Notes on Bruce Gordon, The Bible, ch. 2 (early translations of the Bible)

Continuing 

Ch. 2, "Tongues of Fire" (pp. 41–64), on translations of the Bible during the first millennium of church history. The last ten pages treat the Latin Bible. 

This I find strange. It comes after Gordon has already implied that the pope commissioned a translation of the entire Bible from Jerome (when, in reality, any evidence for a papal commission refers only to the Gospels). 

Working in Jerusalem and greatly aided by Jewish teachers and assistants, Jerome prepared a Latin translation of the Hebrew Bible. It does not diminish his work at all to acknowledge that Jerome also made us of other translations, such as the Septuagint and the Hexapla of Origen. His New Testament, which followed later, was not entirely Jerome's work, as he made extensive use of Old Latin versions. The resulting Latin Bible had a somewhat compositive character, but it was nevertheless a landmark. (p. 58)

What I find especially strange is that comment on the New Testament. In fact, the only part of the Vulgate New Testament that comes from Jerome is the Gospels, but Jerome did not work on the Gospels after his work on the Hebrew Bible but before. Indeed, the Gospels were the first part of the Bible that Jerome revised. The rest of the Vulgate New Testament may have been produced after Jerome's work on the Hebrew Bible (but probably not), but in any case it comes from someone else, not Jerome. 

But, on a positive note, Gordon does realize that Jerome never collected his various biblical translations himself (p. 59)—or, at least, that we have no evidence that he did so. But that makes all the more strange his comment in ch. 1 (that I mentioned previously) about how Jerome put the Apocrypha between the Testaments.  

Gera on Judith's Reception among Jews

More office clean-out, and this time I have come across an article by Deborah Levine Gera called "Traces of the Story of Judith in Early Jewish Literature" (2024, in this edited volume). 

In my own recent analysis of the topic signaled in Gera's title, I basically came up with nothing. 

The earliest copy of the book we have (PSI 127 = Ra 968) is a third-century CE Greek fragment owned by Christians, unless the earliest copy is instead that (possibly Jewish) ostracon mentioned earlier (Ra 999). According to Origen, Jews in the third century CE did not own copies of the book, but according to Jerome, Jews in the fourth century did have Aramaic copies of the book. There are medieval Hebrew retellings of the book of Judith. (p. 93 of my book on the reception of the Apocrypha)

That's all I've got to say on the Jewish reception of Judith from its origins to the year 1000 CE (which is the time period I set for myself for the chapter on the Jewish reception of the deuterocanonical books). By the way, the reference to Origen is to his Epistle to Africanus, and the reference to Jerome is to his Preface to Judith. 

Gera's article considers echoes of Judith in the deuterocanonical Additions to Esther (specifically, Additions C and D) and in Ps-Philo, Book of Biblical Antiquities (chs. 30–33). A couple of quotations to see how she gets there. 

Pseudo-Philo's version of the encounter between Sisera and Jael, which he transforms into a seduction scene, clearly owes much to the Book of Judith. (p. 39)

Pseudo-Philo ... also, somewhat unexpectedly, lends Jael some of Judith's piety and prayerfulness. (p. 40)

Gera also analyzes the characterization of Sisera in Ps-Philo in comparison to Holofernes in Judith, and Ps-Philo's depiction of Deborah in relation to Judith. 

As for Esther's Additions C (prayers of Esther and Mordecai) and D (Esther's approach to the king), the possibility of influence between these Additions and the Book of Judith and, if so, the direction of that influence is more debatable. Gera argues for influence from Judith to the Additions. 

Moreover, she points out that if Ps-Philo originally wrote in Hebrew (as per the scholarly consensus) and if Addition C of Esther was written in Hebrew or Aramaic (as scholars generally conclude) and if Judith really did influence both of these works, then the likelihood that Judith itself was written in Hebrew (a point recently debated) perhaps increases.  

