As the title of this monograph indicates, the focus of discussion is rhetoric, understood by James W. Watts in Aristotle's terms as “the art of persuasion” (xv). Specifically, Watts deals with the rhetoric of ritual material in Leviticus 1–16, asking the question, “Who was trying to persuade whom of what by writing these texts?” (xv). As a rhetorical exercise, this study seeks to convince readers that the persuasive intentions and effects of Leviticus merit careful consideration. Watts makes a significant new contribution to understanding Leviticus as the work of Aaronide priests who were seeking to establish and reinforce their legitimacy and authority.

In dealing with cutting-edge theoretical issues in the study of ancient ritual texts and their rhetorical significance, Watts writes in a lucid, accessible style, free of jargon. Another virtue of the work is that while its several chapters do stand together well as a coherent study of the portions of Leviticus 1–16 that focus on sacrificial ritual, each chapter may also be read as an essay on its own terms.

The first chapter (“Ritual Text and Ritual Interpretation”), which serves as an introduction, deals with issues in the rhetorical interpretation of ritual texts, with Leviticus as the main example. Watts provides an extremely useful review of recent scholarship, and a necessary critique of the influential work of Jacob Milgrom and Mary Douglas. Worthy of particular note is Watts's explanation of weaknesses in Douglas's last several works on Leviticus and Numbers. Watts offers, for example, a careful critique of Douglas's argument that Leviticus is based on analogical rather than discursive reasoning. He also notes that a fundamental flaw in Douglas's reading of priestly texts is her treatment of their emphasis on priestly privilege as insignificant because it is so “obvious.” In contrast to Douglas, Watts emphasizes what Leviticus itself emphasizes: the special significance of the (Aaronide) priesthood. It is this emphasis that results in what, to Douglas, appeared as an image of a nonhierarchical society: the singular importance of the priesthood meant that no other hierarchical social distinction could matter. Another major focus of the introductory chapter is on the crucial theoretical distinction between texts and rituals. A fundamental consequence of this distinction, as Watts notes, is that while texts are necessarily implicated in symbolic communication, rituals may not be. This is an admittedly controversial claim, given the insistence by many interpreters of ritual that it is intrinsically symbolic action. However, Watts follows a line of critical engagement with ritual theory that questions this stance. Anyone wishing to engage with this debate would do well to study Watts's discussion.

Watts's second chapter (“The Rhetoric of Ritual Instruction”) provides an overview of the rhetoric of Leviticus 1–7, demonstrating how ritual instruction can be read for its persuasive functions and effects. According to Watts, the first seven chapters of Leviticus were not composed simply to provide information on correct ritual performance, but were shaped to persuade their audience of their normative authority. Continuing the focus on persuasion, Chapter 3 (“The Rhetoric of Burnt Offerings”) engages with the question of why the “burnt offering” appears first in Leviticus's treatment of offerings. Watts suggest a variety of persuasive purposes for this arrangement, the most fundamental being to gain acceptance for priestly cultic legislation as a legitimate representation of Israelite values. In particular, placing the “burnt offering” at the beginning of Leviticus foregrounded the ideal of selfless devotion as a foundation upon which to build a claim to priestly privileges.

In Chapter 4 (“The Rhetoric of Sin, Guilt, and Ritual Offerings”), which deals with the “sin offering” and “guilt offering” in Leviticus 4–5, Watts demonstrates why these traditional translations of the Hebrew terms hatta't and ’asham retain interpretive value. He highlights the assertive wordplay in Leviticus 4–5, which juxtaposes the names for the two offerings with identical words meaning “sin” and “guilt” and with verbs from the same two roots. He argues, on this basis, that the authors of this material were introducing new forms of offering and sought to gain acceptance for these innovations by emphasizing their vital importance in dealing with sins and offenses. Watts's overall argument is quite persuasive. However, a weakness of the chapter is that he does not deal with the several cases in which the hatta't is prescribed in situations in which “sin” does not seem to be in view (e.g., the parturient, in Leviticus 12). In these instances, is the emphasis on “sin” in Leviticus 4 really still in play? While I agree with Watts's claim that Leviticus 4 is constructed to persuade its audience of the connection between “sin” and the “sin offering,” I would argue that what is innovated is not the offering itself, but its particular usage: the author(s) of Leviticus 4 is seeking to establish a new use and significance for the hatta't as an offering for particular types of “sin,” whereas it seems originally to have been an offering used only to deal with impurity.

Chapter 5 (“The Rhetoric of Ritual Narrative”) deals with Leviticus 8–10. Here, Watts makes an effective case for identifying priestly obedience as the key theme of the three chapters understood as a coherent unit. In particular, he demonstrates how Leviticus 10 follows logically and necessarily from Leviticus 8–9, and reinforces the essential significance of the priesthood of Aaron and his sons—rather than undermining it, as some interpreters have suggested. Particularly striking in its simple cogency is Watts's response to the various attempts to define precisely what led to the fiery destruction of Aaron's sons (Leviticus 10:1–2): “The endless attempt by interpreters to explain what Nadab and Abihu did wrong is pointless. The story says it explicitly—they did not follow instructions… . In the context of twenty-two repetitions of the refrain of compliance with divine instruction, that is quite enough to explain the fatal consequences” (107). Although Watts does not discuss the issue, I was struck by the ways in which his treatment of Leviticus 10 establish its vital connection with Leviticus 8–9, such that it seems problematic to claim that Leviticus 10 is a late addition to Leviticus, as has recently been argued by Christophe Nihan.Footnote ¹

In Chapter 6, Watts deals with “The Rhetoric of Atonement,” examining how the verb kipper is situated within Leviticus 1–16, and is made a basic category for understanding the efficacy of offering rituals. Again, the author emphasizes that the rhetoric of “atonement” in Leviticus reinforces priestly status. Having emphasized the fundamental significance of priestly legitimacy and authority in Leviticus 1–16, in Chapter 7 (“The Rhetoric of Priesthood”), Watts focuses on this theme and its impact in ancient Israel and early Judaism, underscoring the success of Aaronide rhetoric in creating an Aaronide hierocracy.

In Chapter 8 (“The Rhetoric of Sacrifice”), Watts explains his avoidance of the term sacrifice in previous chapters and problematizes its utility as a category applicable to the offering rituals of Leviticus 1–16. Then, in his ninth and final chapter (“The Rhetoric of Scripture”), he argues that the Aaronide authors achieved a second major success. Not only did they establish their own unique legitimacy, but also they also succeeded in creating the foundation for the scripturalization of their writings, as it was the focus on the correct performance of ritual that gave the Pentateuch its initial authority.

This brief review cannot do justice to the wealth of careful argumentation and textual analysis contained in this volume. I recommend it strongly as a study of ritual texts in Leviticus, and more generally as a work demonstrating the value of rhetorical analysis of biblical ritual texts, and as a study of the ideology and literary activity of ancient Israel's Aaronide priesthood.