Walking Through Daniel, Part 2: Faithful in Babylon
The Book of Daniel Chapter 1
Hello brothers and sisters,
Before we open Daniel 1 together, I want to emphasize something about this book that might change how you read it forever. I touched on this in the introduction last week, but allow me to dig a little deeper into this.
The Hebrew version of Daniel is bilingual.
Not bilingual the way we usually mean it, where the author happens to know two languages. I mean the text itself switches languages partway through. Daniel opens in Hebrew (1:1 through 2:4a), then abruptly switches to Aramaic at 2:4b, stays in Aramaic through the end of chapter 7, and then switches back to Hebrew for the rest of the book (chapters 8 through 12).
This isn’t a minor curiosity. It’s one of the great mysteries of the book, and it sets up everything we’re about to read.
Why Two Languages?
Here’s what makes this so puzzling: the language switch doesn’t follow the natural structural division of the book.
If you were going to divide Daniel into two halves, the obvious split would be between chapters 6 and 7. Chapters 1 through 6 are stories about Daniel and his friends, told mostly in the third person. Chapters 7 through 12 are visions received by Daniel, recorded mostly in the first person. Stories, then visions. Neat and tidy.
But the language doesn’t follow that split. The Aramaic section begins in the middle of a story (chapter 2) and runs through the first vision (chapter 7). The Hebrew bookends the Aramaic on both sides: chapter 1 and chapters 8 through 12.
Why?
Several theories have been proposed, and I think the most compelling ones aren’t mutually exclusive. The first is structural. Chapters 2 through 7 form a chiastic pattern in Aramaic: chapter 2 (four kingdoms + God’s kingdom) mirrors chapter 7 (four beasts + God’s kingdom); chapter 3 (faithfulness under persecution) mirrors chapter 6 (faithfulness under persecution); chapter 4 (God humbles a king) mirrors chapter 5 (God judges a king). This chiasm is a self-contained literary unit, and the Aramaic frames it as such.
The second theory is about audience. Aramaic was the lingua franca of the ancient Near East, the language of empire, diplomacy, and commerce. Hebrew was the language of Jewish identity, covenant, and worship. The Aramaic section (chapters 2-7) addresses themes that concern the nations: the rise and fall of empires, the sovereignty of God over pagan kings, the vindication of the faithful in foreign courts. The Hebrew sections (chapter 1 and chapters 8-12) address themes that concern Israel specifically: the exile, the restoration of Jerusalem, the coming of the Messiah, the end of days.
In other words, the bilingual structure mirrors the message. God is sovereign over both Israel and the nations, and He speaks to both, in both of their languages. This is a both/and book from its very bones.
It’s worth noting that this bilingual structure is a feature of the Masoretic Text’s source language. The Greek translations (both the Old Greek and Theodotion) rendered everything into Greek, so a reader of the Septuagint wouldn’t necessarily know the underlying language had changed. But scholars have observed that the Greek translations sometimes show different vocabulary patterns and translation techniques in the Hebrew sections versus the Aramaic sections. These are subtle fingerprints of the bilingual original showing through the Greek surface that an exceptionally attentive reader may have noticed.
Now, let’s dig in.
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Daniel 1:1-2 — God Gave
Daniel 1:1-2 (NRSVUE):
“In the third year of the reign of King Jehoiakim of Judah, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it. The Lord let King Jehoiakim of Judah fall into his power, as well as some of the vessels of the house of God. These he brought to the land of Shinar, and placed the vessels in the treasury of his gods.”
The very first verse raises a question that critics have seized on for centuries: Daniel says Nebuchadnezzar came to Jerusalem in the third year of Jehoiakim’s reign. But Jeremiah 25:1 dates Nebuchadnezzar’s first year to the fourth year of Jehoiakim. Is this a contradiction?