UPDATE (12 Sept 2025): I have seen in the latest Journal of Septuagint and Cognate Studies a notice of this dissertation on Judith, to be published in this series by Brepols, which argues that the author of Judith was familiar with classical Greek literature. I am not sure how strongly the dissertation argues for a Greek composition for Judith, the dissertation summary included in JSCS acknowledges that the recent argument for a Greek original for Judith was the starting point for the research. 

 

Tov on the Torah in the Dark Ages

Time for an office clean-out, and what do I rediscover, but an interesting article by Emanuel Tov published earlier this year in a Festschrift. The article is called "The Dark Ages of the Textual Transmission of the Torah," and it turns out that the Dark Ages mentioned in the title refers to the period before the composition of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Since the Scrolls are more-or-less our earliest physical evidence for the Torah, the period before the third century BCE constitutes the Dark Ages, when most biblical scholars assume that the Torah existed in some form but the contours of that form are debated. (For some reason, Tov says that "The earliest written evidence for the Torah is that of the LXX" [221], but we do not have Greek manuscripts of the Pentateuch that predate the DSS Torah manuscripts.)

The Festschrift is available open access here.

As Tov points out, for the period of the Dark Ages (pre-third-century BCE), different forms of the Torah have been hypothesized by modern scholars, but the textual form of the MT has usually been presupposed by all forms of the Documentary Hypothesis. Tov searched the books of the Bible for vestiges of a deviating text form for the Torah. “The practical result of the search for early deviating texts is that I see little or no textual evidence that differed in a major way from the proto-MT. In other words, it seems that the MT has no serious competitor among possibly early texts” (227). He cautiously suggests “that for several centuries a text like the proto-MT (the forerunner of the MT) was the sole reigning text through the Dark Ages. This assumption was possible only if very few copies of the Torah or only a single one were circulating. The single-copy theory … is the tacit supposition of all those who adhere to a documentary hypothesis of some kind” (227). “I don’t think that the SP and the LXX had antecedents before the fourth or third century; I rather think that these texts were created as popular offshoots from the proto-MT family” (230).

Notes on Bruce Gordon's The Bible, ch. 1

Bruce Gordon is a professor at Yale who specializes in the late medieval and early modern period, so it is of course unfair of me to point out details that he has gotten wrong about a period outside his area of expertise. Nevertheless, I guess that's what blogs are for. 

Last year Basic Books published Gordon's 500-page account of the history of the Bible, from its origins to modern times. I've heard great things about it. I'm reading chapter 1, "Becoming a Book" (pp. 9–40), and here are some notes, mostly corrections. (I considered calling this post "Correcting the Bible," but thought better of it.) 

But before the corrections, here is something I found very valuable, all from p. 18. 

For all the necessary talk of bishops and theologians, the early story of the Bible is not primarily about which books were deemed scripture and which were excluded by the sole discretion of religious authorities. The revolution of the Bible lay in Christians' distinctive attitude toward their sacred writings. Words are powerful, particularly holy ones, and for Christians this meant both spoken and written. The Gospels and the writings of the New Testament authors circulated among communities orally and as leaves. In comparison to the Jewish tradition, early Christians did not have such a reverential attitude toward the written words of scripture. [But later, p. 21: "This profound reverence for religious texts was a trait that christians inherited from the Hebrew tradition."] The writings of the New Testament were not the preserve of learned scholars but for the people. Written in common language, they were neither elegant nor refined, reflecting both their authors and their intended audience. The Christian revolution was that scripture was meant for all, whether literate or not. You did not have to be able to read or study them. They could be transmitted orally in daily conversation, prayer, and worship. They were not intended for the desk but for caring for thy neighbor. 

The Bible grew organically into canon, fostered by the worship, reading, and devotional practices across Mesopotamia, the Mediterranean, and Africa. Canon formation was a social act by which communities granted certain texts a status of authority for a wide range of reasons, although most prominently out of the belief that those works came from the earliest writers of the faith and carried the true teachings of Christ. They were sanctioned to be read in worship. In other words, the Bible was not created by fiat. Instead, it took shape in diverse communities in which certain texts gradually emerged as its essence, even if there was not (and would never be) full agreement about that essence.  

