should again be made clear from the outset, however, that the existence of this tradition invites much more than an opportunity simply to extend the longevity of Muhammad by a mere two or three years, and the discrepancy of the source materials on this point instead calls for some sort of explanation. Why are there very different memories concerning Muhammad’s relation to the expansion of his religious movement outside of Arabia and his followers’ invasion of Roman territory in Syro-Palestine? Admittedly, one cannot entirely exclude the possibility that the difference is simply the result of a collective misunderstanding, but as this chapter will argue, the nature of the sources in question renders this solution improbable. The fact that no source, Islamic or non-Islamic, from the first Islamic century locates Muhammad’s death before the Near Eastern invasions indicates that it is not simply a matter of having guessed incorrectly. Possibly the esteem expressed for Muhammad by members of this new religious movement may have led each of these non-Islamic writers to the false assumption that he remained in charge for a few years longer than had actually been the case. Such a scenario is certainly not inconceivable, but it would imply that a profound and prolonged ignorance regarding the basic “facts” about Islam’s founding prophet remained pervasive in the various non-Islamic religious communities of the seventh and early eighth centuries. Indeed, if the earliest Muslims had clearly recalled from the start that Muhammad died two years before their invasion of Syria and Palestine, it is hard to imagine that not a single one of the early non-Islamic sources (not to mention the letter of ʿUmar) would manage to get this right. Alternatively, as this study proposes, dramatic changes in the faith of the early Muslims may have given rise to these divergent traditions and could potentially explain the eventual displacement of one tradition by the other. Indeed, as will be seen in chapters to come, there appears to have been some effort initially to deny the reality of Muhammad’s death within the earliest community. Likewise, there is considerable evidence to suggest that primitive Islam transformed rapidly from a non-confessional monotheist faith with an extremely short eschatological timeline into an imperial religion grounded in a distinctively Arabian and Arab identity. Such changes, as we will see, provide a credible context for the apparent shift in early memories about the end of Muhammad’s life.
Doctrina Iacobi nuper Baptizati (July 634 CE)
The earliest extant text to mention Muhammad is the Greek account of a dialogue that purportedly took place in July 634 in Roman North Africa, in the context of the empire’s forced conversion of North African Jews in 632. The text, entitled Doctrina Iacobi nuper Baptizati, was most likely written very soon after the events that it describes, as seems to be required by its concern to address the specific issue of the forced baptism of 632, as well as by references to contemporary political events that suggest a time just after the first Arab attacks on the Roman Empire.1 The text identifies its author as Joseph, one of the participants in the dialogue, but its central character is Jacob, a Jewish merchant from Palestine who had recently been coerced into baptism while on an ill-timed business trip to Africa. As the text begins, Jacob addresses the other Jews who have been forcibly baptized and explains that he has come to see the truth of Christianity through a miraculous vision and careful study of the scriptures. After extensive instruction and dialogue with his audience, he successfully persuades these newly baptized Jews to commit with their hearts to the faith that they have received through compulsion. Several days later, and approximately midway through the text, a new character appears: Justus, the unbaptized cousin of one of Jacob’s pupils, who has recently arrived from Palestine. Justus is upset that his cousin and so many other Jews have accepted their Christian baptism, and he is persuaded to debate the issue with Jacob before the group. Unsurprisingly, given that this is a Christian text, the story ends with Justus’s conversion. Yet despite this rather clichéd conclusion, the text is a rich source for understanding the history of the eastern Mediterranean world during the crucial period just after the Persian occupation and at the beginnings of the Islamic conquest.
Among other things, this remarkable text is one of our most important resources for understanding relations between the Jewish and Christian communities in the Byzantine provinces, since, unlike so many other early Byzantine writings on Jews and Judaism, the Doctrina Iacobi is regarded as a particularly reliable and accurate source. Anti-Jewish polemics were especially popular during the early Byzantine period, and for the most part this literary tradition is replete with stereotypes and rhetoric, bearing a complicated and very tenuous link with the historical realities of the day. Although these texts usually give the appearance of being directed at converting the Jews, this cannot have been the actual cause for their production, since they frequently misrepresent or misunderstand Judaism so badly that they would have little hope of effectively reaching this audience. These texts are instead best understood as insider literature, intended to reassure the Christian faithful of the truth of their faith by demonstrating (in Christian terms) the superiority of Christianity to Judaism, which was Christianity’s main religious rival in the pre-Islamic Near East.2
Nevertheless, the Doctrina Iacobi defies most of the literary conventions—and conventional interpretations—of the adversus Iudaios genre: it is, as David Olster explains, “the exception that proves the rule.”3 The Doctrina Iacobi is distinguished from its kin most especially by the accuracy with which it portrays Judaism and Jewish life in the late ancient Mediterranean. Whereas most anti-Jewish literature from this period presents a highly stereotyped construct that is rhetorically designed to demonstrate the superiority of Christianity, the Doctrina Iacobi presents a highly detailed and realistic depiction of late ancient Judaism. It is in fact so accurate and nuanced that Olster concludes not only that the Doctrina Iacobi was most likely written with a Jewish audience in mind, but also that its author was almost certainly a converted Jew; otherwise, it is difficult to conceive how the text could have such depth of insight into seventh-century Jewish life.4 Moreover, the Doctrina Iacobi’s author displays considerable knowledge of Palestinian geography, as well as of the contemporary situation in North Africa, lending credibility to the text’s genesis among a group of Palestinian Jews who found themselves in Roman Africa at this inopportune time.5 In addition, the text details the business dealings of both Jacob and Justus, and even the circumstances of its own production, creating a high level of verisimilitude.6 Even if the latter elements are merely in place to enhance “the reality effect” of the story, the author’s descriptions of contemporary social and political life are astonishingly accurate when compared with other sources.7 The Doctrina Iacobi stands out within its genre for its careful and accurate representation of such historical details and, more remarkably, for the thorough and thoughtful contextualization of its dialogue within this broader historical setting.8
An important part of this backdrop is the appearance of a new prophet in Palestine, who, although he is unnamed, is unquestionably to be identified with Muhammad. The passage in question follows Justus’s conversion, and, like the rest of the dialogue, it is remarkable for its attention to certain details:
Justus answered and said, “Indeed you speak the truth, and this is the great salvation: to believe in Christ. For I confess to you, master Jacob, the complete truth. My brother Abraham wrote to me that a false prophet has appeared. Abraham writes, ‘When [Sergius]9 the candidatus was killed by the Saracens, I was in Caesarea, and I went by ship to Sykamina. And they were saying, “The candidatus has been killed,” and we Jews were overjoyed. And they were saying, “A prophet has appeared, coming with the Saracens [ὁ προφήτης ἀνεφάνη ἐρχόμενος μετὰ τῶν Σαρακηνῶν], and he is preaching the arrival of the anointed one who is to come, the Messiah.” And when I arrived in Sykamina, I visited an old man who was learned in the scriptures, and I said to him, “What can you tell me about the prophet who has appeared with the Saracens?” And he said to me, groaning loudly, “He is false, for prophets do not come with a sword and a war-chariot. Truly the things set in motion today are deeds of anarchy, and I fear that somehow the first Christ that came, whom the Christians worship, was the one sent by God, and instead of him we will receive the Antichrist.10 Truly, Isaiah said that we Jews will have a deceived and hardened