In fact, it is not. The discrepancy is resolved by understanding two different systems for counting the years of a king’s reign. The Babylonian system used what’s called “accession-year dating,” where the partial year in which a king took the throne was called his “accession year,” and his official “year one” didn’t begin until the next New Year. The Judean system (which Jeremiah uses) counted the accession year as year one. The result is that the same historical event, Nebuchadnezzar’s first campaign against Jerusalem around 605 B.C., falls in Jehoiakim’s third year by Babylonian reckoning and his fourth year by Judean reckoning.
Daniel, writing from Babylon after years (possibly decades) in the Babylonian court, naturally uses the Babylonian system. Jeremiah, writing from Jerusalem, uses the Judean system. Both are correct. This is actually an incidental mark of authenticity: a second-century forger trying to pass off a work as Daniel’s would almost certainly have followed Jeremiah’s dating to avoid the appearance of contradiction.
But the dating isn’t even the most important thing in these two verses. Look at the theology.
“The Lord let King Jehoiakim of Judah fall into his power.” The NKJV puts it even more directly: “The Lord gave Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand.”
The Hebrew verb here is נָתַן (natan), “to give.” This is the theological key that unlocks the entire chapter. Nebuchadnezzar didn’t overpower God. God gave Judah into Babylon’s hand. The exile was divine judgment.
The subtext here is that even a catastrophe such as this was under God’s sovereign control.
And remember this verb. It will come back.
There’s one more detail here that’s easy to miss. The text says Nebuchadnezzar brought the temple vessels to “the land of Shinar.” Not “Babylon,” but “Shinar.” This is an archaic name, a deliberate echo of Genesis 11:2, where humanity settled in the plain of Shinar and built the Tower of Babel. It appears again in Zechariah 5:11, where wickedness is carried to Shinar. By using this ancient name instead of “Babylon,” the author is framing the exile within a larger biblical narrative: Shinar/Babylon has always been the place where human pride rises against God. Daniel’s story is the latest chapter in a conflict that goes all the way back to Genesis.
All three textual traditions agree on the substance of these verses, though the Old Greek and Theodotion render “the Lord” with κύριος (kyrios), which is the standard Greek translation of both Adonai and the divine name throughout the Septuagint.
Daniel 1:3-7 — The Remaking of Israel’s Best
Daniel 1:3-5 (NRSVUE):
“Then the king commanded his palace master Ashpenaz to bring some of the Israelites of the royal family and of the nobility, young men without physical defect and handsome, versed in every branch of wisdom, endowed with knowledge and insight, and competent to serve in the king’s palace; they were to be taught the literature and language of the Chaldeans. The king assigned them a daily portion of the royal rations of food and wine. They were to be educated for three years, so that at the end of that time they could be stationed in the king’s court.”
Ashpenaz is identified as the רַב סָרִיסָיו (rav sarisav), which most translations render as “chief of the eunuchs” or “chief court official.” The Hebrew word סָרִיס (saris) is ambiguous; it can refer to a castrated court official (a eunuch in the literal sense) or simply to a high-ranking palace administrator.
But the use of this term raises a haunting possibility: that Daniel and his companions were themselves made eunuchs upon arrival in Babylon.
This isn’t idle speculation. Isaiah 39:7 records a prophecy delivered to King Hezekiah: “Some of your own sons, who are born to you, shall be taken away; they shall be eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.”
If Daniel and his friends were of royal or noble descent (as verse 3 states), they may have been the direct fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. The text never confirms or denies this, but the use of saris is suggestive.
It’s worth noting that both Greek versions use the term εὐνοῦχος (eunouchos), which more explicitly means “eunuch,” though this was also used broadly for court officials in Greek.
Look at the criteria for selection: “without physical defect,” “handsome,” “versed in every branch of wisdom,” “endowed with knowledge and insight.” These terms echo the qualifications for both sacrificial animals (Leviticus 22:21-22, “without blemish”) and for priestly service. There’s a bitter irony here: Babylon is selecting Israel’s finest young men using language that mirrors service to God, but repurposing them for service to a pagan king.
And then comes the renaming.
Daniel 1:6-7 (NRSVUE):
“Among them were Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, from the tribe of Judah. The palace master gave them other names: Daniel he called Belteshazzar, Hananiah he called Shadrach, Mishael he called Meshach, and Azariah he called Abednego.”