Here are the notes/corrections. 

pp. 13–14. "For the Hebrew Bible, Jesus is our witness when he clearly refers to the basic three-part division of Hebrew scriptures into the Torah (Law), Nevi'im (Prophets), and Ketuvim (Writings)." Gordon then quotes Luke 24:44. Whether this verse alludes to presently-known tripartite division of the Tanak is debatable, and debated, so Gordon's "clearly" is a bit excessive.

p. 15. "Jerome acknowledged that these texts [the Apocrypha] fostered piety and thus placed them between the Old and New Testaments, in a second tier, where they were recognized as helpful and instructive but not inspired by the divine." The sentence is wrong on its face, but almost right. Or, as Jerome might say, Gordon is right according to the sense but not according to the letter. Jerome certainly did not place the Apocrypha between the Old and New Testaments. That description implies a pandect, which only came to the Latin Bible after Jerome's time. But we do have medieval Latin pandects that have the Apocrypha between the Testaments, more-or-less—such as the Bibles of Theodulf—and it might be that some medieval theologians assumed that Jerome was responsible for this arrangement. At any rate, Jerome certainly did think of the Apocrypha as occupying "a second tier," lower than the canonical books but useful to Christians. 

p. 16. On Athanasius' canon list from the year 367: "The difference in number from Josephus was because Athanasius often counted several books, such as the minor prophets, as one book." This parenthetical comment must represent a mental lapse, because as Gordon tells us, both Athanasius and Josephus have the same number of books for the Hebrew Scriptures, that number being 22. 

p. 16. "Athanasius's was the first such definitive list and is often regarded as a turning point in the determination of the Christian Bible, establishing what was in and what was out." It is in this paragraph that Gordon cites my book with John Meade on the canon lists, which I'm glad to see, but then why would he think that Athanasius is the first? I guess it depends on what he means by "definitive," but as he goes on to say, even Athansius' list was not definitive. At any rate, the list from Cyril of Jerusalem preceded that of Athanasius (though Cyril omitted Revelation, but then again Athanasius omitted Esther). 

p. 22. "the third-century Egyptian church father Origen wrote of Rufinus, who threatened his copyists with eternal perdition...." Here Gordon cites Shuve, p. 172, a typo for p. 182. But the main problem is that Gordon makes it sound like Origen wrote something about Rufinus, which is of course nonsense. Rufinus was the Latin translator of Origen's Greek works, and they lived more than a century apart. Shuve has it right: "In the preface to his translation of Origen's On First Principles, Rufinus has copyists swear...." 

That's it. The rest of the chapter is a good overview (from my perspective) of early codices (pp. 26–29) and of Codices Sinaiticus and Vaticanus (pp. 29–39). 

Now Available: Satan and His Friends

My new book on Satan is now published through ACU Press. You can take a look at a sample on Amazon, and I've posted to my academia.edu page the "press kit" the publisher sent me. 

The subtitle of the book is A Minimalist Approach for Believers, and I think that captures pretty well what I want to do with the book. 

Or you could say the book addresses the twofold question: What does Christian Scripture say about evil spirits, and where did the common ideas about those spirits come from? 

The Popularity of the Angel Interpretation of Genesis 6

I have been sitting on this article for a few years, so it's not all that timely. It's a response to a 2021 JBL article by Kim Papaioannou about the sinful angels mentioned in Jude 6 and 2 Peter 2:4. In that article, Papaioannou argues that the sinful angels referenced in those verses were not the Watchers from the Book of Enoch who engaged in illicit sex with human women, but rather these two New Testament passages had another had another group of sinful angels in mind, basically Satan and his minions. As soon as the article was published, I read it and had some misgivings about it. I started writing a response, imagining that I would send it to JBL, but I took look stretches of time off from writing and thinking about it. Eventually I decided to limit myself to the issue referenced in the title of this post, but then I forgot about the whole thing again—until a few days ago when I once again came across my attempt at a response. By now a formal response seems pointless, so I'll just plop down here some of the material I've gathered.

