The pattern of the settlement stories of the founding father found in the genealogical traditions of both cultures, ties the origin of an ethnic group or residents of a certain city to a forefather who at some point emigrated to the area. This pattern does not exist within the literatures of the ancient regional civilizations, such as Mesopotamia or Egypt, whose people did not regard themselves as immigrants, even though, throughout the centuries, many wanderers and immigrants from other places integrated within their societies and even held leadership positions. This chapter discusses the founding-father pattern and traces signs for the existence of similar literary traditions in other areas within the Mediterranean basin, such as in a series of Anatolian inscriptions that originated in the kingdom of Que in Cilicia, northwest of the Syrian coast. Following this, the chapter discusses the reasons for the growth of this literary pattern in the eastern Mediterranean.

Chapter 3 explores how Pseudo-Hegesippus uses the figure of the patriarch Abraham, along with several other biblical heroes, to drive a variegated discourse of Jewish ethnography throughout De Excidio. By zeroing in on two passages where Abraham and other Bible figures are used to talk about “what the Jews are like” (i.e., ethnic stereotyping), Pseudo-Hegesippus shows himself familiar with ancient ethnographic conventions and uses ethnography to present various pictures of the Jewish national character in the mouths of both Roman and Jewish narrative characters.

The chapter begins with the discussion of the story about the tower of Babel and the confusion of tongues (Gen 11.1–9), the event which was usually but not always understood as the start of linguistic diversification. The chapter explores early Christian ideas about the primordial language, usually identified with Hebrew. The history of Hebrew and the attempts of late antique Christians to define their relations to this would-be original tongue occupy the larger part of the chapter. Fourth- and fifth-century writers discussed whether the original tongue ceased or continued to exist after Babel, and who – Heber or Abraham – was instrumental in preserving the original tongue. These biblical figures and various scenarios of language history they represented were claimed by competing Christian and Jewish historical discourses. These linguistic discussions contributed to consolidating their corresponding religious identities. The alternatives to the idea of Hebrew’s primordiality were also attested; they bear witness to the continuous debates about originality, ontological power, and the relative prestige of languages in Late Antiquity. The chapter attempts to reconstruct Christian attitudes to the linguistic diversity, their views on the history and evolution of other (non-Hebrew) languages, and to contextualize ideas about the language of God in Jewish–Christian polemics.

This chapter contrasts a traditional Protestant understanding of justifying faith as responding to God’s act of reconciliation with an argument for understanding Pauline faith as eschatological trust. The argument focuses on an exegesis of Romans 4. This latter interpretation opens up new vistas on the Pauline implicit narrative substructure as it tells the story of the work of Christ, the community of faith, and the course of history.

“Blood after Isaac” reads the binding of Isaac, where some interpreters see blood, although the story never mentions it. This chapter introduces the pattern that blood seeps in where it seems not to belong. The little word "na," untranslated in English versions of the story, in modern Hebrew means simply "please," but in the Hebrew Bible indicates irony, as in "say, go ahead, see if I care." The chapter argues that the story of Isaac is best understood in terms of divine irony, God imitating Abraham as a trickster. Why does Abraham not catch on?

This final chapter of Part II reflects on the relationship between kinship and law, both in the Narrative of Transjordanian Tribes and in the biblical corpus more broadly.

The chapter narrates the history of operetta in Berlin. Compared to Paris, London and Vienna, Berlin was a latecomer when it came to popular musical theatre. The first operettas performed here were successes from other cities. However, in the last year of the nineteenth century, Berlin saw the beginning of a homegrown operetta industry with the success of Paul Lincke’s Frau Luna. As elsewhere, operetta was intimately connected with its locale, performed in the Berlin accent, reflecting on life in the city and inventing and popularizing local characters. This was just as true for the new generation of composers. Yet, their success abroad increasingly turned operetta into an international commodity. Berlin operettas were played in Paris, London, New York and many other cities around the globe until World War I put a stop to such cosmopolitanism. After the war, Berlin replaced Vienna as the operetta capital. The chapter ends with the rise of National Socialism, which spelt exile and death for the Jewish composers, directors and actors, without whom Berlin operetta would not have been possible. By reconstructing this story, the chapter rediscovers what once was a thriving and genuinely popular culture.

After touching on his own experiences, Barrie Kosky points out that operetta lost the continuity of its tradition in World War II. He calls for a radical investigation into operetta performance practice. He describes operetta as a Jewish art form not only because most of the composers, librettists and performers were Jewish but also because operetta itself is about assimilation, irony and disconnectedness. This tradition was interrupted because many Jewish artists went into exile or died in the war. After the war, everything subversive, erotic, ironic and contemporary became harmless, nostalgic, and arianized. But over the last ten years, new understanding has grown, and a new young audience is discovering operetta. Kosky maintains an operetta needs a fabulous score and must work on different levels as a combination of ‘serious but ironic’. Operetta needs characters, scenes and situations that can reveal performers’ virtuosity in mixing singing, dancing, speaking and acting. Kosky sees subversiveness and campy queerness as inherent in operetta. It appears in Offenbach’s political awareness as well as in the new definition of gender in the Weimar operetta. Kosky says new operetta requires composers and librettists familiar with the tradition but who should avoid copying operetta of the past.

It was, above all, the romantic melodies and rich harmonic textures of operetta that attracted British and American audiences. The music of operetta occupied a number of positions between popular musical theatre and opera. Dance rhythms formed an important part of the style of every operetta composer. American influence on German operetta had its source in the music-making of African Americans in the period just before the jazz craze of the 1920s. There was delight in mixing musical styles, and it is common to find Austro-German, Hungarian, and American styles in the same piece. While operettas with modern themes were increasingly characterized by syncopated rhythms in the 1920s, those with exotic themes were spiced up with augmented intervals, modal harmony, and ostinato rhythms. Most operetta composers in Vienna and Berlin were happy to have the help of orchestrators. Orchestrators were also on hand for New York productions.

It was, above all, the romantic melodies and rich harmonic textures of operetta that attracted British and American audiences. The music of operetta occupied a number of positions between popular musical theatre and opera. Dance rhythms formed an important part of the style of every operetta composer. American influence on German operetta had its source in the music-making of African Americans in the period just before the jazz craze of the 1920s. There was delight in mixing musical styles, and it is common to find Austro-German, Hungarian, and American styles in the same piece. While operettas with modern themes were increasingly characterized by syncopated rhythms in the 1920s, those with exotic themes were spiced up with augmented intervals, modal harmony, and ostinato rhythms. Most operetta composers in Vienna and Berlin were happy to have the help of orchestrators. Orchestrators were also on hand for New York productions.