The Hebrew names of these four young men are theophoric, meaning they contain the name of God woven into their very identity:
Daniel (דָּנִיֵּאל) means “God is my judge.” The divine name El is embedded in his name.
Hananiah (חֲנַנְיָה) means “The Lord is gracious.” The suffix -yah is a shortened form of the divine name.
Mishael (מִישָׁאֵל) means “Who is what God is?” Again, El appears.
Azariah (עֲזַרְיָה) means “The Lord has helped.” Another -yah suffix.
Every time their parents called their names, they were making a theological statement about the God of Israel. Now Babylon strips those names away and replaces them:
Daniel becomes Belteshazzar, almost certainly invoking the Babylonian god Bel (Marduk). We know this because Nebuchadnezzar himself says in Daniel 4:8 that the name is “according to the name of my god.”
Hananiah becomes Shadrach. The exact etymology is debated, but many scholars connect it to Shudur Aku, “command of Aku,” the Sumerian moon god.
Mishael becomes Meshach. This may be a deliberate distortion of the Hebrew; if Mishael asks “Who is what God is?”, Meshach may twist it to “Who is what Aku is?”, replacing the true God with a pagan deity.
Azariah becomes Abednego, most likely “servant of Nebo” (also known as Nabu), the Babylonian god of wisdom and writing.
This is cultural conquest through naming. Babylon takes young men whose very identities proclaim the God of Israel and assigns them identities that invoke pagan gods. It’s an attempt to rewrite their souls.
The Greek versions transliterate these Babylonian names slightly differently across manuscripts, but the substance is consistent across all three traditions. What matters is the theological violence of the act: Babylon can change their names, but as the rest of the book will demonstrate, Babylon cannot change who they are.
Daniel 1:8-16 — The Line in the Sand
Daniel 1:8 (NRSVUE):
“But Daniel resolved that he would not defile himself with the royal rations of food and wine, so he asked the palace master to allow him not to defile himself.”
The Hebrew phrase here is powerful. “Daniel resolved” translates וַיָּשֶׂם דָּנִיֵּאל עַל־לִבּוֹ (vayyasem Daniel al-libbo), literally “Daniel set upon his heart.” This is the language of deliberate, settled conviction. This is solid resolve forged deep in his core, not some spur-of-the-moment decision.
But why the food? What exactly was the problem?
It wasn’t simply a matter of kosher dietary laws, though those would certainly have been relevant. The deeper issue at hand is that food served at the king’s table would have been consecrated to Babylonian gods first. Eating it meant participating, however indirectly, in pagan worship. For Daniel, accepting the king’s food meant accepting the king’s gods.
In other words, covenant betrayal dressed up as court etiquette.
What’s in view here is the first test of faithfulness in the book, and it’s significant that it’s about something as mundane as food. Daniel didn’t draw the line at the language classes (he learned Babylonian literature and language willingly). He didn’t draw the line at the new name (he presumably answered to Belteshazzar without protest). But he drew the line at food, because food in the ancient Near East was inextricably tied to worship.
The palace master initially refuses.
Daniel 1:10 (NRSVUE):
“The palace master said to Daniel, “I am afraid of my lord the king; he has appointed your food and your drink. If he should see you in poorer condition than the other young men of your age, you would endanger my head with the king.””
Now, notice what Daniel does. He doesn’t suggest the palace master overcome his fear. He doesn’t plead his case. He doesn’t fight at all.
Now, the text tells us that Daniel had the palace master’s favor and compassion, so we can imagine that might have played a part in Daniel’s decision here. But as to what the basis of that relationship is, the text doesn’t tell us. Maybe Daniel earned his respect. Maybe the became something resembling friends. Who knows?
In the end, what matters is that Daniel chooses not to create strife with the palace master. Rather, he chooses to go around him.
Daniel proposes a test to the guard appointed by the palace master. He’ll give them ten days of vegetables and water instead of the king’s food. If they look worse for it, Daniel will comply.