***

Two passages of the New Testament mention angels that are suffering punishment due to their sin. Given the popularity within ancient Judaism and Christianity of the Book of the Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36) and related traditions, scholars have usually interpreted the comments of 2 Peter and Jude in light of the Watchers traditions, such that the sinful angels were those who had intercourse with human women, a tradition related to Genesis 6:1–4. (For a recent example, see Jörg Frey, pp. 86–90 on Jude and 326–29 on 2 Peter.) In a recent article, Kim Papaioannou attempts to overturn this consensus through an analysis of the structure of 2 Peter 2 and Jude, arguing that in both cases the angels sinned through blasphemy, not sex, and thus 2 Peter and Jude were not referencing the Watchers tradition. As a preliminary step to this argument, Papaioannou surveys the ancient interpretation of Genesis 6:1–4, attempting to show that while the Watchers interpretation was popular, it was not universal. The present essay responds to this preliminary element of Papaioannou’s argument. 

Papaioannou attempts to establish in the first major section of his article that “there were different approaches to the myth of angels uniting with women” (396). Anyone who has studied the history of the exegesis of Genesis 6:1–4 knows the truth of this statement, as some readers have thought that the “sons of God” in this passage were angels while others looked for a more mundane interpretation (perhaps judges or descendants of Seth). (See, e.g., Philip Alexander's article from 1972; or more recently the monograph by Doedens.) Most scholars in recent decades have thought that the angels-interpretation predominated in Judaism in the time preceding the writing of the New Testament. This is the belief questioned by Papaioannou. He argues that even in the early period the myth did not enjoy universal acceptance. Indeed, Papaioannou asserts that “there is an equally strong current of thought rejecting the myth” (393; see also 408). He claims that this rejection of the myth is demonstrated by its exclusion from “the majority of manuscripts of the LXX, and more fully so with Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion; the targums and the Talmud; a number of pseudepigrapha; and, to some extent, Philo and even Josephus. The assertion therefore that the popularity of the myth is a strong argument in support of its influence on 2 Peter and Jude stands on a shaky ground” (396–97). As we will see, this assessment grossly exaggerates the ancient Jewish opposition to the Watcher myth. 

It is especially surprising to see Josephus on Papaioannou’s list of counter-evidence to the Watchers interpretation, since Josephus explicitly affirms the tradition. 

For many angels of God, consorting with women, fathered children who were insolent and despisers of every good thing because of the confidence that they had in their power. For, according to tradition, they are said to have committed outrages comparable to those said by the Greeks to have been done by giants. (Josephus, Antiquities 1.73; trans. Feldman)

Indeed, Papaioannou himself admits that Josephus “briefly acknowledges the myth” (395), but the appearance of the Watchers in Josephus is so brief that Papaioannou feels justified in claiming that the Watchers story is “theologically unimportant” for Josephus, apparently because Josephus did not go out of his way to attribute the cause of the Flood to the sinful angels. Nevertheless, Josephus clearly accepted the angelic nature of the “sons of God” in Genesis 6, so he provides no counter-testimony to the ubiquity of the tradition. 

The evidence of Philo is not straightforwardly opposed to the Watchers interpretation. Philo read “angels” in his Greek manuscript of Genesis; his quotation of Genesis 6:2 matches precisely the critical text constructed by Wevers (p. 108), save for the substitution of ἄγγελοι for υἱοί (Gig. 6; see LCL). It is not clear whether Philo was aware of the Watchers tradition. He interpreted the story allegorically in reference to humans. (See also Philo, Quod Deus Immutabilis sit 1–4; Quaestiones in Genesim 1.92.) Nevertheless, the reading “angels” in Genesis 6:2 apparently preceded Philo and determined for him the direction in which his allegory of the story needed to go. (On Philo's interpretation, see Wright, pp. 209–30; Stuckenbruck, pp. 131–41; Doedens, pp. 85–86.)

