Once upon a time, a Jewish queen reigned over the Kingdom of Judea. Her name was Shelamzion Alexandra and she reigned from 76 to 67 BCE — a relatively short period, but long enough to bring stability and prosperity to a land exhausted by war and internal unrest. Like many Jews today, she had two names: one Hebrew (Shelamzion, meaning “Peace of Zion”) and one Greek (Alexandra).
Most people have never heard of Shelamzion, who ruled Judea about 60 years after the Maccabees achieved independence from the Seleucid Greeks and a few decades before King Herod. You might spot her name on a street sign in downtown Jerusalem, but otherwise, she is barely remembered. Yet for a few generations after her reign, Shelamzion (stylized in Greek as Salome) was the second-most popular name for Jewish girls, a reflection of admiration for a queen who upends many of our assumptions about power, piety and what Jewish leadership should look like.
Over time, the rabbis gradually wrote Shelamzion out of their narratives, replacing mentions of her with her husband, Alexander Jannaeus. The Christian gospels went further still, vilifying her great-granddaughter (also named Salome) as the seductive dancer who asks for the head of John the Baptist on a platter. By the 18th and 19th centuries, Western writers had transformed “Salome” into a symbol of dangerous, transgressive femininity. The evolution of this single name — from pious queen to femme fatale — tells a larger story about how women’s power is remembered, repressed or vilified.
Since historians ancient and modern have favored men’s stories, the women who married into and were part of the Hasmonean dynasty remain largely invisible to us. We know virtually nothing about Shelamzion’s life prior to the death of her husband King Alexander Jannaeus. Shelamzion could have easily stepped aside for her two grown sons, Aristobulus and Hyrcanus. Instead, while on his deathbed, the king exhorted her to claim the throne herself and she agreed. She probably foresaw that her sons would descend into civil war (which they eventually did, inviting Roman and Persian intervention in the region with devastating consequences). Staying in power was a daring move, especially in a dynasty where women who clung to power did not tend to survive long (a previous daring mother was imprisoned and starved to death by her son). But Shelamzion was determined to secure peace for her people, and she succeeded.
At the time, there were few models for a Jewish woman ruler. The Bible’s most famous queens — Jezebel and Sheba — were foreign, and later vilified. Even though nothing in biblical law explicitly forbade female kingship, later rabbis would interpret Deuteronomy’s command to “set a king over you” as excluding women. Yet centuries before those interpretations hardened, Shelamzion reigned with the blessing — or at least the acceptance — of her people.
Surprisingly, rabbinic literature remembers Shelamzion not as a transgressor, but as a paragon of virtue. One midrash recalls that the rains fell heavily in the days of Queen Shelamzion, an indication that under her leadership, the people kept God’s commandments and were rewarded with peace and plenty of rain.
Writing a century later, the historian Josephus describes Shelamzion as both pious and politically astute. Unlike her husband, who persecuted (and allegedly slaughtered) the Pharisees, she elevated them to positions of influence and demoted the Sadducees. The Pharisees’ emphasis on Torah study and moral behavior would eventually lay the groundwork for the emergence of Judaism as we know it. What would have happened without her intervention and support?
Josephus admits, somewhat grudgingly, that this woman “proved to be a shrewd and capable administrator.” She doubled the size of her army, secured her borders and maintained peace through careful diplomacy rather than conquest. She commanded respect among foreign leaders and, more importantly, was loved by her people. Though her sons’ rivalry plunged Judea into chaos, during her lifetime, she kept the nation united and free.
Jewish tradition often celebrates warrior kings — David, Judah Maccabee, and others. But Shelamzion arguably represents a different kind of heroism: the courage to lead through restraint. Like another famous Jewish queen to whom she is often compared, Queen Esther, Shelamzion wielded influence in male-dominated courts and used diplomacy to protect her people. She stands as an exception in a tradition ambivalent about monarchy. Esther’s story is a tale of courage and cleverness — a woman who saved her people not by force, but by strategy. Shelamzion embodies those same virtues. Together, they model a kind of leadership that values persuasion over domination.
There’s also a remarkable historical coincidence connecting the two. According to the Greek version of the Book of Esther, the scroll was translated and sent from Jerusalem to Alexandria around 78 BCE — just as Shelamzion began her reign. Tal Ilan and other scholars suggest that promoting Esther’s story may have been part of a broader effort to legitimize Shelamzion’s queenship, offering the Jewish world a theological precedent for a woman ruler. Whether or not that was intentional, the timing is striking: Just as the people of Alexandria began celebrating Purim, a real Jewish queen was bringing peace to the Jews of Judea.
Shelamzion’s story broadens our sense of what Jewish leadership can look like. She was not a mythic savior or a biblical archetype, but a real woman who ruled with courage, piety and intellect. She reminds us that Jewish history includes not only kings, prophets and rabbis, but also queens, prophetesses and wise women whose leadership upheld and sustained their communities.
Her name itself offers an ancient Jewish prayer: Shalom Zion — the peace of Zion. In a world still yearning for peace, her legacy invites us to imagine leadership rooted not only in strength, but also in gentleness, justice and care.