The word for “vegetables” in the Hebrew is זֵרֹעִים (zero’im), which literally means “things sown” or “seeds.” The Old Greek renders this σπέρματα (spermata), also “seeds,” while Theodotion uses a similar term. The point is the same across all three traditions: Daniel chooses the simplest possible diet, one with no risk of idolatrous contamination.
After ten days, Daniel and his friends look healthier than the youths eating the king’s food. The guard permanently removes their royal rations, providing a quiet victory. So there is no confrontation, no public scene, no shame or disgrace, just faithful conviction rewarded by God’s provision.
I find it interesting that there is no indication of the palace master having been involved in any way with the taking away of the king’s rations from the young men. Did he even know about it? The text doesn’t tell us, but it’s one of the things that I ponder in this passage.
Now, the number ten will recur as a testing motif later, both in Daniel and elsewhere in Scripture (cf. Revelation 2:10, where the church in Smyrna is told it will suffer tribulation “for ten days”). Whether this is a deliberate pattern or simply a natural marker for a testing period, it’s a detail worth noticing as we move through the book.
Daniel 1:17-20 — God Gave (Again)
Daniel 1:17 (NRSVUE):
“To these four young men God gave knowledge and skill in every aspect of literature and wisdom; Daniel also had insight into all visions and dreams.”
There it is again. The verb נָתַן (natan), “to give.” God gave Jehoiakim into Nebuchadnezzar’s hand (v. 2), and now God gives these four young men knowledge and wisdom (v. 17). The same God who permitted the catastrophe also provides for the faithful within it. The verb frames the entire chapter, and it tells you everything you need to know about the theology of Daniel: God is the one who gives, and God is the one who takes away, and both are acts of sovereignty.
Notice the distinction: all four receive knowledge and skill in literature and wisdom (the Babylonian curriculum), but Daniel alone receives the ability to understand “visions and dreams.” This sets up the rest of the book. Daniel’s friends will be tested by fire in chapter 3, but Daniel will be tested by revelation. He’s being equipped for a prophetic role that none of the others will share.
Daniel 1:19-20 (NRSVUE):
“The king spoke with them, and among them all no one was found to compare with Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah; therefore they were stationed in the king’s court. In every matter of wisdom and understanding concerning which the king inquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters in his whole kingdom.”
There’s that ten again. And the comparison isn’t with other exiles or other trainees; it’s with the entire Babylonian wisdom establishment. The magicians (חַרְטֻמִּים, chartummim) and enchanters (אַשָּׁפִים, ashaphim) were the professional class of wise men, scholars, diviners, and interpreters who formed the intellectual backbone of Nebuchadnezzar’s court. Four teenage exiles, fresh out of a three-year training program, outshine them all.
This isn’t presented as a reward for Daniel’s dietary faithfulness (though the connection is implied). It’s presented as a gift from God. The four youths didn’t earn their wisdom through study alone; God gave it to them. The same sovereignty that sent them into exile equipped them to thrive there.
All three textual traditions agree on the substance of these verses. This is one of the sections where the Old Greek, Theodotion, and the Masoretic Text tell the same story in essentially the same way, with only minor stylistic differences in word choice.
Daniel 1:21 — The Man Who Outlasted an Empire
Daniel 1:21 (NRSVUE):
“And Daniel continued there until the first year of King Cyrus.”
One verse. Easy to skim past. But this is a staggering statement.
Daniel arrived in Babylon as a teenager around 605 B.C. The first year of Cyrus over Babylon was 539 B.C. That’s roughly sixty-six years. Daniel outlasted the entire Babylonian Empire.
This doesn’t mean Daniel died in Cyrus’s first year. He’s still alive in Daniel 10:1, which is dated to the third year of Cyrus. The point of verse 21 isn’t about when Daniel died; it’s about how long he endured. He was there when Nebuchadnezzar took him from Jerusalem. He was there when Nebuchadnezzar went mad. He was there when Belshazzar threw his blasphemous feast. He was there when the Persian armies breached the walls. He was there when the empire that stole him from his homeland collapsed.