The Septuagint should not be cited as evidence against the Watchers interpretation. As Papaioannou points out, the Old Greek reconstructed by Wevers offers a straightforward interpretation of the Hebrew phrase in Genesis 6:2, 4, “sons of God.” (Wevers’ apparatus notes that some Greek manuscripts, notably Codex Alexandrinus, read “angels of God” at Gen 6:2—but most do not have this alternative reading at Gen 6:4.) Such a rendering in the OG neither favors nor disfavors the Watchers interpretation, any more than does the Hebrew text. Papaioannou thinks that the OG Genesis can be cited against the Watchers interpretation because of the evidence of LXX Job, where the same Hebrew phrase (בני האלהים) appears three times (1:6; 2:1; 38:7, without the article) and is translated each time as "angels of God" or "my angels." (See Ziegler's edition of Job.) Papaioannou concludes that OG Genesis departed from the normal LXX rendering of בני האלהים. “This departure suggests that the translators were hesitant to interpret Gen 6:2 in light of the Watcher myth” (394). But, of course, the Greek translator of Genesis did not depart from the normal LXX rendering of בני האלהים since the Pentateuch was the first portion of Jewish Scripture translated into Greek; the translator of Genesis was the pioneer in LXX translation technique. (See Fernández Marcos, p. 50.) His translation of the phrase בני האלהים tells us nothing about how he understood these beings.

It seems likely that the LXX rendering of Genesis 6:1–4 arose from a belief that the “sons of God” were angels—or, at least, its rendering could easily give that impression. For the LXX is often interpreted by modern scholars as indicating more clearly than the Hebrew that the offspring of the “sons of God” are giants. (For such scholars, see Harl, p. 126; Wevers, pp. 77–78; Brayford, p. 261; Henze, pp. 100–101.) (The LXX uses γίγαντες for both the nephilim and the gibborim of Genesis 6:4.) Certainly Philo (QG 1.92), our earliest interpreter of the LXX version of this story, regarded the giants as offspring of the marriages, as did Josephus (Ant. 1.73). Gigantic offspring resulting from the mixed marriages of Genesis 6:2 suggests that supernatural beings were involved. This interpretation is strengthened by comparison with the later translators, Aquila and Symmachus, who (as we will see) apparently did want to avoid giving the impression that the “sons of God” in Genesis 6:2 were angels. Symmachus, like the LXX, rendered both nephilim and gibborim in Genesis 6:4 with the same Greek word, βίαιοι, “violent ones.” On the other hand, Aquila gave two different renderings: for nephilim, οἱ  ἐπιπίπτοντες, “the falling ones”; for gibborim, δυνατοί, “strong ones,” or δυσίατοι, “incurable ones.” While the preserved material for these translations does not allow us to know whether their renderings presented these beings mentioned in Genesis 6:4 as the offspring of the marriages of Genesis 6:2, as in the LXX, or whether the newer translations mirrored the ambiguity of the Hebrew text in this respect, these beings—whether described as violent or falling or strong or incurable—present no supernatural qualities. The LXX, on the other hand, which not only clarifies that the beings in Genesis 6:4 were the offspring of the marriages but also identifies these beings as giants, implies a supernatural interpretation of the “sons of God.”

Regarding the later Greek translators Papaioannou again reports inaccuracies. He claims: “Theodotion, Aquila, and Symmachus likewise use ‘angels’ for the three Job texts but deliberately avoid any reference to angels in Gen 6:2 and 4, indicating that, within the tenets of Judaism that these writings represent, the myth was not the accepted way to interpret the Genesis account” (394). The assertion that these three translators “use ‘angels’ for the three Job texts” is incorrect. (See the second apparatus in Ziegler's edition, or Meade, p. 287. All three translators are cited for Job 38:7. Aquila’s reading at Job 1:6 is also attested.) The translation of Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion for the relevant expression in Job is attested as “sons” and not “angels.” This evidence demonstrates that these translators, at least in Job, intended to provide a literal translation of the phrase rather than indicating their interpretive preference. Surely they understood these “sons of God” in Job as angels, in line with other Jewish interpretations. (The angel-interpretation of the “sons of God” in Job is found in the Job targum from Qumran for Job 38:7 (11QtgJob xxx 5, DJD 23, p. 149), as well as in the rabbinic targum to Job. See also the discussion in Driver and Gray, pp. 9–10; Clines, pp. 18–19.)

