims and counterclaims in biblical (and every other) religious discourse.

These criticisms do not affect the solidity of Sommer's thesis, but point to some areas in which his arguments could be usefully thickened.