And through it all, Daniel continued. The Hebrew word is simply וַיְהִי (vayehi), “and he was.” He existed. He persisted. He remained.
Empires rise and fall. Daniel remained.
A Note on Textual Differences in Chapter 1
Daniel 1 is one of the chapters where all three traditions are relatively close. The dramatic divergences we discussed in the introduction post (the kind where the Old Greek tells a fundamentally different version of the story) don’t show up until chapters 4 through 6. In chapter 1, the Old Greek and Theodotion generally track the Masoretic Text with only minor differences in word choice, phrasing, and the rendering of proper names.
That said, there’s one feature of the Old Greek across the early chapters that’s worth mentioning.
The N.E.T.S. introduction to Daniel notes that the Old Greek translator of chapters 1 through 3 works more closely with the Semitic source text than the translator of chapters 4 through 6, where the divergences become enormous.
Scholars have debated whether the Old Greek of Daniel was produced by a single translator or by multiple translators working on different sections. The relatively close agreement in chapter 1 suggests that whoever translated this section was working carefully with a Hebrew text very similar to what we have in the Masoretic tradition.
However, where the NETS introduction implies that the translator of chapters 4-6 was merely being loose or interpretive with the translation, I would argue (as should come as no surprise if you’ve been with me for any length of time) that it’s likely that the translator was working from a very different Hebrew source than what survives today and that source merely agreed with the Masoretic much more closely in the early chapters than it does in 4, 5, and 6.
But in any case, for now all three voices are singing a remarkably similar tune.
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Reflections: In Babylon, But Not of Babylon
Daniel 1 is a chapter about identity under pressure. Everything that defined these young men was stripped away: their homeland, their temple, their freedom, possibly even their bodies (if the eunuch implication is correct). And then their names were taken, replaced with labels honoring foreign gods.
Babylon’s strategy was total assimilation. Learn our language. Eat our food. Wear our names. Become us. Forget where you came from. Forget who your God is.
And it almost looks like it’s working. Daniel and his friends do learn the language. They do enter the king’s service. They do answer to their Babylonian names. From the outside, they look like successful products of the Babylonian educational/indoctrination system.
But there’s a line. And Daniel draws it.
Not at the obvious things; not at the language or the education or even the names. At the food. At the quiet, daily, seemingly insignificant act of sitting down to eat. Because Daniel understood something that many believers miss: faithfulness isn’t primarily about the dramatic moments. It’s about the daily ones. It’s about what you do when nobody’s watching and no one would blame you for going along.
In a word: integrity.
“Daniel set upon his heart.” He decided in advance. He didn’t wait until the food was in front of him to figure out what he believed. He had already resolved who he was and whose he was before the pressure arrived.
I think that’s the biggest takeaway for us. We all live in some version of Babylon. We all face cultural pressure to assimilate, to adopt the names and values and habits of the world around us. And the pressure is rarely dramatic. It’s rarely a fiery furnace or a lions’ den. It’s a daily meal. It’s a small compromise. It’s the quiet erosion of convictions that nobody else even notices.
Daniel drew his line at the daily meal.
Where will you draw yours?
And here’s the part that gives me hope: the same God who allowed the exile also provided within it. The same God who gave Judah into Babylon’s hand also gave Daniel wisdom, favor, and endurance. The sovereignty of God isn’t just about the catastrophes. It’s about the provision that sustains you through them.
Daniel continued until the first year of King Cyrus.
Empires fell. Daniel remained.
By the grace of the God who gives and gives and gives.
Coming Up Next
Next week, we’ll open Daniel 2, where Nebuchadnezzar has a dream that shakes the foundations of his empire. Daniel interprets it, revealing God’s plan for the ages. The Aramaic section begins, and with it, some of the most sweeping prophecy in all of Scripture.
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I love the book of Daniel. I have a feeling I’m going to love this series you’re doing. I somehow missed your part 1. I’ll be sure to read it soon. Loved the part about the renaming of the Hebrew boys and what that meant. That insight was super. Can’t wait for the next installment!