On the other hand, the Genesis translations of these translators—or, rather, two of them—probably does confirm Papaioannou’s judgment that they rejected the Watchers interpretation. (For these readings, see the second apparatus of Wevers' edition.) Aquila rendered the phrase בני האלהים in Genesis 6:2 as οἱ υἱοὶ τῶν θεῶν, adjusting the LXX’s οἱ υἱοὶ τοῦ θεοῦ so that the grammatical number of θεός corresponded to that of אלהים (morphologically considered), thereby clarifying that in this instance אלהים does not refer to YHWH. (See Doedens, pp. 79–80; Wevers, p. 76 n. 3, who says that Aquila takes the term as referencing pagan gods; Alexander, p. 65, who mentions two possibilities for interpreting Aquil’s version: pagan gods and judges.) (Augusitne, Civ. 15.23, cited Aquila’s translation and interpreted it through the lens of Psalm 82:6 [as interpreted in John 10:34] such that the “gods” of Aquila’s version of Genesis 6:2 were themselves human beings. Jerome cited the same passage, Psalm 82:6, to explain Aquila’s rendering, but he related the term elohim to angels.) Symmachus offers at Genesis 6:2 οἱ υἱοὶ τῶν δυναστευόντων, “sons of the powerful.” (See Salvesen, pp. 31–32.) This translation by Symmachus perhaps gestures toward the human-interpretation of Genesis’ “sons of God” preferred in rabbinic literature. (See Genesis Rabbah 26.5.) Both Aquila and Symmachus produced their translations in the second century CE, so it is not surprising that they would reflect the interpretive trends attested among the Rabbis. The dating of Theodotion is a debated issue, with some scholars (e.g., Kreuzer) maintaining the traditional second-century date based on information provided by Epiphanius while other scholars (e.g., Gentry; Carbajosa, p. 7 n. 12) argue for an earlier date, in the first century. Potentially, then, Theodotion could provide a very early attestation for a non-angelic interpretation of Genesis 6. Alas, Papaioannous inaccurately reports the data. In fact, Theodotion does not “deliberately avoid any reference to angels in Gen 6:2 and 4,” any more than does the LXX, since Theodotion retained the LXX reading here, οἱ υἱοὶ τοῦ θεοῦ. 

Now we may turn to the pseudepigrapha, where we again find Papaioannou claiming more than the evidence allows. The pseudepigrapha discussed by Papaioannou (396) either do not offer any interpretation for the “sons of God” in Genesis 6 (Ps-Philo, LAB 3; Sib. Or. 1.65–125; Apoc. Adam 3), or they even mention the Watcher myth (2 Baruch 56:10–14), as Papaioannou admits. As in the case of Josephus (mentioned earlier), Papaioannou feels justified in citing these pseudepigrapha as counter-examples to the Watcher interpretation of Genesis 6 because these works do not attribute the cause of the Flood to the Watchers but rather to human sin. But, of course, that may mean that (like Josephus) they did believe that Genesis 6 referred to angels cohabiting with humans without blaming this cohabitation for the onset of the flood. That is clearly the case with 2 Baruch, which does include a version of the Watcher myth. It seems to me that the Nag Hammadi text Apocalypse of Adam 3 simply provides no evidence as to whether Genesis 6 mentions sinful angels. Papaioannou is on somewhat more solid ground with Ps-Philo, who offers a basically straightforward summary of Genesis 6:1–3 (with a literal rendering of the “sons of God,” filii Dei) before narrating the flood; LAB 3 skips the Nephilim entirely, which perhaps means the author did not consider the “sons of God” to be angels. On the other hand, Ps-Philo did not feel the need to guard against the the angels-interpretation, as did R. Simeon b. Yoḥai, who a century later pronounced a curse on anyone who called the beings in Genesis 6 “sons of God” (Gen. Rab. 26.5). Book 1 of the Sibylline Oracles, however, does support Pappaioannou’s argument, inasmuch as it omits any reference to angels in the lead up to the flood and identifies the Watchers as human beings of humanity’s second generation. Does book 1 of the Sibylline Oracles present to us Jewish or Christian interpretation? The question has long occupied scholars, but the authoritative text and commentary by Jane Lightfoot (not cited by Papaioannou) identifies books 1–2 as a Christian work of the second century CE. (On the relationship between 1 Enoch and the Sibylline Oracles, see Lightfoot, pp. 352–56.)

What does that leave of Papaioannou’s list of early sources opposing the Watchers interpretation? Without the LXX, or Theodotion, or Philo, or Josephus, the list is dominated by works of the second century CE and later (Aquila, Symmachus, Targums, Talmud), along with the Sibylline Oracles book 1 (of contested date and provenance) and the uncertain evidence of the first-century Ps-Philo. Certainly there is nothing before the second century that approaches the rejection of the angel-interpretation that we see with R. Simeon b. Yoḥai as quoted in Genesis Rabbah 26.5 or the character Trypho, who criticized Justin Martyr for advancing the angel-interpretation (Dial. 1.79.1). It would seem that the second century CE was the time when Jewish interpretation shifted away from the angel-interpretation, just as Philip Alexander argued five decades ago. 

Certainly there is no indication that anyone before the second century CE “endeavored to steer clear of the myth,” as Papaioannou alleges (408).

Testament of Job: Textual Attestation

For a summer class, I've been making my way through Henze and Werline, eds., Early Judaism and Its Modern Interpreters, 2d ed. (SBL, 2020), and I've just finished the essay by Robert Kugler on the testamentary literature. He discusses extensively only three testaments: Twelve Patriarchs, Moses, and Job. 

It was the Testament of Job—probably written in Egypt in the first century—that formed the internet hole that I've just crawled out of, or not so much the Testament itself as its textual base. 

The Testament of Job is attested in Greek, Slavonic, and Coptic. It was perhaps originally written in Greek. There are four Greek manuscripts, or really three independent manuscripts, as one of the four is judged to be a copy of another of our manuscripts. One of the manuscripts (S) may be lost. 

• P = Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, fonds grec 2658, XI century. The text of the Testament of Job on fol. 72r–97r. The manuscript is here; and the text of our work begins on the right hand side. 
• P-2 = Paris, BN 938, a copy of P, XVI century, fol. 172v–192 (here, begins top left, but the images go backwards)
• S = Messina, Sicily, San Salvatore 29, 1307/8 AD. This manuscript is perhaps now lost (see DiTomasso 2012: 314 n. 6). Original publication by Mancini (1911, here, pp. 479–502). This manuscript is described by Mancini in his 1907 work Codices Graeci monasterii Messanensis S. Salvatoris (here, pp. 54–67).
• V = Rome, Vatican, Greek 1238, 1195 AD (see here, or here, or, better yet, here, starting at image 100).

It seems that there are two main editions of the Greek text, both produced within a decade of each other, using different manuscripts as a textual base, and edited by two well-known scholars in biblical studies. 

• Sebastian Brock, 1967, used ms P as his base. here
• Robert Kraft, 1974, used mss S-V as his base. I can't find the edition online, but here is some information at google. 

As for the Slavonic texts, sometimes it is said that there are three manuscripts, but Maria Haralambakis (2012) surveys nine Slavonic manuscripts. (See preview here.)

The earliest manuscript of the Testament of Job in any language is a fifth-century Coptic fragment in Cologne. Basic information here; an edition was published in 2009; a new fragment published in 2014; and a translation appears in MOTB 1.